#and merlin was performing last rites

[thatgaywizardoverthere]

a million deaths upon you gay boy

#listen #tell me im wrong #the way arthur was performing a mating dance in this scene #and merlin was performing last rites #himbo really spent this whole scene trying to show off for his crush #and merlin spent it trying to go for the jugular #when arthur says ‘there’s something about you merlin’ #and the something is a murder plot #honestly iconic #I love my dumb gay sons #in a land of myth #and a time of gays #merlin #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin

[hollowwhisperings]

The Mythology of Keyblades: Riku the Beach Boy of Avalon

This theory is partially Crack and partially a genuine investigation into the usage of Arthurian mythology within the KH series.

(this line from Monty Python & the Holy Grail inspired this whole theory: all i had to do was replace the referenced [Lady of the Lake] with Riku)

If you've loitered about the Kingdom Hearts fandom enough and read enough interviews with Tetsuya Nomura, you'll soon conclude that Riku is Tetsuya Nomura's Favourite Child in this series. Riku is the driving force for most of KH's story beats & Riku has played deuteragonist to Sora, story-wise if not in gameplay, in every game that isn't a prequel. Riku seems to gain a new & unique special ability with every game (often at a harsh price). Yet, for all the time the audience spends with Riku... the series is very careful about revealing anything about the boy beyond his utter devotion to Sora. The game even encourages players to Forget and Overlook the integral roles Riku plays in the series, typically via throwing a Kairi between him & Sora.

Jokes aside, while Riku's Secret Anime Prince coding is STRONG, it is not the point being explored here: there are 2 seemingly nonsensical Disney Crossovers established prior to most everything else: 'Alice in Wonderland' (something somewhat explored in my 'Princesses of Light as Stars' series of tinhattery) and 'The Sword In The Stone'. This post shall examine the latter, an animated adaption of the King Arthur myth, and how it is represented in KH not solely through the character of 'Merlin' but as the underlying principle behind the x-blade, Keyblade Wielding & how Riku acts as Kingdom Hearts itself.

Boy at Beach Distrubiting Swords

Let's start with Riku's Keyblades: he has had more than one, not due to gears or keychains but due to... apparently being able to churn fresh swords from his Heart as the Plot Requires.

The different keyblades used by Riku throughout the series thus far are the following:

Kingdom Key (Sora's default keyblade)

Souleater/Way to the Dawn (Riku's default from KH1 until KH2.9)

the Keyblade of Heart (while possessed by Apprentice Xehanort's Heartless, AKA Ansem Seeker of Darkness);

the [Combined Keyblade/"Gayblade"] (alongside Sora)

Braveheart (Riku's current keyblade)

(given that King Mickey found Kingdom Key-D in the Dark equivalent of the Destiny Islands & the whole "x-blade was made of light & darkness" thing... THAT keyblade, currently wielded by King Mickey, may ALSO come from Riku)

That's 5 different keyblades (6 if we include Kingdom Key-D), and ALL have been seen onscreen with at least 1 other, typically Kingdom Key, marking each of these keyblades as being 'distinct' and 'separate' from each other. Before figuring out what Heart Maths may be at play here... a brief interlude.

Young Adult Gifts Toddler Giant Sword: More Wholesome than it Sounds

Supposedly, the ability to [manifest] & "wield" a keyblade is only possible through a successful Bequeathing Ceremony: Terra performed such a ceremony for Riku in BBS. This, however, is a method passed on by the Master of Masters & subsequent schools of keyblade masters: given... literally EVERYTHING seen on "traditional" schools of keyblade mastery, this Premise is Factually Dubious. The series shows multiple characters manifesting or otherwise wielding keyblades without any such ceremonies: even assuming that these rites "carry over" through acts of Posession and Cloning, the Need for a ceremony becomes questionable. This would not be the first (nor last) time in the KH series that the "knowledge" of Foretellers, Mentors & Scholars prove to be Assumptions rather than Absolute Fact.

Exhibit A: Axel & Accidents

Axel is the best example as, unless we are later informed that Subject X performed the ceremony on Lea (or that Roxas or Xion did so without knowing), Axel has never been part of nor possessed by an existing keyblade wielder: his keyblade is entirely his own, a surprise to all.

Sora & Kairi were never formally bequeathed a keyblade though the latter "accidentally" inherited the ability from Aqua in BBS. Sora never had such a ceremony, the KH Wiki (dubious resource that it is) explains Sora's keyblade wielding as being a result of Ventus sleeping within Sora's Heart: I think it is more likely that, unlike the Formal Ceremonies of past keyblade schools may have taught, Hearts do not actually require outside recognition of "worth" in order to manifest a keyblade.

Once Upon A Meteor Shower

Riku's Heart entrusting Kingdom Key to Sora in KH1, a last-ditch effort from its Light to keep to its Oath of Protection, strikes me as being more "faithful" to what we have observed of keyblades in-game. For all that the formally schooled Keyblade Wielders past recited "May Your Heart Be Your Guiding Key", no one embodies the intent of this principle more than the entirely self-taught Sora: Riku and King Mickey likely next closest in trusting their Hearts over what they have been taught.

A Heart entrusting its physical manifestation to Another due to the Connection between them seems a "Truer" bequeathment than the (admittedly heartwarming) recitations of a stranger. Keyblades may NOW be deemed "weapons" to conquer Darkness... but the original x-blade was made of Light AND Darkness, a union of forces working in balance rather than opposition. The first x-blade was a tool for Protection, not Hurt: a creation of Heart and, thus, of Love.

Exhibit B: Body & Hearts

A creation of "Heart". As in, 1 heart = 1 keyblade. Multiple hearts in 1 body? Multiple keyblades.

Roxas is the Go-To example: the Nobody Twin of Naminé, created when Sora "unlocked" Kairi from his Heart whilst Ventus slept within it.

Roxas, in his every appearance, is capable of Dual Wielding: a keyblade from Sora, a keyblade from Ventus. Upon gaining an independent, replika body... Roxas can still, apparently, dual-wield.

...despite no longer sharing the Hearts of Sora nor Ventus (nor Xion).

(as this is a Riku speculation post, not a "what the heck is up with Roxas" one, i'll just... put a Pin in this mystery for now but the "maths" of 1 heart = 1 keyblade are, indeed, still facts of canon: Nomura confirmed as much when revealing the Above Album Art he made for Utada Hikaru's KH3 songs)

Exhibit C: Proof of Concept

Then we have Aqua: she lost her keyblade between saving Ven & falling into Darkness. The keyblade of Master Eraqus came to her aid: this is consistent with the established concept of Bequeathing Ceremonies. It's uncertain whether the same person can bequeath keyblade-wielding to multiple persons but it seems likely given the scale of the Unions in KHX.

(At that same point in time, the Heart of Eraqus was hidden within a Nort'd Terra: 3 Hearts existed within Apprentice Xehanort, all of them in conflict with each other, to varying degrees.)

The keyblade Aqua receives, the keyblade of Master Eraqus, is named 'Master's Defender'. This was originally the keyblade of the Dandelion Brain but was passed onto Ephemer and from pupil to student until eventually being inherited by Eraqus. This seemingly aligns with the concept of Masters 'bequeathing' keyblades to students, specifically THEIR keyblades.

Interestingly, Riku has never wielded Terra's keyblade (or its likeness, via keychain) 'Earthshaker/Ends of the Earth' after its being bequeathed to him, likely due to its remaining with Terra's 'Soul', the 'Lingering Will' within his armour. If this is the case... NONE of the keyblades Riku has conjured or wielded are a result of his Bequeathment Ceremony. Terra's Keyblade becomes a 6th (or 7th) keyblade connected to Riku, albeit an unused one.

Speaking of Terra...

Xemnas (the Nobody of Apprentice Xehanort AKA 'TerraNort') is NEVER seen wielding a keyblade, let alone two.

...but he DOES wield two [lightsabers]/'Ethereal Blades'.

If Xemnas had ever believed in his own personhood, it's plausible that he could have dual wielded keyblades like Roxas... though the conflict between the Hearts of Xehanort & Terra are unlikely to have cooperated long enough for dualwielding to be sustainable in combat.

Back to the Beginning

Kingdom Key was formed by the Light within Riku's Heart. That Light entrusted itself to Sora while Riku himself was lost in Darkness. Riku is later seen wielding a different keyblade, 'Soul Eater'. Given that KH1 sets up a premise of there being 'two' Kingdom Keys, one of Light & one of Darkness... perhaps 'Soul Eater' was made from the Darkness within Riku's Heart. Maleficent or Ansem SOD would know better than most anyone how to create such a thing.

(it's still Weird that Riku's Heart is the ONLY Heart we see capable of manifesting TWO, simultaneously existing & separately wielded keyblades: Riku using Souleater never prevented Sora from using Kingdom Key; Souleater becoming 'Way to the Dawn' did not affect Kingdom Key; and Riku & Sora use each other's keyblades interchangeably in KH2, even dualwielding at times)

While Riku is possessed by Ansem SoD (the heartless of Apprentice Xehanort), he wields a keyblade forged by the hearts of 6 of the 7 Princesses of Heart: this keyblade is named 'Keyblade of Heart' or 'Keyblade of People's Hearts'. This is an artificially made keyblade, wielded by an entity made up of at least 4 people's Hearts (Riku, Xehanort, Terra, Eraqus) and it does not seem to survive past Ansem SoD's defeat.

During the events of KH2.9 (at the 'Drop Point' between the first timeline of KH3 & Sora's First Retcon), Riku and King Mickey find themselves struggling in the depths of the Realm of Darkness. They had hoped to find the missing Master Aqua yet their journey has only proven the point of Master Yen Sid's preventing such a rescue 10 years prior: alone, surviving the journey to the abyss would be all but impossible. Similarly, Sora immediately post-DDD would not have survived the pace set by Mickey & Riku: Sora needed the lessons and confidence boost he found through Herc & Meg before he was truly ready for Aqua's Attempted Rescue.

Before Sora has his Hero Moment (complete with Riku's slow-mo heart-eye reaction to it), Riku's keyblade 'Way to the Dawn'... breaks. Riku also spontaneously gets a Hair Cut. Not due to any attack landing on him from the Demon Tide nor due to any bout of Gay Agony: just... "randomly" (Sleeping Realm Theory covers this).

So then Riku casually manifests a BRAND NEW KEYBLADE, while not at all possessed nor acting as a Heart Hotel, and that keyblade is Braveheart.

(which is basically Kingdom Key but Make It Modern)

It's also in the Realm of Darkness that Sora & Riku first wield their Combined Keyblade whilst in the same plane of reality: in DDD, they wielded their blade across parallel dreamscapes. The [combined keyblade] in KH3 looks exactly as it did in Dream Drop Distance: half Mirage Split, half Nightmare's End.

How Many Hearts Does 1 Riku Have?

The highest number of "hearts" occupying 1 Riku is 10, in KH1: his own, Xehanort's & Terra's, the ghost of Master Eraqus (still biding his time for Maximum Drama), with the 6 Disney Princesses of Heart smooshed within the 'Keyblade of Heart' the Riku Vessel is wielding.

By that time in KH1, both Sora and Riku have wielded Kingdom Key. Riku had also acquired & begun wielding the 'Souleater' keyblade.

Kingdom Key is the keyblade born of the Light in Riku's Heart: a sword entrusted to a Crowned Prince from someone hidden within water, a gift that marks its wielder as a saviour and a fate-chosen king. Sora bears Riku's Crown, a pendant he is never seen without, and Riku (& his Heart) was sinking within both literal (storm and tide) and metaphoric (falling into darkness/sinking within deep waters) waters when Sora receives Kingdom Key. When Sora arrives in Traverse Town, the Final Fantasy & Disney characters there hold Kingdom Key in reverence: the Key follows Sora so THEY follow him too.

There is an Irony about every keyblade-related argument Sora & Riku have in KH1: Kingdom Key WAS Riku's before it was Sora's, the authority of the sword & reverence given to its wielder WAS on "loan" from Riku... but, ultimately, the wielder chosen by the Physical Representation of Riku's Heart & the Light within it?

Yeah, no, sorry Riku: your Heart Likes Sora More.

After KH1, Riku never attempts to "reclaim" Kingdom Key: it's probably during the events between KH1 & KH2 that Riku realises that Kingdom Key is not only a literal manifestation of his own Heart but that he believes Sora to be the best person to wield that "Heart", that "Destiny".

Even if Riku had not somehow managed to manifest the Souleater/Way to the Dawn keyblade, needing to "borrow" Kingdom Key during his year-long vigil at Sora's bedside... I doubt he would have KEPT the sword or that it would let itself be "kept".

Riku's unique connections to both Light AND Darkness make it somewhat reasonable to conclude that 'Souleater' is the Dark counterpart to Kingdom Key: a keyblade formed by the Darkness of Riku's Heart, a keyblade that evolves to 'Way to the Dawn' and Riku's efforts to master his Darkness and return to the Light.

(this still begs the question: how the heck does Kingdom Key-D fit into all this?? no, i'm genuinely asking: what is up with that keyblade)

ALTERNATIVELY! Kingdom Key-D was very logically forged by Riku's Darkness, manifesting in the Realm of Darkness alongside the Fallen Destiny Islands. This makes it Interesting that Mickey could carry it around prior to personally meeting Riku but, regardless of any realizations on its nature & likely relationship with Riku (or Sora), Mickey wields this keyblade-D from KH1 onward.

(This potentially leaves Mickey's Original Keyblade, seen in BBS, as yet ANOTHER keyblade available for Riku's use: the count has risen to 9, 8 if excluding Key-D.)

So... if Riku's Darkness forged Kingdom Key-D, what was Souleater & what IS Braveheart?

Alt #1: Riku, like any Strange Pond Person, can summon as many Magic Swords as Destiny Requires because... he is Literally Kingdom Hearts & that leaves ALL hearts "free" for his use.

Alt #2: The keyblades Riku wields (Souleater, Way to the Dawn & Braveheart) are all manifestations of SORA'S Heart. Sora may be oblivious as to why he is so fixated on Riku but, if Chain of Memories is anything to go by, Sora's HEART knows what it wants, damnit! Even without any allegedly required Bequeathment Ceremony, Riku is a "Child of Destiny" and had already crowned Sora as one too: just as Riku's Heart reached out to Sora, Sora's Heart may have reached BACK for Riku. Thus both boys end up with Keyblades: each holding onto a piece of the other (somewhat literally).

This gives additional explanation to their easy trading & wielding of each other's Keyblades in KH2: the keyblades "belonged" to BOTH boys and always had.

This interpretation easily applies itself to Sleeping Realm Theory, too: 'Way to the Dawn' still "broke" because of Riku's Sacrifice but instead of figuratively representing Riku's Heart "breaking" via his actually Dying, it would represent physically the effect that Sacrifice had on Sora: his Heart broke, "dying" with Riku.

Alt #3: Riku's extra keyblades were from Maleficent, "Ansem", Ansem &/or King Mickey. The timeline allows for Maleficent's providing Riku with the 'Souleater' keyblade: it does not QUITE align for the broken connection between Riku & his Would-Be Fairy Godmother that we can assume happened upon her death in KH1, nor account for any effects caused by her subsequent "resurrection". The timelines required for the other candidates to be involved are not consistent with that of the games nor supplementary canon.

Before wrapping up, let's acknowledge the Giant Crowned Rainbow Sword in the room:

The [combined keyblade], wielded by Riku & Sora in DDD & KH3, is a manifestation of "their Hearts [beating] In Tune". It is That Simple: any efforts to straightwash its existence WILL cause plot holes so just Accept The Gayblade is Gay.

That the Gayblade just so coincidentally resembles both the Ultima keyblade(s) and various x-blades, definitely fit most description of what the x-blade is & how it can be made?

These are also Just Gay. Kingdom Hearts has been building up to (gay) Love being the Ultimate Power of the series from its very beginning: it has ALWAYS used heart imagery and symbolism, used Disney Couples to mirror the changing relationship of Sora & Riku, used "the connections between hearts" as a child's understanding of love (in all forms).

The logical evolution for a Coming of Age journey about a Boy & his Best Friend, in a series that repeatedly uses & is named for 'hearts', who have become stronger as their hearts became more attuned... is for said Boy to realise, acknowledge and recognise that the connection of their hearts has Changed into something less platonic: romantic love, like that between couples in Disney films, like Riku (& Selphie) brought up to Sora through star-shaped fruit before ever exploring those stars personally.

The [combined keyblade] was naturally forged through mutual devotion: its existence implies that the fabled x-blade of legend was ALSO forged by mutual love, that Kingdom Hearts chose its guardian because of Love, that the x-blade's legendary strengh came from its need to protect its dearly Beloved: there is no Straight Explanation for Sora & Riku being able to make the combined keyblade.

#kh theories #mythology of keyblades #kingdom hearts meta #riku is the child of destiny #sora is the child of destiny #strange women lying in ponds distributing swords as a basis for world order #but riku is the lake lady #and the swords are keys #kingdom hearts is about love #this got very long and should really have been posted as a series but tumblr editing is not self-care #kh spoilers #sleeping realm theory #dualwielding keyblades #i am very sleepy now #all this because i wanted to make a monty python joke #i hope i actually brought the joke up within all those paragraphs #idek how having images in this will affect the post #hopefully the images don't disrupt the text format bc of my not checking their sizes against each other

[mask131]

Cold winter: More about king Arthur

MORE ABOUT ARTHUR

Freely translated from the “Dictionary of Characters and Figures – from Literature, Opera, Cinema and BD”

Arthur, also called Artus or Artu

As for many medieval legends, the works in which Arthur appear are tied together in a complex genealogy before they were shaped into an unified cycle. As such, Arthur is a historical sovereign: he ruled over the “Britons” and his exploits turned him into a myth. His people, who lived in the south of Scotland, fought their neighbors, the Angles and the Saxons. Even more than for the peace he created, Arthur became legendary because of his symbolism: indeed, he embodies the leader of a feudal court with codified rites through which are sung the praises of ideologies and heroes transformed by the historical distances, or influenced by displacements so typical of medieval literature (for example Arthur ruled in the fifth century, yet the “Novels of the Round Table”, the “Romans de la Table Ronde” only appeared at the half of the 12th century). Arthur is another Charlemagne, but more courteous, another King Mark, but without a Tristan to steal his spotlight.

I) Arthur and the knights of the Round Table

Before Chrétien de Troyes, the royal figure is piously praised by a historian of the end of the 10th century, Nennius, in his “Historia Britonum”. Guillaume of Malmesbury, in 1125, will take back and precise this account, before Geoffroy of Monmouth writes it again in his “Historia regum Britanniae” – work that Wace, an Anglo-Normand poet, will translate in a “vulgar langage” as the “Roman de Brut”. After Chrétien, four different poets will decide to complete his unfinished “Perceval”, and many more will turn his verse work into prose. And this last fact is very important for the literary history, because it is the very first time prose was used in the genre of the “roman” (the novel). The cycle that was definitively shaped in 1225 is made of “L’Estoire de Saint-Graal” (The story of the Holy Grail), “l’Estoire de Merlin” (the story of Merlin), Le Livre de Lancelot du Lac (The book of Lancelot of the lake), “La Queste de Saint-Graal” (The quest of the Holy Grail) and “La Mort le Roi Artu” (The death of king Arthur). The whole cycle is sometimes called “Lancelot en prose” (Prose Lancelot), to oppose the “Lancelot in verse” that designates Chrétien’s very own Lancelot novel, “The Knight of the Cart”.

By centering his novels on the Knights of the Round Table (a table so called because she was shaped so that there was no problem of hierarchy around the king), the French author Chrétien de Troyes wrote three entire works around characters surrounding Arthur. In his first, “Lancelot”, the titular hero is the lover of the queen Guenièvre, Arthur’s wife, to which he submits himself with a complacency expect by the rules of courtly love, but pushed in Lancelot to an extreme servitude towards her whims. Guenièvre will reproach him with tyranny a specific incident: when, as he was deprived of his horse and on a quest to find the missing queen, he hesitated to climb on a shameful cart used to parade criminals in order to continue his search. The queen will then promptly force the knight to fight this perceived “cowardice” by having him be humiliated in a tournament. In another novel, “Yvain or the Knight of the lion”, the titular hero kills in the forest of Broceliande a man that guarded a magical fountain before falling in love with his victim’s widow, Laudine, alongside which he spends happy days in a castle. When Arthur arrives and presents to Yvain the beauties and honors of the life of a brave knight, Laudie allows him to leave the castle to have adventures, but only for one year. When Yvain fails to meet this deadline, he will be forced to perform various exploits to redeem himself, with by his side a lion he set free and that became his companion. Finally, in Chrétien’s third novel, “Perceval”, a young man wishes to become a knight, despite the warnings of his mother who tries to prevent him from entering into such a career : one day, at the castle of a “fisher-king” afflicted with an unknown problem, he sees a mysterious procession where the “grail” (a mystical vase) is carried. Too modest and shy, he refuses to ask any questions, but this discretion actually turns out to have been a mistake, as if he had asked questions he would have brought to his host, everyone around them and himself a great revelation and a lot of happiness. The following day, everything has disappeared and the knight, all alone, goes on his quest…

A quest that will be left uncomplete, as Chrétien could never finish his “Perceval”. To have a sequel, we will have to look into the “Prose Lancelot”: after the failure of the more valiant knights, such as Gauvain, Bohort, Perceval and Lancelot himself, who all failed to reach the sacred vase (that turns out to be a mystical chalice that Joseph of Arimathea used to collect the blood of the Christ), it is the son of Lancelot, Galaad, who is tasked with completing the adventure – he is the only one pure enough to be able to contemplate the Grail. But this success causes the end of the Arthurian world, as Galaad leaves the terrestrial world and the world of knights around him crumbles away.

2) The failure of the Father

In the cycle, Arthur is just the bare link between the different adventures, a mere pivotal point between the tales. Unhappy husband of Guenièvre, his character is one that reacts to misfortune according to an unclear code. In the court, he doesn’t cause the warrior-valors of the knights, who are spontaneously pushed towards the rules of courtship and courtesy at their paroxysm, rather than hot-blooded fights and battles. Except maybe in “La Mort le roi Artu”, where the Christian setting triumphs over the Celtic myth – the narrator purposefully makes the royal character a mystical one, and Arthur becomes a mere stooge, the witness of a changing society : grace slowly touches a new generation of men for whom adventure isn’t an end, but a step on the path to perfection. With such an angle, it doesn’t surprise us to see the king as a marginal character, an outwitted old man watching this evolution perceived as a failure of his patriarchy. The story focuses rather on the group of his sons, literal or metaphorical, from which a new order will rise. Even in the 20th century, when an author attempts to treat the theme, it is usually according to the same process: Cocteau wrote a theater play, “Les Chevaliers de la Table Ronde” (The Knights of the Round Table) to focus on Galaad and make him the herald of his own poetic art ; R. Bresson made a movie titled “Lancelot du Lac/ Lancelot of the Lake”, while E. Rohmer made a “Perceval le Gallois”, “Percival the Welsh”. Just like the poets of old – such as the Germanic Wolfram von Eschenbach, who wrote a “Parzival” from which Wagner will created one of his more serious operas, “Parsifal”. They all neglect the “Father”, Arthur.

3) The “regenerators” of the human harmony

Lancelot is, thus, since the star, the central character of the series of novels: in love with Guenièvre, he is excluded from the quest of the Holy Grail because of his sin of lust – but his complexity comes from his attempt to unite the spirit of knighthood and the spirit of mysticism. Partially dictated by the Cistercian ideology, the heroic behavior includes an evangelical courtesy that leads to an asceticism coupled with human love – what people used to call “charity”. His son, Galaad, is the “Perfect”, who embodies on earth the unbreakable right of God, invincible and just : through him, knighthood gains the knowledge of the holy mysteries. When Cocteau decides to laicize the myth, he keeps Galaad to turn him into “another Orpheus” : his absolute purity condemns him to disappear once his goal is reached ; once he uncovered the truth, once he brought the light that will shine for the others, he will stay trapped in his mission, bound to the misery of the lonely one ; Galaad is pure, and thus can only be alone, deprived of love and human contact.

As for Perceval, he is in Chrétien’s work the hero, and maybe the prototype of the initiated characters told above: he learns, through his position as a knight, the world of action, but also the one of courtship (he meets Blancheflor in the castle of Arthur), and he even learns through it his own history, that his mother had hidden to protect him. The double search for his mother and the woman he fell in love with guide him in his travels. In Chrétien’s works, Perceval is above all a human character, filled with remorse, inhibited by blind spots, and gnawed at by his own uncovered weaknesses. However, by reaching the world of German poetry with von Eschenbach, Parzival becomes a pilgrim that constantly seeks to know “who is God” : tormented by this metaphysical question, he will receive a revelation and will accomplish in himself the union of transcendent knighthood and the immanent human love. It is maybe this double aspiration that got fused with Schopenhauer’s doctrine in Wagner’s mind, as he tackled the subject of Perceval. In his own opera, Parsifal appears as one of the “regenerators” of human harmony, a nietzchean hero able to unite the diverse pulsions born out of the will to live and the desire to know.

In “The Waves”, by Virginia Woolf, Perceval is called a hero. He is never seen, but is constantly talked about in the conversations and interrogations of his six friends, gathered for his departure towards a far-away land, and then death. At the crossroads of dreams and projections rather than the perception of others, Perceval only exist in his power of revelation.

#cold winter #king arthur #lancelot #perceval #arthurian myth

[whiterosebrian]

Poetry as a Language of Gods

Many years ago, during an earlier part of my self-training as a serious writer, I very briefly tried my hand at writing poetry.  Many accomplished novelists and playwrights have also been poets, after all.  I even tried out unusual poetic forms (wanting to be translator-friendly) when experimenting with poetry.  However, I was dissatisfied with what I wrote.  I doubted my aptitude for writing poetry.  Thus, I focused entirely on practicing prose fiction for a while.

I still doubt my aptitude for writing poetry.  A new interest in poetry has been sparked anyway.  As a serious magical practitioner in training, I’ve read about incantations among Norse and Anglo-Saxon magicians—called galdr or galdor—using poetry and song to empower their magic.  That got me thinking that I should at least attempt the trappings of poetry when I eventually start writing up spells.    I’ve also looked more into pagan and folk culture in general as I’ve continued my research into spirituality.  Evidently, poetry was a sacred artform in pre-Christian northern Europe and elsewhere.

That last statement may seem like romanticism.  Yes, we should keep away from romanticism and retain a sense of realism when learning of the past, no matter how attractive certain aspects may be.  Nonetheless, there are hints of poetry being a sacred artform in ancient cultures.  That can most be seen with the bards, who were storytellers, historians, composers, singers, and poets in Celtic lands.  The earliest bards were evidently associated with the druids.  Even after the druidic priesthood died out and the populace converted to Christianity, bards evidently preserved traces of the old faith within their oral traditions.  The earlier bards evidently performed their own rites to receive divine inspiration—often for assistance in composing their poetry.  The term “ovate” has been used to refer to bards who are also seers and philosophers. 

Many stories of gods and heroes have taken the forms of poems.  One of the books that I’ve read (and highly recommend to every earnest neopagan, regardless of chosen pantheon), Seed of Yggdrasil, convincingly argues that not only does the Poetic Edda reflect the old faith more strongly than commonly believed, but also that the poets who influenced it used poetry to convey mystic themes and messages.  Odin—one of the entities whom I’ve approached as a neopagan and wizard—is known as a god of poetry as well as a god of war, a god of death, and a god of wizardry. 

Ancient Greece had singing poets who participated in religious festivals.  The Indian subcontinent and West Africa have also had figures comparable to bards.  Even more interestingly, pre-Islamic Arabia had poets who are also magicians who spoke with spirits and ghosts!  I’d have to read up on other cultures and their poets, but surely you get the point here about poetry likely being something sacred.

Odin, whose very name can be translated as “master of ecstasy,” is said to induce madness and inspiration in his followers—not just the berserkers whom you might have seen in The Northman, but also poets.  For what purpose, do you suppose?  Perhaps for speaking messages beyond ordinary speech?  Woden (which is the Old English Name for Odin) is said to be a restless wind who wisps and rushes around for wisdom and power—and maybe seeking worthy recipients as well.  Animists might see within blowing winds the breaths of inspiration entering their souls along with breaths of life.  You might recall how I’ve come to see my calling in life as being something of a Merlin—not only a magical practitioner, but also someone active in civil society bringing wisdom and healing.  I have a lot of personal issues, but I do hope to become a worthy Merlin through gradual healing.  The literary Merlinus Ambrosius is based mainly on Myrddin, a semi-historical bard who supposedly disappeared into the forest, became a mad hermit, and reemerged with mystic powers. 

I’ve come to believe that the recovery and revival of a culture of spiritualism and animism will be not only helpful but also crucial as part of healing the modern world’s wounds.  It’s true that “Ancient Wisdom” is often a fallacy, and often one with troubling implications to boot—fascists, fundamentalists, and fascistic fundamentalists also claim to be bearers of Ancient Wisdom.  You may or may not recall how I’ve written before, though, of the need to recover a sense of connection to nature and to the whole web of life.  What place do I have in the great work?  Public activists on the ground certainly do have a place in defending vulnerable people, embattled colonized cultures, and the environment. 

Maybe poetry does have a place too.  Poems might help with conveying meaning apart from their immediate words.  Poems might help bring new music, new beauty, and new consciousness.  Haven’t poets in recent times done their part in raising consciousness through their writing and performance?  Didn’t Amanda Gorman gain brief though justified attention through her performance in front of the White House?  The idea of “Poet as Legislator” may be most associated with the Romantic movement (the same movement which spawned nationalism, however indirectly), but it has been around for a long time, and it has been both promoted and criticized. 

Maybe I’ll try again.  I might start looking into the elements of poetry.  I might take my time to draft poems, engaging in experiments with those elements.  What happens if I write poems that turn out well?  I’ve actually thought of trying to make videos where I have my plush penguin act like a slam poet while I recite poems in-character, in effect showing a bardic penguin.  Alternately, I’ve thought of trying to make videos where I recite poems myself while wearing my ritual garb of cloak and mask, as if I were an ovate myself.  However, I feel that I don’t have the time or energy for editing videos effectively.  Could I try something like William Blake, creating pieces of artwork with poems embedded?  Should I instead keep any poetic experiments to myself for a great while?  I do still doubt my aptitude, though I’m willing to try again as a man wanting to reconnect to and revive animist cultures.

Could poetry indeed be a language of gods?  Could poetry also be a language of Mother Earth and of plants, animals, and elements?  Could poetry help in linking people back to the full numinous reality and the full web of life?  Did the ancients have a point in emphasizing poetry?  What do bards and ovates offer to us here and now? 

#poetry #bards #spirituality #pagan culture #animism #culture #poets #writing #long text #pagan

[r-ray]

Headcanon idea:

Merlin gets tired of waiting and goes to sleep in a tree. Some time later Albion’s greatest need comes. Arthur and everyone else are reborn, their memories return to them by their 20s, and they have to save the world, essentially.

They manage to find each other, figure out what’s going on, and somehow they even don’t kill each other in the process (specifically, Arthur and the knights and Gwen manage not to kill Morgana and Mordred, who are reborn too and get their second chance to do the right thing). Except that they totally need Merlin, and he’s nowhere to be found. Until druids (now widely known as “hippie”; most of them live in America now -- much more forests left there than in Britain, -- but they visit their historical homeland sometimes...) tell them that he’s sleeping in a tree somewhere in a national park not far from Glastonbury Tor. But nah, they don’t know in which tree. Good luck in your search, The Once and Future King, we’re cheering for you!

So on the brink of an apocalypse Arthur and the party go camping. They walk around, trying to guess what tree it can be: is it this five hundred years old oak? Is it that lone pine? Or maybe this broad ash?

Morgana casts some ancient spells to call for Merlin with her magic. Mordred performs druids’ rites to ask the nature to help them. Gwen and Lancelot are kissing behind the bushes, Leon keeps updating the news feed on his classy last model iPhone, making sure that the world is not ending just yet, Percival and Gwaine are fencing with wooden branches, Elyan is dozing in the grass and Arthur is wandering around, hugging random trees and tapping on their trunks.

He has a vague sense of dejavu, but he can’t quite point his finger on it. Something from his childhood, maybe?

For several days they keep moving across the park in such manner, and then Arthur runs to a lean apple tree and hugs it merrily. “Are you sure?” drawls Morgana doubtfully and cocks her head, measuring the tree with her eyes. “I don’t think Merlin would fit in there.”

Arthur is sure, so they stand in a circle, waiting for something to happen, but the only thing that happens is that some bird shits on Leon’s iPhone. This is the first time in their two lifetimes when they hear him swearing. Morgana raises an  eyebrow appreciatively: “I never though you have it in you, sir Leon.”

Leon blushes.

“Merlin!” Arthur roars and punches the tree. “Ouch!”

As he clutches his wounded foot, a heavy apple bonks him on the head. “OUCH!”

“An apple fell on your head!” exclaims joyfully Percival, who’s teaching history in a school these days. “Feel any great ideas coming?” 

Arthur in this life is no more prone to academic studies than in the times of King Arthur, so he doesn’t pick the reference.

“I think he sleeps too deep,” Mordred ruminates. “He has forgotten that he’s human.”

“And what do we do?”

“Maybe we can remind him? Tell him about who he was?”

So they set up a camp, start a fire at a distance big enough to not burn Merlin’s -- ahem, roots, -- and start telling stories to the honestly kinda unimpressive tree. In half an hour they are already telling the stories to each other instead, the tree almost forgotten.

Gwen remembers all the times when Merlin was ready to protect her even at the cost of his own life (“He was a brother to you when I wasn’t,” Elyan notices quietly). Lancelot remembers how he forged a record of his noble breeding (“He made it?!” gasps Arthur indignantly). Gwaine tells them how Merlin helped him to escape from some cuckolded husband (“No, stop, I’m not listening,” Gwen shrieks when he starts describing the wife’s assets). Elyan, Percival and Leon have their fair share of stories about Merlin treating their injuries or helping them to get out from some awkward situation or just - well, being Merlin.

Mordred remembers the legends about Emrys that he heard as a child, and there is awe in his voice when he retells them.

Morgana remembers how Merlin was bringing her flowers when she was sick, and how he always smiled and even laughed about vegetables in his hair when he was thrown in the stocks, and how he tried to help her to reach druids, and then how he poisoned her, and then how she found out that she was destined to aid Arthur’s death, and back then she was enraged, but now she cries like a girl and whispers “I’m sorry” and it all ends with Arthur hugging her while she sobs.

It’s a lovely evening they spend. Except that Merlin does not emerge.

“I thought you’ll have more stories than all of us together,” Percival nudges Arthur delicately. “Gonna tell some?”

Arthur, who has been mostly quiet all this time, smiles weakly, his eyes sad and distant. “It’s late already. We should go to sleep.”

They all agree, but as they unfold their bedrolls and nestle under the blankets he gets up and trails to the apple tree. He sits there with his back to the trunk and starts talking in a hushed voice. They drift off one by one listening to this slurred murmur.

And when they wake up they find Arthur cuddling Merlin and snoring so loudly that birds quiet down indignantly at his every snore. 

“Awww...” coos Gwen. They all gather to watch them affectionately.

“Merlin, mate, you’re back!” Gwaine cheers loudly and stumbles in to drag owlishly blinking Merlin into a hug.

“Gwaine...” Percival shakes his head ruefully.

“Merlin,” Gwaine unclasps his hug and looks at Merlin with a mocking seriousness. “We have to save the world.”

And so they will.

#merlin #merlin headcanons #mine #fic bits #merthur #no it has to go under 'keep reading' #why can't i keep it short

[avalcnrp]

NAME. Arthur Pendragon  AGE & BIRTH DATE. 57 & December 25th, 733 CE GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Human  OCCUPATION. King of Avalon FACE CLAIM. Omar Metwally

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: death, violence, war ) Arthur’s first son, Duran, died before his tenth birthday. It was said that he’d been a spirited child, but sickly. Llacheu was third born, but second to die; he fell from the ramparts while playing on them with his other brothers, Amhar and Gwydre. Some say they saw Amhar push him. Amhar the second born, and Gwydre the youngest, both boys grew into their prime, but a skirmish along the border with King Lot’s men in Essetir saw the former of them sent to an early grave. One by one Arthur was made to bury his sons: the only Pendragon heirs he knew of, and further and further the old king began to withdraw into himself. By now he was the victor of countless battles, never bested but always suspicious. Merlin came around less and less, and his council soon falling upon deaf ears. Then the archdruid disappeared entirely, some say whatever poison he’d fed the king had taken its root, and the ailing king’s mind was the product of a druid’s rot.

The youngest of three boys, Arthur’s eldest brother Tristan died while he was out hunting, while the middle child, Awstin, never made it as far as his tenth year. Many whispered that the Pendragon line had grown weaker over the generations, and that a foul magic had descended upon the throne in the absence of Excalibur. Arthur was raised on the stories of conquest and the legends that accompanied the fabled blade that was set now in the stone just outside the castle. Knights from all across the realm visited Camelot to try and remove the fabled blade, but none succeeded. By the time Arthur was born, Merlin, the architect behind the sealed sword, was a wanted and hated criminal. Magical creatures were painted as deviants to the young boy while in truth he had no comprehension of their nature. As other Pendragons before him, Arthur was sent to study within the Four Great Houses. It was here that he was to be instructed in the various practices of the humans in the Kingdom, and by extent would come to have a respect and understanding for the different traditions of humans in the land.

In Caiseal, Arthur spent his childhood, for the paladins were the greatest and most powerful of the four, second only to the Pendragons themselves. While Arthur did not have the time to go through all of the training himself, he performed sacred rites to Epona and participated in their training regimen. Here the future king learned to ride, to fight, to shoot, and came to understand that the dogmatic rhetoric against magical creatures was severe. It was the noble house of Epos who shared beliefs most closely aligned with Arthur’s father, king Uther Pendragon. The paladins in the House of Epos were secretive and reclusive, for they did not share their secrets with just anyone. They treated their duty as a holy one and considered themselves above even their fellow humans, and while Arthur absorbed this, but was as of yet too young to fully comprehend it. 

When the time was right Arthur’s pilgrimage continued to the marshy lands of Seascann, a town known for its production of bards and the seat of power for the noble house of Donovan. Arthur was still young, barely a child of ten when he reached the village that had strong relations to the paladins that Arthur had left behind. The life of a bard was not one that suited him, the prince was inflexible, a terrible liar, and had no real musical or artistic talent. But there was worth in understanding the works of a spy, and with that came the understanding nothing in Avalon was ever truly as it seemed. The Donovan’s were widespread and mysterious, but just the same Arthur’s earnest demeanor made making lasting friends easy for him. 

A few short years later and the young prince began to see things more clearly, the veil that the Pendragon name dropped over his eyes made him realize that the realm was not as peaceful as his father would have had him believe. At least, not for all. Suffering was widespread for any who strayed from the norm: fey, and druids alike anguished over the circumstances that surrounded their birth. Secrets and stories spilled through the cracks of the Donovans’ estate, and Arthur squirreled away before he moved onwards to Tearmann. The berserkers of the Caerwynn family cared little for the law that outlawed magic - they valued strength, and nothing thrilled them more than a fight. Arthur was a prince who’d been raised with a sword in hand but as a boy who’d only just crested manhood, he was hardly much of a challenge for the hardened warriors who dominated the Caerwyn line. Tearmann was an isle just off of the mainland of Avalon, and it was here that Arthur saw people practice magic openly. He was surprised, but nothing ever seemed to phase the people of Tearmann, they were not afraid of druids or fey as the rest of Avalon was and as they had been described to Arthur he thought that there could be nothing more terrible than a changeling child. 

On the isle of Tearmann, Arthur grew into himself. The world and Avalon was not how it had been presented to him, and every passing day, he questioned Uther’s wisdom that much more. News of his father’s ailing health reached him, but he was determined to see his pilgrimage through until the end, which at last brought him to the absolute fringes of Avalon - Maum at the mountain pass, where the great and noble house of Fáelán kept watch over the South. The rangers of this land had an almost mystical connection to the land, and to druids especially. It marked them as outcasts among the four great houses, for just like the Donovans they were known for taking in those who had nothing and giving them a place in their court. It was here that Arthur was mentored by a ranger who was accompanied by an owl, the man took the young prince under his wing and showed him hidden pathways to the Otherworld. They traversed the land of the giants and traded stories with ancient beasts, found meaning in the stars, and purpose in destiny beyond what was expected of a Pendragon. Arthur saw how the people of Avalon were made to suffer: the fey, the druids. The ranger hid none of the world’s cruelty from him, and it moved something deep and buried in the heart of the future king. 

Eventually it was time for Arthur to return to Camelot, and on this journey, the ranger accompanied him, taking him first to the stone of destiny where the sword that sealed the darkness had been sealed. He prompted Arthur to try and pull it out, but Excalibur had been sealed for a century now, great men from across the realms had tried. All had failed. Yet, when Arthur’s hands wrapped around it, he felt a power surge within him, and, as if he was withdrawing the blade from a scabbard, Excalibur came free. The ranger revealed himself to be Merlin, the archdruid of Avalon, and he urged Arthur to stand up for those who were made outcasts by the Pendragon family. When the future king returned to Camelot at last, it was to reveal his father off his throne and set about the arduous task of making right what had long been wrong. To many, Arthur was still a child. A man who’d yet to see war. And yet, Arthur had a great number of opinions on how the kingdom should be run and what was fair and what was not. The knights of the round table were all made up of like minded individuals who shared the same ideals as Uther Pendragon. 

Change did not come easily, in fact, it barely came at all. The realm nearly revolted at the threat of Arthur’s progressive ideals, and he was forced to toe the line between promising change and truly doing anything meaningful. It was conflict that ultimately came to unite the varied people of Avalon, for foreign incursion too great for humans alone to withstand would have wiped out life as the people of the realm had always known it. Only by uniting fey and druids with humans was Avalon able to push back the Anglo-Saxon invaders. With this victory came a promise that even the four great houses and the nobles beneath them were obliged to obey; freedom to practice religious rites, freedom to practice magic, and equality across every species. Despite all the aid that magic had done to push religious zealots from Avalon, many were displeased by this, and several knights of the round table walked away from their positions entirely. This left a void to be filled, and Arthur did not forget the people who’d aided him most along the way. 

Though peace had been hard won, it was harder still to maintain. With Queen Guinevere at his side Arthur produced four sons, though none of which ever seemed to inherit the particular kindness that the king was so well known for. Years passed without consequence and as Arthur aged, so did his grip upon Excalibur tighten. He could hear the whispers as they came from the shadows, he felt the spies around every corner. One decade rolled into another and all his cups began to smell of poison. Revolt was coming to Avalon, Arthur could feel it and he told his council of this often. Sometimes the druids were suspect, other times the fey, even his own knights were not free of the king’s suspicions.

ABILITIES

Clairvoyant.

Psychic Shield.

Slower aging.

Enhanced strength, speed, stamina, and reflexes.

Arthur is a NON-PLAYABLE CHARACTER.

#king arthur #non playable character

[natashaswinterwolf]

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

                       Chapter Text    some humor

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

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

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

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

“What kind?”

“A fox and some cats.”

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

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

“None taken,” Lancelot answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to be touching a green plant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We found it.”

“Where?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you to find my currach.”

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

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

“It might take a few days.”

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

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

Merlin snorted, “Nimue, my ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Innocent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#nimulotnimulot weekcursedcursed netflix

[snowbellewells]

Face to Face in the Broad Daylight: Chapter Six

{Chapter six is here in this sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we have definitely gotten them into some new surprises and challenges, and of course Rumplestiltskin seems bent on slipping out of their control and back to his usual scheming and plotting. I left off at an intense place, and so I didn’t want to keep you waiting too much longer for this penultimate (I think?) full chapter...}

Previous chapters: Prologue  // Chapter One  //  Chapter Two  // Chapter Three     // Chapter Four  //  Chapter Five

~~A million thanks yous once again to @branlovestowrite for the gorgeous story banner she created!

~~ And to the @cssns for the opportunity to turn this story idea into a reality!

~ chapter six: all comes down to this

The lake surface before her, over her two frightening opponents’ shoulders, continued to swirl and churn uneasily, quite obviously part of whatever rite was about to be performed. The sinister flashes of sickly greenish-yellow light drew her attention with lurid flair despite the more pressing threats standing right before her.

“W- What are you going to do?” Belle countered with as much gumption as she could manage, regardless of the reasonable fear that also gripped her. She lifted her chin, now that they were face-to-face, and she discovered - grateful for small mercies - she was free to move again and could at least stare down the man she had wasted so much hope and energy on, letting him know with all the venom a gaze could muster that she was finally aware; he was nothing more than the selfish coward he had always been. That didn’t make him any less dangerous, of course, and Belle had a stray moment of absurd pride in herself that her voice had only wavered once in speaking to him. 

Morgana for her part, seemed to have lost interest the moment she’d gathered Belle wasn’t a magical threat or some unknown foe, had released her paralyzing unnatural grip, and taken a step back when Rumple moved forward to deal with his former maid, but Belle couldn’t comfortably take her eyes off the dark-robed and frighteningly cold-eyed woman for more than a few seconds. She could see the cylinder containing Merlin’s hat, just as it had been depicted in the source she’d found, idly held in the enchantress’ hand - and the power radiating from either the talisman or the sorceress herself, or quite possibly both, was so palpable it raised the small hairs on her arms, even without possessing any magical abilities herself.

Yawning and inspecting her nails for a moment, as if the fact that her conspirator was trying to decide the fate of an innocent right beside her was so common as to bore her, the woman finally flicked startling, almost violet eyes toward Rumple, raising a dark brow in question at his hesitation. “Well, are you handling this disruption or should I?” Her hand not clutching the hat slid from within the fold of her robe once more, unfurling toward Belle in a way that signalled only malicious intent, but Rumple gave a sharp shake of his head, arm jerking out to forestall her action. “You will leave her to me,” he spoke harshly, with as much command as she had ever heard.

Morgana huffed and turned back toward the lake, stalking away with the rigid poise Belle couldn’t help but liken with a shiver to the now-deceased former mayor and Evil Queen, only saying as she did, “Well, be quick about it. We cannot lose the hour.”

Belle’s heart almost regained a normal rhythm for a moment, and she readied herself to speak, knowing she might only get one chance to convince him or get him to see reason. He was only slightly less daunting than the powerful stranger, in that she did know some of his weaknesses, the regrets and hurts that hid beneath the beastly mask, and if he had lost all desire to fight off the evil within, then she could still appeal to a different area of his self interest. He had wanted to find his son for as long as she had known him, and he had a grandson right there who would surely accept him still if he only tried; however, murderous vengeance and a spree of unstoppable destruction would endanger both of those things she knew he still wanted.

Before she could put any of those things into audible words, however, Rumple drew even nearer, his eyes glittering with an unholy light. Though his skin was far from the glittering scales she remembered in their fairy tale world, and his suit was fitted to the normal human pawnbroker he meant to portray here, Belle was struck vividly by his likeness to the mad imp she’d once shared a castle with - the Dark One’s prisoner before she had ever been the Evil Queen’s. She was struck suddenly by the real danger she had put, not only herself, but she and Graham’s child, in and the sickening knowledge that if madness and lust for ultimate power had already overtaken his reasoning, then there would be no reaching him as she had hoped.

Indeed they were so close now, he was practically in her face. The look on his stony visage, sharp and uncaring as she had ever seen it, was completely at odds with the gesture of his hand coming up to stroke her smooth, fair cheek once more almost wistfully. She flinched at the touch, and he pulled away instantly at her reaction, the strange detachment vanishing and being replaced with disgust and outrage.

Both stunned Belle, as they seemed emotions more due herself than him, but the words he spat made her blood run cold - and cemented the error in judgement she had made in coming here. It had already been much, much too late for reasoning.

“You dare to recoil from me?” he hissed, the mere elder gentleman facade sliding from his features at last and revealing the hideous green monster that did indeed resemble a crocodile with razor-sharp teeth to devour, much as Killian had always said. “When you…” his chest almost heaved with rage and indignation, “you let that cur touch you and you’re carrying his mongrel pup?”

Belle stumbled back aghast at the venom for her unborn child, as stung as if he had physically struck her. Her mind reeled at the hatred he could have for a mere fetus of no threat to him and completely innocent of any ill or wrong, and she stretched her hand in an impotent protective gesture across her midsection as she gasped and stared at the unrecognizable man before her, no longer anyone she had ever known.

“You think I don’t see what you’re about my ‘Beauty’?” he gave the fairy tale appellation an almost mocking sing-song cadence as he made up the distance she had backed away, bringing them close once again. “You came here thinking you could appeal to the poor spinner who once tried to please you, who hoped to be “good” enough to make you happy, only to spare that lot of foolish heroes, the one you’ve replaced me with, and that abomination you carry within you. Let’s be rid of that delusion now… No deal.” He spoke icily, reaching toward her as she shook her head ‘no’, pleading soundlessly as tears of shock and terror streamed down her face, “Rumple, please,” she whispered brokenly, “don’t come any closer.”

Gripping her arm so that she couldn’t back away again, his clutch like an iron shackle at her wrist, Rumple’s other hand rested on the growing swell of her stomach, just above hers that still tried to shield the gentle curve from his touch. “Perhaps,” he murmured silkily, the calm resolve of deadly intent even more appalling than the unhinged rage and hurt had been. “Perhaps I should provide a demonstration of just how little any of those things you treasure, that you would hope to preserve, matter to me in the face of receiving my due at last.”

Belle was still shaking her hand in denial, trying to pull away frantic with desperation to free herself. It was all to no avail though, as his palm contracted on her stomach briefly, pressing firmly for a horribly long moment, and then he turned and strode purposefully back to his compatriot, who had been watching the whole exchange with fiendish glee once it had turned in the Dark One’s favor - almost as if she were sated by despair and anguish.

The scene before her blurred then, the effect of whatever Rumple had done creating a slight delay before it hit her and brought Belle to her knees. Her vision swam, the ground below and sky above spinning dizzily and exchanging places. A horrible pulling, tightening ache expanded from behind her naval out through the rest of her body, until she was falling to her side and curling in upon herself, every inch of her pulsing with pain.

And then she was screaming in utter agony, knew she was but still unable to stop, as if even her own reactions were now out of her control. All she knew was that her surroundings continued to dim and focused mainly on Morgana and Rumple’s legs as they stood by the rising whirlpool the lake had become, clearly continuing with their ritual, her inconvenient interruption of no further consequence.

Just as everything was about to fade away from her, she heard the unmistakable long howl of a wolf on the night wind answering her tormented cry. For that one second, she wasn’t even sorry that Graham must have woken to find her gone and followed her. Her heart panged in recognition, hoping she could see him before everything went dark.  Her mind lamented brokenly on how foolish she had been to ever come here, and yet she waited on a held breath, still pained and terrified, but pricked more by conscience at the hurt her love would suffer if her rash actions had brought harm to their little one as well.

She knew Rumple and Morgana must have heard the warning cry as well, but her mind was too foggy and confused to focus on what they were doing from where she lay. All she saw, with grateful eyes, was a large, russet-colored wolf bursting from the brush above, near where she had been hiding not that long ago, and then plunging, teeth bared, to her side. Through her bleary, half-conscious perception, she found herself vaguely glad he was a wolf at that moment. It seemed so daunting, powerful - almost invincible to harm, even if not fully the case. True, both of these magic wielders he faced were powerful enough to be a threat to man or beast, but there was something solid, strong and intimidating, about the large lupine creature of old that Belle genuinely hoped would strike fear into the Dark One, down deep where he was still a coward at heart.

Once he reached the bottom of the slope, her wolf was at her side in seconds, a mere couple loping strides for the large animal’s ground-covering speed. Though his every quivering muscle was tensed and ready, his fur practically standing on end and a low growl rumbling constantly from the wide chest, the concern radiating off the man twined into the werewolf’s being was plain. Tawny golden eyes never left the witch and wizard before them, also braced for action - both sides seeming to gauge what the other might do - but his shaggy, reddish-brown ruffed head dipped briefly to nose at her forehead and brow, a cold, wet nose reviving her if just a bit. A concerned whine, so soft in the canine throat that Belle felt sure only she could hear it, let her know just how frightened for her he had been - and was still.

Trying valiantly, with pained and weakly uncoordinated muscles, she attempted to lift her hand and stroke his fur in reassurance, but her hand fell limp against the ground before making solid contact, and the tender way her wolf licked at the back of it resting on the dirt pained her almost as much as whatever Rumple had done to her. It was too late to stop the process they had set in motion, despite her efforts. She had tricked and hidden her intentions from him, and led Graham into danger anyway, even as she had tried to protect him from harm.

They both watched warily as Morgana turned back toward the churning body of water, lifting her hands and causing the eerily lit typhoon to rise above its banks in a menacing swirl, clearly reacting to her magical direction. “Isn’t that sweet?” Gold mocked, affording them one last cruel glance before holding up the cylinder as Morgana directed. Manic avarice lit his gaze as it turned indeed into the recognizable shape of a tall, pointed sorceror’s hat. “You will die here together, with your repulsive whelp. It was a heroic effort - foolhardy and pointless, but heroic nonetheless, dearies, I’ll give you that.”

Even as he turned back to his evil task, Graham appeared truly ready to spring and rip out the imp’s throat. The fact that one or the other of their enemies’ magic would no doubt strike him down before he could reach them, no longer seemed enough to hold the usually kind and gentle man back - not when his love and his unborn child’s lives were at stake. Belle looked up at him with tears in her eyes. If only she hadn’t thought she could handle this alone… If only she hadn’t been so stupid… If only...

Morgana’s resonant and chilling voice rose up over Rumple’s triumphant cackle of victory, her own soft sobs, Graham’s warning growl, and the whooshing of the rising waves towering over their heads now, chanting some incantation of what sounded like ancient rhyme. And then, before her spell could reach completion, everything seemed to happen at once.  Behind them, scrambling down the same embankment with more cursing and less grace, came Emma and Killian - the pirate surprisingly in human rather than wolf form. All the same, they were there, flanking she and Graham and eying their adversaries for just one chink or weakness. 

Belle wanted to stand to face them head on rather than lying in the dirt, but another blinding shock of pain ripped through her, curling her up even further and causing her to bite almost through her lip to merely whimper rather than scream in agony. Oddly, it struck her that even if they were too late to stop this ritual, if all of Rumple’s powers were unleashed again, they would still stand up to him together, and even if he took out the four - well, the five, of them her mind amended with a shudder - there were others on their side yet, and good would find a way. She had probably never sounded more like Snow or Henry, but somehow in this terrifying meeting with what might be their end, she somehow felt faith returning.

“Oh, how quaint,” Morgana simpered, “it’s the Savior herself and her own pirate knight.” She tilted her head slightly, as if considering them all like they were some sort of entertainment. With a dismissive gesture, she then levitated the cylindrical talisman, making it open and morph into the hat twirling in air. “You must know that you are too late to stop us, that soon you will be in the presence of an all-powerful Dark One, in the face of whom all attempts at resistance or control will be futile, and yet here you stand - as if it will do some good.”

As she spoke, the water crested even higher, towering over all their heads and the enchanted contents of the hat burst forth in multicolored light festooned across the sky above them like a new map of constellations.

Yet, in that unnatural glow, even as Rumple also laid the dagger on the ground beneath the levitating hat, making their preparations complete, a horrifying vision suddenly appeared before their eyes, not of Rumplestiltskin once more the cruelly green and glittering crocodile with sharp jaws wide to devour them, there is instead a terrible beauty. Morgana was the ultimate Dark One emblazoned with sudden clarity, silhouetted in unearthly flame as she reached out an unstoppable arm to crush them all. It was seconds from coming to pass, and suddenly Belle could see it unspooling with horrifying clarity. The sorceress, whatever her connection to Rumple, had never intended to aid him in cleaving himself from restraint. Instead, she meant to take his power for herself and full dominion over the realms as well. Just as her compatriot had needed the hat she could bring, she had needed his dagger to make her devious designs complete. This enchantress had somehow managed to convince the best manipulator Belle had ever known to believe she owed, or felt, some loyalty to him. Enough so that Rumplestiltskin had already laid down his jealously guarded weapon and protection in one at Morgana’s feet.

Without time to think, to plan, seemingly even to breathe, Belle knew what to do. It came to her with galvanizing certainty, a realization that rocked her to the core, even as the beams of power, like golden threads were streaming from dagger to hat to Rumple and back again over to Morgana as she chanted; a subtle, knowing gleam in her eyes now that the librarian was looking clearly.  The beams looped and re-circled back in and out between the four points of contact, both villains finally distracted by their greedy focus on the brilliant light magic and the tendrils of the dark as well, coming off of Gold and from the dagger itself, then rising in ghostly wisps to intertwine in a mantle that seemed to lie about Morgana’s shoulders.

Time moved as if strangely delayed as Belle lurched forward unsteadily, still unable to rise fully to her feet and run for her goal, still almost blinded by the pain centered in her abdomen, she soldiered on, almost rolling and then pulling herself the last few inches forward, sheerly on the desperate strength of her arms and shoulders.

Her fingertips barely grazed the now quivering hat, even as the magic seemed to sense the last strands of power from Rumple himself and the dagger, now centering over Morgana, and also to fully enliven the ancient token. Graham saw where she was going and pounced forward, practically leaping over her prone form to keep the witch away from her. Emma swung toward Gold with her own hands up, magic flickering to life between them to ward him off as well if need be. 

That proved unnecessary though, as Rumple cried out, an unearthly expression of rage, pain and bitterness when he discovered all too viscerally what Morgana had done and the extent of her betrayal. As the last vestiges of his power wreathed his former partner in crime, making her whole being glow insidiously, the hat sunk back to the ground, practically dancing upon the hard earth, shaking and moving so wildly from the amount of power thrumming between it and the Darkness’ new vessel - and it sought out more to drain from its surroundings.

“No!” the twisted imp wailed; no longer either smug pawnbroker nor controlling Dark One, but the poor, bent spinner so helpless and afraid of the world around him before magic had ever come into his life. “What have you done, you foul hag?! You’ll not even live to regret this.” Yet, even as he bellowed, his own self-maimed foot curled in again, his body bending weakly as he sought out the cane he needed not just as a dramatic embellishment any longer.

Gritting her teeth and exerting her last bit of strength, Belle managed to reach the tips of her fingers far enough to brush against the active hat. She was grasping at last chances, hoping against hope that she had timed her move correctly, that the villainess was too taken by the feeling of victory and the swell of power to notice a mere distraction as the last bits of both the Darkness and its magic settled upon her. Feeling the deceptively soft and inviting material of the hat’s wall, Belle bit her lip, said a hopeful prayer, and shoved the hat over to rest on its side, making sure to grasp the tip as she had seen detailed in her research, so that the opening, now seething as though it were a living and breathing thing, was pointed right at Morgana.

The sorceress’ unnaturally violet eyes landed on her then, widening in anger and zeroing in with a wicked shriek. “What are you doing, you measelly little girl? Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?” She made as if to stride forward and swipe the object from Belle’s grasp, but it was already too late. Belle had gotten the hat centered on their foe in time, and now Morgana was in its vortex, its sucking power already pulling at her robes and whipping her raven-dark hair about her head wildly, drawing her inexorably into itself.

“Nooooo…” the witch screeched, but she was already elongating in form, being swallowed up into the void of the Sorceror’s hat. Her final thwarted wail faded away slowly, even as Belle let her arms fall to the ground, nearly drained once more. But she couldn’t quite rest, no matter how much her body begged for it; they had to take this chance to be rid of the Darkness while they could - once and for all. 

The foreseeable immediate threat gone, she sensed almost as much as saw Graham shifting back into the man she loved, already calling her name as he ran to her side. Emma was closer, kneeling beside her and asking where she was hurt, what she could do, even as Killian still flanked them both, eyes sweeping the area as if waiting for more foes to descent. She could hear Rumple in the background, groaning and snivelling, but Belle struggled to focus just one minute more.

There! Right by Killian’s boot, near the once more nondescript looking pointed cloth hat lying calmly on the ground, was the dagger.  “Killian,” she gaped breathlessly. “The dagger, give it to me. Quick!”

Thankfully the pirate didn’t question her, merely bent, grabbed the item he had quested so long to hold in his hand, the means for his long postponed revenge at last in his grasp, and handed it over to her without even flinching.  It reiterated the difference between himself and his nemesis, Belle realized later when she thought back over the whole thing, how he could hand over the one thing he had once most desired due to the judgement that something else was better and worth the sacrifice. It was the same reason he had shown up as a human, even if his wolf was physically stronger. He wanted to support Emma, in whatever way would help her most, and so had done what allowed him to be most fully by her side. It was a sort of strength and power Rumplestiltskin had never mastered for all the magic he had held in his fingertips… the ability to share oneself fully with another and drawn strength from the bond.

Gripping the dagger’s hilt tightly, feeling the cool edges against her palm, the satisfying weight of it, now that it would finally be doing what it had been forged for, one way or another. She raised it as much as she could, and plunged the tip into the hat. Sharp steel sliced through material, piercing deep, and she waited, breath held tightly, the blade going all the way through both sides of the hat and into the ground beneath, until slowly, with a thick black cloud spewing forth before rising and evaporating into the sky, the hat disintegrated into nothingness itself. The hat was gone, and supposedly, hopefully, so was the Darkness at long last. Though it almost seemed to much to trust might finally be true after ages of battle to conquer it.

Tossing the weapon aside, Belle heaved a sigh of relief, glad she finally felt as if those around her, those she loved, were safe. As she did so however, the pain and the weakness crept back over her, making her vision swim sickly again.  Another violent throb of pain ratcheted through her, and she cried out in spite of herself, unprepared for the severity of it. She shivered, hardly registering that she felt as though she had gotten her legs in the water, even if that sensation made absolutely no sense.

“Belle!” she heard Graham’s hoarse tone call out to her in alarm, and then he was there, cradling her head and shoulder in his lap and begging Emma’s help; the only one of them who still had any sort of magic that might be able to fix whatever Rumple had done and was still wrecking havoc within her. It all seemed to be growing more distant and of less concern to her, as she let herself since back into her love’s comforting embrace. They were safe now, she thought, appeased from her own worry and self-recrimination with that knowledge. 

And then all was quiet.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @spartanguard @resident-of-storybrooke @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @ilovemesomekillianjones @revanmeetra87 @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes 

#cssns 19 #cs au mc #ouat werewolf au #face to face in the broad daylight #chapter six #cs ff

[thepatchworkcrow]

For the witchcraft asks, can you just- Uh, would you freaking answer them all, please? 😂💜 If I had to pick, though: What got you interested in witchcraft? What’s the first spell (or related activity) you ever performed? What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s ever happened to you? What’s your biggest witchy pet peeve? How have you created your path (e.g. unique, unusual, or highly personal elements)?

Yay, thank you so much for asking! ^_^ You know, I might just go through and answer all 105 of those for funsies at some point. xD But to get more specific:

What got you interested in witchcraft? I’m actually like... the literal poster child case for all the whackadoos that claim that Harry Potter will lead kids to actual witchcraft. I remember getting to the part of Prisoner of Azkaban where the Divination class was introduced, and I knew my mom’s best friend was a tarot reader, and I like... REALLY wanted to learn. So I got my first deck for my tenth birthday (and in fairness to 10 year old me, The Dragon Tarot is not the easiest to work with) and I was absolutely AWFUL at it. Like, the memorization wasn’t happening for card meanings, and the readings were just comically bad. But 10-11 year old Rachel was also super observant and decided to start studying astrology, numerology, and a number of other things before stumbling upon Wicca, which is where I properly started my witchy/pagan path.

What’s the first spell (or related activity) you ever performed? If I recall correctly, my best friend at the time and I decided to do a rite of dedication to our study of witchcraft under a full moon. We had everything planned out- except we for got to write in our ritual notes the directions and little incantation to open the circle again once the rite was done. We went from panic-stricken, to laughing at ourselves and apologizing to the powers that be, to some quick-thinking improv. 

What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s ever happened to you? I’ve already told you this story, but I don’t think I’ve shared it properly on Tumblr before. While studying abroad in the UK we went visiting various sacred sites as part of our anthropological courses. I was feeling really disappointed this particular day because we had gone to both Stonehenge and Chalice Well in Glastonbury and I had not had any “big pagan experiences” at either. Our last stop for our little excursion is Avebury, which is a beautiful little village situated in a MASSIVE stone circle. It’s dusk now and the sun is setting as we mill about a field and part of the circle.My roommate for this trip and I spot a man with a mane of grey hair sitting against a stone. He’s got this blanket in front of him with incense and various tools, and he’s holding dowsing rods in his hands. We are a very respectful and definitely-out-of-earshot-at-low-speaking-volume distance away, and I start explaining to roomie about the fact he’s dowsing and probably looking for ley lines in the area.As I’m explaining this, he stands and turns to look at us. Remember now, there’s like no way he heard us. And he calls out to us: “Have you two got good imaginations on you?”And now we’re like O_O and say something along the lines of like “Sure? I suppose so, yeah?”And he asks: “Do you know where the word ‘imagination’ comes from?” We just shake our heads, so he continues: “I. Magi. Nation. A nation of magicians.” And he tells us this story about how Merlin is one of his guides, and how Merlin had supposedly performed his first magic trick in that very stone circle: He’d made a friend invisible but couldn’t turn him visible again.He continues to tell us about how the Druids used that circle for rites of initiation in ancient times, too. And then he looks at us again and says “I get Druid from both of you.”At this point, I’m shooketh,and I answer something in the affirmative and this guy just... sits down and goes back about his business as though nothing happened.But where is gets really fucking weird is that literally no one else who was there remembers seeing him. Not even my roommate. She remembers me talking about him, but not our conversation with him.A part of me is half-convinced Merlin himself, or the spirit of some Druid, was there that day and initiated me there. To this day it still gives me goosebumps to think about.

What’s your biggest witchy pet peeve? Shitty research. In the year 2019, I should not be reading about The Burning Times and about how paganism as it is practiced today is actually super ancient. I also hate lists of deities that read like correspondences. They are living, thinking, feeling, etc. entities, not spell ingredients. There has to be a relationship built up before you think you can just call upon any one of them at random.

How have you created your path (e.g. unique, unusual, or highly personal elements)? My path since circa.... 2012 or so has been a lot of UPG and taking things as they come. This was about the time the Wylde Hunt first came into my practice, and at the time, it was rare to talk about them let alone worship/work with them as part of regular spiritual practice. It took a lot of research into folklore and developing my own relationship with the spirits associated with the Hunt in order to figure out how everything sort of puzzle-pieced into place.My deities are also super personal. On Tumblr, I usually refer to them as The Hunter and The Lady of the Lantern, as they are beings who don’t really fit in a particular established mythology. The Hunter reminds me of Herne the Hunter, Cernunnos, The Green Man, but isn’t quite them. The Lady of the Lantern has aspects that remind me of Hel, of Cerridwen, of Arianrhod, of Persephone, of the Morrigan. But at the same time, she is none of them. I have names that only I call them, and I’ve sort of been working on creating their mysteries and building more of my path around devotion to them specifically.

[themattress]

My Top 50 OUAT Episodes

And now, as a final goodbye to OUAT, I give you this list of my personal picks for the 50 best episodes in the series, listed in order of airing. Two-hour broadcasts are counted as one here.

1. Pilot - 1x01. One of the best TV pilots of recent years due to how quickly it grabs you and emotionally invests you in its magical atmosphere and the plight of its central characters. 

2. The Thing You Love Most - 1x02. Best watched immediately after the pilot, as it deals with the same story but from the dark and twisted perspective of its villain, the Evil Queen.

3. Snow Falls - 1x03. Snow and Charming are, well, charming in their first adventure together and the start of their romance, as is sweet Mary Margaret in the present day.

4. That Still Small Voice - 1x05. Jiminy Cricket of all characters gets a surprisingly dark and emotional backstory that resonates with him in the extremely intense present-day scenario.

5. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - 1x07. Jamie Dornan gives an incredible performance as the tormented Sheriff Graham / Huntsman, all the way to the episode’s tragic conclusion.

6. Desperate Souls - 1x08. We get our first true insight into the backstory of the enigmatic Rumpelstiltskin, and Emma becomes sheriff, making this a truly pivotal episode for the show.

7. Skin Deep - 1x12. A truly subversive, twisted take on the Beauty and the Beast story, with some unexpected layers added to Rumple’s character and Robert Carlyle’s performance. 

8. Red-Handed - 1x15. Little Red Riding Hood IS the Big Bad Wolf. That is awesome.

9. Hat Trick - 1x17. One of the most terrifying, surreal episodes in the entire series, with the great Sebastian Stan knocking it out of the park as the deranged Mad Hatter, Jefferson.

10. The Return - 1x19. We learn why the curse was cast in a devastatingly emotional story that adds more to the characters of Rumple and August as the season enters its final stretch.

11. The Stranger - 1x20. August’s true identity is one of the best reveals in the whole series.

12. An Apple Red As Blood - 1x21. Part 1 of the season finale, as Regina in both the past and present gears up to finish off her nemesis, with the episode ending on a huge shocker.

13. A Land Without Magic - 1x22. Part 2 of the season finale, the best finale the show ever had, and quite possibly my all-time favorite episode. Almost everything about this episode is perfect and gives you the feeling of a story coming to its end as the threads come together.

14. Broken - 2x01. A solid season opener that sets the show on an exciting new course.

15. Lady of the Lake - 2x03. Things really pick up as Team Princess is formed, Cora is established as the new Big Bad, and we get some beautiful moments between Snow and Emma that make it all the more shameful that the show utterly ruins this dynamic later on.

16. The Doctor - 2x05. Dr. Whale is Victor Frankenstein. Did NOT see that coming!

17. Tallahassee - 2x06. The first adventure that “Captain Swan” (Emma and Hook) partake in together, while at the same time we finally learn about Emma’s sad past with her ex-lover.

18. Queen of Hearts - 2x09. A thrilling conclusion to the first arc of Season 2, where we finally learn Cora’s motivations and get an epic fight between the heroes and the villains.

19. Manhattan - 2x14. This episode is a real turning point, with Emma’s ex-lover being revealed as Rumple’s long-lost son, along with several new insights into Rumple’s past. 

20. The Queen Is Dead - 2x15. One of the show’s most emotional episodes, in no small part thanks to Bailee Madison’s truly amazing performance as young Snow in the flashback.

21. The Miller's Daughter - 2x16. We learn about Cora’s fascinating backstory and the true nature of her relationship with Rumple. But then she dies, and the season totally falls apart.

22. Second Star To The Right - 2x21. Finally it feels like shit is getting done, and the concept of a terrifying re-imagining of Peter Pan in the flashback is immediately captivating.

23. And Straight On 'Til Morning - 2x22. The mess Season 2 became gets cleaned up in this gripping finale, with a brilliant new story set-up laid out to be followed in Season 3.

24. The Heart Of The Truest Believer - 3x01. OUAT is truly back at the top of its game here, juggling four different plot threads perfectly and introducing its greatest villain, Peter Pan.

25. Lost Girl - 3x02. The flashback here is meh, but the present day stuff is nigh-perfect.

26. Quite a Common Fairy - 3x03. For the first time, Regina’s potential redemption feels good and genuine, and Rose McIver’s re-imagining of Tinker Bell is a delight from the start.

27. Good Form - 3x05. Hook’s backstory is amazing, and Captain Swan truly begins here.

28. Ariel - 3x06. JoAnna Garcia Swisher makes a truly perfect live-action rendition of Ariel, and the interactions between all the characters in Neverland take a truly engaging turn.

29. Dark Hollow - 3x07. Belle and Ariel, on a mission from Rumpelstiltskin, team up to fight John and Michael Darling who serve the villainous Peter Pan. Only on this show, people!

30. Think Lovely Thoughts - 3x08. The “Nevengers” truly show how far they’ve come working as a group here, and we get one of the show’s most shocking and twisted reveals.

31. Going Home - 3x11. The perfect series finale that isn’t a series finale, with the action increasingly slowing down so that you can fully appreciate the emotions. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if the show had ended right here, I’d have been completely satisfied. 

32. Witch Hunt - 3x13. Just plain fun and funny, with great dialogue and great character interactions that really get you re-adjusted to these characters and to life in Storybrooke.

33. The Jolly Roger - 3x17. Quite possibly the quintessential Hook episode, showing just what kind of a person he was and how he desperately wants to be a better man now.

34. Snow Drifts / There's No Place Like Home - 3x21 / 22. After the incredible letdown that was the climax of the Wicked arc, we get this two-part finale that really embodies the magic OUAT had and never quite will again, with Emma’s character arc coming to a fitting end.

35. The Apprentice - 4x04. “The Dark One lies. The Dark One tricks”. This episode does a perfect job at re-establishing Rumple as a true villain and a schemer to be reckoned with.

36. The Snow Queen - 4x07. Quite possibly the most heartbreaking villain backstory the show has ever had, plus riveting scenes between Elizabeth Mitchell and Jennifer Morrison.

37. Smash the Mirror - 4x08. It’s overlong and the Regina and Robin subplot is complete bullshit, but everything else in both the past and present is golden. The 4A arc peaked here.

38. Shattered Sight - 4x10. The boffo comedy in this episode is cringe-inducing, but all of the serious, emotional stuff centered around the Snow Queen and her family gets me every time.

39. Poor Unfortunate Soul - 4x15. Ursula’s backstory is kind of iffy, but the effect it has on Hook and his development here is really good, as are the villains and August’s return.

40. Sympathy for the De Vil - 4x18. “Evil isn’t born, it’s made”...except in this case, where it is 100% born and takes us on a twisted tale that could pass for a good Twilight Zone episode.

41. The Broken Kingdom - 5x04. The twist of the glorious kingdom of Camelot being a kingdom literally built on sand, and its monarch a disturbed megalomaniac, is a great one. Plus, Snow and Charming actually get do something heroic after a long period of inactivity! 

42. Nimue - 5x07. The actors portraying Merlin and Nimue really sell the doomed epic romance between the two, as we get the most far-back flashback in the show’s entire run.

43. Labor of Love - 5x13. This episode can be summed up as “The Nevengers are back.” That alone counters the disappointment of how blandly Hercules and Megara are portrayed.

44. The Brothers Jones - 5x15. A touching tale of brotherhood, good intentions gone wrong, self-loathing and forgiveness, plus giving Hook closure with his big brother. I just love it.

45. Firebird - 5x20. The flashback is utter tripe, but the escalation in the present-day story, the performances, and Captain Swan’s True Love test makes this episode well worth it.

46. Last Rites - 5x21. Aside from that moment with Robin, this episode is awesome, especially the Underworld scenes with the duo I never knew I wanted: Hook and Arthur.

47. The Other Shoe - 6x03. This episode embodies what the show SHOULD have become: a more light-hearted series with adventures-of-the-day starring Emma, Hook and Henry. 

48. A Wondrous Place - 6x15. Hook sails on Captain Nemo’s sub, the Nautilus, alongside Aladdin and Jasmine, meeting up with Ariel and facing down Jafar. Only on this show, people!

49. The Song in Your Heart - 6x20. Because really, who doesn’t love a Musical Episode? This one centering around Emma and her marriage to Hook makes it all the more special.

50. The Final Battle - 6x21 / 22. It’s got a LOT of problems, but the ending it reaches is truly one that fits the show, and we would have been better off if ABC hadn’t renewed it afterward.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

The Price of Gold - 1x04. Rumpelstiltskin’s first showcase episode, and he’s terrifying in it.

Dreamy - 1x14. Screw the haters, I really liked this episode! It was hilarious and sweet.

The Crocodile - 2x04. Our introduction to Killian Jones / Captain Hook. It’s a good one, and I’d have liked it better had Rumple’s role in both the past and present not been so disturbing.

Save Henry - 3x09. A tad anti-climactic and the Regina focus was misaimed, but still good.

New York City Serenade - 3x12. A damn fine start to a new beginning for the show.

Rocky Road - 4x03. Elsa and the Snow Queen are both fantastic characters, both shown well here. It’s held back by the introduction of Will Scarlet, who ended up being a waste.

Darkness on the Edge of Town - 4x12. This episode gives us the visual of villains on a road trip stopping at a drive-thru. You just gotta love that! Also, the Chernabog was awesome.

Operation Mongoose - 4x21 / 22. Despite Isaac’s (and by extension, A&E’s) terrible writing, the weird situations and performances from the actors makes this an entertaining finale.

Siege Perilous - 5x03. A good old-fashioned Camelot adventure is just what I wanted. 

The Bear King - 5x09. Again, screw the haters. The show needed more episodes like this, a standalone where the plot takes a pause and the side characters are allowed to develop.

Broken Heart - 5x10. The present-day plot is absolute crap, but the flashback in Camelot is really well executed, and Colin O’Donoghue is clearly having a blast playing Dark Hook.

Souls of the Departed - 5x12. Not ideal for the 100th episode, but a good start to the Underworld arc, with a lot of familiar faces returning and a great new villain introduced. 

Devil's Due - 5x14. Despite her fate in this episode, it’s great to see the writers presenting Milah more sympathetically than she was before, and Hades continues to be a delight.

Our Decay - 5x16. The first episode where Zelena feels truly human instead of the cartoonish psychopath she was before, with her and Hades’ romance being legit touching.

Sisters - 5x19. While I don’t much care for the subplot with Prince James, the main plot featuring the reconciliation between Cora, Regina and Zelena is great and beautifully acted.

Strange Case - 6x04. Oh, Mr. Hyde, you left us way too soon. The episode is sadly weighed down by Rumple’s textbook abuse toward Belle, which we now know is never truly punished. 

Dark Waters - 6x06. A good bonding episode between Hook and Henry, plus a great new character from the Land of Untold Stories who is actually faithful to his source material!

Heartless - 6x07. For once, Lana Parilla actually gives us an old-school Evil Queen performance, where she’s scary and truly malevolent rather than campy and over-the-top.

Mother's Little Helper - 6x16. I really like the Dark Realm, and wish that more was done with it. The reunion between long-time rivals Hook and Blackbeard is also a lot of fun.

The Black Fairy - 6x19. The retcon that Rumple was born a Savior is ridiculous, but the titular Black Fairy’s backstory actually makes her an interesting character for the first time.

A Pirate's Life - 7x02. It was nice to see Emma again, and even better to see that the Hook in this arc is actually Wish!Hook rather than the original, who is still living happily with Emma.

The Girl in the Tower - 7x14. Robin and Alice are beyond precious as a couple in both the past and the present, finally washing away the bad taste left behind by “Ruby Slippers”.

The Guardian - 7x18. It may have been late in coming, but Rumple / Weaver actually becomes interesting here as we get to explore his relationship with his newfound friends.

Homecoming - 7x21. It’s good to see several old characters again, and even better to see all the loose threads from that abominable Season 6 Wish Realm two-parter finally addressed. 

Leaving Storybrooke - 7x22. Except for Rumple’s end, most of what happens following Snow and Charming’s appearance is utter shit. But.....at least the show is finally over!

#Once Upon a Time #ABC #Opinion

[averyscarlet-blog]

Percy’s Story Pt. 1

The Naive Knight

Warning: Slightly R-18

Theme(s): Coming of Age, Power & Corruption

Type: Original Story

Featured Original Character(s): Perseus/Percy and Rei

Other Character(s): Rayner, Jankin, Tybaut

Inspiration: The Tale of King Arthur

Summary: Not everyone gets the chance to obtain what others have sought for for years. In Perseus's case, he was able to obtain everything he was looking for. But at what cost? Was there truly no other way to obtain one's knighthood? That's what he asked himself. By the time he had obtained what he sought for, many of his closest friends had died in his place, backstabbed by someone he almost viewed as a brother.

Since I was a child, my grandfather had always wanted me to achieve great things. Far greater than my father, him, and his father before him. There was only one thing I could think of that could place my name in history, and that's by taking over Camelot. The Saxons failed because of the lack of proper equipment to fight against the Britons strong defense. The only reason the King fell was because his failure to properly maintain his important bonds, especially with his own queen and his most trusted Knight. I could rule the land King Arthur and his Knights had sacrificed their lives in protecting, bring the peace they dreamed of. With the recent loss of their monarch, the kingdom is open for the taking, anyone could claim the throne if they want. Aside from that, there is another issue to be dealt with, the remaining knights of the round table.

Without their King to guide them, they became a flock of lost little sheep. I’m not even certain if they are willing to allow anyone, let alone an outsider, take the throne. In order to gain their trust, I need the very reason they followed King Arthur.

All I needed to do was tearch for the weapon that once acted as a beacon of light, the weapon that made many kneel before its bearer and slew those that went against them. Excalibur. The magical blade which was lost after the Battle of Camlann. I’ve heard stories of where it was left, but the only person that I know is still breathing and out in the open that could tell me. And that person is the former Queen of Camelot, Guinevere. Last I heard, she was taking up residence in a convunt. If all else fails, I have to locate the so-called powerful wizard himself, Merlin.

He disappeared into the magical forest, Brocéliande, after the King's death. In order to start my journey, to test if I'm truly strong enough to face such trials, I had to fight and kill my grandfather. I didn't want to, but he was right, I'll be facing foes far stronger than him on my journey, and if I want to prepare for such encounters, I have face of someone that I'm on the same level as. And that's my grandfather. Before we started, he told me to put a blindfold on. I didn't understand why I needed one, especially since I have long since passed that part of my training, but I did as I was told. My grandfather wasn’t as young as anyone initially believed him to be, though I can understand why.

Despite being in his eighties, his platinum blonde hair never turned gray, the skin of his was almost absent of any age lines, and most curious of all, remained just as strong after all those years. Honestly, whenever I compare myself to him, appearance and personality-wise, I had some difficulty believing that we were of the same blood. Hell, I even questioned his age. He was rambunctious, a flirt, short tempered man that rarely acted as an adult when around strangers. The fact he could hardly hold his alcohol after two cups reminded me of myself when I was younger. I could hardly drink through half a cup on my first try. I could hardly get through half a cup.

Still, despite his flaws, people were always drawn to him. I could never tell if they were attracted to his personality, that large grin he wears even in battle, or both. An oddly youthful-looking elderly man who held the valor and pride of a knight; and is also one of the strongest swordsman in all the land.

That’s how I always viewed him as, until my sword pierced through his armor. It was only a split second, but when he accidentally sliced the cloth from my face, the same mysterious eye color we both shared was filled with grief. By the time I realized what I had just done, I had already plunged my sword in his heart. I can still recall the surge of emotions I felt that day. My only issue was I didn’t know how to express them all at the same time. The one thing I could stare down at his bleeding corpse with expressionless eyes.

My entire body felt numb. My mind was clouded, only his face appeared in my thoughts on repeat. I don’t even know how long I’d been standing there, watching as the pool of blood began to reach my feet.

Only my eyes knew how to react, and that was by crying the same tears as my grandfather. Despite dying with a smile, for the first time since my father’s death, he cried. Not because he was going to die, he cried because he was going to leave me by myself. That when I realized the true purpose behind my blindfold. It was to hide the fact that he was holding back by using his non-dominant arm. It was to keep me from seeing his true feelings, preventing from feeling any remorse for pointing my blade at him. He wanted me to be free of such feelings, to walk the path he had laid out for me. 

He wasn’t the strongest knight. He was a simple man that, rather than wasting his life by serving under a crown, chose to use his strength to protect others, use his charm to lift the spirits of many. Upon performing the burial rites, I raised my sword and vowed to follow his example. I may not be successful, I may even scare off several people for trying too hard to be like him, but I will in memory of him. Although I do not know what has happened in Camelot since King Arthur’s passing, but I had hoped the Knights of the Round table were able to maintain some form of stability when I arrive.

Sadly, it wasn’t the case. When I arrived, everything was in a disarray. Poverty riddled the land as far as the eye can see. Homes appeared as it they would crumble from even the slightest touch. Shops were either abandoned, destroyed, or had little to no customers inside. I had hoped to encounter at least one patrolling soldier that could point me in the right direction, but all I met were apprehensive stares and fearful cries when approached. I can understand if the Knights of the Round table had some difficulty maintaining certain parts of the kingdom, but never in my dreams did I imagine things to turn out like this. As I wondered around what I assume was the marketplace, I ran into a girl, an exotic one at that.

She had partially dark skin, silky brown hair and... Yellow eyes. The same color as mine and my grandfather. I didn’t have the chance to approach her as I was taken by her striking beauty. Her outlandish appearance did help me chase after her, but when I was so close to reaching her, she disappeared. I’ve never seen anyone with such an appearance before in my life. Could I be a descendant of her people? I hope that once I obtain my sword I am able to find her.

As I resumed my search for answers, I stumbled upon a church. It was the only structure that was properly maintained. In hopes of receiving a point in the right direction, I met with the priest and prodded as much as I was allowed. And ironically, the woman I was hoping to meet enters the church. Despite no longer adorning the attire of a noble and only wearing black clothing, she carried herself with high regard as she walked into the room. The way she moved, the way she maintained a neutral face, it’s no wonder she was chosen as Queen. Her beauty was not as well described from the stories I heard.

From what I know, many had approached King Arthur, begging, hoping they’d look their way. The only one that was able to capture his attention was Guinevere, whom he met after helping King Leodegrance defeat a rival king. When I approached her, I had recalled her past; her affair with Sir Lancelot. I felt ashamed to approach her with the sole intent of finding her deceased husband’s sword. She was clearly still grieving, hence the pulled back veil and the black dress. While I do not know the details that led to the end of the affair, I am certain that many still hold some malice towards the former Queen for her ‘betrayal’ towards the King’s feelings.

Still, with a nervous breath through the nostrils, I greeted, “How fair thee Your Majesty.”

Taken aback at the formal address, she merely laughs. “Your Majesty... it’s been quite a long time since I was called such a title.”

“Ah... I’m sorry...” I apologized and bowed my head.

“There’s no need to apologize. I’m simply merely pleased to know there are still others that hold me in such high regard.” Her smile, although real, held a hidden sadness. “I see you’re a swordsman,” she noted.

“Y-Yes!” I stammer, failing to hide the two weapons which hung from my hip.

“May I see them?” Guinevere requests.

 I do so without objection. At first, I felt a surge of pride when I handed her my blade. I made it myself when grandfather had me become an apprentice of a blacksmith, hoping it would put some muscle in my previously thin arms. The sword had a basket-shaped guard with a blade almost similar to a rapier.

“My, what an interesting sword... I can tell just how much love was put into its creation.”

I felt a little bashful at the comment. When I was about to reach for the other, I hesitated. My grandfather’s broadsword. Even if he was holding back, it’s a wonder how I was able to fight against him. After exchanging weapons, I panicked when she suddenly began to cry.

“This is.... Rayner’s weapon.”

Realizing that she knew my grandfather, I bitterly took advantage of the situation and told her of my heritage and my purpose for travelling to Camelot. She wasn’t upset as I had anticipated nor was she disappointed. Rather, she seemed relatively calm to learn someone was searching for her husband’s blade with the sole intention of taking the throne. I could have lied to her, but I felt I had an obligation to be truthful towards her after learning she had known my grandfather. She was saddened to learn of his recent passing, but she understood his reasons. 

Guinevere admitted that while she doesn’t know what had happened to the sword, she knows who was the person present for when he drew his last breath. Sir Bedivere. That was all I wanted to know. Not wanting to linger any longer, I said my farewells and took my leave.

Before I did, she called out, “If you happen to encounter Lancelet during your journey, please tell him... I’m sorry.”

I stopped midway from the door. I told her, “I may not know what had happened between you three nor do I want to know the reasons. As a man inexperienced in love, I may yet understand what had led you to make the decisions to did back then, or I may never will. I do know this, if you truly love someone, you do not give up on them and wait. I’m certain Lancelot is waiting for you somewhere, so rather than having a stranger pass on the message, please face him yourself.”

My search for Sir Bedivere was far more challenging that locating the former Queen; his whereabouts were unknown. Everywhere I went, no one knew exactly where he is. They didn't even know where he lives. All I heard were rumors; rumors that did not match up or make any logical sense. The most outrageous one I heard was that he had travelled across the neverending sea to fight against mythical creatures in honor of the king. On my way, I met various people along my travels. While many still saw me as a mere boy, they respected my skills with the sword during combat.

Eventually, I made several friends along the way, some of them agreeing to join my journey. Jankin, born from a line of knights, was the oldest but not the wisest man. He always picked fights left and right, even when sober. That’s how we met, inside a tavern completely before we ended up butting heads for no particular reason. Even now, I still have no idea how I invited him to join, he just approached me after my hangover and told me he was ready for the quest. Tybaut was a well-known thief of the next village I visited. He attempted to steal mine and Jankin’s swords, but the man, just as quick as he is in drinking a mug of beer, snatches back longsword before he got far. He was a surpisingly lean man for someone that could move so swiftly.

Instead of arresting him, I offered him to join our party. Since I had unknowingly invited Jankin while drunk, I thought it’d make sense to expand our numbers. Plus, I saw what happened to criminals when caught, they lose their hands. While I understand the reasons, I found no justice in such a cruel act. I promised to provide all of his needs so long as he swears to never steal for himself ever again. He was uncertain at first, especially since I was still a teen, but he agrees and joins us. The last two were siblings, brothers in fact.

One of them would become my long time best friend, as well as one of my greatest foes.

#Original story #long post #Original Character #Backstory #coming of age

[septemberpoems]

Stiles, ravens and World of Warcraft

aka I think I know what the hell a Stiles is

I’m a huge subscriber to the idea that there is a trio of things to be in the supernatural world of teen wolf; essentially hunters, shifters and emissaries, for lack of a better word. I’ve explained it before, but basically:

-a human with human weapons, such as the hunters, noah and melissa -a shifter that themself is the supernatural weapon, such as werecoyotes, werewolves and kitsune  -a human with the ability to wield a supernatural weapon of some kind, like lydia, deaton or jennifer.

all three contain different variations on a theme. and stiles belongs to the third. I think most of us can agree that it looks like he’s part of the third category, but how?

the first clue, really, hit me way later than it should have, and that’s the remark about him playing an online game that battles mythical creatures. with how quick he was to take everything in, never doubting the facts in front of him, I believe that game was WoW. it’s also the most popular one, so in all likelyhood, that’s it. if jeff davis has known all along what stiles is, I think this was a small nod. but let’s talk about the other clues.

his name.  jeff talked about stiles and his humanity way back around season 2 (note! the season of the WoW comment) and said he was more like perseus with his sword. long story short perseus was given preternatural weapons to fight medusa. mieczyslaw means sword and glory, and I think that’s a nod to that inspiration. that also fits the emissary category.

his nickname. a stiles is a set of steps or a ladder or something that helps people cross over walls and fences without letting livestock or whatever might be inside the fence out. 

jeff has said very early on that stiles and lydia are two sides of the same coin. he’s been drawn to her from the beginning, and I have an idea why. it’s has less to do with a romantic relationship and more to do with bonds, which I’ll clear up later, but basically I believe her banshee status and what stiles really is is very closely connected. it’s also why she was chosen as his anchor, and why she keeps bringing him back.

stiles heals faster than humans should, especially from things like kanima poison. when him and derek were paralyzed on the sheriff station floor and derek stared at him after the “dude, I can move my toes” I don’t think it was because derek was healing slow. I think it was because stiles was healing fast. he was also the only one in the right place to affect the mountain ash to let tracy out from the clinic, because she couldn’t have broken the barrier herself. if she had, it wouldn’t have broken the way it did. he had no way of defending himself against her talons though, so instead of getting up, he feigned paralyzation and let her out. he also seemed to recuperate faster from being drugged during lydia’s party.

in fact, derek may be one of the only ones who’s truly figured out what stiles is- this because of the spark conversation with one of the twins (can’t remember which one), stiles kinetically affecting the mountain ash and repeatedly waking up those who should be dead or unwakeable. 

stiles keeps talking to people who shouldn’t be able to communicate. punching poisoned derek back to life, talking to jackson while he’s OD’d on ketamine, isaac he only goes under when stiles grabs his legs, he’ll only focus when stiles is holding them and when isaac stands up, he talks to stiles directly. it should be noted that immediately after he’s awake and the weather outside stops, deaton and stiles both say things related to thunder (stiles uses the word thunderdome instead of arena, deaton says “storm in there”), but we’ll get to that later. he brings back cora and derek from the brink of death again despite it being supernaturally induced by jennifer and just recently he woke people up in the train station that he didn’t have emotional connections to.

sparks. so many sparks. stiles got fucking electrocuted at the same time as kira to the point where his bat was magnetic and he still walked out of there. he connects lydia over a radio, there are lights flickering when he’s angry and when the nogitsune takes over.

stiles has died three times. the ice baths, the car crash and the nogitsune slicing his stomach open. 

I’m going to make an assumption for the last one, but it’s not a far reach: the nogitsune changes appearance and power, right? with rhys it has shiny teeth, with the yakuza boss it had white eyes and several rows of teeth and with stiles it had.. nothing, really. I believe it takes the strongest being, the one it can use the most. the bandaged nogitsune in stiles’ mind was a mix between the yakuza boss and rhys’ burnt body, given the teeth and the bandage. so whatever the nogitsune did in stiles’ body, stiles was already capable of. and when it sliced stiles open it did so knowing what a threefold death would do to stiles’ powers. as did noshiko, which is why she was so terrified. 

  now, let’s talk norse mytholgy, and parallels with teen wolf that you should know of.

the norns. the norns were called urd (what once was), verdandi (what’s coming to be) and skuld (what shall be). they lived under yggdrasil, the world tree, in a well, matching allison, stiles and scott sacrificing themselves in water to the nemeton. I think allison was what was, stiles was what was becoming and scott what would become later on.  around the beginnings of stiles’ nogitsune problem there were speculations that allison got out relatively free because her main fear, becoming kate, was something she’d already dealt with. she almost fell into it while hunting boyd and erica as while she grieved her mother, but she got out of it and she survived. there was also talk about scott never really dealing with his fear of becoming a monster alpha, something we saw shine through later on when he both dreamt of killing liam and when he shifted more fully during the fight with the assassin team. 

the three sacrifices and self-sacrifice to the world tree: odin is closely tied to sacrifice, partially for hanging himself for a couple of days to gain knowledge. the threefold death has been presented in a lot of ways; sometimes it’s through water and fire, other times being stoned, pierced by a stake and drowning, both in relation to merlin, but it’s also very present in old norse texts. the theme of stabbing, drowning and blunt force trauma is present in those, too. remember how stiles’ three deaths are different from those jennifer performed? drowning, blunt force trauma, slicing himself open.

odin has a shit-ton of names. I can’t even begin to list them all. stiles, mieczyslaw, mischief, stilinski, bilinski... yeah.

odin speaks with the dead. here’s a parallel to the ghost riders, actually, because odin gets to the underworld by riding sleipnir, which is a horse, as some of you might already know. it’s very heavily emphasized that this is something only odin and possibly sorceresses can do.

odin gets much of his knowledge through hugin and munin, two ravens that sit on his shoulders and tell him what they’ve discovered when they’ve flown around the world. this has sometimes been interpreted as the farseeing part of shamanism, and sometimes depicted as two actual birds, but they’re a part of odin that has been present for a very long time. 

odin practiced seid, a type of sorcery he was taught by freya. this is very, very female coded (most likely because of related fertility rites and the sexual components of them), and even if there were a small amount of male seid practitioners it was heavily frowned upon. stiles is one of the few younger male  characters on the show that hasn’t been presented as manly eyecandy in one way or another, and on top of that his queerness has been hinted at for years. odin being queer in one way or another tends to go untouched by media using him, but he was. 

 there are other norse parallels, like peter and the ones he’s turned paralleling loki and loki’s children:

-hel, ruler of the realm of (most of) the dead. peter bit lydia and she became a banshee.

-jörmungandr, the serpent. it has also been in the shape of a cat. remember when we talked about how scaly kate looked like, before the werejaguar thing was confirmed? (it’s also an ouroboros.)

-fenrir, the wolf. I think you can guess the parallel here.

peter’s also very close to loki in behaviour and consequence. usually when something’s up, it’s loki’s doing, but even when it’s not he’s called in to deal with the results of whatever’s going on. 

I also believe that lydia is largely drawn from freya, and that this is where the “two sides of the same coin” comes in for her and stiles. not only is freya a goddess of fertility and sorcery but she’s also a goddess of war and death. when you die in battle, you either go to freya or to odin.

so how does world of warcraft fit in, then? one of the most written about characters in wow is thrall, one of the most powerful shaman to ever have lived, whose parents died when he was young and whose birthname we didn’t know for years.

I believe stiles is a shaman, by it’s norse definition, and that this inspiration comes largely from odin himself. 

and herein lies the biggest kicker- I think stiles is what will not only defeat the wild hunt, but also mr alpha nazi. because if anyone can control a hound of the hunt, it would be odin. whip or no.

and I think that the gang will all either walk out the way lydia walked in, or they’ll defeat the riders and leave through the portal on their horses. and if I’m right, stiles and lydia will be the only ones left unscathed. 

#stiles meta #teen wolf meta #ghost riders meta #lydia meta #peter meta #I'll go back tomorrow and check for mistakes but yeah #there you go

[sobdasha]

Do This: List some of the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they are working on. This can be anything! 

tagged by @adirotynd (you forgot me at first but then you remembered I’m so happy!)

tagging @kixboxer

I’m always currently working on everything.......somewhat.........

1) that Yuki and Machi and Who Does Mutsuki Take After prompt for anon

Mutsuki has been baby-snatched. He's been switched in the delivery room. What the nurse hands Machi to feed is not her baby boy, but someone else's several-month-old television model infant. Machi's seen newborns. Her little brother, for example. Other people's bundles of joy, shared around the office email by her various proud coworkers. Her niece Michi, whom she actually got to hold in the hospital. So Machi knows what babies look like. Newborn babies are ugly. Newborn babies are red, wrinkly little hellspawns. They are faces only a mother (or proud papa or other doting relative) could love, all red, toothless mouths in red, scrunched up faces. And the screaming, although you don't get that so much from pictures. And the stickiness, that mixture of drool and snot and tears that pools in every crease. That's what Mutsuki should be. This thing in her arms is some kind of weird alien monstrosity, in comparison. Perfect smooth skin and a creamy-pale complexion. Soft, wispy fluffs of fair hair in just the right amount. It cries, Machi will give it that, and loudly. And its face does get a bit splotchy at those times. But the way its nose crinkles up is like a cute bunny rabbit's, and instead of snot and spit there's just tears, which sparkle. "I don't know," Yuki says, tilting the baby a bit under the hospital lights, "I don't really see any sparkles."

2) Tumblr kiss meme for supes, I have only... 12 - chest kiss and 19 - forceful kiss and 20 - any of the above (I think it’s some kind of cheek or forehead or something kiss?? I...didn’t...write that bit down...) left!!! (no wait, upon further investigation I did note down basically that) since supes wanted to hear more about that last prompt, I’m posing the rough notes of it, since it’s once again in need of a rewrite to find its proper shape

anyway Link is enjoying a dip in one of those hot springs right now, eyes closed, and there's a splash and he figures it's Link the Goron getting back in until a hand that is definitely not made of rock takes his chin and Impa says “Goddesses, Link, what did you do to your face?” and Link kind of startles because suddenly Impa, and he kind of forgets about it you know until people remind him, and he's still pretty self-conscious about it and Impa is, “And I didn't mean that as badly as it sounded. It's good to see you again, Link,” she says, and she smiles warmly and adds, “You look well.”

(Impa and Zelda bathing in Sheikah body suits, and Link is either just in his leggings or else he's in fully Zora tunic because he's just so used to wearing it in any and all water pffft)

and then somehow Zelda joins them, this time around her father's still alive and still on the throne so she gets to do things like ~diplomacy~ which suck sometimes but sometimes they involve getting out of the castle and traveling and saying hi to ppl like the Gorons and that part's pretty great, so she's definitely taking advantage of Darunia's invitation to the hot springs and Zelda notices too and she's kind of “does it look gross?” and Link's sort of yeah, that's why he's wearing the eyepatch still, and Zelda is “can I see?” and Link forgets sometimes that gross scary things don't really bother her that much, so he lifts up the eyepatch so she can see and she kind of makes agreeing noises and eyelid/forehead/nose smooches, MAYBE ALL OF THEM

3) tp zelink4lyfe 95 - advertisement 97 - safety first

these are also both in a state of perpetually needing rewrites hahaha Safety First is supposed to be about swordsmanship competitions during the Festival of Farore, okay, but then a couple days ago I thought WHAT ABOUT WILLIAM TELL so now it’s either going to have a plot overhaul, or else there’s going to be sword version and outtake archery version

4) park ranger zelda AU (her park is her kingdom and link ACTUALLY RAISED BY WOLVES maybe???)

is going to be Breath of the Wild verse so NO SPOILERS FOR SUPES YET I meant to do Twilight Princess always, but never got inspiration....until I suddenly thought of changing the verse

5) link raised by rito

is also going to be Breath of the Wild! so I’m sparing supes the deets! I would have done Wind Waker but I somehow forgot about this prompt constantly?? I don’t know why else I wouldn’t have had any ideas about it?? But BotW will be fun and evil I think so.....yes

6) Link raised as a witch like Maple but more doof less sass (something like that it was too much work to quote the original prompt verbatim)

Link hasn’t been to one of Nayru’s performances in ages. And she used to give Link harp lessons, back before he got too busy being a Junior Apprentice. He wonders if these people have come a long way to hear Nayru sing. Their clothes all look weird and foreign. Another young woman, tall and dark-skinned, laughs aloud. “Well, it’s something like that!” she says. She twirls, the ribbons on her outfit and her long hair whipping with the movement. “We’re a troupe of traveling performers, you see. And when we heard about Nayru--Marin here’s a singer too.” She jerks her thumb at the first girl, who nods and inhales and opens her mouth. Link doesn’t know the language the song is in. But he knows Marin’s voice is pretty, and her notes are clear and pure and steady, and he likes the tune of the ballad. He claps, when she finishes, and she curtsies. “I'm sorry you're busy. But thank you for the directions,” Marin says, before she and the rest of the troupe get their caravan turned around and leave Yoll Graveyard. Link sighs and waits behind the counter for Maple to return from her Important Witch Business, even though it’s going to be too late for him to attend the duet that Marin is going to sing with Nayru, even though Maple comes back whistling something that sounds a lot like Marin’s Ballad of the Goddess.

(I’ve got SS OST going on in the background and just as I copy-pasted this, Zelda singing Ballad of the Goddess came on lol) (”Marin” is Zelda, because I decided that can be just as good an alias as Sheik and also for extra feels)

7) Neko Zamurai AU for Fruits Basket (quoting from the notes, which are kind of sparse SHAME ON ME but the important part is Hana-chan gets hired to kill a cat and steals it instead)

arisa questions her about the color "u kno it's not black right??" and Saki sighs and is "I would have preferred black, yes, but this was all they had…" 5 ryo and one free cat, not bad for an hour's work

she meets Tohru when she comes back to get cat food ("Man, this cat's even pickier than you, Saki!" won't eat fish, veggies, meat…), as she is raiding the house, and Tohru tearfully gives it to her because they used to have a cat until it was killed a few days ago, it's so terrible, who could do that to a cat! And Saki hugs her and pats her "Yes you're right, whoever would kill a cat is truly a terrible person" and then "is this for your cat?" and Saki says yes, she did in fact just get a cat recently, but she doesn't know how to take care of it at all and maybe Tohru would like to escape this ridiculous place and come help her? And Kyou gets dragged along too

8) halfway house for hellspawn it’s actually a collection of emails which I greatly enjoy, but I wanted to write them up more....formally and and chronologically and with less shameful caplocks etc, but that’s going veeeeeeery slowly have some of the original emails!

DOES KURAMA EVER COME OUT TO HIS FAMILY POST MANGA THO I mean on one hand I'm pretty sure he intends to take that TO THEIR GRAVES but on the other hand /how the fucking hell can he possibly keep this secret with the barrier between worlds down/

to rub the salt in, Shiori probably get, like, proactive about demons. Like at first everyone's like "um nope no thanks humans discriminate it's what we do" and "haha okay 'demons' yeah this is Japan home of weird youth trends and other shit" but then it's probably kind of unavoidable that you'd have to deal with them and. like. Shuuichi has a weirdly large amount of delinquent friends. And they're very nice! Urameshi and Kuwabara and Hiei and all, they're quite good people under their rough exteriors. Demons are kind of like delinquents, right? You just have to treat them as people!

While Kurama is on the side, KIND OF LIKE MERLIN FANFICS, going "mom pls mom no mom don't get unnecessarily involved with demons mom just don't" while Shiori is "young man I do not know what your problem is but this is most unlike you, you do not need to worry"

BETTER YET LIKE

SO DEMONS ARE TRYING TO INTEGRATE INTO THE HUMAN WORLD. And they can chill at Genkai's old place, but like, that's way the fuck up in the mountains there aren't really any humans. To really integrate you need to like INTERACT WITH HUMANS. OKAY. AND LIKE. WHO IS THE ONLY HUMAN MOST DEMONS HAVE HEARD OF. ASIDE FROM CELEBRITIES (NOT. NOT THAT DEMON WORLD PIRATES A LOT OF HUMAN WORLD MEDIA. NOPE.) THAT WOULD BE. "KURAMA'S HUMAN MOM."

SO IT BECOMES A FUCKING UNOFFICIAL RITE OF PASSAGE. GO HAVE DINNER AT THE HATENAKA HOUSEHOLD. IF YOU ARE STILL ALIVE AFTER A WEEK, YOU PASSED. YOU CAN PROPERLY INTERACT WITH ANY HUMAN YOU CHOOSE. YOU ARE FREE TO MOVE ABOUT THE HUMAN WORLD WITHOUT UNDUE STRESS THAT YOU'LL FUCK UP.

and inevitably it's always like "uh I'm a friend of your son Shuuichi he's really good at reforming ppl???" and everyone assumes it's just that Shuuichi must volunteer helping ppl become productive members of society and Shiori approves, isn't that nice, what a good boy, it's the same as all his other delinquent friends

while Kurama is like "YOU DON'T HAVE TO LET THEM IN THE HOUSE. MOM. YOU DON'T. PLEASE. MOM. M O M."

and every demon who comes to the house probably fucks up regularly and /how is Kurama supposed to keep his secret under these conditions when he is a super-famous demon fuck u all/ either the Hatenaka family is universally really bad at reading the atmosphere, the rule of funny has come into play, or they're just patiently waiting for Kurama to come out to them, SOMETHING, YOU DECIDE

still it'd be REALLY FUNNY if they were TOTALLY OBLIVIOUS and as Kurama scrambles to cover his secret they are all just "really Shuuichi it's not like you to be this judgmental of ppl what have you got against demons they are perfectly nice"

9) well there’s SUPPOSED TO BE a Neko Zamurai AU for YYH too but I guess that’s on paper somewhere??? I certainly don’t see it on my computer. Okay then....

the important thing to note is that Kuwabara steals the cat, obviously.

10) Pearl and Garnet and writer's preference ("You did all of this for me?") or, the one where Steven introduces Pearl to Things Organized Neatly and it all predictably goes downhill from there what I have written is gonna need some tweaking so have this bit of the notes lol

(something about blog numbers, here or later? And pearl's like "if that's what a blog is, I could make a blog" and Steven with star-eyes is "o. omg. Pearl. WILL YOU MAKE A BLOG AND BECOME INTERNET FAMOUS. AND THEN CAN I TELL EVERYONE WE'RE FRIENDS.")

11) 3 suitors Lieutenant Awn had (knowingly or not) and what One Esk had to say about them.

TECHNICALLY HAVEN’T STARTED WORKING ON IT YET and this kind of prompt is not really my strong point ON THE OTHER HAND I DO LOVE ME THOUSANDS OF BABY LIEUTENANT TEARS SOAKING JUSTICE OF TOREN’S JACKETS so you can probably expect to see some baby lieutenants weeping into One Esk’s soothing arms after they crushed on but then were crushed by part-time oblivious heartbreaker Lieutenant Awn

anyway I’ve got tons of other WIPs everywhere but those were the easiest to dredge up and pretty recent

#fruits basket #legend of zelda #yyh #steven universe #imperial radch #sobdasha fic adjacent