#but this is a hill i will strongly consider dying on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

derangedhyena-zoids · 3 years

Text

I guess now that I featured The Kids in something I can elaborate on them and everything related slightly without seeming completely insane. BIG HEADCANON BLATHER TIME: Raven and Ryss had 2 kids, both boys.

Ryss wasn’t a terribly good mother. She loved her kids but was a little panicked about them at all times, and didn’t really like the distraction they were. Specula was a good mother and did the majority of keeping them out of trouble.

They were also psychic as fuck, but that didn’t show up until they were hitting puberty. I’m sure that was an entire Time.

Ryss literally didn’t think she could get pregnant by Raven. She based this off of both what she’d been taught by Hiltz (humans=/=Zoidians) and the fact that Fiona had never been pregnant despite sleeping with Van for years*. So, once Ryss figured out she was pregnant**, telling Raven was a bit of an event because Raven was under the impression that such a thing wasn’t possible. He also had little interest in being a parent. Ryss also had no idea what pregnancy even entailed for a Zoidian, and neither did Fiona. Again, all she knew was what she’d learned from Hiltz, and it wasn’t as if he went out of his way to teach her the finer points of anything. (Knowledge is power after all, and he wanted wanted to hold as much power over her as possible. What she didn’t know to begin with, she couldn’t know was being withheld. All she knew from Hiltz on the topic was Zoidian pregnancies are of a greater duration than human pregnancies - mainly because he’d irritably snapped about how ‘the vermin’ reproduce faster.) Raven’s main reluctance about parenting had to do with... you know, his massive unresolved parental trauma. Which after some extreme stress he and Ryss managed to work through, largely because they had a lot in common in this department. Afterwards Raven warmed up to the idea of being a father, and was... well, Okay.jpg at it. Let’s just say he had Shadow helping Specula with the kids a lot. ...the kids were raised by Organoids. SO.

An attempt was made to keep track of Ryss and her offspring, especially after Raven’s death and she began to make herself scarce. But nobody expected the kids to be psychic af, and they quickly sussed out that something was up and followed their mom’s lead, making themselves and their families impossible to find. ....

The Guardian Force pretty quickly lost tabs on them, but did know what to “look for”, so to speak.

However, this attempt was never linked up with the information the Empire had on Ryss, mainly because too much time had passed and no one knew to bridge the info.

Anyways. All three Zoidians were aware there were differences between themselves and humans, Hiltz more than most. Hiltz was the only one of them that had an adult level of knowledge from Zoidian times. Fiona and Ryss were literal children and were only ever, at best, taught the very basics about things. Part and parcel of subscribing wholesale to the we’re-the-best group’s newsletter, Hiltz also a keen interest in biology/related, obviously interested in scholars of that group’s discussion on what amounted to Zoidian eugenics. ‘we’re the best, and here’s why.’ Hiltz didn’t even remotely consider that humans and Zoidians could hybridize, nor was he interested in finding out. (though he had well-established to Prozen and the Imperial scientists his “ownership” of Ryss and the fact she was not to be messed with, I’m sure he had to mindfuck and/or sic Ambient on a swath of folks to get them to stop bothering him about jizzing in a cup.)***

Joke’s on him because he fathered *at least* these three:

while living in the small colony with the scholar.

because he, Hiltz, the weird guy, was hot, amazing in bed, and quite DTF. scholar: ... Hiltz: (ツ) scholar: ... Hiltz: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ scholar: ...sure, whatever, what could it hurt anyways ^^^THESE FOLKS HAD A TIME. Unlike with Ryss’s kids, who at least had a slight understanding they were different and some guidance on the situation, any and all of Hiltz’s offspring HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON. And not that any of the fertility restrictions were enacted at this point in time (there’s wars, you live in the wild west, please have kids), but the addition of Zoidian into the mix fucks the inbuilt population-control-genetic-engineering-bullshit straight up, which resulted later in a lot of confusing surprises for people annnnnd is part of why miscarriages became common later down the line.

Nobody expected the spanish inquisition weird side-species fuckery. Nobody even knows to look! By NC0 times there’s just starting to be coherent, unified inquiry into the various vanilla-human mutations running around.

WHOOPS THO: Backdraft & Co have been at this shit for a while and already know a lot about this. Because they have a hard-on for the Empire and a lot of OG Backdraft are basically really rich, bitter offspring from Imperial families who think they’re better in just about every way. Including genetically. When Backdraft became predominantly a moneymaking, black-market, illegal-battling underground enterprise, a rift began and never stopped growing. Backdraft has a strong preference for recruiting folks of Guylos descent (hi, Bit), but in recent memory had stopped turning people away for not being so. Because money. It did kinda... go in peoples’ file though. In the game of historical telephone, Ryss (and Raven’s) bloodline were more or less demoted to the same: ‘from Guylos.’ Alteil was in range of figuring a few important things out. Unfortunately, HE DED. His successor with this information is Layon. Surely nothing can go wrong there. ANYWAYS. A massive and valid concern Ryss had was what would happen with hybrid offspring, since to her knowledge her kid would be the first. Hiltz’s were already adults, they were fine. They were better than fine, they just needed a lot more water and salt than everyone else. So, as we all know, Hiltz uh, actually succeeded in removing a sizable chunk of the human population on Zi. Once everyone had scraped semi-functional society back together, the powers that-were-to-be basically prioritized secure settlements and making everyone feel safe so... you know, they’d have kids. Important for the whole rebuilding society thing. The Zoidian offspring became slightly more statistically relevant during this time, because them and potentially even their kids had all been scared shitless and fled into the hills from the Death Stinger bullshit long before anyone else had. Once there they were good at Not Dying In General, because they had a variety of inexplicable abilities and were just WELL I’M A FREAK BUT I’M ALIVE SO, YOU KNOW, WE’RE COOL.

Greater than zero chance that someone started a cult. Very, very obviously: these folks knew to keep to themselves. Though the original offspring and their mother had NO idea what was going on, over time any kids at least had fair warning, and knew to keep oddity to themselves. When the most blatant expressions of things were bred out, only the subtle but strongly expressed items remained, discussion of familial strangeness subsided. Then you’re left with people like Brad who can basically see in the dark, but thinks everyone can see in the dark, it’s no big deal right? RELATED, BUT NOT: This is technically a spoiler, but not really, because I’m not sure this actually “plays into the plot” so much as it is just “a fact of the plot” annnnnd I sort of want/need to explain this a little because it’s related to all of this. In this hc, the Zoid Eve is a metaphorical hyper-simplification of ‘resources.’

Back in Zoidian times, some scholars - namely those aligned with the group(s) Hiltz was eventually born into - theorized that the Zoid Eve’s power was not an infinite resource as many believed, but actually an incredibly finite one. Not in the sense of it being used up, but the sense of “there are only ‘100′ of these, there will only ever be ‘100′ of these, we cannot add to or take away from this” (sidenote: I subscribe to the idea that the Zoid Eve was some kind of supernaturally-occurring power source that the Zoidians shaped into what everyone now calls the Zoid Eve. They did this so long ago that its origins became unclear; beliefs from various groups ran the gamut from “LITERALLY GOD” to “it was built by us”) The power of it gave life and longevity not only to all Zoids but them too. And it seemed that the more individuals there were, the smaller the “slice of the pie” they received. They began to project apocalyptic futures in which the “slices” were so small that death ran rampant, and Big War would be inevitable. Obviously, nobody wanted this. But unfortunately the group who theorized this also started a huge, lengthy campaign to reduce the population, which - after many years, a lot of societal sabotage and and many smaller conflicts between groups - eventually culminated in ongoing, wholesale slaughter, which led to the big Zoidian-apocalypse nonsense that we’re all familiar with. Cool story bro, right? Well, y’see, those ancient scholars weren’t wrong, though. To an extent that’s actually what led to the hyper-concentration of strength in the DSaurer/DScorpion battle, and why Zero and One are functionally god-tier Organoids. But what this means in modern times, is that the remaining Zoidians - and to a proportionately-relevant extent, the hybrid offspring - are the only remaining folks (besides the Organoids and Zoids) benefiting from the pie anymore. Ryss is the last Zoidian; she’s basically non-aging at this point.

First-gen hybrids? Aging at a complete snail’s pace. Second gen? Still having a very strange time. So on and so forth... Can they die? Absolutely, but it’s pretty hard to kill them. Basically only complete destruction of vital parts works. Does this also apply to Organoids and Zoids? Absolutely. “then why’s Fiona dead” Because the double-bond with Zeke seriously fucked her up. Van dragged her down, hard. “but-” Zeke could’ve pulled away from her at any time and she would’ve lived. Been a nutcase probably, but lived. She suspected it, Zeke was outright in denial; she never called him on it because she cared about him too much and didn’t want him blaming himself for whatever happened. This is what Ryss suspected/understood as well, and likewise didn’t want to break Zeke. “wait, what about zeke?” HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM IN CLOSING: I don’t have names for any of the offspring discussed here, but I have thought about the appearances/other stuff. Obviously. I’ve never specified how many original offspring(s) were running around. But it couldn’t have been too many. So anyone in NC0 times related to either Ryss or Hiltz can trace back to ^^^the folks pictured above, most likely. I actually have no idea how to properly calculate the amount of population vs how much impact a handful of reproducing individuals would have over x generations. So please excuse vagueness there, as I’m both open to adjusting that number when/if it becomes feasible to do so, and also don’t think it’s terribly necessary to have this information nailed down because let’s be real nobody cares and that’s a lot of work. Also as I’ve mentioned before, there’s several serious confounding factors here: -these people can LIVE A LONG TIME. The original hybrids and their kids ARE POTENTIALLY STILL ALIVE. They mature relatively rapidly, but then coast into a very slow aging process. That means that - especially the males - could still technically be producing offspring. -that makes my head hurt and makes figuring out lineages stupid nightmare mode. so don’t expect me to actually do that because I’m not sure how to. The main Facts(tm) you need are: Sara is 4th gen. Vega is 5th gen x2. Brad is 5th gen. Stoller is 7th gen.

that’s the important part, okay. (*’s from earlier: ) *tl;dr the bizarre situation they’d inadvertently created with Zeke wreaked havoc on Fiona’s ability to reproduce. Conversely, Raven and Ryss *almost* had a ‘proper’ setup, so Ryss was fine. Nobody knew this. **Ryss figured this out with Fiona’s help - and who did they both go to, to ask in confidence?

Yep. ”isn’t he-” YEP. ***The Empire knows next to nothing about Hiltz. The Republic, however has AN OBSCENE AMOUNT of information about him. Difficulty level? The data was both classified, and never really tied back to him. Because Hiltz murdered the scholar and burned down his house/lab, the connecting information was all lost. The scholar had moved the material to his house in secret, due to fears of an Imperial spy in their research facility - he was telling Hiltz the truth. The most that the Empire ever learned at that time was that the Republic had “captured” a Zoidian (Hiltz), and that was about it. This drove the fervor which led to them grabbing at the Republic’s continued excavations - eg what happened with Shadow, and presumably them attacking (and IMO, overpowering) the Republic group that’d also seized Ryss. Before Hiltz became involved, Imperial scientists gleaned a lot about Ryss, but as I’ve mentioned before, she wasn’t treated anywhere nearly as poorly as Hiltz had been. She also had Specula, which helped a lot. So, the Empire knew nothing of Hiltz, but a lot about Ryss. Thanks to Alteil and his predecessor’s longstanding obsession with the Imperial military, Backdraft has almost all of the Imperial military’s data from the past few centuries. Ergo...

#headcanon #long post #spoilers kinda?#in this house everything is a MESS

15 notes · View notes

demigodofhoolemere · 4 years

Text

Saw The Rise of Skywalker last night. I went in totally expecting to hate it because that tends to be the way with my favorite franchises these days and I’d heard about how bad everyone seemed to think it is. No one is more surprised than me, but... I really liked it?? I do understand why others don’t, plenty of the content is pretty subjective in terms of the tastes of individuals. But I really didn’t have all of the problems I thought I was gonna have.

Plenty of spoilers below.

~~~

Negative:

- I can really only think of one huge negative which is just knowing behind the scenes info, assuming this redditor’s source is telling the truth (looks credible to me and we already know that things have been disastrous behind the scenes of the sequel films in general so I really have no trouble believing this): https://www.reddit.com/r/saltierthancrait/comments/eisnd8/heres_what_ive_been_told_from_a_source_that/ . In which case my biggest problem is how severely Disney/Lucasfilm screwed JJ and the cast over and altered what they’d made. From the perspective of ‘this isn’t what we created anymore’, if I were among them I’d be ticked, too, and I am ticked on their behalves. I do want to see the un-altered, complete version that they did and even though I enjoyed the movie as is, I would probably enjoy that version even more because it sounds like important emotional stuff got shelved, and it didn’t deserve to be (Finn being force sensitive, dang it!). There were a couple of things that made less sense because of the way it got pared down (like the fact that Han’s appearance was apparently Leia manifesting him to Ben and that’s what sapped her strength so badly - that wasn’t made clear at all to me) and I’d love to see what it was like before it got messed with. But this knowledge is really my biggest problem. If I’d never seen this, I wouldn’t have anything truly bad to say about the released product.

Iffy:

- Re: Leia, without it being made totally clear what was happening, I thought they were repeating Padmé’s ‘lost the will to live’ send-off. It’s not something that particularly bothers me about RotS, Padmé did just have the stress of pushing two human beings out of her body all while living with the stress of her husband falling to the dark side and all of the Jedi are being murdered and the list of awfulness goes on, so even though she definitely has her kids to live for, I also know that she was undergoing unimaginable agony both physically and emotionally, and you CAN die from your body physically giving out and from broken heartstrings, so I don’t think that was stupid the way others seem to. But they needed to make what happened to Leia clearer, because I thought they were reusing that, and *that* I did think was weird, and kind of a cheap way to take her out of the picture. Not that Leia hasn’t been through hell enough for broken heartstrings, and losing her son on top of having lost her husband and brother could certainly do it, but because the movie didn’t give any further context for what was happening and what she was doing, it just looked like she passed out and then the next time we see her she’s covered with a sheet and I’m like, “Wait, that’s it?” So I do wish we’d gotten a little more in the way of explaining that sequence, so that Leia didn’t die from just passing out. That didn’t feel completely right to me. I much prefer the idea of her using up her strength to save her son.

- Leia dying at all. I get why, but... owie.

- Shortchanging Rose. I don’t feel terribly strongly about her but in any case it’s not fair to her and especially not to Kelly.

- Very convenient dagger rofl.

- The Palpatine stuff was very sudden. No prior hints anywhere. I don’t know if it’s something they decided late in the game, or if they were going to allude to it but felt TFA was too early and would have in TLJ if Rian hadn’t had such full control over doing whatever he wanted, but whatever the story there is, it felt very out of nowhere. We’re supposed to suddenly accept that Palpatine survived the fall down the shaft and has been living on life support in a cave making creepy clone Snokes. And like... it seems like the sort of crap he’d pull, so I can buy it and I’m not really too bothered, but wow. I can also get behind Rey being his granddaughter, I thought they dealt with that very well and I surprisingly enjoyed it, but again, it’s very sudden, and also because of the implications of that I have to live with the mental image of Palpatine getting it on with someone and for that alone I could have added another to the ‘negative’ list.

- So... Reylo. I constantly have mixed feelings about Reylo. I’ve very much enjoyed their force bond (one of the only things I did like in TLJ), I love the focus on redemption and good winning out, their dynamic is very interesting and I can see the allure of pairing them because of the balance of light and dark, they just have a fascinating thing going on. But I also can’t help but think about him having tortured her in TFA, and as much as I’m here for redemption and I love Rey’s heart I still think it’s weird how TLJ is like three days later at best yet she’s so ready to look past what he did to her, what he did to Han, and to plenty of other people, and those things still really aren’t acknowledged. We can have redemption without having amnesia lol, especially when those are the things he needs to redeem himself of. By all means, redeem him, I love a good redemption and I’ve found myself far more attached to his character than I would have ever expected, but don’t have Rey immediately ignore the past to do it, and... I don’t know how to feel about that kiss. Part of me liked it (especially his sweet genuine smile), but part of me still kind of goes, ‘Wait... no. Didn’t want this. Not like this.’ It’s not the affection that bothers me at all, but the fact that it’s romantic affection. I love the dynamic that’s been built between them but considering their history I’d prefer that they actually get some footing as proper friends (whether that be before anything else happens, or it just stays that way). Way too sudden for anything romantic. And really I just wish this trilogy hadn’t attempted any new romances at all, because I feel like things would be more meaningful if they were all left to be platonic friendships. There really wasn’t room for couplings in this trilogy and it sours things a bit for me that they tried to fit them in anyway. So tl;dr, I very much enjoy Rey and Ben as a dynamic but I’m more here for a platonic Reylo.

- I get the poignancy of having him use his life force to save her, I understand killing him off, but for ONCE can I have a redeemed character continue to live their new life and figure out how to navigate that? It also makes better sense to have characters like Ben try to pay for their past while they’re still, idk, alive and have the chance to do more. For once. Please. I’m not mad that they did this but I’m tired of redemption=death.

Positive:

- Pretty much everything else. I can’t believe how much I actually liked this movie.

- LANDO CALRISSIAN LANDO CALRISSIAN LANDO CALRISSIAN LANDO CALRISSIAN LANDO CALRISSIAN

- FORCE GHOSTS!!!!! ANAKIN. OBI-WAN. AHSOKA. ALL OF MY FAVORITE JEDI FOLKS. LIGHTS OF MY LIFE. I’VE BEEN WANTING TO SEE THEM THIS ENTIRE TRILOGY AND I FINALLY HAVE THEM EVEN IF THEY’RE JUST VOICES. NEW HAYDEN-AS-ANAKIN CONTENT. I’M OVER THE MOON. Ahsoka must be dead then but I’m overlooking this.

- Whatever the heck they did to use the deleted Carrie Fisher footage to give us more Leia in such a seamless way... hats off.

- Seeing the sequel trio actually all be together and working as a trio. I can finally feel like they’re actually a unit.

- That hug between the three of them at the end, my heart.

- I really do adore Rey. She has such a good heart. Seeing her fight against her ancestry and adamantly trying to be a force for good makes me happy, I love that she believes so strongly in redemption despite her anger, and I love that they still keep character details like her brilliance with mechanics and the way she’ll use scrap to slide down sand hills. I’m so proud of her progress with using the force. Rey is precious and I love her.

- Ugh I love Finn, too. He has a strong spirit and he’s come so far. I love that they delved (or tried to delve) into him being force sensitive as well, and that he has such belief in it now. It made me so happy to see other former Stormtroopers who couldn’t live that life and that Finn can have those people to relate to. Can’t say enough good things about Finn. Very proud of him.

- Interesting learning more of Poe’s past, and I enjoyed getting to watch him try to be a leader in Leia’s absence and feeling like a failure, since I felt he was the least developed of the trio up to this point so I’m happy I have more to go on. He felt a lot more fleshed out in this one and I really appreciated it. I’m glad to be able to say that I genuinely love all of the new trio now, because it used to be that I casually liked them but couldn’t connect. Although I connected to Poe’s love for BB-8 from the start and that’s still going strong. Only he and Anakin have ever truly understood my droid love.

- Always a sucker for redemption arcs. I never used to have many feelings about Ben one way or another, I didn’t feel there was anything in TFA to make me like or dislike him from the get-go because it was too soon to say, but TLJ (for all my issues with it) made me care more about what happened to him, and now this movie got me super invested. Did not see this coming. I’m glad I was able to like him and be emotional about his conflict and his ending.

- Already covered this but I really like Rey and Ben’s dynamic. I loved seeing them use their force bond to their advantage and work so well as a team. And I love that her healing his wound also healed his scar, symbolically healing him of Kylo Ren. GAH.

- Han!!! Just Han.

- CHEWBACCA GETTING A MEDAL. Both incredibly emotional because that’s probably Han’s medal and incredibly satisfying because darn right he deserves a medal! In your face, ceremony scene from A New Hope! Now give them to the droids and I’ll be appeased.

- Chewbacca just generally destroying me. His wailing hurt me even more than Leia’s passing itself did. Did not need that but also thank you. (Why am I such a masochist?)

- C3PO taking one last look at his friends 😭 I cannot tell you how relieved I was that R2 really did have his memory backups, because I was fully prepared to put “C3PO losing his memories!!! 😡” under the negative column. Thank goodness for droid friendship.

- Speaking of droids, new droid! D-O really had little purpose for being there but I’m a sucker for a new cute droid to love so I’m all for him. Bring on all of the new cute droids!

- Really liked that planet with the festival. So many cute baby creatures and I loved the subtle Easter egg of 42 years referencing the original release in 1977.

- Rey healing the snake thing! I’m all for NOT shooting or killing Star Wars creatures, there’s too much of it and it makes me sad (R.I.P. Rancor, so sorry Rancor handler. And I’ve never gotten over Ratts Tyrell and his crying family and I never will. Stop killing Star Wars creatures 2k20). Rey gets me.

- Liked the new characters. Zorri was interesting and Jannah made me emotional.

- With the context of Jannah having been meant to be Lando’s daughter, the scene she has with him in the end has even more to it than on the surface (not that either of them would know, but still), but I really do just appreciate Lando reaching out to a stranger to help her uncover her past and recover her life. Sweetheart.

- I loved that Hux was the spy, and not because he cares one wit about the rebellion but just because he really hates Ben. Talk about petty.

- The fact that Palpatine was behind every voice Ben has ever heard means that he manipulated him his whole life just like he manipulated Anakin and now I hate his guts all over again for the same darn thing. Incredibly satisfying to watch him shrivel away. Screw you Palpatine.

- LUKE AND LEIA FLASHBACK. LEIA TRAINING IN THE FORCE AND OWNING A LIGHTSABER. FINALLY.

- Briefly seeing other old characters like Nien Nunb and Wedge Antilles. That kind of thing just makes my day. Also pretty sure I saw Naboo ships in that enormous fleet and I know I’m never getting Padmé back in any shape or form so I’ll take it.

- Seeing Luke’s old home wrecked me. Seeing the binary sunset wrecked me. Luke and Leia’s force Ghosts wrecked me. Rey calling herself a Skywalker wrecked me. That ending wrecked me.

I think I covered most of it which leads me to my verdict:

I understand why this isn’t popular with everybody. A lot of it is completely dependent on personal taste. Luckily for me it actually was very largely to my taste, somehow, which I never would have seen coming because I’m usually so frustrated with recent things in the big franchises like this, and after TLJ I had no trust. But I was pleasantly surprised and actually pretty satisfied. They hit a lot of nostalgia buttons for me, made me care a lot more about the new characters, made me cry a ton, and generally delivered something I could be pleased with. Don’t know how it happened but I really liked this movie and no matter what people feel about it I don’t think it deserves the sheer vitriol it’s received (there’s criticism and then there’s yikes). I thought it was a pretty good movie and I’d watch it again willingly.

#star wars #the rise of skywalker #spoilers #tros spoilers #sw spoilers #sw: sequels #review

3 notes · View notes

chicgeekgirl89 · 5 years

Text

The Liability: Chapter 1

And now for something a little different. Hello Teen Wolf fandom! I’m in love. Especially with Stiles. But also all of them. But mostly with Stiles. I can’t help it! He’s just so precious and whumpable. On that note, enjoy my first Teen Wolf fanfic!

Derek had never committed straight out, unprovoked murder. But tonight he was seriously considering it. He stopped walking and the footsteps behind him stopped. He took three more steps and paused with the same effect. He started walking faster and the crunching footsteps followed, even louder this time. Finally he turned around. “You know I can hear you following me right? Literally all of Beacon Hills can hear you from here.”

There was nothing but silence. “Stiles, I know you’re there. I can smell you.”

After several more seconds the offender stepped out from behind a tree. “First of all, I showered today, so I don’t smell. Second of all, I’m not following you. You happen to be investigating what I’m investigating so my proximity to you is just a coincidence.”

Derek smirked. “If you’re investigating what I’m investigating, does that make you one step behind me?”

Stiles thought for a moment. “Or you’re rushing ahead while I take the time to look at things with a more broad understanding.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Go home Stiles. I don’t need your help.”

Stiles jogged and caught up with him. “Are you sure? Scott loves my help.”

“Well I’m not Scott.”

“Obviously. Scott would never leave his pack behind and walk alone into the woods in the middle of the night searching for a rogue omega who’s already injured two people.”

“You mean like you’re doing?”

“I’m not alone. I’m with you.”

Derek strongly disagreed. “I don’t need help. It’s one omega. I’ll track him down, take him out, end of story.”

“But are you sure there isn’t more to it? Do we have to just take him down? And how do you know it’s a him? That’s a little sexist. Girls can be werewolves too.”

“Because I have supernatural abilities and you don’t. Which makes it unsafe for you to be out here. So go home.” He emphasized the last two words.

Stiles stopped walking as Derek continued on. “Fine!” he yelled. “But if you get into some kind of god awful werewolf skirmish where your limbs get ripped off don’t come crying to m—“

There was a snarl, a flash of movement, and then a choked cry of pain. Derek whipped around to see Stiles pinned against a tree, the omega holding him there by his throat.

Derek let out a growl and sprang forward, knocking the offender off balance and away from Stiles. He slashed at its chest and throat, going for the kill rather than leave him to hurt another person in Beacon Hills. In return he took a bite to his shoulder and claws across his spine.

He roared in pain and threw his assailant into a tree. The omega squealed before loping off deeper into the woods. Derek got to his feet and began to follow, but there was a groan to his right and he remembered Stiles. The teen was lying prone on the ground. Chances were he’d be fine on his own now that the omega was on the run, but Scott would kill him if anything happened to his best friend. Derek walked toward him. “Stiles get up.”

Stiles sat up, rubbing his head. “Well that was less than fun.”

“Are you going to sit around all night?”

“Yes, I’m fine thanks for asking Derek,” Stiles said acidly as he began to get to his feet. “Ow.”

He pressed a hand to his stomach and when he pulled it away it was dark with blood. “Oh god.”

Derek’s own stomach lurched and his body moved with it. He went to his knees beside Stiles. “Lie down.”

Stiles stared down at the blood covering his hand, a bewildered look on his face. “Is that…am I bleeding?”

“Stiles lie down!” Derek pushed him forcefully back into the dirt. He ripped apart his shirt and found deep claw marks scoring the flesh on the boy’s abdomen, blood flowing from them at an alarming rate.

“Oh shit. This is bad right? Is this bad? Am I dying?” Stiles babbled. “Is this what dying feels like? I don’t want to die here with you Derek. I don’t even like you.”

“Shut up,” Derek growled as he pressed his hands against the torn flesh. “You’re not dying.”

Stiles let out a moan at the pressure and then continued to rasp out, “Am I turning? Didn’t Peter say something about that once? I don’t want to turn either! I’m very comfortable with the amount of body hair I already have.”

“You’re not turning! It’s not that bad.” That was kind of a lie. Derek didn’t have a vast amount of experience with injured humans, and while this didn’t seem instantly fatal, it didn’t seem like a papercut either. There was a lot of blood.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Stiles said.

“No you’re not. Take some deep breaths all right? We’re going to get you out of here.”

“It hurts when I breathe.”

“Well at least that means you’re not dead.”

The bleeding wasn’t stopping and Stiles’ pale face was beginning to look even whiter in the moonlight. If they didn’t do something fast things were going to take a turn for the worse. Derek didn’t want to think what Scott would do when he found out his best friend had been torn to shreds on Derek’s watch. He took a deep breath. “Hold this. Do not let go,” he said. He put a wad of Stiles’ torn shirt into the boy’s hand and then pressed it against the wound.

“Where are you going?”

“Up. Come on. Get up.” He hauled Stiles to his feet ignoring the grunts of pain and protest. “We have to get close enough to the road for cell service.”

“My insides are hanging on my outside and you’re worried about whether or not you can order a pizza?”

How could this kid be a hair from death and yet still so incredibly annoying? “No I’m worried about being able to call for help so I don’t have to bite you and make you part of my pack. Because honestly I can’t think of anything I want less in this life.”

“Right back at ya buddy,” Stiles said with a touch of actual venom in his voice. “If I’m joining anybody’s pack as a wolf, it’s Scott’s.”

“If you walk a little faster you won’t have to join a pack at all,” Derek snapped more harshly than he meant.

They stumbled through the undergrowth and Derek tried not to think about what would happen if the omega turned around came after them. He could feel his own wounds beginning to itch as they knit back together, but Stiles wouldn’t be so lucky. In fact if anything, all this jostling about was going to make his injuries worse.

Stile’s knees buckled and Derek stumbled as he took the boy’s full weight. “Stiles, come on!”

“Sorry, I just, I need to sit for a second,” he gasped.

Derek lowered him to the ground. Blood was streaming from the wounds even faster than before. “Oh geez. That’s a lot of blood,” Stiles said thickly, his eyes slightly unfocused.

“Don’t look at it,” Derek said. The fabric Stiles was holding was soaked with blood so he ripped off the bottom of his own shirt and pressed it into the wound. Stiles moaned in pain, his back arching against it. Derek felt a trickle of something, maybe compassion, maybe just straight up fear. “Hey, Stiles, come on. Pain makes us human. Tough it out.”

“Easy for you to say. I’m the only one out here who’s ever been human,” Stiles said between gritted teeth.

Some of the fight had come back into his eyes and Derek took that as a sign he was ready and hauled him to his feet again. They walked for ten more minutes before Derek began to hear the faint sounds of the road and then, as if by a miracle, they came across Stiles’ jeep. “Oh thank god,” he breathed moving a little bit faster.

He shoved Stiles into the passenger side, pressing the makeshift bandage further into the gaping flesh. “Hold it tight,” he said firmly.

He jumped into the driver’s side and hit the gas, fishtailing a little as they pulled onto the road. He managed to get his phone out of his pocket and dial Scott. It went straight to voicemail. “Scott it’s me. Come to hospital. It’s Stiles.”

He glanced over at Stiles to see his eyes closed, mouth slightly open. “Stiles! Hey! Talk to me! Don’t go to sleep!”

His eyes opened blearily. “I thought you wanted me to shut up.”

“Not right now. Talk. About something. Anything. Come on. Tell me how much you hate me.”

“I hate you.”

“How much?”

“A lot.”

“Why?”

There was no response. “Stiles come on! Why do you hate me?”

“You stink,” Stiles mumbled.

“And what else?”

“You’re a pompous asshole.”

Derek nodded. “True.”

“You stole my best friend.”

Derek looked at him sharply. “What?”

But Stiles didn’t answer. His head flopped forward and the hand that had been keeping the wound closed slid down until blood began dripping onto the seat.

“Shit!” Derek hit the gas and took them flying into the parking lot of the hospital. “Stiles wake up!” he growled as he pulled him from the car.

He burst through the hospital doors and his eyes landed on Melissa McCall. Blessed Melissa McCall who would know what to do. Who would know how to fix this. “He’s bleeding out!” he said desperately.

“Call Dr. Morton!” Melissa ordered as Derek laid Stiles on a gurney. “What happened?”

“It was an omega,” Derek said quietly. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“What about you?” Her eyes glanced over the gashes in his shirt and side.

“I’m healing. Take care of Stiles.”

Five seconds later they were gone and Derek was left alone. He sank down into a chair. He had no obligation to wait. Stiles wasn’t his pack. But something kept him glued to the seat. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was some kind of loyalty to Scott. Or maybe it was the way Stiles had looked while unconscious in the car, so helpless and broken. Whatever it was, Derek stayed until Melissa came and found him.

“Derek?”

“How is he?” he asked, trying not to sound too anxious.

“He lost a lot of blood. He’s pretty weak. But they were able to fix the damage. He’s lucky that thing missed his vital organs. He’ll be all right.”

Derek exhaled. “I was standing right there. I told him to go. If I’d just paid more attention…” the words tumbled from his lips unbidden. Apparently he felt guiltier than he’d thought.

She touched his hand. “You got him here in time. You saved his life.”

It had been so long since he’d had a mom he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. Her assurance soothed his broken spirit.

“Come on.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He rose and then looked around, aware that someone was missing. “Where’s the sheriff?”

“He’s out of town. I called him and he’s on his way back. Probably speeding if I know him.”

Derek nodded tiredly, wincing as the still tender wounds on his back pulled. “You’re sure you’re okay?” Melissa asked.

Physically he was fine. Emotionally…he wasn’t sure yet. But he’d already said more than he’d meant to. He took a breath and shoved his feelings back down where they belonged. “Yeah, I’m good.”

#Teen Wolf #Stiles Stillinski #Derek Hale #Scott McCall #Stiles whump #The Liability #Chapter 1 #Claw marks #Teen Wolf Fanfiction #Stiles Fanfiction #Stiles and Derek #Bromance

34 notes · View notes

aithne · 5 years

Text

(Illume) Epilogue: Wear Red When You Bring Me Offerings

Yukiko delivered her child, a healthy son named Ryutaro, on the second of October. Iyotushi Akechi was crowned Emperor on October fifth, 1583.

When the smoke cleared, all of the retinue but Reiko could be healed and returned to life. The spirits were dispersed into the land through Tadaki's tower, and there they reside to this day. After the coronation, the retinue departed for the four corners of Japan, to see if the war-torn land could be salvaged.

The Crane Clan was decimated by the machinations of Arenro, and on Lord Akazawa Tsuneyasu's death in 1585, the Crane was simply folded into the Scorpion, Tomika and Funitsu ruling jointly over the combined clan. The pair stayed married (though why they did so was the wonderment of all who knew them, except Yukiko), and eventually had three children, two boys and a girl. Soshi Tsutsako never married, preferring her shujenja studies to all worldly affairs, so she claimed.

The Crab did survive to rise again, though Hideyoshi did not return to his former position as Clan Lord. Haku's daughter Kita was adopted into the clan and ruled them for forty-four hard years, as the Crab fought to regain even a shadow of its former glory.

Haku married within his clan and had five children--not including the one who was Yukiko's son. Few ever guessed Ryutaro's parentage, as he took strongly after Yukiko's father. Those who did guess never spoke of it; Haku took the secret to his grave. It is unknown if Yukiko ever knew who the father of her child was.

Hideyoshi served under Akechi as the general of the Imperial Army for seven years. His body never fully recovered from his extended spirit possession, and as his health declined he gave up his position and went to live in Sapporo, in the newly rebuilt Phoenix palace. He died in his sleep in 1598.

Hiroshi found that life within the Unicorn suited him and kept both of his wives pregnant almost constantly for years. Sun Bear took over leadership of the clan when she gained her majority, and proved to be a fierce and wise leader. Hiroshi died in battle in 1622.

Panda and Nibori eventually had a number of children, most of whom were hengenyokai, two of whom were nearly pure Air Spirit Folk, the twin heirs of Skyhome. Tadaki visited regularly until Nibori's death in 1642. Panda outlived her husband by twenty years, but on his death gave leadership of the Lion clan over to her eldest son and retired to Skyhome. To her dying day, she went for daily flights with Gryphon.

Gryphon found himself a mate--a number of them--and lived quite happily in Skyhome for the rest of his days. He always seemed to have a kitsune or two around him, the only gryphon to ever keep pet foxes.

Tadaki moved the City of the Sun to a large island far off the coast of Japan, and used his now-formidable arts to cloak the island with spells that even today prevent any who are not of hengenyokai blood from finding it or even being able to think of it for very long. He married Kintro, a childhood friend, in 1585. (When she told the story of their betrothal, Kintro never failed to point out that Tadaki, when Kintro told him he was going to marry her, looked around panicked, in hopes that it somehow wasn't him she was speaking to. He did eventually reconcile himself to the notion of marriage.) As of the early 1700's, he still lives in the City of the Sun, the staff that he carries extending his lifespan far beyond the usual for hengenyokai.

Iyotushi Hirohito, at a strongly worded suggestion from his brother, surprised everyone by marrying Soshi Karasuko, Funitsu's stepmother. Thus he cemented the Imperial family's ties to the Scorpion clan. He held the official position of Imperial Advisor for the rest of his life. He and Karasuko had no children.

It turned out that the Demonbane had been holding what was left of the original Thrykreen and the entire remaining population of kitsune in a secure cell under his now-destroyed palace. There were six of each, and by the time they were found they had all paired off. Fortunately for mankind, the two halves of the race decided that they vastly preferred each other's company to living parasitically off of humans. To this day, the myobu (as they call themselves, after the Celestial kitsune who were all killed by the Demonbane) live very quietly in small communities that are usually walled away from the human life around them. A number of them also live in Skyhome.

All of the altered Thrykreen died within six months of the Demonbane's death. The Warresh still slumber in their crystal city, and hopefully always will.

Jeron spent a time wandering the length of Japan, occasionally dropping in on those who had been his compatriots, attending each wedding and funeral alike. For a while, he sailed on the Benevolent, becoming friends (and, it is rumored, lovers) with the copper-eyed second mate, Kalva. When Japan opened its borders in 1642, he traveled west, first through China and India, then Europe, eventually settling in London for a number of years. In 1685, he returned home, settling down to write an English translation of the events of the Spirit War.

The Phoenix Clan passed to Yukiko's son, Ryutaro, and Yukiko served as both the Phoenix regent and Empress until he reached his majority. Akechi ruled for thirty years, overseeing the rebuilding of Japan after the Spirit War, but insisted on keeping the borders of the country closed to outsiders. He died in 1613, followed by Yukiko in 1618. Ryutaro passed on the rulership of the Phoenix Clan to his firstborn daughter and took on the mantle of Emperor. Under Ryutaro's rule, the borders of Japan became progressively more open and the Clans began to fall out of power, as the Emperor worked to make Japan a part of the world.

Takumi Yamashita and Edi-lo were buried in the same shrine, on the grounds of the Phoenix estate in Sapporo.

Takumi Reiko was buried on the Iyotushi estate, just outside of Kyoto, in a shrine built for her by Akechi and Yukiko. The shrine is on a hill overlooking a river. From the torii of the shine, one can look down to the riverbank and see the place where a mage and an immortal once met and fell in love.

Her grave is one of the few places on the earth that the myobu hold sacred.

--Saruwatari Jeron, September, 1703

September 12th, 1703

Jeron leaned back at his desk, looking at the manuscript in front of him. "That's it, then," he said aloud to the empty room. "It's done."

Even with Reiko's spirit gone, he still retained the habits that having her around for a century had ingrained in him: speaking his thoughts aloud, leaving offerings at the small altar under one of the windows in this small house, double-checking to make sure he didn't accidentally close the door on her tails when she was frisking around in fox form.

He had begun the translation after she'd gone, almost twenty years ago, returning to Japan and finagling his way into the Imperial vaults, where Yukiko had stored her journals and letters before she'd died. There was currently a fad in London for myths and stories from the Orient, and Jeron had a publisher interested in his translation. The desk before him was littered with paper and parchment, covered with elegantly handwritten Japanese script.

"Funny. Only the myobu and hengenyokai will ever realize what this is, if they ever read it. The humans have already forgotten us. It's probably for the best."

He stretched and rose. He'd go visit the shrine on the Iyotushi estate tonight, he decided. Since he had returned, visiting Reiko's grave had become another habit. Seemingly by accident, he had ended up living only an hour's walk away.

Though I am not certain what I will do, now. Return to London, I suppose, for a little while.

That evening, he walked into the shrine overlooking the river. A young woman, fine-boned and very small, was standing on a stool, lighting lanterns. She heard his step behind her and turned, smiling. "Welcome, stranger."

Jeron stopped cold.

The girl's eyes were amber as topaz. He felt the prickle of her life force against his skin, like a subtle wind. She was kitsune, and from her raised eyebrow, she knew that he was Thrykreen. He bowed slightly, and went inside. The shrine attendants were usually human, though he supposed it made sense that a young kitsune might come here to serve a few years.

After paying his respects, he returned outside. The shrine attendant was standing at the torii, looking down at the river with a wistful expression on her face. He sat on a stone beside her. "How goes the hunting?"

She quirked her mouth in a small smile. "Well enough. Tell me, have we met before? You look familiar, though I can't place you."

"We might have. What's your name?"

"Ishimaru Kaede. I grew up in Skyhome, and my parents finally let me out into the world on the condition that I do a turn as a shrine attendant. I picked here, because it feels very peaceful to me."

"I haven't been to Skyhome since Panda died. That was--has it really been forty years now?" He looked over at her, and in the light from the lanterns saw something that he had missed before, a pure white streak in her black hair.

She saw where his glance went, and self-consciously patted the streak. "I was born with it. The priest said it was a sign that I had a troublesome last life. And, yes, it's been forty-five years since our Panda died. I'm only nineteen, so I never met her, though my parents are friends with her sons. What's your name?"

He hesitated. His name was legendary, and he felt a great reluctance to give it and possibly ruin the first good conversation that he'd had with one of the myobu since Reiko's spirit had left him. He couldn't bring himself to lie, so he said, truthfully, "Saruwatari Jeron."

The girl blinked. "Oh." She considered this, and her hands crept to the hems of her sleeves, fidgeting with them. The gesture was unconscious and so reminiscent of Reiko that Jeron's heart gave an unexpected twist.

Nonsense, he told himself. I need to stop looking for her in the face of every woman I meet. This is a pleasant girl, a pretty young kitsune, nothing more.

"I've heard stories of you my whole life. It's interesting to have the reality sitting beside me. You're not as tall as I thought you would be. The stories make you sound like you're a giant."

He chuckled. "Things get exaggerated. I'm a Thrykreen like any other, Kaede. I'm just a bit older than most."

Kaede tilted her head, considering this. "And you were a part of the Spirit War. And you knew Takumi Reiko. What was she like?"

He closed his eyes, remembering. "Small, smaller than you, even. Confused, much of the time. She held great sorrow within her, enough to almost drown her at times. She loved fiercely, and she was one of the bravest souls I've ever known. She died the death of a warrior, fighting for something she believed in."

"Is it true, that her spirit is still attached to you?"

Jeron shook his head. "A century to the day after she died, her spirit disappeared. I believe that she had finally worked out her sorrows, and was ready to move on--whether to another life, or to whatever afterworld waits for myobu."

"Ah. I'm sorry, Jeron."

An odd question occurred to him, and it came out of his mouth before he had time to think about it. "Tell me, do you have nightmares?"

Her eyes widened, and she stared at him. "I do. How did you know?"

"I don't know. What do you have nightmares of?"

Kaede looked down to the river, her eyes distant. "I dream of battles with demons who spit molten copper. I dream of sailing ships, of another kitsune dying because I could not protect her. I dream of standing in front of a man who I am terrified of, even though I don't know why I am. I dream I am walking naked on the deck of a ship, and a black-garbed man stops me from throwing myself into the ocean. I dream that my father tells me that I am no daughter of his--though my real father loves me dearly. And other things. I don't know why I dream these things; my life has been a happy one so far, and I count myself very blessed."

Jeron said, softly, "Perhaps they're just echoes of the past. Sometimes stories take on lives of their own. But I doubt it means anything, really. They're probably just nightmares."

"Probably."

He stretched and rose. "I must be off home. I do visit regularly, though, so I should see you again. It was good to speak with you, Kaede."

"Likewise. I'm glad to know there's another myobu living in the area. My parents would be pleased to know there's someone around who can keep me out of trouble."

He grinned briefly, the first evidence of the sense of humor he evidently kept well hidden flashing in his eyes. "I'm not so sure I'm the one to keep you out of it. Perhaps we could find some to get into, one of these days."

Kaede's eyes glittered with amusement. She watched the Thrykreen walked down the road and away from the shrine, murmuring to herself, "I think we may both be in trouble already, Jeron."

(Ishimaru Kaede and Saruwatari Jeron were married in April of 1704.)

Here ends Illume, a chronicle of the conflict that became known as the Spirit War. 3/2004 - 10/2004

#so queued #gaming recaps: illume #D&D recap

2 notes · View notes

twistedstarlitspirits · 5 years

Text

ooc

The following post will contain KH3 spoilers, marked and sectioned off, that you may need to fully understand this theory on the Fae in Kingdom Hearts and where their fabled world, often called in our world, the Otherworld, is located, and how I was friggin right about how Maleficent truly sees Riku as one of her own.

no images will be used as Mun is too lazy to find appropriate sceenshots of every scene I will refer to.

ANYWHO!! Let’s get this show started, feel free to reblog this post, just remember to tag appropriately since some people still don’t know the game

First some background and history on the fae, just a bit.

Fae = Faerie = Fairy = Fayrie = The Good Folk = Little Helpers = People Under The Hill = basically any sort of nickname you can think of besides fairy or an alternate spelling of fairy, because if they heard you dissing them by daring to say they weren’t good and kind and just and shit, then they often chose to make you their next pranking target for a while. I tend to just use the word Fae to generalize and make things easier

The fae are said in some cultures to live under the hill, their world, because it is a whole other world in mythos, is hidden from human sight. Often, it has even been said that to travel to the Otherworld, is to see death.

Because animals can see the fae easily, animals also see ghosts

(In fact, many traits attributed to fae, are also attributed to ghosts, or vice versa, but that’s only partially important to this post)

It’s said that in the world of the fae, there is no such thing of time. Years can pass in the human world, or mere minutes, and the fae would barely even notice if at all. The funny thing is

Aqua says that about the Dark World too.

In her game, Fragmentary Passage, she makes a note of how she has no friggin idea what’s going on out there in the Realm of Light, how she can’t understand how long she’s been trapped, but she knows time has passed, she can’t tell though.

She cannot tell how long she’s been there. Because “there is no time in the realm of darkness.”

We can assume from that, that she didn’t get hungry, she didn’t get exhausted. In fact she started the game as lvl 50, so it’s not like she started over just cause she basically died.

That’s another thing, there are 5 thousand million and one references to dying being equated to being lost to the darkness

Which brings us to the thought that the Realm of Darkness is where the dead go

The Sleeping Worlds are often said to be nestled in the Darkness

in her game, Aqua takes solace in the fact that while she wandered Cinderella’s world, she never saw a person there trapped alongside her, so she assumed they were all safe and alive even though their world wasn’t

she didn’t take a moment to wonder if the heartless she was killing were the very villagers she was glad weren’t trapped with her, she should have, but she didn’t

so here’s the rub, whenever a person in our universe was said to be stolen by the fae, they were believed dead for as long as they were missing, sometimes they would return and they would either be the same age they were when they disappeared or older than they should be

time does not exist to the fae, not in such a way that we mere humans understand according to all the myths and fables and legends

so, all that said, let’s leave Aqua for a moment in the Darkness which is basically close af to Death and to the Fae, and see other characters affected

Maleficent is not merely a dark witch, she is a dark fairy. As a fae, she cannot actually lie, she can withhold truth, she can twist truth, but she cannot blatantly lie. she can say things that are truth to herself

she and The Three Good Fairies are kin, but the truth of the matter is, fae politics are strange and unusual, and a good large amount of fae would stab you in the toe if you dared say they weren’t good, so we honestly can’t take their title of Three Good Fairies seriously

Maleficent however admits she is dark, admits she can do great evil

she takes pure unadulterated pleasure in wreaking chaos across all worlds

in bringing the Realm of Light, notably full of humans, and covering it in Darkness, which, as we stated above, could very well be where the fae actually live

we only have a few fae we get to know in KH, Maleficent, Fauna, Flora, Merryweather, Tinkerbell, and Peter Pan (edit! and the Gullwings, whom are single minded the entire time and focused only on treasure)

however, Peter Pan is often likened to a changling more than a human or a fae, a child created or strengthened through fairy magic, through chaos magic. some versions of the tale have it that Tinkerbell stole a human babe and all that pixie dust eventually turned him into one of them, others tell of him being fae right from the start

unseen normally in kh and most modern depictions of Pan, is that he will legitimately kill people once they’re no longer of use to him, all he cares about is his enjoyment

and Tink? she does everything to make Pan happy, because she loves the chaos just as much as him, she’s his enabler in that regard, and dislikes when he chooses to allow something she doesn’t like (exhibit a: Wendy)

all fae the same, in that they seek out something that brings them joy, and then they tend to spend a large time of their life doing that over and over and over and over and over and over again

The Three Good Fairies hereby shortened to TGF have this thing, they like helping humans. They like to give humans magical things and see what happens afterwards. They like to make clothes too, and their chaotic nature shows in the way they interact with humans, unable to stop squabbling amongst themselves because obviously each separate fairy knows better than the other two

all of the KH fae have their respective territories, though Maleficent, as stated before, obviously wants to make her territory larger, for the most part, they don’t interact with each other

and none seem to call a single place home except for Pan and Tink, but then, they have a world to play with humans they’ve picked, and often grab new humans when eventually their humans grow to have no use to them

who is to say they didn’t all come from the fabled Otherworld, and simply spread out across the Realm of Light since, if the Otherworld is truly nestled in the Realm of Darkness and thereby void of humans and full of Heartless, all fae love to interact with humans?

since humans can do what they can’t, they can lie

and fae are often noted to steal away their favored humans, to a place beyond time

in KH1, Riku asks Maleficent why she’s helping him, and she says, he’s like a son to her.

anyone that’s known me long enough knows that I strongly believe she was twisting the truth so that the other members of her Circle wouldn’t look down on her, because it appears that a fae’s inabillity to lie is NOT well known in KH, i never see it mentioned anywhere

and so her Circle overhears her saying to the young boy that threw his world into darkness (into chaos, into death, into her home) that may or may not be able to weild a keyblade, that he’s like a son to her, obviously she’s manipulating him, lying to him to gain his favor

but i don’t believe that, when i took a look at the japanese version, the way they spoke to each other, riku was rude af and Mal didn’t seem to mind at all, led me to believe that she truly held affection for Riku

in CoM it’s shown she gave him a huge fucking room with a gazillion books, he had always been given a choice in what he did, she gave him options, asked if he would join her plans or continue freeloading, because he was a freeloader

she found his friends, told him “hey that Sora friend of yours seems to have new friends”, let him see what was going on and take from it what he would, and did no more than offer him a place to crash, maybe do a few errands, hey kid wanna learn magic while you’re here, hey kid wanna go to Hook’s world I think your other friend is there

(it’s implied he’s the one that kidnapped Alice/Snow White depending on the order of you doing the words in KH1, but if that were completely true, he would have seen Sora while grabbing Alice)

he was given everything by her, everything he could want, because that’s how she and her kin work

they take the unwanted, the children the adults, they take the forlorn, the depressed, the anxious, they take all the ones that believe they would not be missed, and they give them everything they want in order to keep them among the fae

is that not what happened?

and, here’s where we get to kh3 spoilers, just a few but honestly, considering when it happens i’ll call it an endgame spoiler even though it has basically no bearing to the actual end of the game (as far as we know)

KH3 SPOILERS START HERE, I’M TRYING TO BE AS VAGUE AS POSSIBLE WHILE STILL GETTING THE IDEA OF THE SCENE ACROSS

in one world i’ll not name, Maleficent is wandering around all willy nilly with Pete, marveling at the world, when a corridor of darkness opens up behind her and out walks a Riku

he’s like “you better not be thinking of getting in my way”

and she’s like “i wouldn’t dream of it my child, play around to your heart’s content and let us both do whatever we want and not get in each other’s way”

and then Pete’s like “new phone who dis” as Riku is happy with her answer and smiles and walks away

and Mal is like “a friend, but i couldn’t begin to tell you from when”

KH3 SPOILERS END HERE

that scene reminds me heavily of the fact that the fae have a strange understanding of time

she knew instantly he was time displaced, and didn’t question it

if anything, she seemed outright proud of him traveling through time

like a mama birb watching her chick learn to fly

(again, very much of a “you’re like a son to me” vibe being more truth than fiction)

and we also see that her affection for him extends to anyone with his face, because she sees something in him that basically screams out to her Fae instincts to grab him, teach him, initiate him into her culture of darkness and timelessness

and riku

he took to darkness easily

it was intuitive to him, he was reckless yet strong

and she praised him for it

so yeah

Maleficent is a Fae, Riku is Fae-touched and Fae-Chosen, Repliku is basically a changeling, Mickey and Aqua basically died when they entered the Realm of Darkness

The Fae World is in the Realm of Darkness

.....did I mention the changeling bit? No? Okay Imma run through that real quick

so basically changeling can refer to one of two people, a human child stolen away from the humans, or the fae creation made in the child’s image and used to replace the child in the human’s crib

because normally it’s done to a small child or baby

and it is a fae creation used to replace the original

the human is taken in by the fae of that area, lives amongst them, slowly turning into one of them

and the creation, often created from whatever elements are around and a spell said over them, is meant to be tougher than the human child, able to withstand any cruelties that the human child would have received

(because often the changelings were said to happen to unhappy children suddenly changing)

(there’s also a few other things that normally denoted a changeling child but i’m not gonna get into that here cause it’s more of a socioeconomic politics things)

the creation would know everything the original knew

and they would believe themselves the original

some tales eventually had the changeling eventually leave their human homes to go join back with the fae, but honestly, anything past about 15 years old was free game in most tales, i think i remember one where the once-human and the creation tried to kill each other

but yeah, and Repliku is a changeling but created by Vexen instead of by a fae (but for all we know he was a science-leaning fae and that was his obsession)

aaand i think that’s everything??? i’ll edit if i realize i forgot something but yeah

Maleficent = mom figure of riku

Fae = darkness = death

#long post #riku #maleficent #repliku #aqua #kh3 spoilers #kh aqua #kh riku #kh maleficent #kh repliku #riku replica #theories and thoughts with essie #2200 words long jfc #friggin done. can't write anymore rn #[[ saved ]]#[[ hcs ]] mal #[[ hcs ]] riku #[[ hcs ]] repliku bros

17 notes · View notes

sapphiresea · 5 years

Note

2, 4, 9, 26 :)

lgbt+ ask game

2. how did you discover your sexuality, tell your story? oh, gosh. this is going to be long, and i’m still glazing over all the mental health problems i had that largely stemmed from trying to be someone i clearly was not.

looking back, it seems like it should have been obvious from the outset, really, but it was a process getting to understand and accept my sexuality. you have to know, i was very young when ellen came out, and i had no idea what the words ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian’ even meant at the time. no one explained it to me, either. i just knew that everyone around me was suddenly saying those words and they were whispered or demeaned, so i knew they were bad immediately. from as far back as i can remember, i held the view that lesbians were disgusting and bad, and that shame buried really deep inside me for a very long time. it was easier to never think about it and pretend than it was to ever let it be a conscious thought.

when i was a kid, i just couldn’t fathom actually wanting to be with a man. i thought relationships were just a matter of custom and doing what was expected because that was how you could have children and a family. my barbies married ken, but then ken went off to war and she spent all her time with her best lady friends. i chose my crushes with internal pro/con lists. i complained often that i hated romcoms because the women were always so dumbly chasing after men and they should just get over it. i could talk about female celebrities for days but ask me my favorite male celebrity, and it was just tumbleweeds. it didn’t even register as strange when, after my first real kiss with a boy, i had to brush my teeth three times and then called my best friend to tell her that kissing boys was disgusting. that just fell into my belief that we were only with boys because we had to be, and because i didn’t allow myself to consider that there might be other options. i was such a textbook baby gay, but there were only two moments that really penetrated into conscious awareness, and they were so jarring that i remember them even now.

the first was when i was 13 years old, and i was sat in my music class when my teacher, seemingly out of no where, decided to lecture us about gay people. i have no idea what was going on before that because it was a spring day and the sunlight from the window was making my hair look red and i was busy daydreaming about dying it all red. i only snapped back when kids started laughing because someone said, ‘gay.’ it wasn’t a negative lecture. in fact, she was telling us we had to be more accepting of people, because she had heard a lot of slurs being thrown around and didn’t like it. she told us, “about one in ten people are gay, which means that at least two, if not more, of you are gay.” my very first thought was, “i wonder who the other one is.” and then, cue panic attack. i spent the whole rest of the day on the verge of tears trying to convince myself that i was being crazy for even thinking that.

the second was in the food court of north hill mall around christmas time with the other steph and robyn. it was around christmas because we were all wearing ridiculous elf and santa hats. we got off school early thanks to a spare period and were picking at takeout lunches when robyn started a rant out of no where about how she couldn’t understand why men found boobs to be attractive. i then became very aware of where my eyes were looking and attempted to focus them anywhere but on my friends in case they could tell how suddenly uncomfortable i had become and thought i was looking at their boobs. they didn’t think that at all, by the way. but steph was agreeing with her and they were going on and on about how unattractive boobs were and steph was throwing in occasional comments about the attractive aspects of the male form and i was just nodding along turning even redder. now it’s not that i really felt strongly about boobs or anything. it’s really just that in that moment, it became painfully clear to me that at least one of the biggest things i had always told myself that everyone experienced was not so ubiquitous an experience as i had initially thought.

actually considering the possibility of straight –– despite the efforts of a therapist i saw twice and then refused to see again as soon as she suggested i might be not-totally-straight (oh and totally in love with one of my friends) –– didn’t come until a couple of years later. it was a new crush of mine, crystal chappell, who was on days of our lives at the time. ooh, i fell hard for carly manning, and i had to look into her other filmography. on twitter and on a forum on her website, people were discussing something called ‘otalia’ and insisting i watch, so i did. that single-handedly changed the trajectory of my life. otalia were the first f/f couple i had ever seen and allowed myself to relate with (i saw willow/tara but was way too deep into the closet to even let myself pay attention to them). over the course of the next few months, my attitude started to shift and a series of bad attempts at dating men, coupled with a new crush on a friend of mine, made me realize that i was definitely into women. i identified as bi for a little while, but within the year, it became pretty clear to me that i had chosen the wrong label and my attraction to men was just a craving for external validation and what i had considered normalcy at the time.

out of internalized homophobia and an illness that screwed with my hormone levels, i identified as ace and aro off and on for awhile. (don’t jump on me, that’s just my experience and i’m not attempting to get into discourse here or generalizing that to anyone else.) but one day, i found that had shifted. i started watching more lesbian media and engaging with other wlw and stopped being afraid of the word ‘lesbian’ like i had been. and nothing has ever felt so freeing in my entire life.

4. who was the first person you told, how did they react? i think the very first person i ever told was a close online friend who was like my internet grandma. i knew she was safe because she, too, is gay. so i kind of just slipped it into a late night conversation on skype and nervously told her i thought maybe i was into girls, and she was the most accepting a person could be. the next day, i told my friend over text while i was in walmart with my mom. i remember thinking from the way we interacted that it was possible she was lgbt, too, and being so, so nervous to be the first one to say it. but i was right. and she became my first girlfriend. so those were really great experiences, actually, and i’m glad those were my first ones.

9. who are your favourite lgbt+ ships? oh man, so many... wayhaught, for sure, are my #1, but i also really love otalia, giani, hollistein, petramos, logan/lara, trishica, and a number of non-canon f/f slash.

26. what identity advice would you give your younger self? gosh, i don’t even know. like i said, i was so deeply in the closet for so long that i’m not sure i would’ve been able to hear it. if i could go back to when i was a kid, though, before all of this, i think i’d tell myself that ‘lesbian’ isn’t a bad word, and that, not only do i not have to be with anyone i don’t genuinely want to be with, but that it is possible to be with a woman, and that it’s okay to make that choice instead of hurting myself trying to bury it.

2 notes · View notes

tysonrunningfox · 5 years

Text

Open Flames: Part 17

Ok, this is an insane roller coaster of a weird ass chapter and I think I love it and also, it has the funniest slapstick I’ve ever written and I don’t even care, that is correct, objectively.

(<5 days until I see httyd3......probs need to write like 20k to finish this.....I’m going to try, we. shall. see.).

Masterpost | AO3 (AO3 is better, it’s organized, sorry)

I can't say traveling with Arvid is just like old times, because I don't think we ever had a multi-day trip just the two of us with no real danger hanging overhead, but it's like I wish old times had been. We sleep a few hours in the afternoon and fly mostly at night, because campfires are easier to avoid than people hidden in dense pine forest. On the morning of our third day, pine gives way to ice and occasional brush land and Arvid signals that we're getting close. I don't know how he knows, considering the only other time he came here it was by boat, but after only a couple false starts and wrong turns, he zeroes in on a tiny village at the mouth of a river alongside an icy bay.

We land on a nearby hill where a small copse of trees can at least mostly hide the dragons and he points at a shallow valley behind the village.

"Dad disappeared that direction for a while last time we were getting tattooed, said he had to pay some respects and because no relatives came to meet me, I assume that's where the tombs are." His tone is somber in a way I struggle to place, until I remember what else was going on in our lives the last time he was here. Mom had just married the chief. He wasn't talking to me because I'd jumped him for insulting Mom.

Maybe this adventure can heal that too, or at least smooth out some of the scar tissue that might be left.

"Alright, let's get to it."

"Wait a second," he stops me and points at the Berk insignia holding my furs on. "I grabbed some of Dad's old clothes."

"Good plan." Even if all of the clothes aren't from here, most of them aren't from Berk either. They're covered in patterns I only vaguely recognize and none of them are that distinctive Berk green or red or blue that so much of our clothing is dyed. Everything seems to be more of a natural wool, and my hair stands out like fire against it. I pull up a furry hood and tuck as much back as possible, but there's no helping the beard.

What I don't expect is for the clothes to almost fit. Sure, they're baggy, and I almost don't mind that because it'll be easier to slip a sword underneath, but I would have expected to be swimming in Dad's clothes. Arvid must notice the same thing, because he looks at me strangely as he yanks at a jacket that's a little tight on him.

It makes me feel older, somehow, more ready for what I'm about to do, both here and back home. I wonder if Mom is freaking out yet, but I'm sure Fuse is handling it fine. I miss her, of course, but the fact that I won't have to for much longer makes it easier, like I'm racing towards a finish line after months or years spinning out in the last leg of the race.

"Trade?" I offer my own borrowed layer and he nods. The switch is a bit better on both of us, and I think I still have room for a modest armory of a single ceremonial sword. Arvid looks bigger somehow, foreign in a way he doesn't feel anymore and I nod. "I hope the runes look the same, because that's the only way we're finding the tomb."

"We'll just open them all until we see a family resemblance," he jokes and I snort.

"Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over well." I hadn't truly thought through the implication of showing up outside another village and rooting through their grave sites, but it's too late to think about that now. Or it won't help anything. I just need to get the sword. "Let's go."

We briefly skirt the edge of the village, and Arvid risks a nod at a few almost familiar faces as I pull my hood down further over my face. They wave back and I shake my head at him when we're clear of the last few houses. He shrugs, that easy grin that's the perfect accompaniment to Aurelia's easy diplomatic lies stretching across his face.

The first tombs aren't very far from the village but they're old, the runes on the small plaques in the hill face worn almost smooth. It's more like they were placed far away hundreds of years ago and in the centuries since, the village has slowly crept closer. The newer tombs are a little harder to see, placed more creatively around rocks and set into shallow caves. Arvid is curious, tracing over names and with a gloved hand, but I feel very strongly like I'm not supposed to be here, like I'm being watched. I don't see what I'm looking for so much as I feel it, around a small corner that heavy forbidden feeling relaxes. I look almost directly at a carved stone half hidden by some dry branches.

It's my name. The runes a little different, angles less sharp, words underneath it spelled so that I don't quite recognize them, but my name is clear. Nothing after it.

"Over here," I wave at Arvid, crunching through the knee high snow and breaking the branches off to get at the age-sealed edge of the stone. It feels weird to do this in the middle of the day, on Berk it's always the night before the wedding, and I wish I had a torch for ambiance or something.

"Let's hope Eret wasn't as common of a name a few decades ago," Arvid jokes, the edge he lost on the flight up here reappearing for a brief second as he hands me a sturdy branch to pry with. I wedge it against the edge of the stone and it takes a couple angles until it shifts. Then it moves too fast, falling on the ground and cracking a wedge off of the corner. "Sorry grandpa," Arvid mutters to himself, taking the branch back and carefully picking up the plaque.

The skeleton in the tomb is covered in mostly disintegrated cloth and I touch it with a careful hand before looking over my shoulder. The tombs on Berk are opened from the top or they're large enough to enter, I'm not sure how to get at what is inside of this one. Arvid shrugs and I look back at the half rotted away boot on a skeleton foot before sighing.

"I'm just going to stick my head in and see if there's a sword." For the first time ever, I miss my previous scrawniness as I edge carefully into the tomb beside the bones, leaning hard on my elbow and trying to ignore the pull of nearly healed stitches in my arm. There's a glint, barely visible and blocked when I move my head just wrong, but a definite glint. I reach for it, wincing when I wobble and accidentally grab a long dried arm bone for balance.

Thank you, namesake. Grandpa doesn't make sense without context, but I appreciate the support all the same.

"Eret," Arvid hisses, smacking my hip as my feet lift slightly off of the ground in my attempt to reach for the sword.

"Just a second, I've almost got it." I barely avoid planting my face into a ribcage covered in stringy, cold preserved leather, "and don't jostle me when I'm snuggled up against a dead guy."

He says something else but I don't quite hear it because my arm is against my ear as I stretch to grab...a blade. Yes. I've got it. I pull it carefully towards myself, ancient fabric tearing around a worn and battered blade. It's corroded in the middle, pockmarked with rust that makes it feel more historic as I carefully slide it into the collar of my coat, tucking the point into a seal skin lined pocket by my waist.

"Ok, you can pull me out--"

Arvid takes the suggestion with unnecessary force, yanking me by my leg and throwing me face down into the snow. He lands on top of me, straddling my waist and gathering my wrists in his hand behind my back. The sword in my coat digs into my layers of shirts and if it were sharper, it would be cutting where I don't want to be cut. As it is, it's just bruising me, making it hard to breathe where it digs into my ribs. Was he this jealous about Dad's sword? I don't think so, especially because I handed it over.

"Got him!" He announces to someone else before leaning down and whispering in my ear, "did you get it?"

"Yes, if you're going to steal it you'd have to roll me over." I kick at him but all the heavy clothes are in the way and he's securely seated, one hand on the back of my neck, pressing my face into the snow.

"Keep it hidden, we got caught, play along."

"Is it playing along if I tell you to stop crushing me?" I wheeze, trying to kick him again and getting a mouthful of snow for the trouble.

"Hey, don't worry, I've got him." Arvid announces, standing up and yanking me to my feet with his grip on my wrists. It's tight but nothing I couldn't break out of and I resist the urge to do exactly that. I should trust him, plus, if I tried anything, the sword might fall out of my furs and get abandoned if we had to flee. I have to blink a few times to see the group of men approaching us clearly through the ice encrusted on my eyelashes. There's eight or nine of them, maybe and they're holding spears in our direction, but they lower slightly when they see Arvid, his tattoos almost matching some of the group's. "Trying to hide in my grandfather's grave after I chased him down here."

"Your grandfather?" One of the men raises their spear, "I don't recognize you."

"I do," another frowns and scratches under his chin with a short sword, its craftsmanship familiar to the one under my coat that's currently cold on the bruise it made. I think my cheek might be scraped too, from stone or ice I'm not sure, and I'm going to personally make Arvid explain himself to Fuse.

"My father, Eret son of Eret brought me here a few years ago," Arvid lets go of my wrists with one hand to point at his chin and I almost throw him again. He seems to sense my plan and tightens his grip, giving me a warning look.

"What are you doing here now?" The guy in front with the largest spear, presumably the leader, asks and Arvid stands up straighter, flaunting the inches he has on the man.

"You're asking me what I'm doing here when I just caught a thief in my grandfather's grave?" He says it with such conviction that apparently none of them think to press the issue further, which is a relief for all of a couple minutes of frozen marching, until it becomes obvious where they're marching me to.

"That looks like a dragon cage turned jail cell," I hiss at him, tugging experimentally on his grip. I don't want to break it if he doesn't want me to, because then my other captors might tie my hands with something more serious.

"Just play along," he whispers, "I promised Thorston I'd get you home un-injured, and I don't think that's going to happen if we take on eight men without our dragons."

"So you're going to lock me up?"

"If I have to," he pushes me forward a little harder than necessary, just to make me trip, and I catch the men looking at us. I struggle for a moment, just for show, and Arvid yanks me back upright with a hand on my shoulder. "I'll grab the keys and get you later. Keep the sword hidden and don't do anything stupid until then."

"Stupid? When am I stupid?" I elbow him, probably harder than I need to for show, and he coughs before handing me over to two of the guys who try to be rougher than he was. They half succeed, mostly they just grab handfuls of layers of Dad's old clothes as they toss me into the cage. I'm glad I'm wearing so much now because the room has a hard rocky floor and the late fall sun isn't anywhere near as high as I'd like it to be.

The front door of the converted jail slams shut behind the group, Arvid included, and I sigh, hitting my head on the bars in frustration and aiming to hit the lock before realizing how wide the warped, rusty metal would split my knuckles. Fuse doesn't make exceptions.

Even if this is going to be a long, cold night.

00000

The first and only time Aurelia got kidnapped, I found her in a dragon cage on some asshole trapper's boat. Everyone else thought it was the crony we'd been dealing with, dancing around in the non-fatal chief style for months, but I had a hunch things were escalating. Well, it wasn't so much a hunch as it was the fact that Arvid was inconsolable and liable to get himself killed if he stepped up the chain of command, so I did it.

That was the first day I realized that only some people will talk. Some people just aren't made for compromise, and when I was alone on a boat with one such person who was in command of about twenty who might listen to reason, my decision to...end discussions came more easily than I would have thought it could.

Aurelia threw up, I still think it's why she dove so stubbornly into diplomacy. If she talks fast enough, she doesn't have to see inside of anyone's lung, theoretically.

Anyway, the reason that this stupid stony jail cell has me thinking about that day is I remember so clearly being irritated when I landed that Aurelia was still in the cage. It was built for Nadders or maybe Gronckles, and the bars were practically as far apart as her shoulders were wide. She could have turned sideways and gotten out at literally any time, but I had to explain that to her while she dry heaved and tried not to look at the bloody puddle that used to be the biggest up and coming dragon trapper in the archipelago.

She later explained that she stayed in the cage because the trappers couldn't get in, and she didn't have a weapon or a dragon so there was no point in escaping, but I don't have either of those concerns now. I have Dad's dad's old corroded sword, which probably couldn't cut anything, but it's heavy enough to bludgeon with, and if I could just get outside, I could call Bang. Even if I couldn't, we didn't leave him that far away, I could make a run for it.

But I don't fit.

The bars look far apart. I didn't even wait until nightfall to try at first, pressing my shoulder against a gap and expecting the layers of clothes to compress and bunch and ultimately let me through, but I had no luck. Now, it's finally late enough that I don't think anyone is dropping by to give the poor prisoner some dinner, so I start taking off layers, folding them carefully to hide the sword and shivering as I get down to my undershirt. I push my shoulder again against the space between two bars and get a little further, arm slipping through past my armpit until the cold, rusted metal introduces itself to my collarbone and back, not quite at my spine.

I turn my head and press my face between the bars to push harder. My head fits, barely, but it does. My chest doesn't move, though, and the rust bites into my collarbone, scraping enough that my shirt starts to tear and I yank my arm back. There's no blood in the hole, just a little reddened skin I won't have to explain to Fuse, and I sit down on my pile of clothes with a huff.

Picking the lock with the sword is a no go and I can't get enough of a running start to bust the gate open, as rusty as the lock is. I get excited for a second when I find Fuse's gifted smoke bombs in a deep pocket of my original clothes, but I think they've gone bad or something because the color is different. I still try and light them, first by sparking the sword against the wall and then by ripping off a piece of my sleeve and laboriously getting it to light, then holding the fire to the unraveling wicks. They fizzle out almost immediately with a rotten smell but no smoke and I throw one at the wall in frustration. It sparks, uselessly, the place it impacted chipping off to reveal a red clay color underneath, which I take to be the definite sign of a bomb gone bad.

Sleeping isn't an option. Not only am I not tired, but there's nothing remotely comfortable in this cell. The couple of slices of bread that a sullen kid drops off at first light could be a pillow, I guess, because the moldy crust prevents them from being food. Maybe I’m spoiled from living in the chief’s house, but I’m not keen on a moldy bed either.

Mostly I have too much time to think. About Fuse and the fact that we're engaged and the fact that for the first time in a long time, there's a future that I want to get back to. About the chief's advice and going after what I want and how horribly it is currently going for me. Except I also wouldn't be where I am without it, there wouldn't be a house and a future on the horizon and...well, it's a vortex I can sink some thought into. Approximately two days of thought, judging by the volume of my stomach's growls when I assess each morning's moldy bread as I watch a tiny square of sun make its way across the floor, even though the light makes me feel colder.

Where is Arvid with the fucking keys?

Briefly, on the third morning, I wonder if he left without me, especially with the sword and the tackling. Nothing in the last four years would lead me to that conclusion, but the last four days? Maybe. I don't know. Maybe I don't want to know. Maybe I don't count on anyone but Fuse to be bedrock during changing times, but she's understandably not up to it so I'm drifting. I want to be wrong.

I jump up when the door slams open, rattling rust off the bars over the tiny window.

"I didn't do it!" Arvid shouts as the same kid who brings my bread shoves him through the makeshift prison door, his hands bound with thick rope, his eye swelling a shiny pink.

"Tell that to my dad," the kid grumbles under his breath as he gives me a wary look, one hand flitting to the keys on his belt.

Arvid could get out of that hold, but he doesn't. I hope it's part of a plan and hold my hands up in silent surrender, taking a step back from the gate. I could dash out, but I don't think I could take the kid with how easy it would be to use Arvid as a shield. I can also hear voices outside, and as much as my clearing out the Thorston pantry and then sleeping a solid day in Fuse's bed perked me up, the last few days without food or sleep are catching up to me.

My brother's stumble isn't necessarily exaggerated when the kid pushes him into the cell and locks the door behind him, but I freeze until we’re alone and the voices outside go silent.

"Moldy bread?" I gesture to one of the plates still by the gate and my stomach growls. So helpful.

"I'm good, thanks."

"No keys, I take it."

He blinks, "I'll pull them out of my ass if you untie me."

I laugh at that, the tension half-melting. It's not quite the bottom or top half though, it's one of the sides and obviously asymmetrical, because the atmosphere teeters and finds a new upright.

"These knots are...a mess," I struggle with the rope, pulling a little too hard and flinching as Arvid's vaguely blue thumb jolts. He was struggling as they tied him up, apparently, "I'd cut it loose but we might need the rope."

"Planning a grand escape?"

"Always," I sigh, "looks like a rope-less one though." The corroded sword cuts a surprisingly effortless path through the rope and the shreds fall to the floor as Arvid flexes his hand. Honestly, the pile is a more appealing pillow than the bread and I almost contemplate it for a second. "Better?"

"Not really," Arvid half smiles, exhausted as he turns away to press his swelling face against the hard stone wall, "almost as good as ice, right?"

"I guess," I lean by back against the wall next to his face, glancing casually at him. I'm mostly glad for someone to talk to, but I'm also really glad that it's him, weird tension aside. "Who did that?"

"Jailer's wife made a move," he snorts and I roll my eyes. "I'm serious, I was trying to get the keys and she offered a deal. Apparently, I'm still pretty good looking by Dad's hometown standards." There's that jealous look again, but it's hollow. Not even tired, just...expired, like a log that's too charred to keep burning.

"Did you do it?" I ask even though I already know the answer and it's his turn to dismiss me, standing up to carefully poke at his swelling eye.

"She told her husband I did because I didn't, so...no luck with the keys, do you have a plan?"

"Time travel about five years into the past and fit through the bars," I shrug, "I tried a few times, but no luck. Maybe another week avoiding moldy bread and cutting off an ear would do it, but Fuse would never forgive me." It's meant to get a laugh but Arvid deflates instead, slumping down against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

"It's really hard to be pissed at someone so clueless, you know?"

"I don't," I shove cold hands into my pockets, fiddling with Fuse's ruined smoke bombs. "I'm usually the most clueless."

"You and Mom," he sighs, "you two trade off."

"How hard did you get hit?" I laugh.

He looks at me seriously, exhausted, and I recognize some version of Aurelia's most cutting, honest face. The one that only comes out when she's too preoccupied to unpack my nonsense in to neat piles. Arvid's version is more mallot than dagger though and I steel myself.

"You know, sacrificing yourself isn't without casualties."

"Aren't you the one who tackled me and lied about your involvement in my scheme and it led to me being here?" I raise an eyebrow but he doesn't notice or more likely, doesn't care. "What's your problem? You've been weird ever since Dad gave me his sword. Am I facing another coup, because if so, you need to starve and not sleep for a couple days before I'm willing to call anything even--"

"I know my place," Arvid cuts me off, sharp and definite, "trust me--"

"Sorry if you ordering me to trust you doesn't have the desired effect--"

"It's not an order," he sighs, probing the swelling under his eye, "it's just hard watching you get everything, alright? I'm over it--I mean, I'm dealing with it." He swallows hard and shrugs a broad shoulder, "badly."

"Watching me get everything?" I snort, gesturing to the cell, "right, a dank, freezing jail, everything I've ever wanted."

"Before you go back to your life and your family and your future marriage to the woman you love," he hits his head against the wall and sighs like it's the last ounce of deflation. “And your job that’s neatly waiting for you, all responsibilities listed out.”

Oh.

"That wasn't umm, what I was expecting," I sit down next to him, back against the same wall, one leg extended with my hands folded over my knee. I don't feel as casual as I'm trying to look and I clear my throat, "do you want to talk about it?"

"About your future chiefdom?" His lip curls and the muscle under his eye twitches, which brings him right back to sad. That's going to be a nasty bruise and I passively worry how big the jailer is.

"I talk about that enough," I shrug, bumping his shoulder with mine, "whine about it, mostly. So much that I forgot to ask if you were upset about anything, apparently."

"You do that."

I think about Fuse and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands, "yeah. I'm working on it."

"It's not that you do everything wrong," Arvid thumps a heavy hand on my shoulder, "it's that somehow, I do everything right and it doesn't seem to matter."

"What are you talking about?" I laugh, "you're the only one of us that Mom trusts to be an actual adult."

"Is it trust?" He doesn’t want an answer and I don’t nod, “or was Mom just the first one to forget where I fit?”

"She trusts you," it comes out flat and Arvid sees right through me to what I haven't fully verbalized yet.

“It doesn’t matter.” He sounds like Fuse, and I hate that I’ve become someone that people are scared to lean on. “Not—it’s good that she trusts me, it makes it easier. For you.” He laughs, “which is what matters, I know—”

“From where I sit, nothing seems very easy,” I gesture at the wall in front of us, the sun dipping below the small, dingy windowsill and shepherding in another long, cold night. “It’s funny though that you say you don’t know where you fit, because I just told Fuse that you’re co-chief’s wife, because she’s nervous about that, apparently.”

“I’ll be a Thorston-Mom translator,” he snorts, miserable but at least talking, “that sounds like a full time job.”

“It’s yours whether you want it or not.” I follow his lead and relax a little bit, “you’re already kicking ass at managing all of us, which is basically Mom’s job aside from being married to the chief, and unless there’s something you need to tell me about your feelings…” I joke, gesturing to myself and he sighs.

“I hate that Dad gave you his sword.”

It’s better than another confession but it still hits me like a physical blow.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…uh, do you want to talk about it?” I prod, trying not to look at the empty sheath where Dad’s sword was. I saw him leave it with Wingspark before I got captured and I’m assuming it’s still there, but it’s absence is like a presence in and of itself.

“Not really,” Arvid scoots closer to me, notching his shoulder over mine against the wall. “I’m tired, it’s cold.”

“You aren’t too mad to huddle for warmth, that’s a good sign.” I’m more relieved than I let on when I scoot closer, the bubble between us where Dad’s sword should be the only warm patch I’ve felt in days.

“I’m not mad,” he shuts his eyes, obviously not asleep but not daring me to call him out either, “there’s no one to be mad at.”

“I get that feeling.” The place I used to use to deflect everything at the chief is as empty as Arvid’s belt and I let my eyes close, at least for a few hours.

00000

I dream about cribs in a prison cell while Dad’s sword glows red hot from a fire I can’t see, emanating from my side where Arvid hit me all those years ago. When I wake up, Arvid is slumped over my lap, arms too tight around my legs as he uses my thighs as a pillow. My nose is numb from cold and my toes are numb from my brother’s massively heavy head and I try to shake him loose, my breath foggy in the gray morning light.

“Arvid.”

“Mmph,” he presses his face into my leg, “five more minutes.”

I shake his shoulder and he looks up with a sleepy squint, staring at me for a second before remembering where he is and frowning. He sits up a little too quickly, brushing dust from his front and trying to straighten his hair. The bruise around his eye is fully black in the corner and blue-purple around the edges and it makes him look younger the way his sheepish expression does, like he’s been caught after picking a bad fight.

“I would have let you sleep, but chances of keeping all my toes are already less than ideal, considering what serves for a blade right now,” I joke, awkwardly standing up and pacing to get warm. Arvid examines Eret the Original’s sword pensively, tracing a battle-faded inscription along the flat of the blade.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want this one too,” he says when he catches me staring.

“I wasn’t worried,” I shrug, “that one, I’ve definitely earned.”

“You chose it,” he sets it down, “you could have had any Hofferson or Haddock sword on Berk, but you chose Dad.” His smile is sad and pensive, and a little sheepish still, daring me to cut him off. “And as always, he chose you.”

“Well,” I swallow, gesturing at him and seeing nothing more than a young version of Dad, less heroic in reality than he would be in the story when he retold it later. Or not less heroic, just more real, more alive instead of a living legend. “He doesn’t have to choose you, it’s obvious.”

He shrugs.

We both look so much like our dads that sometimes, when I look at him, all I see is Mom. I hope he feels the same.

“I guess I know what obvious feels like, and I’m not a fan of it either.” I sigh, running my hand back through my tangled mess of hair. Somehow, needing a bath is what makes me miss home. Or maybe it’s the feeling of being assumed, and I’m a hypocrite for missing it right when Arvid is explaining how he doesn’t have it. Mostly though, I suddenly miss Fuse, everything I’ve held off due to necessity threatening to knock me back. “I’m sorry—”

“And then there’s the house,” he smiles, “which is ironic, because I’m the one responsible for spoiling you there.”

“The house? What’s up with the house?” I cock my head, “does it have an interior hot spring or a never ending bread cabinet or something? Axe storage for twenty?”

“It’s not going to feel empty,” he shakes his head, the last of the tension melting into a miserable fog around him, hovering above the frozen ground. “Four years with two people in a house meant for six starts to get a little quiet.”

All of the sleep and time to think has meant something, because the concept clicks immediately.

“The babies.”

“Right? Plural. Two of them.” He sighs, “it’s not that you do everything wrong, but when you do, it always turns out so right for you.”

“And you do everything right.”

“Well, I don’t think there’s a wrong way to do that.”

“What do you—oh Gods, no, I’m trying to have a heart to heart with you and—”

“I had to,” he tosses a pebble at me and it bounces off of my forehead, “you should see your face.”

“I don’t need to, I’m betting it’s projecting horror and disgust and I just meant you got betrothed and then married in that order, not—can you throw up after not eating for however many days? Because I might try—”

“Who else am I going to talk to about this stuff? Rolf?” He’s a little pleading, a little joking, and I can’t deny that I owe him after apparently rubbing something like this in his face, even if I didn’t know. “He’d give me a pamphlet in Latin or something.”

“You could try Ingrid, she’d give you…I don’t know, a map to nearly abandoned boats with free babies on them.” I sit back down next to him, doing my best fake placid and hoping it’ll translate inward eventually. “How long have you felt like this?”

“Finn didn’t help things,” he scuffs his toe on the ground, “how is it that Ingrid rejects absolutely everything she’s supposed to do and somehow, she’s happy with Smitelout and a two year old?”

“Because she’s Ingrid,” I laugh, “you talk about me getting everything.”

“True, she’s the real favorite.” He lacks the weight of his secret, “I hate to break it to you but I think she’s even the chief’s favorite. Well, and Snotlout’s.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” I laugh, “I kept wondering if Snotlout would take in another unconventional duo just so that Fuse and I could sleep in the same bed. And I bet if I threw in grandpa bragging rights, he would have done it.”

“Aurelia says we have time.” Arvid’s voice carries a dismal hint of sarcasm that’s more mine than anyone else’s and I remember my own conversation with Aurelia, offering her my kids if I start messing them up too bad. “Maybe this will change her mind, at any minute I could be locked up for life and she’ll want someone to remember me by.”

“Uh, I know that we’re having brother time right now and pretending you didn’t remind me that you’re married to my sister—”

“I’m not pretending.” He teases and I shake my head.

“No, I—that’s something you need to talk to her about—”

“What did she tell you?” Arvid’s reaction makes my heart throb for Fuse, because it’s the same obsessive worry I feel whenever I let myself think about her. It’s the same pull, the one that makes the prison bars look like rusted matchsticks. “She talked to you? About kids?”

“We share issues.”

“What did she say? Is she ok? Why isn’t she telling me?” The pain is familiar too, the shame-tinted grief I felt when I learned Fuse hadn’t been telling me everything.

I shake my head, “that’s all I should tell you, it’s not—you know, as much as my history surrounding Aurelia still perturbs me,” I tread lightly, “mostly it seems really messed up for me to moderate relationship talk as both your siblings.”

He doesn’t hear me, not in any way that would matter, because he’s on his feet, rattling the bars with force that makes the rust flake to the floor.

“Have you tried to pick the lock?” He takes the ceremonial sword and gouges the tip trying to shove it into the lock.

“Hey, be careful with that.” I try to take it back but he drops it on the floor, narrowing his eyes at the gate.

“I could bust that open.”

“I tried that, yes, after picking the lock didn’t work—“

“Youtried it, alright,” he plants his foot against the wall to build up more speed as he takes two running steps and slams his shoulder into the rusty gate. It clangs like an orchestral sentry, the lock taking the high notes as the tumblers inside clatter around.

“That’s really loud.”

“Well, I hit it really hard,” he rolls his shoulder and sets up to try it again.

“Whoa there,” I put a hand on his shoulder and he nudges it off, a little too hard, “hey!”

“You might be content to let Stoick claim your kids while you—fuck!” He cuts himself off, “I don’t mean that, I just—”

“You’re worried, it’s fine,” I kick a plate of moldy bread and it skids harmlessly under the bars, clattering against the door, “thinking about Fuse is killing my appetite as much as the potential food poisoning. We need to get out of here, I just think doing it without drawing the attention of multiple people massive enough to do that,” I gesture at his eye, “is probably a good idea.”

His jaw flexes and he glares at the door a second before nodding, “you said you tried to fit.”

“I did, I don’t fit,” I assure him and he cocks his head.

“I bet I could make you fit.”

“I…don’t know if I like the sound of that,” I stare at him for a second before starting to take off layers. “But I don’t see any other options at the moment.”

“Take off the sweater,” he holds his hands out to take my clothes, tossing them on the floor to cover the ceremonial sword. Fuse’s ruined smoke bombs fall out of my inner pocket and roll to the back corner. “Wait! Those are Thorston’s, you had them the whole time?”

“I’ve had them for months, they’ve been soaked about half a dozen times,” he grabs my arm when I don’t move fast enough, maneuvering me against two of the wider set bars. It’s different than where I tried and maybe a few days without food will matter. “You think bombs wouldn’t be the first thing I’d try if I had them?”

“I never know with you,” he laughs, waiting for me to get my foot against the base. My feet aren’t going to be the problem and I can kick off my boots as need be, but the first squeeze I feel mid-foot still makes me nervous.

“If I say stop—“

“I’ll stop,” he pushes gently when the gap introduces itself to my collarbone again, “it’s so close.”

“Yeah, how close is close if I leave my nose behind and Fuse kills both of us?” I squawk when he shoves on the back of my head, “bad angle, that’s not gonna—ouch!”

“You’re being louder than the gate,” he grunts, knee against my hip and the gap pinches my pelvis where I don’t want to be pinched. I squeak and kick backwards at him.

“If you want nieces and nephews—”

“I’ll already have a spare,” he eases up when he jokes but it makes me laugh anyway and my chest expands into the gap, pinching my stomach. I squeak again. “Exhale—”

“That won’t get my ribs out of the way, fuck—”

The door opens and the jailer’s son drops a plate of moderately more moldy bread than usual on the floor, teenage face wide eyed in shock.

“Uhh,” I cough, “I don’t fit.”

“Yeah,” Arvid yanks me back with a tug that feels like it scrapes all the hair off of half of the front of my body and I yelp. “He’s been bulking up on the bread.”

“Yeah,” I wheeze, “it’s dense. Nutritious.”

The kid slams the door behind him as he presumably runs to get bigger guards.

“Well, they know now,” Arvid says quietly before flinging himself against the gate again. It breaks partway free of the roof, along with the whole strip of wall. “Help me,” he tosses me my coat for padding and I shrug into it, counting to three with him and throwing my own shoulder against the wall near the corner, where it’s stubbornly holding on.

Once. Twice. Three times makes my whole arm sing, my no bruises rule falling away as I remember the stitches I haven’t dealt with as they yank and sting.

Arvid beats me to four by a half a second and the bars fall down, Arvid crashing onto them with me following a second behind, clutching my arm. Two things happen at once. First, the door starts to open, a single spearhead poking its way through the gap. Second, the wall of bars falls against the door entirely and bends under my brother and my combined weight, folding in a neat corner against the floor and jamming the door shut.

Guards start pounding at the door but I roll onto my back, head uncomfortable against the bars as I rub my shoulder. Arvid jumps up and starts pacing like a caged Rumblehorn.

“Hey, it’s ok, they can’t get in.”

“And we can’t get out,” he kicks the bars holding the door shut and I sit up slowly, “what are we going to do?”

“We’ll figure it out,” I might imagine the dragon sounds outside. Bang’s warble, Wingspark’s frantic squeal at the sight of weapons in the hands of people she doesn’t know. I don’t imagine the weapons against the door, clanging dully as unfamiliar voices rise into a familiar angry wave.

“How? The window?” He points at the tiny window, “Gods, I wish Aurelia were here. For so many reasons.” He tugs at his hair and my stomach hurts with how much I feel the same.

“I wish Fuse were here.”

“She couldn’t fit through there,” he snorts, gesturing at the bars, “not now, at least—”

“No, I mean I wish Fuse were here with some firepower.”

I definitely hear Bang now, his blast making the air in the cell blur in familiar rings of compression and speed. I see Fuse’s smoke bombs in slow motion, rolling with the blast to the corner of the room and leaking odd red smoke that I don’t recognize.

“What the—”

“Get down!” I shout at Arvid, clapping my hands over my ears as Bang blasts again.

The bombs slam into the wall and everything is loud and white and dust.

#open flames #eret iii #festerverse #arvid hofferson #feret #arvelia #two boys on a road trip without their brain cell #am I gonna make it before httyd3 #with some self loathing and lack of sleep just maybe #maybe just maybe #I'm very close

7 notes · View notes

1nkweaver · 5 years

Note

PICK N OPAL!!! 1- What happens when your character doesn't get what they want? 2- How well can this character resist their emotions and impulses? 3- If the character were to come face to face with their darkest fears in a nightmare, what would they see? 4-Do they prefer sweet, salty, sour, meaty, spicy, or neutral tastes? 5- whats their feelings on the groups their with lately?

1- What happens when your character doesn't get what they want?

Opal: It really depends on what it is tbh. Opal will either let it go immediately, or he’ll keep pushing subtly, or he’ll have a “do it yourself” attitude to it. If it’s some kind of divine plan thing, he’s -going- to make it happen, that’s the long and short of it.

Pick: He probably just whines really XD but if he’s not getting what he wants because his opinion or thought process is like being put down then he’ll get aggressive. He really buts heads with people on moral issues and developing plans because I think he thinks that you should always debate every possibility.

2- How well can this character resist their emotions and impulses?

Opal is stoic as fuuuuuck man...it’s hard to really feel like he -has- impulses, but I definitely want him to almost be like -TOO- in control of his emotions. Yknow, like seeing your church get destroyed with your people inside it and seemingly not reacting super duper hard, just kinda...staring at it. (Yeah Baughn, that’s basically what he did when that happened do you feel bad?)

Pick is very emotional on the other hand. He tries so desperately to think about what would Anders do because he always felt Anders was smart, but Anders almost always acted on his feelings, and he instilled that in Pick a bit. Pick thinks first with his gut, then with his heart, and last with his brain- but he uses all three. Goblin nature in my mind is to be very id driven, so he very often just -goes- with his instincts and feelings, he doesn’t question them bc he feels that’s the truest part of himself.

3- If the character were to come face to face with their darkest fears in a nightmare, what would they see?

Opal dreams of building something, and while those things have been destroyed before and he’s had to start over, there has always been a sense of rebuilding. Opal’s worst nightmare would be that sense of total defeat- he’s dying, his friends are dying around him, and everything he built is being destroyed in one fell swoop. It’s kind of dramatic but Opal doesn’t really think about things on a personal level, his worst nightmare is being there for the end of the world.

Pick’s nightmare is a lot more real and personal. He’d be back in a place he was before. A place with music, and laughter, and a lot of voices...and he’s looking at it while either standing over a corpse, or looking out from between bars.

4-Do they prefer sweet, salty, sour, meaty, spicy, or neutral tastes?

Opal definitely has a sweet tooth- I remember in waterdeep he had the equivalent of fish and chips and he found it..interesting but strange. I must imagine he loves things like custard and candied apples and the like, probably caramel too, things of that nature would really make him feel happy.

Pick eats a lot of things so he has a really expanded palette, I mean the guy will eat garbage. I think it’s partially goblin instinct to like salty and meaty things, like gamey raw meat and stuff like that. But I also personally think that now, especially with the gourmand feat, that he has a real big love for spicy. Not necessarily spicy hot (though he’d love that) but spicy flavorful, like with indian food and the like. Just really powerful flavors.

5- whats their feelings on the groups their with lately?

The Opal of Waterdeep has developed very slowly, I last left off with a month long timeskip while we rebuilt trollskull manor. He thinks that he can help them, but he needs their help too, and he’s been learning their secrets and keeping his close. I remember I wrote out a whole speech for Opal because he believes he got one of the characters backstories figured out, and meant to confront them about it.

Opal of Avisten is a little bit different- he’s older, wiser, but more grizzled and lives in a more dangerous uncivilized world. It was his plan to actually assemble the party itself, he gathered these people and chose them individually for a reason. They are his people, they are his flock. I hate to use the religious allegory but Opal sees himself as the “jesus” figure and all of the rest of the party are his “apostles”. Maybe they’ll listen to him, maybe they’ll betray him. But they’re all integral to each other and they all have something that Opal needs to do for them, and they will do something in return for Opal. Deep down they are good people, flawed people, but they need each other. As Ida would say they are twisted.

Picks ideas on the party are...complicated, a lot now, like a lot. Let’s break it down:

Jin- The first person he met, didn’t think much of him at all. A very typical roguish type- talks a lot, not a lot of wit, good with his fingers, a himbo. They’re fast “friends” but Pick really wants a rivalry. Jin is proving to be more than what he appeared, smart, multifaceted. Pick still thinks he’s “better” but he thinks Jin is also necessary. The first person Pick would call a friend. Jins sexual advances make Pick confused and uncomfortable. Pick wishes that Jin would be more real- he saw Jin having his nightmare and associates strongly with him. Pick wants to be able to “hash it out like dudes” but Pick is not one for heavy drinking or drugs or sex. He’s not about to bond and tell sad backstory over getting drunk, which he thinks is the main way that it would come out of Jin. He kinda also wants to see Jin angry, because he thinks that Jin is closing that off too. He thinks Jin is being friendly but he isn’t being “real” with him, which is ironic because Jin is very “down to earth, says it like it is” kind of dude...but he’s not -really- doing it. He’s not being -really real- with Pick right now, which is fine, it’s not the time for it. But can they just have a real conversation? Please?

Kai- Technically the second person that Pick met after Jin. Strange, youthful nature, naive, good heart. The kind of person you call kid and ruffle up his hair. A tiefling- weird, foreign, strange. The thing Pick honestly doesn’t understand at this point is why the fuck does everyone baby this kid. Yeah he gets scared but that’s a good thing- and hello don’t know if you realized it but Kai is stronger than most of you. Where Pick sees others trying to protect Kai’s innocence, Pick sees someone that needs to be seriously trained if he’s staying in this group. Stop babying him and show him how to properly use his sword. Don’t keep him away from things that give him fear, show him how to kill his fears. Pick doesn’t consider Kai a friend, but he considers Kai the “goodest” person of the group. Pick sees Kai as someone who by every right should turn to evil and is choosing to do good, instead of someone who was just born good and did what was expected of him.

Aspasia- Strange, strange woman. Strong, obviously- but out of place. Why is she here? Why is she connecting with these people. There is a mind behind that muscle that is being ignored- and god Aspasia is literally always thinking about other things. Pick initially thought Callie and Aspasia were lovers- he’s still not really sure? But apparently Sia also is loosy goosy with Jin, he doesn’t understand their friendship at all. Pick and Aspasia haven’t spoken but he feels an unspoken energy between them. Their desire to fight, and OOC I know if they talked their goals would align more strongly than anyone else’s in the group so far. Pick thinks Aspasia needs to speak the fuck up with her words more than her muscles as of late because she’s not talking.

Ida- The absolute largest conflict of interest all in one person. Ida both reflects things that Pick severely, severely hates in this world, while at the same time being the one that most accurately reflects Anders as a person, the person Pick respects the most. This has led to a very very difficult understanding of Ida in Pick’s eyes. Pick hates Ida, he hates that she’s so nice, self sacrificing, puts herself down, acts like the mom, and he hates clerics. He doesnt’ think she deserves to be lied to however. He may hate a lot of the things that Ida represents, but not a single person in the party has Picks -respect- besides her. Pick was going up that hill, and everyone could have yelled at him to turn back and he would not have, the only person that could (and did) convince him in that moment was Ida. Pick will argue with any member of this party but in the end he will do what -Ida- says to do. That’s what she deserves. Not his kindness, not his love or admiration or friendship, but his respect. He’s respecting her because she right now is the closest thing to Anders. And damn if Pick hates that.

Callie- Quiet, curious, Callie. Pick thought her and Aspasia were lovers, he’s still not really sure, but their inseparable nature reminds him of him and Anders- he would never get in between them. Except...for the fact that for whatever reason he fancies Callie. It might be just because she’s someone he can literally talk eye to eye with, but there’s more than that. He appreciates that she doesn’t have to talk a lot, he finds her care for animals endearing even if he’s afraid of horses, and her abilities in combat are varied. Her use of magic frightens him, but she’s hard to read. He does straight up find Callie cute, attractive. In a way that he hopes isn’t creepy he likes...holding her hand and stuff? He thinks she’s very soft, he sees a kind of...goblin nature inside of her? Kinda like a little flame of passion that she keeps really really well hidden- but her understanding of nature, her “going off alone” ness..very goblin like and that draws him to her, and then she doesn’t have a goblins (admitedly, freakish) outward appearance. He likes her a lot, he’s sad that she seems to pull away so often, he blames himself..? Wants to find a way to get through to her. Now that Callie has a wolf Picks childhood dream of being an Outrider was reawakened.

Siril: Big man. Pick does not understand why the hell Siril is here at all. He is by far probably the most out of place person in the group in Picks first impressions, but he’s sticking around. He has been wanting to have an actual just good old getting to know you talk one on one with Siril since the very beginning just based on the fact that he’s interesting! Pick has never seen a Firbolg before, they’re so -different- as people and Pick is totally okay with that! He wants to talk about it! He thought maybe on that watch that they had together last game they’d finally talk but it seems that they most likely spent it in silence. Seeing Siril go from really aggressive to Jin to almost warming up to him, as well as warming up to Sia...hurt Pick a little. Not necessarily as jealousy, but perhaps something similar. Pick thought they had a lot in common, they were the new guys to the group and in Picks opinion he thought they were really the “freaks”. They’re the weird races, and he just feels like he’s...missed out on a shot. He thinks Siril doesn’t really find him interesting and he really can’t place a finger on it but ever since he came to the party Pick wants to impress Siril. That’s why he gave him space when it was clear he was annoyed, that’s why he went along and did as much work on the murder case as he could, it’s why he -went- with Siril to see the widow and gave her all his gold. It’s why when Pick was asked by Siril if he was a good person Pick gave him a truthful answer of “you are useful” because truth is what Pick gives to people that he feels are deserving of a harsh answer. He thought they’d talk more since then and they really haven’t, and Pick wonders if all that time trying to impress Siril was for naught, he really doesn’t have the emotional maturity to figure out why he’s feeling what he’s feeling, but he just has those base feelings. Does he “like” Siril, is he “attracted?” He doesn’t know how to process that, but he had an instinctual desire to impress him, to be seen as useful or interesting to him, and seeing him bond with other people that Pick wasn’t expecting him to (ie, not me, the other “freak”) he feels...hurt by it.

#character questions #Pick #Opal #dnd #biteythevillain

1 note · View note

elevenspond · 6 years

Text

so many people hate north but i have yet to see any reasons that justify flat out hating her, so i’m gonna talk about why she is actually a great character and why i love her so much:

north’s extremism serves as a foil to markus’s pacifism, and even when you put markus on his revolutionary path, she acts as a foil to the guilt he feels over his actions. this seems to be the reason people hate her but it becomes very clear why she thinks this way once she opens up to markus about her past. we know she’s one of the pleasure models used in the eden club, and from what the two traci models tell connor, androids aren’t treated very well by the customers there. when north says “violence is the only language humans understand”, it’s because violence is the only language she has ever received from them. she describes feeling like a toy for the humans to play with. it’s likely she has never once felt safe in the hands of a human. and unlike the two traci’s, who had each other, there was no one at the club who could help north. even though she doesn’t go into greater detail about exactly what happened there, we can infer from the emotional stress she shows just from talking about it that the ordeal left her with severe trauma.

north is one of the few androids in the game to show signs of ptsd, and she’s the only one in jericho’s group of leaders to show real anger over what happened to her. and it isn’t just anger that fuels her extremism--- she feels very strongly that humans will never respond to kindness. again, this comes from her eden club perspective. it’s clear she has never experienced compassion from a human. she worries that everyone in jericho will suffer the same cruelty as she did, and anytime androids are killed by humans, even during markus’s peaceful demonstrations, it’s north’s greatest fear becoming reality. it’s the reaction she expects from them; the only reaction she has ever known. her concern that every android will be destroyed if they don’t fight back isn’t unfounded because her comrades are still dying around her.

romance or no romance, north is vital to markus’s growing understanding of the maltreatment other androids face. for markus, an android whose owner acted as a genuine father figure, it’s very important for him to consider the ordeals of others like north and why she harbors so much anger toward humans. it doesn’t mean he can’t act peacefully, but he needs to understand all aspects of what it is he’s striving for. and, despite all of north’s instinct telling her that they will all die if they don’t fight for freedom, she still trusts in markus when he opts for peace. even though she doesn’t agree with his decisions based on what she has personally seen of humans, she still follows him into his peaceful demonstrations and stands by his side. when revolutionary markus expresses regret over his violent decisions, she listens to him. they still support each other no matter the path.

if you don’t want to ship her with markus, that’s completely fine. that isn’t the issue here. the issue is the constant hate a character is receiving for responding to her own trauma in a way that is justified. having anger that is justified doesn’t make her correct in her views or her beliefs, but they are by no means unwarranted. and she obviously isn’t unwilling to try methods that are entirely against what she believes. if you play the game in a certain way, markus can prove to her that peace indeed saves the day, and she will be grateful, because in the end all she wants is freedom. north is a fantastic character with realistic flaws and this is a hill i’m totally comfortable dying on.

#detroit become human #dbh #north #markus #connor #yeah i'm just gonna drop this into various tags fuck it #north lovers unite #and no this isn't about the 'shipping war'#you can ship whoever without hating on characters who don't deserve it

121 notes · View notes

ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is · 6 years

Note

yo. besides anxiety and anger, i don't feel things very strongly on a genuine level. in fact most of my feelings are borrowed and mirrored from other people, to the point where i'll find myself happily going along with whatever others want me to do. However, when i'm alone I'll realize that it really wasn't something I wanted as much as I thought I had. My only true convictions tend to be a result of never-ending rumination over my thoughts and values. 1/6

I value the general idea that people should be kind, compassionate and polite. Which is kind of ironic because I struggle with some social rules myself. In fact I find that a lot of them, especially those that involve me actually interacting with people I will never see again, are kind of annoying and anxiety inducing. 2/6

When I do step up to defend my convictions, it's a result of being worried for people or feeling locked down and constricted without any escape. Even in a situation where my anger rouses from being hurt myself, I tend to project it outwards: "I've been hurt, so many other people could be hurt by this as well." I have certain pet issues that cause the most outrage in me because I've been through that particular hardship myself, but even then, I think about my feelings the least. 3/6

I feel the need to understand myself and spend quite a bit of time worrying if the way i'm living is authentic. It's mostly a response to my own inability to stand my ground in the moment, swayed by the subconscious desire to make my conversation partner happy. I often find myself happiest when I'm alone or in the company of very like-minded people because I don't have to worry about not having a spine. I want to be strong and capable of withstanding conflict without budging on my stance. 4/6

Despite caring a lot about my identity, I have a tendency to let that slip from my grasp. I'm an artist on social media and I cater my art content and style for a more positive reaction. I will censor myself often and have specific ways of dealing with people to please them, regardless of what I really think. I gravitate towards people who have gone through severe hardship and I want to be their rock if I can. I do want reciprocation in my friendships and intimate relationships, though. 5/6Fe? Fi? 2? 4? 6? Why am I so bad at translating function and type descriptions and applying them to my behavior? ghjfdgkgfsgfhg 6/6

-----

Going through this I don’t see much evidence for Fi, and more importantly I don’t see much in the way of striving for authenticity other than you saying that you think about it. It may be that you don’t like your actions that are inauthentic, but many of your actions would be read as not staying true to yourself. A high Fi user, even with a 2 core, would also have a better idea of what they actually wanted initially. With that in mind I would say high Fe is most likely IF the rules that you find annoying and anxiety-inducing are still rules you follow socially (and just don’t like them), which is what this sounds like. Both Fe and Te are very much able to say “this is stupid, but it is the way it is and this is not a hill worth dying on” in a way Fi and Ti are less able to regarding rules.

I suspect you’re an NFJ rather than an SFJ: The reason I’m considering Ni rather than Si is both from a general feel of the ask (low on examples, high on general perceptions of own behavior) and the focus on people in hardship. Probably an INFJ given the introverted behavior description unless I’m misreading that.

For Enneagram, I don’t think 6: you specifically want to be other people’s rock, and while you want reciprocation in general I don’t think you’re looking for a network to be your rock - just reciprocation in terms of mutual respect and caring. Nor do I especially think 4, because you mention authenticity (typically an Fi thing, but again - it’s something you care about but not something you seem to practice) but not uniqueness. You’re more concerned about being liked by others than being seen as unique by others (4s are unlikely to censor themselves unless they’re censoring overly common opinions), and the part about people in hardship resonates with that as well as with INFJ. It is important to note that while the stereotype of enneagram 2s is that they give and give and never expect anything in return, that’s false. Enneagram 2s explicitly want reciprocation: they want to be loved back. However, to achieve that they will give more initially and ignore some of their own needs in the hope of reciprocation.

#mbti #enneagram #typing #infj #enneagram 2 #Anon ask #answered asks

25 notes · View notes

imperium-romanum · 6 years

Text

Military Monday | Crassus’ Parthian Campaign

A Pint of History is a local history seminar series based in Hobart, which is run every third Thursday of the month. History is full of drinking. Be it alcoholic or non-, made from fruit, grain, spuds or sugar. In sorrow or celebration, glasses have been raised, from battlefields to children's parties. We continue the tradition, bringing tales of old to the pub – Shambles Brewery. Each month we set a different topic and some of Hobart's (and Tasmania’s) leading historians get ten minutes each to guide a group of amateur historians and history enthusiasts through the quirky, entertaining, and downright confusing people and events of the past.

Last week, after being part of the team for a year, I finally presented at A Pint of History. The topic: #EpicFail. I told the tale of Marcus Licinius Crassus’ woeful journey into Parthia and, with it being Military Monday, I thought I would post my presentation. Unfortunately, I don’t have a recording of it but I hope it will be an interesting read!

~ admin @sassy-cicero-says

Although remembered for being Rome’s richest man, Marcus Licinius Crassus was also a successful politician who made his way up through the ranks to hold his first consulship in 70 BCE. He was considered by his contemporaries to be a quiet, straight-forward speaker in the law courts of the time, and as a general, he was known for his zeal and courage in the civil war of 83 and 82 BCE, and a decade later he was instrumental in suppressing the servile revolt led by Spartacus where others had failed. He was an ambitious man – he sought power, as did all leading men in Rome. It led him to form a partnership in 59 BCE, known as the first triumvirate

The triumvirate was an amicitia, an unofficial coalition between two leading politicians – Crassus and Pompeius – and a then junior politician, Caesar, whose death you may be more familiar with than his life.

Essentially, the triumvirate was a personal agreement formed so they could work towards their own political ends. Who was responsible for forming the coalition? Well, that depends on who you ask, and I’m not going to add to the debate today. The important thing is to understand what motivated Crassus to take part in this alliance.

Power in Rome was influenced by auctoritas gained in political and military pursuits, of which glōria was also an important influencing factor. Politically, Crassus’ career was typical for a man from a prominent family; there was little to distinguish him from his peers. Militarily, while he’d been instrumental in repressing the servile revolt, Pompeius stole some of his thunder by arriving at the last minute and slaughtering thousands of the adversary as they fled. And, because the victory was over slaves, it wasn’t deemed as worthy as an international conquest. Crassus saw Parthia as an opportunity, a challenge. Success would mean a triumph and recognition of his prowess as a general. It would also add to his personal prestige and wealth.

The Expedition

So, with the help of his fellow triumvirs, Crassus received Syria as his province in 55 BCE. provincia was not a geographical descriptor as we understand it today. Instead, it was a responsibility assigned to Roman officials that could be militaristic or administrative in nature. In the case of Syria, Crassus recognised the potential to open opportunities as far as Bactria, India, and the Outer Ocean but there was no mention of war with Parthia in the law which gave Crassus his command. His intent was still evident, as Plutarch tells us: “there was a considerable part who objected strongly to the idea of a man going out to make war on people who, so far from having done any harm to the Romans, were bound to them by treaties of friendship.” (Plutarch, Crassus 16)

But Parthia was in a state of civil war, making conditions ideal for intervention. Orodes, the ruler at the time of Crassus’ arrival in the east, stood undisputed, but his throne was insecure. The unrest, it was argued, represented a threat to Roman interests in the area, although analysis of the sources suggests this argument was weak at best: Parthia’s preoccupation with internal disturbances effectively prevented indulgence in international adventures. But, like Gabinius before him, Crassus used a perverted interpretation of his provincial command to attack Parthia who Cicero, our only contemporary source, numbered among the most peaceful of nations.

Indeed our sources, most of which have the advantage of hindsight, believe that Crassus’ expedition was doomed from the start. Crassus supposedly ignored every bad omen, from a violent lightning storm, to the eagle on the first standard raised facing about on its own accord. Ateius, one of the tribunes of the time, even cursed Crassus’ expedition – an event Cicero confirms in his writings.

Yet Crassus pressed on, and Parthia, despite the threat of invasion, wanted to maintain the friendly terms they’d enjoyed with Rome for some thirty years. As Plutarch tells us, ambassadors came to Crassus from Arsaces [Parthia] with a short message: “If, they said, this army had been sent out by the Roman people, then it meant war to the bitter end with no question of negotiations. But if, as they had been informed, the fact was that Crassus, for his own private profit and against the wishes of his countrymen, had invaded Parthia and occupied Parthian territory, then Arsaces was prepared to adopt a reasonable attitude: he [Orodes] would take pity on Crassus as an old man, and as for his soldiers, who were rather in the position of Crassus’ prisoners than his protectors, he would allow them to go back to Rome.” (Plutarch, Crassus 18)

Defeat

As you probably guessed by the title, Crassus’ expedition did not fare well. According to tradition, he made three major mistakes which contributed to his downfall. First, after crossing into Mesopotamia in 54 BCE:

He failed to follow through with an assault on Seleucia and Ctesiphon, despite successfully capturing one city and receiving the surrender of several others.

He instead chose to withdraw to Syria for the winter:

This gave the Parthians time to prepare for his impending attack. Crassus also ignored the King of Armenia’s advice to march through Armenia where he would be well supplied and could march in safety, protected by the mountains and country generally unsuited to cavalry operations:

Instead, Crassus listened to the advice of a treacherous pretend ally and abandoned the Euphrates river – his supply line. He then marched across the arid plains of central Mesopotamia to meet the Surena, the Parthian General, and his army:

Although Crassus’ army boasted seven infantry legions plus four thousand auxiliary cavalry and light-armed troops (outnumbering Parthia’s army) they were ill-prepared to face the all-cavalry force of the Parthians. The combination of cataphracts – heavy-armed cavalry – and mounted archers proved unstoppable. When the two forces met at a location near Carrhae, the Parthian cataphracts and mounted archers overpowered Crassus’ mainly infantry force.

Crassus, fearing he would be entirely surrounded, sent a message to his son asking him to join the battle. Publius, with 1,300 cavalry, 500 archers, and 8 cohorts from the infantry led them forward. Upon seeing the advance, the Parthians who were trying to encircle Crassus turned back, drawing Publius away from his father.

Crassus received news of his son’s dire situation, but before he and his remaining forces could reach Publius, Parthian men came carrying the head of Publius fixed on a spear – it was this sight, Plutarch tells us, that “broke the spirit and paralysed the energies of the Romans.” (Plutarch, Crassus 26)

At nightfall, they withdrew to bury their dead and tend to the wounded and dying.

Following the battle, the Surena approached Crassus, who had taken refuge on a hill. He came in person to offer a truce. He said, Plutarch tells us, “that from now on a state of peace existed between King Hyrodes and the Romans; it was necessary, however, to go forward as far as the river [Euphrates] and have the terms of agreement put into writing. ‘We find,’ he added, ‘that you Romans have not got very good memories about the terms of treaties.’” (Plutarch, Crassus 31). Once Crassus came down from his position, however, a brawl broke out between the groups, and a Parthian killed Crassus. The Surena then took his head and hand as he lay on the ground, sending it to Hyrodes.

So, to put it shortly. Ouch.

Crassus’ defeat remained a great source of shame and humiliation for the Romans centuries later, and Romans agreed that the great blow to their prestige and power could only be avenged by a successful war, an attitude which influenced Roman policy towards Parthia for decades. Crassus’ loss was truly a Roman #EpicFail.

To finish off, and perhaps lighten the mood, here’s a quick summary of Crassus’ misadventure:

Select Bibliography:

Cassius Dio, Roman History. Translated by Earnest Cary. 1914. London: William Heinemann.

Cicero, De Divinatione. Translated by William Armistead Falconer. 1932. Cambridge MA: Harvard UP.

Plutarch, Life of Crassus. Translated by Rex Warner. 2005. London: Penguin Books Ltd.

Keaveney, A. 1982. “The King and the War-Lords: Romano-Parthian Relations Circa 64-53 B.C.” The American Journal of Philology 103.4: 412-428.

Mattern-Parkes, S. P. 2003. “The Defeat of Crassus and the Just War.” The Classical World 96.4: 387-396.

Simpson, A. D. 1938. “The Departure of Crassus for Parthia.” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 69: 532-541.