#can you believe i used to hate rendering trees

[unlicensedinvestigator]

the forest

#d20 fantasy high #d20 #fantasy high #riz gukgak #riz gukgak fanart #fh riz #tag rambles #can you believe i used to hate rendering trees #look at me now #this is actually a redraw of an (un?)posted piece (can’t remember) #i hated the old piece and i like this one sm better!! #i might do more with it later and i think i’ll post what the old version looked like in a min or two :)) #thanks for reading LOL #enjoy!

[waataah]

welcome, to my first attempt at a fanfic on tumblr.

✧ sanji vinsmoke x fem!reader ✧

｡･ﾟﾟ･ (nsfw, fem!reader, 18+ only, mdni, 3rd pov) ･ﾟﾟ･｡

cw: nsfw, oral (receiving), praise, slight degradation, kinda submissive, lots of sexual tension, build-up, plot-heavy, power struggle, breast play, and unprotected sex.

summary: the straw hats stop at a mysterious never-before-seen island and their crazy captain recruits a woman who can finally rival the crew's flirtatious cook.

word count: ~about 2800

・❥・The Flirtacious Two

The captain of the straw hats Monkey D. Luffy had made an immediate order to stop the ship at the closest island. The closest island was not like any other they had seen, it resembled a forest but had many houses rooted into the trees.

Beautiful birds of many colors flew around in circles greeting the newcomers to their island. The island welcomed them and so did their people. This island was secluded and very small so it was avoided by most who went by, they did not oppose the pirates and showed them kindness and respect.

“They gave us enough supplies to last at least a few months stop eating them all!” Sanji yelled and smacked their captain on the head.

“At least show some respect…geez” Zoro had muttered under his breath.

Luffy rubbed his head and sprawled himself out on the ground at the new lump that had appeared poking out of his hat and ran from the crowd in desperation to get away from his fellow crew. The girls enjoyed themselves to new fruits, new fish, and especially new people. Being around the same boys on a crowded ship meant they NEEDED to converse with regular humans once in a while.

The crew had dispersed and spread amongst the island, till later that night they agreed to meet back on the ship for Sanji’s dinner. Sanji was making a special take on spaghetti and meatballs after all there was nothing wrong with cooking a basic pasta after all the new foods they had tried for the day. 

The pot was boiling with water as the noodles simmered in the heat, and the pan of meatballs were simmering creating a beautiful aroma that could make just about any mouth water.

“Well, well, well I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen spaghetti” An unknown voice to the cook quickly made him tense but hearing a woman's voice made him instantly feel like putty at the beautiful sound.

Once he gazed at the woman his eyes practically shot out of his head, a pure beauty just at the door of the ship's kitchen.

‘This island's weather sure is hot, but this woman is hotter’ his inner voice usually wasn't filtered but she had rendered him practically speechless with her beauty.

“Why hello there pretty boy~” she made her way over to the blonde and peeked over to glance at the food.

“Luffy said you were the chef, I’ve met the others… I believe he wants me to join this little crew you have” she said as she looked up at the taller man.

Sanji cleared his throat finally gaining the courage to speak to such a beauty, and she was flirting with him. That was new.

“What is a beautiful lady like you trying to join a group of pirates for?” he reached for his cigarettes in an attempt to occupy himself without having to look away from the woman before him. But patted around and failed to find them in his pockets.

The mysterious woman brought a hand up holding his cigarettes in hand, “Looking for this? I’m not too fond of smoking”.

‘Ah, she's a thief… a very… sexy one…’ he felt joy rising up in his chest.

She placed them on the counter and decided to answer his question.

“I want adventure, the men here are… getting dull, I figure there are many fish in the sea” She giggled a bit and made her way around the cook eyeing him up and down. Her reply was obviously a joke, but she wanted her reasons to remain her own.

This was the first time Sanji felt as if he was the prey, though he was visibly a bit nervous, he didn't hate it. In fact, he liked it.

“The others warned me, you're quite the flirt? But men tend to get quite intimidated by me. My name is [y/n] a pleasure” she said putting her hand out.

“Oh, please the pleasures all mine miss [y/n]” he said as he gently grasped her hand placing a gentle kiss upon her skin.

She smiled and gently caressed her slim fingers down his arm, “Well from one flirt to another, I’m quite the jealous type Mr. Cook if you flirt with me you can’t give the same treatment to another”.

Sanji felt a chokehold on him, he had just learned of this woman's name, yet he would give up all the other women in the world in a heartbeat.

“Jealous hmm? Well, there isn't a pretty lady as beautiful as you, so I doubt I would even think about another.” He was past the point of no return her charm had hooked and reeled him in she and he both knew it.

The woman retracted her hand from his arm and turned away from the cook walking back over to the entrance.

“Though I am a flirt, if I really want something… I will have it” she smiled devilishly.

Sanji felt a pit in his stomach, this woman was doing many things to him, he wanted her but of course, he wouldn’t just force himself on a woman.

“Oh and… you might want to check those meatballs I think they may be slightly overcooked” she smiled as she walked out.

Sanji panicked as the meatballs burst into flames he quickly grabbed a cloth to fan the fire out with and sighed in relief once it was put out.

“What am I going to do with her around…”.

Later that night at the dinner table, [y/n] had sat next to Sanji. Sanji felt a blush creep upon his face, though it had only been a bit since their first encounter he really couldn't take his eyes off her. 

After some time of everyone exchanging conversations, he finally decided to strike up a conversation. 

“You really are beautiful…” was all he could say, he was practically transfixed by her.

[y/n] looked at the cook she didn't mind if others were around, better for her to show the other ladies how it’s done.

“You're not so bad yourself handsome” she winked.

Sanji felt his heart racing, no woman had given him this type of attention, it was so new to him. He loved it. His grin and ego grew from the compliment.

“Don’t go complimenting fancy brows over there it will go right to his head” Zoro said in between bites of his meal.

[y/n] laughed at the comment and turned her attention toward Zoro, it quickly made Sanji fill with worry. He knew that Zoro and [y/n] would possibly get along, who wouldn’t get along with a woman like her?

Though [y/n] had continued her chat with Zoro she had sneakily placed her hand on Sanji’s obvious that her attention was still on him though she was talking with another man.

A small smirk came back to his face when he felt her hand on his, it made him excited but relieved that she still had her sights on him.

After dinner was over [y/n] went over to the deck to gaze upon the ocean. Sanji finished up the dishes and saw the deck was empty, no one was around but her. This was his moment, to get her attention without anyone to bother. He leaned over the railing and watched the ocean with her, he reached for his cigarettes but quickly placed them back into his pocket.

“Hello, lover boy~ What do I owe the pleasure?” she said while looking over to the chef.

He smiled softly, “You don’t owe me anything, I just thought to keep the beautiful lady company”.

[y/n] did feel a little flustered by the gesture, the whole time Sanji had been flustered and wrapped around her finger but now he seemed to be ready for her comments.

He gently placed his hand on [y/n]’s hips, causing the roles to reverse, he stepped up his game he realized that if he kept letting her be in control he would lose this flirting game. 

Though she was flustered she also didn't want to back down, “And who exactly said you could touch me?” she smirked.

Sanji let out a small laugh as he could tell she was enjoying it in comparison to her words, he leaned closer to her and looked into her eyes. “Someone told me once that if they want something they will have it. So I just decided to take what I wanted”.

“Oh really now?” [y/n] smirked at the blonde and grabbed his hand pulling Sanji closer to her “I do believe everyone had fallen asleep after their meal” she said gently while looking at his lips. 

Sanji was a bit surprised by the sudden pull, his mind flooded with ideas of just the two of you alone while everyone slept. She was bold, his mind was going crazy and he wanted to do something about it.

“Since no one is around how about a little taste?~” she kept her eyes bouncing back and forth between his eyes and lips.

With the way [y/n] stared at his lips, he knew exactly what she wanted, a little taste of him. A smirk would then appear on his face, he enjoyed this new thrill of tug of war between him and her. 

“I could never deny a pretty lady like you,” he said before leaning forward and placing his lips onto hers.

For a man who had flirted with many women, he couldn't deny that this was his first time feeling butterflies in the pit of his stomach. And for a woman who seemed to have all the boys wrapped around her fingers, she too had never felt quite like how she did with this man. 

He moved his hands around her hips and pressed their bodies closer together, the kiss was passionate, and long and made the two feel their bodies heat up. After their lips parted his face was simply in awe and he let out a satisfied breath gripping [y/n]’s hips with need.

“Wow… that was… great,” he said as he had his eyes fixed on the beauty before him. 

[y/n] also let out a content sigh, she felt a warm feeling stirring within her and she needed it to be extinguished.

“How about we head over to the lounge room? That is if you want to of course”.

“Lead the way…”.

He took her by the hand and started to lead [y/n] back to the kitchen/meeting/lounge room. Once in the room, [y/n] noticed that the whole place had been cleaned, Sanji was a very responsible cook. Though it was something that might go unnoticed by the rest of the crew she did take notice.

Sanji went over to the provisions and moved them aside to show a bed. It was a small bed, but the only place you could get privacy on a private ship with a group of men who shared the same room.

[y/n] didn’t mind it though, she would practically take this man anywhere in her current state. She sat on the bed and Sanji sat beside her.

“Well, are you ready?”.

“Are you?” he replied back with a playful tone.

[y/n] let out a small laugh before sitting on his lap leaning into him pressing their lips once again against one another. His fantasies were finally coming to life, her sitting in his lap making his pants tighten just at the friction from her body touching his. [y/n] gently ran her fingers through his hair, earning a moan from the cook. His body heated up at her taking the lead, he decided to put his hand in her hair pulling on it gently earning a moan from [y/n].

“You are so beautiful my dear~” he let out softly against her lips.

The two’s breaths increased, as the air between them kept thinning from the non-stop kiss.

The kiss eventually came to a halt, the two panting for air but eager for the next step.

“You taste good just like your meals chef~” she said softly under her panting breath.

The compliment sent him into heaven, his heartbeat intensifying just like the tightness in his pants.

“And you are even more tastier than my meals…” he smirked.

“Though there is something I think that might taste better than your meals…” [y/n]’s gaze fell upon the large bump in his pants.

His face reddened at the comment, “you really are too much…” he said softly not moving even a muscle. 

“That's what I’m told~” she giggled and moved off the bed to her knees unzipping his pants and pulling his boxers down to reveal his size. His cock twitched at the cold air and hardened as he felt her gaze staring down at it.

Sanji gently tilted her head upwards, “A beautiful lady like you should be on the bed getting treated, not on her knees…”.

He got up and grabbed [y/n] gently placing her onto the small bed as he stood in between her legs lowering himself to her core.

[y/n]’s breath hitched at the sudden change of position. Sanji left gentle kisses trailing up her leg towards the hem of her shorts, gently pulling them off as he did so along with her panties. She was starting to press her thighs together, she hadn’t felt shy with anyone before but he made her feel like she was a teen head over heels for a crazy boy. Sanji smirked at the sight, he continued to place kisses till he reached her sensitive spot, his digits entering inside her folds gently adding another while he continued to kiss her inner thighs and thrust his fingers inside her.

“Ah~ Shit~” [y/n] moaned out at the attention her lower half was getting, she felt her walls clench onto his two fingers, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Be patient my dear~ we have a long night ahead of us~” he said as he went back down to shower her clit with his skilled tongue.

[y/n] was going mad, she felt her body tensing as it was getting ready to release, and she pulled back Sanji's head. She panted softly and grabbed him by his tie pulling him up towards her and pushing him onto the bed. She placed herself on top of his cock and slowly placed it at her entrance letting it fill her up inside.

“[y/n] fuck…” he clenched his eyes shut at the tightness, it felt so good he almost came just from putting it inside.

She sat for a moment as she adjusted to his girth and length. She was inwardly cursing him out for being so girthy. After the two settled, [y/n] started to move her hips up and down his length letting out small moans of pleasure as Sanji thrust his hips along with her movements. The two let out moans filling the empty room with nothing but the sounds of their skin slapping together and the bed creaking beneath them. Sanji managed to snake his hand up [y/n]’s stomach under her shirt grasping onto her breast as she bounced. He couldn't even catch his breath, the whole situation was like a dream to him, her moans coming from the pleasure he gave her filled him with ecstasy. He pinched her nipples lightly while he reached under her bra. Just the sound of her moans alone could make him cum, he could feel himself getting close to his release. 

[y/n] continued her movements leaning down and gripping his shirt, “make a mess of me Sanji” she said before pressing her lips against his.

Those words flipped a switch in him, and a signal went to his brain, making him go insane. He knew what she wanted him to do and he would deliver. His whole body quaked as he felt himself ready to cum. The two continued moaning and panting, and [y/n] felt herself tighten around Sanjis cock. Sanji groaned in response to the tightness he moved his hands from her breast and gripped her hips. He began to thrust upwards into her harder, filling every inch of her inside. They could both feel themselves, Sanji was the first to give in. His cum shot inside her, dripping from out of her hole and onto his pants. The warmth that shot into [y/n]’s body made her tighten and her body twitched from its high. The two let out a long moan and grunt when they finished and [y/n] laid herself against the chef.

“Who would think the two flirts would hook up with each other” she said softly with a content sigh as she caught her breath.

“You’re crazy you know that? You showed me a whole new type of woman, you really know how to make a man weak” Sanji laughed and threw his arms around her.

[y/n] lifted her head a bit in confusion, “what’s so funny about that?” she raised a brow.

“Nothing, I just feel like the luckiest man alive…” he said as he let out a few more laughs.

#one piece #straw hat pirates #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one peice #x reader #one piece x reader #sanji x reader #sanji smut #one piece smut #one piece headcanons #smut #vinsmoke sanji smut

[chernabogs]

` I wish I never met you.. ` but with general lilia and a human reader... 👀

this took a turn lmao

Mead & Ignicolists

Inc: General Lilia, human reader (GN), Maleficia, Meleanor, Levan, platoon of soldiers, 1 barmaid. Warnings: War, mentions of death, mentions of political strife, possible graphic description of conflict (village burning), alcohol mention WC: 4.7k (help) Summary: Repeated meetings in conflict can sometimes lead to interesting terms, and debts must always be paid.

Hate does not appear immediately. It’s a slow brewing concoction, crafted from a myriad of ingredients that bubble and broil in one’s guts like a black ichor until it’s all that your body becomes knowledgeable of. Lilia did not hate the humans when they initially arrived. In fact, he’d say he never knew hate in his life at that point. Their arrival was heralded more as a vague notation in the bottom of the meeting agenda—a ship spotted on the shores, with a crew of people clearly not of the fae race.

He doubts anyone batted an eye at the comment. He knows he certainly didn’t, nor did Meleanor, whose mind was too preoccupied with important matters pertaining to the swell in her stomach beneath her dress. Perhaps out of everyone present, it was Levan who paid the most heed, as it was Levan who asked the valuable question of— 

“What is it they seek?” 

A question glossed over until the intel unit could gather more information. Lilia remembers not missing the concern etched in Levan’s body language, nor the way he leaned close to murmur in Meleanor’s ear. Her brow had arched slightly, her lips turning to a frown, but then her gaze had gone back to the court at hand and the matter was dropped until further notice. 

It’s two weeks later—a mere sigh for a fae—that Lilia and Levan are both called to a private meeting. It’s not Meleanor who has summoned them, but rather Maleficia, with her ungiving gaze that held a weight so great that Lilia still finds himself unable to meet it nearly 200 years later. 

“Resources.” She explains, her black nails tapping an indiscernible rhythm on the desk she sits at. “They seek resources. Which resources we remain unsure of, but they have been lurking about the mountains and the valleys to our east. They even have a camp.” 

“They were not authorized to harvest,” Levan murmurs, his golden eyes wide in surprise. “Is it not protocol to gain permission from the royal authority before digging into foreign land? I do believe that to be a standard for human culture… or perhaps what I read is outdated…” 

“It is a standard, for both humans and fae. You would not see us digging into diurnal lands without permission, hm? Lest we wish to have a multitude of curses from their court upon us.” Maleficia’s voice drips with some wry contempt as she slides a paper forward. “I have spoken with Princess Meleanor. We will send scouts to the nearest camp—Lilia, you will be the authority for that.” 

Of course, he would be. Levan is being put on house arrest—palace arrest? —as Meleanor’s pregnancy progresses. He’s as valuable as she when it comes to the life of the egg they had sired. Lilia takes the paper and skims over it, memorizing each pattern and coordinate, before rolling it up and pocketing it with a bow. 

“With pleasure.” 

—

He doesn’t go alone, nor does he go with a small unit. Lilia prides himself as a man who, when he commits, truly commits to what he’s tasked. He travels to the nearest human encampment—on the very fringes of the dark woods—with a platoon. He had tried to persuade the royal family to allow an entire company, but Meleanor had rendered that idea null with a single lightning bolt to the floor. 

A rather dramatic reaction in his opinion. 

The ride is silent, mainly because Baul wasn’t assigned to attend, which means it’s also a terribly boring journey as well. Lilia’s gaze continues to dart from tree to tree as they move. His breath rattles against the mask that sits snug on his face, making him far more intimidating than his appearance may give. Intimidation is the tactic here. Levan wanted this done democratically—but Lilia is aiming for results. He can feel his body nearly itching for some kind of confrontation as he hears the hisses and snarls of the platoon that accompanies him. 

They don’t need to wait long. Within a few hundred yards from the campsite, they’re swiftly confronted by a unit of humans adorned in armor that glistens under the sparse light. It’s silver, and gaudy, and could get them killed within minutes in these woods with the way they look like tiny beacons in the night. He can feel his lips curl under the mask. 

“Halt!” One voice command. He looks at them—looks at you—impassively. He cannot discern your gender, as you wear a helmet that partially covers your face, and your armor looks the same as everyone else that emerges around you. “State your name.” 

Another rapture of snarls emerges from behind Lilia, which he silences swiftly with a single raised hand. He then takes a step back with one foot and sweeps into a mocking bow. “General Vanrouge, of the Thorn Court. We are curious of our unexpected visitors, and so we arrive with a request for answers to our inquiries.” 

He thanks the stars that Levan forced the human language down his throat in the form of too many tomes to count. You observe him—or so he thinks, as he cannot see your eyes—before looking back to the others. “Inform the captain that a representative of the Thorn Court has arrived. With company.” 

There’s already tension brewing. He can taste it on his tongue, and it takes the form of a wavering grin beneath his mask. He shouldn’t want a fight, but he has enough pent up energy to do so, and he could tell that the presence of these humans has stirred up stress within the court now, including with Meleanor. 

In her condition, she doesn’t need the stress, and that puts him on edge as well. 

Your head turns back to look at him, and his masked face tilts up to look at you. No words are exchanged—the conversation between unseen gazes says it all. 

—

The Thorn Court doesn’t progress in communications past the sparse camp that Lilia visits, which he learns is nothing more than a scouting camp designated to establish perimeters—basically, a group of low, low ranking soldiers wandering about. They send a unit to the main camp, and that unit vanishes off the face of the earth. 

So, they send another, and another, each unit resulting in the same outcome of nothing but vague wondering and whispered words regarding their whereabouts. The assumption is that they’ve been killed en-route. With a forest full of dire beasts and humans, Lilia wagers that to be quite accurate. 

He doesn’t run into you again until those tensions have mounted higher, and this time, he’s alone. It was more by fluke than anything else—he had simply wandered too far into the dark woods, his mind fraught with concerns regarding the barrage of meetings he had earlier. Another village burned; another valley stripped bare of resources. The depletion was already beginning to impact the Valleys financial standing—by a fair amount, considering how close to tears the royal accountant looked giving his updates. 

When he spots you, you have yet to see him. You’re without your blinding armor and standing at the edge of a lake, a rag in hand and a furrow in your brow. You remain blissfully unaware of the monstrous fae that’s laid claim to that lake, as well as the way that very creature is watching you now from the reeds just a few feet ahead. 

Lilia see’s It. He’s quite familiar with It, as the same bastard had tried to drown Levan when they were younger. His lips curl into a grin again. He has half the mind to let It pull you under. That would be one less human to concern himself with, after all. Until, like some horrible divine intervention on your behalf, he hears Levan’s voice whispering in his mind. 

Democratically.

He tries to ignore it, but he can so perfectly picture his friend's disappointed face in his head, to the point that he feels a cold chill up his spine like the man is watching this from afar. Knowing Levan, this isn’t too outlandish of a fear. 

“Niftehn,” he hisses, his native tongue slipping through as he steps forward from the shadows and—rather than announcing his presence—fires a rock into the nearby reeds. There’s a gaudy screeching sound as the fae—a cross between a scaled beast, a horse, and a man—launches forward in a bid to grab you before Lilia’s next move. 

It’s fast, but Lilia is much faster. He has his sword tip against the beast's forehead in seconds, halting It in Its tracks as It tenses, snarling and drooling in hunger and rage. It’s starving and for a moment Lilia feels sympathy. Thanks to the humans, they’re all starving as of late. 

“Zyln-imna.” He coos, a shit-eating grin on his lips as he and the creature square off. It gives him one last filthy look before sinking back down into the mud and reeds, until only bubbles indicate Its presence to begin with. He lowers his sword with a sigh and turns back to address you—

Only to find you well and gone. 

He stands for a moment, up to his calves in mud, and then scowls as he shoves his sword into the sheath on his back. How ungrateful of you to not even thank him for such charitable heroics. 

—

After that encounter, you cross paths several more times, to the point that he’s beginning to wonder if you’ve placed a tracking spell on his body. He even checks his supplies just in case—a childish action. The two of you don’t converse much between the multitude of squabbles that seem to break out as your scouting unit runs into his platoons. He doesn’t kill any of your men—but he certainly guarantees that you’ll all be carrying the message to your superiors, and you return the favour as well. 

This back and forth continues for months as the summer season weens into winter's embrace. The first snowfall is cutthroat, as it often is in Briar Valley. The platoon he guides cannot move until the unexpected squall dies away by mornings light, and so he makes the tactical decision to have everyone bank in a nearby village in the meantime. 

Unfortunately, as fates would have it, you seem to be doing the same with your unit as well. 

It takes a lot of dancing around for him to make sure his men don’t know about your men in the village. He doesn’t want a battle—he wants a drink, which is how he finds himself slinking into the town tavern with his hood up and his face tilting down. As a fae, he should be quite welcome here—but he knows that some villages have declared neutrality, and others in favour of human occupancy. This village he can’t get a read of quite yet. 

He does manage to get a drink without much hassle, and he’s settling down in a booth in a dark corner when the sound of another pint slamming on the table snaps his attention up. He hopes it’s one of his men—instead, he sees your scowling face looking back. 

“What a sunny greeting.” Lilia mumbles wryly as he narrows his eyes. You sit down across from him and proceed to make yourself quite at home. Months of repeated interactions appear to have made you quite bold. “I could kill you right now.”

“You don’t have your sword.” You counter as you take a swig of your drink. It seems like this isn’t your first one, with the way your sharp tongue is in full effect. “Are you going to strangle me across the table instead?”

“I should. It might teach you manners for once.”

Despite the threats, he has no intention of doing anything like that right now. Instead, he takes a swig of his own drink, watching you from over the rim with interest. He vaguely recalls a quote about ‘feasting with the enemy’ that he likely read during some tutelage session many years back. How ironic that he would be living it tonight. 

“You age yourself with comments like that.” You set your mug down on the table and observe him back. Despite the pouring drinks, your eyes remain sharp and alert—eyes he’s become quite familiar with as of late. “People here will catch on that you’re not human.”

He chuckles, giving a flash of white fangs against the dark. “Oh? You think my people will be so quick to rally against me? There must be a reason your unit is dressed in plain clothes, with your weapons and armor well-concealed from curious eyes.” A click of his tongue, and he leans close. “At least the lamb is aware of its place amongst the starving dogs.”

He leans back again as a beat of silence follows. You seem unaffected by his words as you take another drink. “Quaint. Is that your default line for those you meet on tavern nights?” 

For a second his mind doesn’t process your words. Then it clicks, and his brow furrows deeply in annoyance. “Disgusting. Your implications are souring my drink.” 

“Implications? I implied nothing of sorts.” You touch a hand to your chest and grin a little. “You were the one who put those implications in place.” 

He feels red hot irritation for a moment before he stifles it by downing the rest of his drink. Fae mead is meant to be savoured—but with your presence, he has a feeling he’ll finish the barrel by the end of the night. He waves a hand for a refill before his expression softens slightly into one of mild annoyance instead. 

“Why is your unit passing through here, anyway? You have already scouted these hills—months ago, in fact. I do recall our encounter then.” 

“Quite unforgettable,” you grumble back, grimacing as you do. You’re probably remembering the clash between you both, and perhaps you’re remembering the spirited banter that also occurred. Lilia wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you have the honour of being the only enemy he’s tried to have a conversation with mid-conflict. “We’ve been sent to scout again. I haven’t the faintest idea why, by the way.”

Your quick explanation silences his next comment. He bites his tongue and leans back. There’s a passage nearby that leads through the forbidden mountains—it’s only mildly less treacherous than crossing the mountains directly. He already knows this is what Heinrich seeks in sending your unit here. “How drab.” 

“Drab?” You wave a hand for a refill as well before fixing him with a glare. “My apologies that I don’t have exciting news of espionage and murder plots to keep you amused.” 

“Oh, I dare say you’re doing wonderfully right now without the murder to boot.” He pauses as the barmaid sets down two new drinks before departing. He tugs the hood a bit lower before taking a drink. “If you’re merely scouting out the passage within the mountain, then that’s hardly worth a full-scale confrontation between us, no?” 

Your gaze snaps up to him quickly when he relays your units plan, only for you to see the cheeky little grin he wears. Then your expression falls flat again, and you sigh. “Why do I even try?” 

“Because you like trying to play soldier. It’s quaint. I tried hard to do the same when I was still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed too.” He hums. Silence falls between you both once more as drinks are poured and emptied. There really is no need for conversation, and yet by the fifth pint, he finds himself growing restless once more. 

“Why are you still sitting here?” He finally grumbles as he sets the half-empty pint down. “I’m starting to believe you’re plotting something.” 

“Can I not have a drink with an acquaintance?” You counter, not budging from your position across from him. He narrows his eyes again. 

“Acquaintances? Is that what we are?” Another sharp grin. “And how do I get the term ‘companion’, then? Is it a promotion by dual, or do I just need to drop you on your ass a few more times?” 

Your leg shoots out to kick him underneath the booth, making him hiss in pain as his hand comes down to rub his knee. “Brat. I should have you dragged out for that.” 

“Delarynn surith.” The words that leave you are pronounced so poorly, it takes him a minute to process what it is you said. He doesn’t even recognize it as his own native tongue until you repeat it again. 

Delarynn… lord. Surith… 

Lord. 

Lord bitch. 

Lilia can’t help the cackle that escapes him, loud enough to draw a few gazes their way as he slouches over in the booth. Perhaps its the fae mead, or perhaps it’s the scowl on your face when you said those words with such confidence, but the whole situation is coming across as the funniest shit he’s heard in a while. 

“Who taught you that pronunciation?” He gasps between laughs as he wipes his eyes. “I’ve heard infant fae speak better!” 

“Oh, shut it. At least I’m integrating with the culture here!” You counter, scowling still as you take a drink. Then your expression starts to crack a bit as well, and soon your shoulders are shaking with chuckles. “God, I did butcher that…”

“Delarynn is not del-rye-win. It’s deh-lahr-rin. Surith, though, you did quite well. I suppose it’s a word many who come to the Valley learn quickly.” He muses as he chuckles a few more times before falling silent. The barmaid brings over another pint. “I should teach you some more before you piss off every villager you meet.” 

“That would be nice.” You murmur as you take a drink. It doesn’t occur to either of you until a few seconds later that such an occasion would, in all reality, likely never happen. When will you two meet amicably after tonight? Perhaps there’s a thin chance, but you’re more likely to encounter it in dreams than anywhere else. 

This seems to dawn on you slowly as you set your pint down. He watches your face, watches the thoughts flit by, before you sigh. “... I wish I never met you; you know.” 

His eyebrow arches at the comment. “The feeling is mutual. Never meeting you would mean none of what we are living would have ever happened.” 

No war, no death, no conflict day in and out. He would still be working at the palace by Meleanor and Levan’s sides, poking fun at courtiers and assisting in the arduous process of nursery planning. He wouldn’t be leading platoons, spending cold winter nights alone in taverns, and feeling an ever present sense of doom about what was to come. 

A curious expression crosses your face. It’s a mix of both contemplation and conflict. You seem to be fighting yourself for a moment before you finally clear your throat and lean forward. “The lake. When you stopped that thing from attacking me. I never thanked you for that,” you begin. 

“No. You scurried off into the bushes like a scared little lamb.” Lilia shoots back with a smirk. “Are you thanking me now? You can always do so by covering my tab.” 

“No. A tab wouldn’t be enough.” You lean close then, close enough that he feels your breath on his skin. It smells sweet, like the mead you’ve both been drinking tonight, and he tenses at the proximity. A part of him wants to grab your neck and slam you on the table for having the audacity to come so close. Another part, which confuses him the most, wants to grab you there and do something entirely different. “A life for a life.”

“What?” His voice sharpens as your words quickly sober him. You hush him and glance over your shoulder. 

“Ten kilometres east. Tomorrow. There’s a unit moving into the village there. It’s a supply stocking mission.” You then lean back and take a swig of your mead, like nothing ever happened at all. He stares at you blankly as you rise from your seat and push the empty pint aside. “Do stay warm, General.” 

Before you can move away, his hand snaps out and wraps around your wrist in a vice grip. You look down at him in shock and frustration, and he returns that expression tenfold. “Why tell me this?” 

“Because I owe you. I don’t want to be in debt to a fae.” You hiss back, looking towards the rest of the patrons in concern. He remains unwavering in his approach. 

“Really? You could have just paid the tab, not inform me of crucial information. Why tell me this?” 

“Because I owe you,” you double down, and he hisses at those words. 

“Do not lie to me.” 

You twist back, leaning close to his face once more. There’s that sweet scent again—although this time he can’t be sure if it’s from the mead or not. “Because I am tired of death, and I have been reconsidering where I stand.” 

There’s a pause. Lilia isn’t a gambling man, but in times of conflict, sometimes a gamble is all that one can do. He squeezes your wrist once. “The birch tree, just beyond the village line. Seven sharp. If you are reconsidering, then reconsider fast.”

Then he releases you and turns away with a wave. You watch him for just a moment before you finally slip back into the crowd of patrons that now fill the tavern. He feels that sense of doom in his gut once more as he nurses his drink just a bit closer.

A gamble.

He hopes this doesn’t flip on him. 

—

The snow lets up in the morning and it is with this revelation that he changes the course their platoon is moving. Rather than return directly to Black Scale Palace, they would divert ten kilometres east—to avoid drafts, he explains. The platoon moves steadily towards the town line, and it’s at the birch tree that he spots a familiar figure ahead. His stomach turns as the platoon begins to whisper and hiss.

They know you. 

“At ease.” Lilia orders them sharply as he approaches you—alone. You observe him with a blank look. You have no weapons, but he searches you anyway. 

“I don’t know if I consider you wise or foolish,” he mumbles as his hands pat you down. You could be a valuable asset for the information you know—and that’s how he’ll pitch it to his unit. “Forgive me for the next moments.” 

You hiss as he yanks your arms behind your back and binds them tight. “... I think both foolish and wise are correct.” 

He says nothing further beyond the explanation of your surrender as the platoon sets off once more, with you now trailing by his side. He considers that he should have blessed you last night—it may have done well to ease the tensions from the others in the group. Perhaps this is something he can do when the two of you are alone next.

The walk through the dark woods to the village you revealed is a silent one filled with a sense of dread on his part. He can feel your unease as well, and it’s beginning to affect the rest of the soldiers. The snow muffles all sound around them, save for their footsteps as they move. They only stop for a moment to recoup before he demands that they push on. 

A supply stocking mission is a common mission the humans embark on, and one that his soldiers have dealt with many times. It’s a simple and petty way to disrupt business for the Silver Owls—so he doesn’t expect much of a hassle. 

Which is why he’s rendered to a halt when the first faint scent of smoke reaches him. The other soldiers soon draw to a pause as well. Fae are blessed with senses far more advanced then humans, and so the confusion on your face is easily written off. 

“General…” one soldier begins slowly, his mask tilting up towards the treeline above. Lilia follows his direction. 

There’s a light in the distance. It’s an orange haze, and as he continues to watch, he sees the first tongues of flames begin licking at the sky. A plume of smoke rises—black, as dark as the clouds swirling above—and then grows. 

That sense of doom Lilia has felt since this began suddenly ignites to a full blown inferno in his abdomen. He rattles off orders to the platoon before his mind has even caught up with his tongue, and within moments the unit is dashing through the forest at a breakneck pace. He grips your arm in a vice-like hold as he drags you along, snarling with every step.

“A supply stocking?” He spits as he yanks you closer to the clearing. The village you had informed him of was a small plot, consisting mostly of fae families that work the surrounding fields for the grain harvests each year. It’s a picturesque place that Lilia visited a few times on royal tours. 

It isn’t picturesque right now. Orange and red clash to create a painting of chaos. Buildings now stand as silhouettes against the great blaze that’s being fed by the grain, and the wooden structures, and the many trees that used to line the village streets. Lilia’s breath hitches as he observes the scene before them. 

“This wasn’t what I was told!” You gasp as you look on as well. He can see the abject horror in your gaze, the genuineness behind the fear in your voice. This wasn’t what you were told. Something went wrong, or something else was planned the entire time. 

Someone lied. 

Someone lied, lied, lied. 

But of course, they did. 

This is a war, isn’t it? His kind against yours, those who want versus those who have. You both should have assumed that others would take note of your encounters over these past few months, of the banter you’ve had and the grins you’ve exchanged mid-conflict. Perhaps someone set you up to be at that tavern, where he would be that night as well. Perhaps someone put all the pieces in place which would lead for you both to share a night, to whisper words, in hopes that you would tell him what was to come. 

He says nothing to you, but the look he gives shows that you are not accountable for this as of right now. He waves a hand for you to be taken somewhere safer than here—after all, it seems you’ve been marked as an aid to his side anyway. He may as well make you one.  

Then the scent hits him. Scorched earth: there’s a lingering aroma of charred something. The crackle of buildings crumbling from the heat and the high pitched whine of glass shattering under pressure. His men rush around him, ripping into the village and shouting for backup, for water, for survivors.

And he stands there. He stands there, drinking it all in, his eyes wide yet unseeing, his pupils dilated with adrenaline. Until a laugh bubbles from his lips. A wry, tiny chuckle, which quickly grows into a hysterical cackle, which somehow evolves to a scream of fury that tears apart his throat as it leaves. It cuts through the smoke and the ash and the snow that he can hardly see now from the burning tears—not from soot, not from soot—that blind his gaze. 

Families. Children. People who have done nothing but simply exist. He can visualize tiny forms charred black, their limbs stiff and curled in a last effort attempt to shield themselves from the heat they’re consumed by. He can see mothers holding children, husbands holding wives, lovers in their last moments.

Hate does not appear immediately. It’s a slow brewing concoction, crafted from a myriad of ingredients that bubble and broil in one’s guts like a black ichor until it’s all that your body becomes knowledgeable of. Lilia did not hate the humans when they initially arrived. In fact, he’d say he never knew hate in his life at that point.

He knows it now as he bears witness to fire, as he smells burning memories, as he hears history crumbling to its foundations.

He knows what it feels like to hate. 

#twst #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #not even in a romantic sense bro its so vague LMAOO #also just threw a language i made in there for fae talk bc idk man #they scream n shout #im so sorry if u wanted more romance but... man lilia was somethin else durin the war

[yatorihell]

Noragami Chapter 109 Thoughts and Reaction

First off a massive thank you to @fast-moon for years of dedicated service to the fandom and answering our questions. You have been the pillar of the community from the moment you picked up the series.

Now onto my (second) read reaction and thoughts

Seeing Yuka and she's aged more and she's looking at the sakura tree thinking of her brother just like Yato told Yukine she would I'm so sad Adachitoka you make me so sad

WHO LEFT THE FLOWERS could it have been Yato? Could it have been Yuka unwittingly placing them to remember her brother not knowing it's actually Haruki's grave? I'm so sad

Oh when it said another new year and we're at the hospital I'm so sad and then it turns out it's been many years!!!!!

The Capyper and star sticker as an earring? Remnants of attachment to Yato? Earring like Kazuma? Thank you Doctor Iki? Killing myself

Oh I really expected her diary to show up and then it does but Nora has it I'm so sad

The fact Hiyori's whole memory of that year is fuzzy so she doesn't remember Capyperland, and probably her grandma's death and the hospital arc and so many other bits

CPR SO INTENSE IT CRACKED HER RIBS

Oh she's touching her lips as she wonders who saved her I'm so fucking miserable Adachitoka you make me so sad are you happy

Jumpscared by hot Fujisaki I forgive you <3

Fujisaki gained control of his body and immediately fixed those bangs hejdjj

Remnants of Father's yearning to see Kaya again sorry babe she wasn't your girl maybe you'll find one that looks like her

Coo phone attack jdjdjnd that was so funny I can't believe he actually came back I was reaching with that prediction

My god I know it's not Father and he's cute now but I still hurled when he asked her out

Rip Masaomi's hairline, they say unproblematic men age better, so what crimes did you commit

Also rip Mr Iki you've aged so much it's probably the stress, but he's still got his medical license!!!!!!

Also I've been told it's been 8/9 years since that day with her being an intern now, it makes you wonder if Masaomi started a family

I MISS SOMEONE BUT WHO?

I actually couldn't believe how many of the bingo card predictions were coming true when I got to the sakura party jsjdnjf we truly manifested this ending

Little Ebisu growing up you will live forever you <3

Takemika and Kiun showing up like two dads with their children and pet bird jdjbdjfk

Takemika reassuring Shinatsuhiko that no one's laughing about their reincarnation vs Takemika bullying Ebisu in Heaven about killing him I hate growth I hate it (affectionate)

Followed by Takemika owning the fact that he himself has reincarnated when it was kept secret for so long I'm so sad

Oh Adachitoka you're so sick faking us out with a toast to Yato like he's dead followed by Bishamon once again beating the shit out of Yato at a sakura party

It's so funny Yato wouldn't release Kazuma but tbf it's handy if he ever needs to use him again

I wonder if Kazuma is treated differently now that he's a stray, or if he could suppress the name physically (it would only show if he got called like Nora did)

This Houki shinki that's a pegleg gun???? Rendered us bamboozled double checking Bishamon didn't lose a leg

Yato please find Yukine some clothes that fit????? Or maybe they're loose so they don't tear when he transforms and they can go back for them idk I don't like this look

Yato disappearing into the ground and becoming known as Teke-Teke he is the living meme hejdjb

I'm so sad Yukine has nightmares and turns into ayakashi form every night and Yato's wearing a Capyper jumper and he's hugging him

I did wonder if Hiyori's diary was on the shelf with the shrine, which begs the question when did Yato go to retrieve the shrine???? I'm so sad he would've seen that she fixed it and maybe it's a but scuffed from where it was dropped but it's his

Yato following Hiyori to keep her safe and he didn't want to cut ties I'm so sad the cord problem was enough to divorce her from the far shore without severing them altogether

I JUST WANT TO WATCH OVER HER AS SHE GROWS I'm so fucking miserable

Nora comforted by the fact Hiyori believes she had a name when she was in the womb? Devastated how did we never think of that

Interesting that the Yuuki name remains even after the word was destroyed, but it means that Yukine can't sting Yato so silver linings

Yato still doing his regular job of slaying and answering small prayers

Cherry blossoms being like snow I'm so fucking emo

THE NIGHT HAS A SCENT

YATO'S SHADOW IN THE TREE

MY. MOUTH. REMEMBERS!!!!!!

Oh I'm so fucking miserable I'm so fucking sad I hate this manga she remembered him all on her own after all this time and she's a doctor and everyone's safe I'm so depressed we're gunna celebrate April 2nd we need to work out what year it will be when she remembers

The final art????? Of all of them happy???? Hiyori is a doctor???????? Nora is with them??? Smiling??????? I'm ending it

It's been such a ride for these last 9 years since I picked up the anime and then demolished the manga right in time for season two. I've made friends and I've enjoyed building this blog into something that people used for their Noragami content. In the words of the rats this truly was my noragami

#noragami #yato #yatori #noragami aragoto #yukine #hiyori #bishamon #kazubisha #kazuma #goodbyenoragami

[extra-vertebrae]

@mb-reed : Thank you very much, and you are most welcome!

In regards to environment and perspective - my awareness of how something sits in 3D / 2D space comes mostly from my understanding of weight and form gained from studying anatomy. How the meat of the muscle and fat of the body clings and drapes over the skeleton in perspective, and how it deforms when pressed against objects or itself is something that I learned a part from perspective (which I did study for a time). When doing studies, I have always tried to replicate the perspective, form, and weight to the best of my ability, even if I didn't include the actual environment in which that study subject stood in:

You can see in these older studies from years ago that despite being figures floating in space, they clearly occupy that space (to the best I was able to replicate at the time); the feet (or base, or wheels) are firmly rooted to the "ground". If there is ever a secret for convincingly putting something 2D in 3D space, it is the proper placement of the feet and the communication of the weight of the figure as it presses down on the pads of the toes and soles of the feet, flattening them against the floor. Consistency in curves in describing a shape in perspective is also a big factor.

The various parts of the body and the tools we use occupy a specific space around us, and communicating proximity, especially touch, is paramount in setting things where they are "in space".

How light hits an object or figure can also affect how it is perceived to sit in space. Same goes for patterning and colour.

Tying all of this together is AWARENESS. Even though I do not draw backgrounds and my technical grasp of perspective isn't very strong, I keep myself aware of all of my figures while drawing. I establish very early where everyone is sitting, how close they are to each other, how heavy, where their feet are going to be, how the rest of the figure(s) will be angled and placed to establish spacing, presence, and compensation for weight of clothing, tools, or any other forces present.

My personal studies into perspective and environment are pretty limited compared to anatomy, in part because I'm not very interested in backgrounds or environmental design. I do still consider it important despite this and do devote attention to at least the spectre of the idea where a figure is sitting and what they might be feeling or experiencing in this invisible location.

TL;DR - setting a form believably in space in a 2D illustration is a package deal of communicating form, weight, light, and awareness of what isn't included. Form is the biggest player in this arena, understanding form provides the basic tools to begin understanding how figures and objects occupy space in the real, which will inform how you translate that into your art.

If you're asking specifically on perspective and environment as separate from setting the form in space, what I would suggest is basic perspective studies to build a foundation of how we recognise depth and distance. The "box study" of setting various boxes in one, two, and three point perspective is a great place to start. If you hate boxes you can do what I did, which is turn something dorky into a box and use that as your challenge subject.

I had regrets doing this but it worked.

Another thing I did was draw subjects that benefited from perspective - vehicles, cutlery, and similar things. If I couldn't be arsed to draw boxes, I'd draw the next best thing. Same for environments. If I didn't want to draw a desert, I'd draw a cactus; if I didn't want to draw a forest, I'd draw a tree; if I didn't want to fight with rendering water, I'd draw the things that were swimming in it and pay especial attention to what communicated the presence of water on these figures without the water itself being present.

Perspective and environment is a little out of my wheelhouse, but I hope this was useful regardless!

#art talk #that thing called art #digital

[lyranova]

Chapter 13: It’s Killing Both of You

Hiya guys! Sorry this update is a little late, I’ve just been a bit busy with things. Hopefully by the new year things will settle down a bit. Nothing much happens in this chapter admittedly, it’s more of a “gateway” for the next chapter. But I still hope you all enjoy~!

Word Count: 2,603

Warnings: None

Five Days Later

“ Dracaena Formation!” William shouted as he placed his hand against the ground. Tree roots sprung up and began to capture and bind the mages that were trying to get away. He took a deep breath as he stood back up and walked over to the struggling mages.

“ You won’t be able to break those bonds no matter how much you fight them, so it’s best you just give up now.” William told them seriously, but then he heard a slight rustling noise on his right.

“ Take this you stupid Magic Knight!” A voice suddenly shouted from the shadows, and he turned to see a cloaked mage, grimoire out, rushing towards him.

But before William could react he watched a dark magic spell fly past him and connect with the mages chest, knocking him to the ground and rendering him unconscious.

“ Hey Vangeance, aren’t you supposed to be the one watching my back, not the other way around?” Yami said as he casually walked up to the Golden Dawn Captain.

“ Ah, you’re right, my apologies.” William said as he created more limbs to bind the unconscious mage.

“ Captain! Are you alright?!” Asta and Alecdora shouted in unison as they ran up to Yami and William, and both Captain’s nodded.

“ Yeah we’re fine. Just take these idiots to the others so we can take them back to the Capital.” Yami said as he pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. Alecdora glared a bit before looking at his Captain, who nodded in agreement.

Alecdora and Asta did as their Captain’s said and grabbed the mages and began to take them towards their camp. William went to follow, but was stopped by Yami.

“ Vangeance, what’s going on with you? Normally a weak mage like that wouldn’t have caught you off guard.” He said after taking a drag of his cigarette, William shrugged a bit.

“ I guess I’m just having an off day.” He replied simply, but the other man shook his head as he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and blew out the smoke.

“ For the last five days? Even a total stranger would know that’s a load of crap coming from you.” Yami pointed out as he crossed his arms. “ So what’s got you all distracted? Did you and the wife have a fight?” He frowned as William scoffed.

“ ‘Wife’…there is no wife, at least not anymore,'' William turned to face him. '' Zera broke off our engagement, saying it was nothing more than just a silly joke. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

Yami winced slightly at William’s cold and harsh words, but he took another drag of his cigarette and softly blew the smoke out before answering.

“ Yeah, I knew.”

“ For how long? Since the beginning? Did you and Zera plan it before I even went to the flower shop, or was it more spur of the moment?”

“ From the beginning, and it was more of a spur of the moment kind of thing.”

“ Then why didn’t you tell me?! Why did you let me believe that it was an arranged marriage and that she loved me?!” William shouted angrily, a fiery rage burning in his eyes.

“ I did try to tell you. At the Captain’s meeting the day after you and Zera met. But you wouldn’t listen,” Yami explained, his voice remaining calm and even as he spoke. “ And the next time we met up I planned on telling you, but you were so happy and excited about marrying her that I couldn’t do it.”

William sighed softly as he listened to his friend's words. He hated to admit it, but if he were in Yami’s shoes, he probably would have done the same thing.

“ I understand, and you’re right, I was happy. At first, I couldn’t quite figure out how this would work out between us, but as the days went on…I began to see it. I began to see a future where we were married happily, had a child or two, and then eventually I retired and we moved back to the countryside…I began to have hope that I could be happy despite all the terrible things I have done.”

“ But as it turns out that was nothing more than just a foolish dream, hah, a foolish dream for a foolish person.” He finished with a sad shake of his head.

“ It’s not foolish to want to be happy,” Yami said as he began to bring his cigarette back up to his lips.

“ Isn’t it though? For someone like me?”

Yami paused, his cigarette hovering just over his lips. He looked at the masked man standing in front of him, not really sure what to say. While he wanted to say that everyone deserved to be happy, he had a feeling that wouldn’t give him any comfort. Especially since they both knew he still had a lot of atoning to do.

“ Would you like to know what’s even more foolish?” William asked as he suddenly looked up towards the overcast sky above him. “ I’m angry at her for lying to me and breaking off our engagement, but at the same time I miss her…I miss her laughing, her smiling, I even miss her teasing me…”

“ You loved her.” William nodded. “ If you miss her that much, then why don’t you go see her? I’m sure you and the Wildflower can talk and work things out.”

“ Don’t you think I’ve wanted to?” William asked as he glanced at Yami from the corner of his eye. “ I’ve thought about just going by her shop and talking to her, but I haven’t done it.”

“ Why not?”

“ Because I think…I’m afraid.”

“ ‘Afraid’? Afraid of what?” Yami asked with a frown, and William turned to fully look at him.

“ Afraid of finding out why she really broke up with me.” William admitted and that only made the other man's frown deepen.

“ Didn’t she break up with you because of the joke?” Yami asked, and William nodded.

“ That’s what she said, but my gut is telling me there’s more to it than just that,” William admitted. “ If it were you, would you jump straight to breaking up with Charlotte over a joke instead of trying to talk and work things out?”

Yami hummed in thought, admittedly being open and ‘vulnerable’ wasn’t his strong suit, but if it were him and Charlotte in William and Zera’s position? He would talk about it, even if it was awkward. Because it was better to be honest when you were in a relationship. At least Yami thought so.

“ Good point. So what does your Golden Gut say it is?” Yami asked curiously as he crossed his arms, and William sighed before shaking his head.

“ Honestly? I don’t know, and I’m afraid to find out.”

Back in Kikka

Yuno, Neva, Klaus, and Mimosa all stared at the outside of ‘Cinnamon’s Flower Shop’ in shock. The windows were dark, the plants outside looked neglected. If one didn’t know any better they would think the shop had been abandoned.

“ Are…are you sure she’s here? The shop looks like it's been empty for a while…” Mimosa said as she looked sadly at all the flowers, and Yuno nodded.

“ She is. I can sense her mana inside.” Yuno said as he walked up to the shop door and knocked on it.

The group waited…and waited…and waited. But no one answered the door.

“ Maybe she’s asleep?” Klaus suggested as he placed a hand under his chin, but Neva shook her head.

“ At 2 o’clock in the afternoon? Unlikely.” She told him as she also stepped up to the door and began knocking on it.

Again they waited, but this time they finally saw movement inside the dark shop. Yuno and Neva frowned as it appeared the person inside tried to hide from their view.

“ We know you’re in there Ms. Zera.” Yuno said loudly.

“ We just wanted to see how you were doing.” Neva also said loudly.

“ By the look of things she isn’t doing very well.” Mimosa muttered as she scratched her cheek uncomfortably, and they all watched as a shadowy form walked up to the door, unlocked it, then opened it.

“ Shouldn’t you four be at the Golden Dawn? What’re you doing here?” The quartet’s eyes widened and soft gasp escaped them.

Zera…Zera looked terrible!

Her eyes were red and puffy as though she had been crying all night, her clothes and hair were a mess, and she had tissues sticking out of her sweater pockets.

So either she had a terrible cold, or she had been crying for the past few days. The quartet assumed it was the latter.

“ We…we had just come back from a mission, and we wanted to see how you were doing after…you know.” Mimosa said hesitantly, a soft and unsure smile on her face.

“ I’m fine,” Zera said simply before moving aside. “ But since you guys came all this way I should offer you some tea. Come in.” She added before turning to walk back inside. The quartet all looked at each other for a moment before one by one they followed her inside.

They thought the outside looked bad, the inside was equally as terrible looking, if not just a little worse.

The flowers on the inside of the shop were wilting and dying, there was dust and dirt all over the floor and shelves, and the only light in the room was the few candles that Zera had lit a moment ago.

It looked dreary and desolate, much like how Zera looked.

“ Here’s some green tea, it’ll help you guys get more energy.” She explained softly as she set the tray of tea cups onto the counter, they all took their cups with a soft ‘thank you’ and quietly began to drink. Each one glancing at the other, wondering who would speak first.

And of course, it was the most honest one in the group.

“ Why did you break off your engagement to the Captain?” Yuno asked bluntly as he set his tea cup down, and Klaus nearly spewed his tea.

“ Y-Yuno!”

“ It’s what we’re all wanting to ask isn’t it?” Neva pointed out as she took a sip of her tea, and Mimosa nodded.

“ They have a point Klaus.”

“ It’s personal.” Zera answered curtly as she swirled the liquid in her cup round and around.

“ Did you fall in love with someone else?” Yuno asked, and Zera shook her head.

“ No.”

“ Did your father not approve of the marriage? So you had to break up?” Mimosa asked, and Zera again shook her head.

“ No.”

“ Is it because the Captain helped orchestrate the Elf Attack?” Neva asked, and Zera again shook her head.

“ While I only just learned about his role in the attack and don’t agree with what he did, no, that isn’t why I broke off our engagement.” Zera said with a sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why were they giving her the third degree? They tended to keep to themselves, especially Neva and Yuno, so why were they being so nosy?

“ Then, why did you break it off?” Klaus asked, and once again Zera sighed.

“ As I said before, it's personal. Just know that it was for the best.”

“ Was it though?” Yuno asked with a frown. “ When I look at you, the Captain, your shop, and his office they tell me the opposite.”

“ Yuno’s right! Ever since you and the Captain broke up he hasn’t been acting like himself!” Mimosa said, and Klaus nodded in agreement.

“ It’s true. He’s staying in his office most days, he keeps acting as though he’s seeing a ghost, and when he’s out on missions, even small ones, he’s distracted. It’s as though his mind is elsewhere.” Klaus explained.

“ Your breakup is affecting more than just you two. It’s affecting us as well.” Neva finished as Zera hung her head.

As she listened to the four of them talk about William she couldn’t help but want to tell them all to shut up. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to be reminded of how badly she hurt him, how he gave her his heart and she stomped on it, how she ripped out her own heart and stomped on it right after.

But at the same time…she couldn’t help but be more worried and guilty. She thought he would be over it by now, and that their break up wouldn’t really affect his work since he was good at separating his private and personal life. But according to them that wasn’t the case?

“ You said it was personal right? Was it cold feet about the wedding? Maybe, if you and the Captain talk about it, you can work things out?” Mimosa suggested suddenly, and Klaus again nodded in agreement.

“ She’s right. They say the key to every relationship is honesty and communication, so maybe if you tell him what’s wrong, you can clear everything up!” Klaus agreed, and Zera finally lifted her head.

“ Please leave.”

“ W-What?”

“ I thank you for being concerned and for stopping by, but I think it’s time for you all to head back to the base now. Before it gets late.” Zera said firmly, yet her tone was soft and her blue eyes averted back to the counter. The four looked at each other with a mixture of confusion and concern in their eyes.

But they didn’t argue. They each stood up, thanked her for the tea, and began to walk out of the shop. But Neva stopped suddenly, she signaled for the others to go ahead, and they nodded before Yuno closed the shop door with a soft ‘thud’.

“ You realize this break up is killing both of you right?” Neva said, her back still facing the other woman.

“ What?”

“ This breakup, it’s literally killing you both. You were both so alive when you were together, especially Captain Vangeance. You made each other smile and laugh, you made each other work harder at your jobs. But now it’s like you’re both…lifeless. Even your jobs are beginning to reflect it.” Neva said, her voice firm and cool.

“ I don’t know what happened between you and the Captain, but what I do know is that you two were better and happier together then you are apart. So if you want my opinion, I think you two need to work things out. Because this isn’t healthy for either of you.” As she began to walk out she stopped again.

“ And for what it’s worth, the Captain really misses you…he even keeps your engagement ring on his desk beside the dandelion plant you gave him when you first met.” She added over her shoulder before opening the shop door, and closing it behind her as she walked out.

Zera’s heart clenched tightly in her chest and tears welled up in her eyes. Neva was right, she was happier when she was with William, and to hear that he was the same way and that he missed her as much as she missed him…

Neva was also right about another thing, this wasn’t healthy for them at all.

Zera suddenly stood up, a determined look in her eye as she walked up the stairs to take a shower, change her clothes, and then eventually head to the castle.

She had to fix this, and the first step in doing so was to turn herself in to the authorities for her smuggling crimes and accept whatever punishment they gave her.

If William was going to atone for his crimes, then so should she.

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

#black clover fanfiction #dandelion wishes #black clover oc fanfiction #william vangeance #oc; zera #oc neva #yuno grinberryall #klaus lunettes #mimosa vermillion #yami sukehiro

[ironstrangle]

Kissing Sam Wilson #16/17 - Undercover (SamBucky, 600 words)

@samsseptember prompt - Undercover | Amnsia Night Out | Madripoor

“I don’t do undercover missions,” Sam argued. He nudged Bucky in the shoulder purposefully. “You know that I’m bad at them. Everyone knows I’m bad at them. Why are they sending us into this situation?”

“It’s a desperate measure,” Bucky agreed. “Trust me, we know that you’re bad at them. But Sharon says that this guy is big money, someone who had been leaving his stink all over Madripoor since the Blip. He’s been sighted with people who aren’t Hydra, exactly, but who are vaguely aligned with surviving Hydra people, at least… We need to peg him before he takes the money and runs.” 

“But this?”

“What’s wrong with this?”

Sam and Bucky were masquerading as a couple. Apparently, they were affiliates of their target, but he had never met them face to face. Sharon believed that he would tell them about his business affairs. All he knew about them was that they were a couple and that the man Sam was portraying was sort of a ditz. He was flighty, frivolous and flamboyant. This, Sharon assured, would be easy for Sam to play. 

Sam came out of the bathroom wearing a green silk shirt with a pattern resembling neon butterflies. He was wearing actual eyeliner, alongside the makeup and prosthetics that they’d used to render him unrecognizable. 

“I hate this very much, just so you know. I can’t act. Hell, I couldn’t even act when I was ten and playing a tree in the school play.” 

“Oh come on baby,” Bucky said, eyes wide and eying him up and down appreciatively. There was a mischief in his eyes that was, more or less, wonderful. Seeing that lighter side of Bucky always made him smile. He took a step forward, took both of Sam’s hands in his and planted a kiss on him. “Be a good baby doll for your husband.” He winked.

~~~

It was worse than his first foray into undercover work. Sam still couldn’t believe the ditzy character that he’d played. He had more-or-less been Bucky’s trophy husband. He had sat with Bucky, batting his eyes, as the man in front of them went on and on about his conquests in Madripoor. 

“It’s all about letting people know who’s boss,” he said, as Sam fluttered his eyelashes and let Bucky rub his hand up and down his thigh. Bucky had been, of course, enjoying the deception far too much. Sam found it a lot easier than he expected, but he’d just never been made for intrigue. “Letting them know that if they cross you, there is going to be a consequence.

“I see,” Sam said, using a higher register, an almost ditzy tone. “That sounds so scary, I can’t believe you’re doing that…”

It felt so silly, so foolish. He was wearing enough prosthetics to mask the fact that he was a well-known figure, but who was buying his near giggles as Bucky half groped him. 

“Come on,” the man said, putting his hand on Sam’s arm. Sam had to fight not to recoil at the touch. “I’ll show you what I mean if your husband can spare you for a few seconds.” 

Bucky then leaned over and planted a huge kiss on him.

“Sure thing. Come right back to me sweetheart.” 

This was ridiculous. But Sam giggled and followed him out of the room. He could do this. At least he got to kiss Bucky in front of bad guys, right?

#sambucky #samseptember #sam september 2023

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Jon V (Chapter 41)

Halfway!

Brandon's Gift had been farmed for thousands of years, but as the Watch dwindled there were fewer hands to plow the fields, tend the bees, and plant the orchards, so the wild had reclaimed many a field and hall. In the New Gift there had been villages and holdfasts whose taxes, rendered in goods and labor, helped feed and clothe the black brothers. But those were largely gone as well.

Weird, there's a tremendous amount of attention being paid to fifty leagues of barren land in back-to-back Bran and Jon chapters.

I can't imagine it's going anywhere.

+.+.+

If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.

Boy, who are you talking about, because it sure as fuck isn't Ygritte.

+.+.+

The dream was sweet . . . but Winterfell would never be his to show. It belonged to his brother, the King in the North. He was a Snow, not a Stark.

Well.

+.+.+

"Might be after we could come back here, and live in that tower," she said. "Would you want that, Jon Snow? After?"

After. The word was a spear thrust. After the war. After the conquest. After the wildlings break the Wall . . .

[...]

"This land belongs to the Watch," Jon said.

God I love when he ignores her questions.

+.+.+

His lord father had once talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts as a shield against wildlings. The plan would have required the Watch to yield back a large part of the Gift, but his uncle Benjen believed the Lord Commander could be won around, so long as the new lordlings paid taxes to Castle Black rather than Winterfell. "It is a dream for spring, though," Lord Eddard had said. "Even the promise of land will not lure men north with a winter coming on."

If winter had come and gone more quickly and spring had followed in its turn, I might have been chosen to hold one of these towers in my father's name. Lord Eddard was dead, however, his brother Benjen lost; the shield they dreamt together would never be forged. "This land belongs to the Watch," Jon said.

Does it still count as foreshadowing when it's this easy?

Did you know George announced the title change of the final book (A Time for Wolves -> A Dream of Spring) in March 2006? Did you know A Storm of Swords was released in August 2000?

And did you know the above wasn't intended to be as blatantly obvious as it is now?

I call that accidental Gifts.

+.+.+

"You know nothing, Jon Snow. Daughters are taken, not wives. You're the ones who steal. You took the whole world, and built the Wall t' keep the free folk out."

I'm no history buff, but I believe that was done for the Others, Ygritte.

+.+.+

"The gods made the earth for all men t' share. Only when the kings come with their crowns and steel swords, they claimed it was all theirs. My trees, they said, you can't eat them apples. My stream, you can't fish here. My wood, you're not t' hunt. My earth, my water, my castle, my daughter, keep your hands away or I'll chop 'em off, but maybe if you kneel t' me I'll let you have a sniff. You call us thieves, but at least a thief has t' be brave and clever and quick. A kneeler only has t' kneel."

She's circling around a good point, but the problem is her answer to that is murder, theft, rape, and lawlessness.

+.+.+

"Harma and the Bag of Bones don't come raiding for fish and apples. They steal swords and axes. Spices, silks, and furs. They grab every coin and ring and jeweled cup they can find, casks of wine in summer and casks of beef in winter, and they take women in any season and carry them off beyond the Wall."

"And what if they do? I'd sooner be stolen by a strong man than be given t' some weakling by my father."

"You say that, but how can you know? What if you were stolen by someone you hated?"

Given to some weakling by her father? Stolen by someone you hated?

You don't have to listen carefully to hear Sansa's storyline blaring in the background of this conversation.

+.+.+

"Maybe he never washes, so he smells as rank as a bear."

"Then I'd push him in a stream or throw a bucket o' water on him. Anyhow, men shouldn't smell sweet like flowers."

"What's wrong with flowers?"

"Nothing, for a bee. For bed I want one o' these." Ygritte made to grab the front of his breeches.

Jon caught her wrist. "What if the man who stole you drank too much?" he insisted. "What if he was brutal or cruel?" He tightened his grip to make a point. "What if he was stronger than you, and liked to beat you bloody?"

Quick, someone find us a honey bee!

What's so amusing about this exchange is the fandom's ability to completely ignore it, and constantly reference Jon's imaginary contempt for women who can't defend themselves.

+.+.+

I know one thing. I know that you are wildling to the bone. It was easy to forget that sometimes, when they were laughing together, or kissing. But then one of them would say something, or do something, and he would suddenly be reminded of the wall between their worlds.

I like her until she opens her mouth.

+.+.+

"A man can own a woman or a man can own a knife," Ygritte told him, "but no man can own both. Every little girl learns that from her mother." 

What does that even mean?

+.+.+

Wildlings fought like heroes or demons, depending on who you talked to, but it came down to the same thing in the end. They fight with reckless courage, every man out for glory. "I don't doubt that you're all very brave, but when it comes to battle, discipline beats valor every time. In the end Mance will fail as all the Kings-beyond-the-Wall have failed before him. And when he does, you'll die. All of you."

It's difficult to not think of the Dothraki every time this point is made.

+.+.+

Ygritte had looked so angry he thought she was about to strike him. "All of us," she said. "You too. You're no crow now, Jon Snow. I swore you weren't, so you better not be." She pushed him back against the trunk of a tree and kissed him, full on the lips right there in the midst of the ragged column. Jon heard Grigg the Goat urging her on. Someone else laughed. He kissed her back despite all that. When they finally broke apart, Ygritte was flushed. "You're mine," she whispered. "Mine, as I'm yours. And if we die, we die. All men must die, Jon Snow. But first we'll live."

"Yes." His voice was thick. "First we'll live."

Remember the 'still a better love story than Twilight' meme? This wouldn't make the cut.

+.+.+

She grinned at that, showing Jon the crooked teeth that he had somehow come to love. Wildling to the bone, he thought again, with a sick sad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand, and wondered what Ygritte would do if she knew his heart. 

Oop.

+.+.+

Would she betray him if he sat her down and told her that he was still Ned Stark's son and a man of the Night's Watch? He hoped not, but he dare not take that risk. 

Trust he knows the answer to that question.

+.+.+

Once I shed a brother's blood I am lost. I cross the Wall for good then, and there is no crossing back.

That potentially has two separate meanings.

+.+.+

And he feared for Ygritte as well. He could not take her, but if he left her, would the Magnar make her answer for his treachery? Two hearts that beat as one . . .

The most heartbreaking thing about Jon's entrapment is that he's genuinely concerned he's going to get her killed, while she doesn't give a shit about his safety at all.

+.+.+

They shared the same sleeping skins every night, and he went to sleep with her head against his chest and her red hair tickling his chin. The smell of her had become a part of him. Her crooked teeth, the feel of her breast when he cupped it in his hand, the taste of her mouth . . . they were his joy and his despair. Many a night he lay with Ygritte warm beside him, wondering if his lord father had felt this confused about his mother, whoever she had been. Ygritte set the trap and Mance Rayder pushed me into it.

Once again, the teenage boy tells us that he loves her tits and taste.

Her kind heart? Her pure soul? Her charming personality? Her gentle nature? Her warm demeanor? Anything to say about that, Jon?

+.+.+

Every day he spent among the wildlings made what he had to do that much harder. He was going to have to find some way to betray these men, and when he did they would die. He did not want their friendship, any more than he wanted Ygritte's love. 

You almost start to wonder if you're reading a different book than everyone else.

+.+.+

He didn't want to know about Del's girl or Bodger's mother, the place by the sea that Henk the Helm came from, how Grigg yearned to visit the green men on the Isle of Faces

Same. Someone better take me.

+.+.+

Jon wondered where Ghost was now. Had he gone to Castle Black, or was he was running with some wolfpack in the woods? He had no sense of the direwolf, not even in his dreams. It made him feel as if part of himself had been cut off. Even with Ygritte sleeping beside him, he felt alone. He did not want to die alone.

No really, you could fill a country with the amount of people who believe this is the book's central love story. Pathetic.

He doesn't feel Ghost because the Wall is between them, correct?

+.+.+

Two of the Thenns had thrown the man to the ground and were going through his things. Another held his horse, while three more looted his saddlebags.

Jon walked away. A rotten apple squished beneath his heel.

You better plant some new apple orchards in honour of that old man.

+.+.+

"I know this place," he told her when she sat beside him. "That tower . . . look at the top of it the next time the lightning flashes, and tell me what you see."

[...]

The holdfast did have a grim haunted look, standing there black against the storm on its rocky island with the rain lashing at the lake all around it. "We could go out and take a look," he suggested. "I doubt we could get much wetter than we are."

"Swimming? In the storm?" She laughed at the notion. "Is this a trick t' get the clothes off me, Jon Snow?"

"Do I need a trick for that now?" he teased. "Or is that you can't swim a stroke?" Jon was a strong swimmer himself, having learned the art as a boy in Winterfell's great moat.

Ygritte punched his arm. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. I'm half a fish, I'll have you know."

+.+.+

"Yellow," she said. "Is that what you meant? Some o' them standing stones on top were yellow."

"We call them merlons. They were painted gold a long time ago. This is Queenscrown."

Across the lake, the tower was black again, a dim shape dimly seen. "A queen lived there?" asked Ygritte.

"A queen stayed there for a night."

Isn't that funny, because two kings are doing the same right now.

+.+.+

The king had matters to discuss with his Warden of the North, and Alysanne grew bored, so she mounted her dragon Silverwing and flew north to see the Wall.

Don't forget to tell her about that dragon refusing to cross the Wall, Jon. That's the funniest part of the story.

+.+.+

"I have never seen a dragon."

Well.

+.+.+

"Good Queen Alysanne, they called her later. One of the castles on the Wall was named for her as well. Queensgate. Before her visit they called it Snowgate."

Would Kingsgate have been a little too revealing?

+.+.+

"If she was so good, she should have torn that Wall down."

No, he thought. The Wall protects the realm. From the Others . . . and from you and your kind as well, sweetling. 

He's sassy!

A good monarch would have torn down the Wall...

+.+.+

"I had another friend who dreamed of dragons. A dwarf. He told me—"

"JON SNOW!" One of the Thenns loomed above them, frowning.

"So they say," Tyrion replied. "Sad, isn't it? When I was your age, I used to dream of having a dragon of my own."

"You did?" the boy said suspiciously. Perhaps he thought Tyrion was making fun of him.

"Oh, yes. Even a stunted, twisted, ugly little boy can look down over the world when he's seated on a dragon's back." Tyrion pushed the bearskin aside and climbed to his feet. "I used to start fires in the bowels of Casterly Rock and stare at the flames for hours, pretending they were dragonfire. Sometimes I'd imagine my father burning. At other times, my sister." Jon Snow was staring at him, a look equal parts horror and fascination. Tyrion guffawed. "Don't look at me that way, bastard. I know your secret. You've dreamt the same kind of dreams." - Tyrion II, AGOT

Where exactly was Jon going with that story?

"I had another friend who dreamed of dragons. A dwarf. He told me he liked to daydream about his sister and father burning alive." ???

Awkwardly remind me they're friends one more time, George.

+.+.+

"He must die," Styr the Magnar said. "Do it, crow."

The old man said no word. He only looked at Jon, standing amongst the wildlings. Amidst the rain and smoke, lit only by the fire, he could not have seen that Jon was all in black, but for his sheepskin cloak. Or could he?

Sheepskin cloaks can't disguise a wolf's true colours.

+.+.+

Fire is life up here, he told them, but it can be death as well. That was high in the Frostfangs, though, in the lawless wild beyond the Wall. This was the Gift, protected by the Night's Watch and the power of Winterfell. A man should have been free to build a fire here, without dying for it.

Lol.

+.+.+

He is an old man, Jon told himself. Fifty, maybe even sixty. He lived a longer life than most. The Thenns will kill him anyway, nothing I can say or do will save him. Longclaw seemed heavier than lead in his hand, too heavy to lift. The man kept staring at him, with eyes as big and black as wells. I will fall into those eyes and drown. 

My unpopular Jonsa opinion is that I'm not a big fan of this foreshadowing because of the context.

Longclaw seemed heavier than lead in his hand, too heavy to lift.

+.+.+

What matter if it is my hand that slays him? One cut would do it, quick and clean. 

[...]

He turned his back on the man. "No."

Always answering his own questions.

+.+.+

"I'm no crow wife!" Ygritte snatched her knife from its sheath. Three quick strides, and she yanked the old man's head back by the hair and opened his throat from ear to ear. Even in death, the man did not cry out. "You know nothing, Jon Snow!" she shouted at him, and flung the bloody blade at his feet.

Count your days, Lucky.

+.+.+

Then the lightning turned the night to day, and he saw the wolf standing on Del's chest, blood running black from his jaws. Grey. He's grey.

Darkness descended with the thunderclap. The Thenns were jabbing with their spears as the wolf darted between them. The old man's mare reared, maddened by the smell of slaughter, and lashed out with her hooves. Longclaw was still in his hand. All at once Jon Snow knew he would never get a better chance.

He cut down the first man as he turned toward the wolf, shoved past a second, slashed at a third. Through the madness he heard someone call his name, but whether it was Ygritte or the Magnar he could not say. The Thenn fighting to control the horse never saw him. Longclaw was feather-light. 

Longclaw seemed heavier than lead in his hand, too heavy to lift.

+.+.+

Lightning crashed down from the sky, a searing blue-white bolt that touched the top of the tower in the lake. They could smell the fury of it, and when the thunder came it seemed to shake the night.

[...]

Lightning shivered through the black dome of sky, and thunder rolled across the plains. The shouts dwindled and died behind him.

Who invited Daenerys?

+.+.+

There was a deep throbbing ache in his right thigh. When he looked down, he was surprised to see an arrow jutting out the back of it. When did that happen?

[...]

After a while, he realized that if he did not make himself move he was like to bleed to death. Jon crawled to the shallow stream where the mare was drinking, washed his thigh in the cold water, and bound it tight with a strip of cloth torn from his cloak. He washed the arrow too, turning it in his hands. Was the fletching grey, or white? Ygritte fletched her arrows with pale grey goose feathers. Did she loose a shaft at me as I fled? Jon could not blame her for that. He wondered if she'd been aiming for him or the horse. If the mare had gone down, he would have been doomed. "A lucky thing my leg got in the way," he muttered.

Ygritte dying from an arrow after shooting Jon with one? Perfection.

+.+.+

He tried to think back on the madness at the inn, but all he could remember was the beast, gaunt and grey and terrible. It was too large to be a common wolf. A direwolf, then. It had to be. He had never seen an animal move so fast. Like a grey wind . . . Could Robb have returned to the north?

I know he's badly injured, but is this seriously his best guess?

+.+.+

Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, but above him the clouds were breaking up. Jon searched the sky until he found the Ice Dragon, then turned the mare north for the Wall and Castle Black. The throb of pain in his thigh muscle made him wince as he put his heels into the old man's horse. I am going home, he told himself. But if that was true, why did he feel so hollow?

He rode till dawn, while the stars stared down like eyes.

Maybe because it's not your home?

Anyway, speaking of thunder, betrayal, and defection, you won't believe who's next.

Final thoughts:

Did you know Ygritte says "You know nothing, Jon Snow" NINETEEN times in this story? I don't care if I sound elitist, this girl needs to read a book and learn some new words, I can't deal.

Ygritte Death Countdown

8 down, 2 to go. I smell blood! :D

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #asos #jon v

[mystic-shadows42]

Lover's Quarrel

A/N: It’s been awhile since I wrote a piece for the Vikings fandom. Hope I haven’t lost my touch. Hope you all enjoy! Also, this one is a little more focused on Hvitserk rather than Ivar.

Pairing: Hvitserk x reader x Ivar

Warnings: Violence and mention of impregnation

Summary: A betrayal starts it all off making Hvitserk hurt and angry beyond anything else. He wants to shed blood, yours more specifically but Ivar won’t have it. He has other plans for you.

“How can she do this to us?!” Hvitserk stood up making his chair fall behind him in his sudden anger. “We’ve broken bread with her family! She grew up with us!” He paced around the room then stopped. “I love her.”

Hvitserk was trying to make sense of his love’s betrayal. He thought you’d always choose him and his brother Ivar than ever go against them. He was wrong. You chose your family over them.

“We must stick to the plan.”

Ivar brought up his hands and placed them just under his chin. He was deeply saddened by your betrayal but he didn’t want to show his men or Hvitserk just how much it was affecting him.

He needed some time alone to think of a plan to bring you back to him. One that’ll bound you to him forever without making you hate him entirely.

Once the battle ensued, Hvitserk was the first to break free and display the land red. He was fuelled with anger which showed.

When he spotted you out on the battlefield fighting too he was dead-set on what he was to do. Ivar followed his line of sight and knew that Hvitserk wasn’t in the right state of mind to face you just yet.

Hvitserk was about to rush forward but was pushed back by Ivar. They were both high on adrenaline but Hvitserk more so than everyone else. He’d been cutting down men and women left and right.

“I’ll kill her! I’ll do it!” Hvitserk yelled out, making his voice break at the end. 

“No! No you won’t! I can’t let you!”

“She’s betrayed us!”

Ivar brought his head close to Hvitserk’s so he had his full attention.

“If you kill her then you’d never forgive yourself. I’d never forgive you if you do.” Hvitserk huffed at his brother but understood beyond his anger coursing through him. “Brother, look at me. I need you to listen. If you grab her we can take her as our hostage. She’s the key to all of this. Are you with me?”

“Yeah,” Hvitserk huffed.

“Do anything to get to her but don’t kill her. Got it?”

Hvitserk had a newfound intent on pursuing you. He was a man crazed with ambition.

He found your right-hand man and went toe-to-toe with him. He was a skilled warrior but Hvitserk had already configured his flaws.

He had a weak knee so that’s what he struck for. When he was brought down to the ground he wasted no time in finishing him off.

“Y/N!” Hvitserk yelled your name through the endless cries of battles. “Y/N!” He drawled out.

When you heard your name being shouted you turned to see Hvitserk standing on a hilltop by Ivar’s chariot. He held up your longtime friend’s head. He smiled displaying his blood stained mouth looking ever more menacing.

So many emotions racked through you at once. Though the sadness quickly turned to anger. You had spent many years training with the man Hvitserk killed. He was like family to you after having been placed by your side as a bodyguard.

Hvitserk watched on as he saw you striking everyone down that got in your way. He felt empowered to see how much of a fierce warrior you’ve become. He should know since he was the one who’d basically trained you.

Hvitserk jumped down from the hill he was on as you began to approach.

You faced each other down. He was breathing heavily with a bloody smile on his face. He kept gripping his sword in his hand. He was ready.

“You really want to do this?” It was never your intention to hurt him but for the sake of your people and family, what other choice did you have? 

You could have always told him, that thought had never left your mind but Hvitserk was none too good at confrontation. He wouldn’t want to hear it. He would avoid it until it got too much to handle.

Then there was Ivar. He was always someone you could confide in but as of late you didn’t know if he was on the verge of being power hungry or just mad altogether.

“You’ve left me no choice.”

“I did what I had to do for my family. You of all should understand that.”

He turned his head looking at all the blood and death that was surrounding him. He looked back at you and lifted his head in the direction of the chaos.

“All of this is happening because of that decision. If you’d been with us. Things could have been different.”

“It’s just the way things have to be.”

“Oh yeah,” he sniffled and started to circle around you. “Let’s see what you can do then.”

You raised your sword just as he did the same. Hvitserk tapped the tip of your sword smiling then he swung at you.

You blocked it and tried pushing him back with as much energy as you could muster up but he was forcing all his strength down on your sword. He brought you down to one knee as you continued to block his sword with yours.

When you knew you couldn’t hold out much longer, you kicked his leg out making him drop to the floor. You quickly scrambled on top of him with your sword to his neck making him laugh.

His small fit of laughter had soon died down when you made no other attempt to hurt him. He looked into your eyes and clenched his jaw.

“Did you ever love me?”

“Of course I did.”

“More than Ivar?” Hvitserk had never bothered to hide the fact that he was always jealous of his little brother.

“The same.” 

Hvitserk took your downcast look as an opportunity to flip you both over. He placed his hands over your neck shaking you.

“Tell me the truth?! After everything I’ve done for you! All that I shared! It was all for you! Now tell me who you loved more?”

He added more pressure onto your neck making you gasp. Tears were rushing from your eyes as you looked up at Hvitserk. 

It was unbelievable to think that just a few weeks ago he was staring down at you in this same position, only with kinder eyes and a gentler touch ready to leave his ways all behind and go away with you.

Ivar and Hvitserk shared you but as of late Hvitserk was starting to get more possessive. He was falling harder each time. He had always been with you.

Meanwhile, Ivar did break away to be with Freydis because he believed her when she spoke lies to him.

In that time, Hvitserk claimed you as his. He had never fallen so hard for one woman and the betrayal had hit him tenfold. He took it harder than anything else in his life.

When the time came that Ivar realized how rotten Freydis was, all he wanted was you back. He became obsessed with taking you away from Hvitserk.

“You,” your answer was quiet and strangled but Hvitserk heard. He pulled his hands away and looked at your face. “It was always you Hvitserk.”

Even in the midst of battle, Hvitserk leaned down and placed a small chaste kiss to your lips. You hadn’t reciprocated which didn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke. Before you even had the chance to speak he hit your head against the ground rendering you unconscious. He picked you up over his shoulder and carried you to Ivar’s chariot.

Once he placed you inside, Ivar was quick to inspect your injury behind your head. He placed his hand on the spot where Hvitserk struck you. He brought his fingers up showing Hvitserk the blood on them.

“She’s bleeding.”

“How else did you expect her to come willingly?”

Hvitserk was beyond irritated and confused. He didn’t know what to think or feel about the whole situation. He loved you but the betrayal is what stopped him. He wanted to harden his heart.

“You’ve damaged her Hvitserk. I didn’t want her hurt or have any more reason for her to distrust us.”

“More than she already does?! Look where we are at. We are in battle. She’s already lost to us.”

“She isn’t lost on me. She could love me again.” Ivar brushed your cheek with his fingers gently. When he smiled down at your unconscious form Hvitserk couldn’t help but become even more annoyed.

“Whatever. When we get back we’ll have her chained.”

“Chained?” Ivar was appalled by his brother’s nonchalant response. “She will not be chained like some animal Hvitserk.”

“Where do you expect her to be held at?”

“My room. We’ll keep the doors locked at all times but she will be treated as a guest no doubt.”

“A prisoner treated like a guest?” Hvitserk scoffed at the idea.

“Brother you are so hostile.” Hvitserk was unamused. “I thought you loved her?”

“She betrayed us. Lied to me!” Hvitserk couldn’t help but kick up the dirt and throw one of his daggers at a tree.

“Funny, that’s what you did to me, yet, here we are. Truth is brother, despite all you’ve done against me, there was no doubt in my mind that I’d be the one to kill you but Y/N convinced me otherwise. She saved your life.” Hvitserk paused and turned to look at Ivar. This was all news to him. His features softened and his shoulders relaxed as he thought of how you would actually do that to save him. “Once you put a baby in her, she’ll forgive us.”

“What do you speak of Ivar?” Hvitserk narrowed his brows and approached the chariot slowly.

“You’ll be the one to put a baby in her.  As you know, I cannot have children nor provide any for her, but you can. If she has a baby with you then she cannot be against us.”

“You’re sick, Ivar.”

“Is it not your wish to fill her with babies and be the father of her children?”

Hvitserk rested his hand on top of the chariot as he leaned forward. “Not like that.”

“Only time will tell,” Hvitserk backed away when he saw his brother’s condescending smirk on his face. He never knew just how far he'd go until now.

Tagged: @belovedcherry​ @lordsexmachine​ @lol-haha-joke​ @mariaenchanted​ @ethereallysimple​ @bababasti​ @ir-abelas-telanadas​ @soleil-dor​ @youbloodymadgenius​

#Hvitserk x reader x Ivar #Hvitserk x reader #Ivar x reader #Hvitserk lothbrok #Ivar Lothbrok #Hvitserk #Ivar #Hvitserk ragnarsson #Ivar ragnarsson #Hvitserk imagine #Ivar imagine #Vikings

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Be Very Afraid

This is the best story arc episode in season three and arguably the best written episode since The Great Tree, but it’s still season three so there are still issues with it. 

Summary: When Zhan Tiri tells Cassandra she must destroy Rapunzel in order to wield the Moonstone's true power, Cassandra discovers that she can create, with fear, red rock spikes that cause fear and freeze their victims. Varian discovers the red rocks and teams up with Rapunzel to use his amber solution on them. Meanwhile, Eugene and Lance decide to throw a talent show to distract everyone from their fears. 

Why Can’t Cassandra Control The Rocks?

The series never gives an actual explanation for this. She could control them just fine in Rapunzel’s Return, so what’s changed? 

There is No Destiny!

There’s no prophecy, no oracle, no grand design nor master of fate to fight back against; the characters literally have no reason to do what they do. If you want destiny to be a goal then you have to establish what that destiny is first. 

What does Cassandra want? How does this connect back to Gothel, Rapunzel, and the Moonstone? Why she just failing about like an idiot here? Did she not have a plan when she threw her life away for this stupid rock? 

And of course Zhan Tiri is lying here, but why should Cassandra believe her? What does she gain by listening to a creepy ghost girl? This ‘destiny’ has not been established, so therefore there’s no hook nor bait for Zhan Tiri to trap her with. 

Leading directly into “you should kill your bestie’ should logically put Cassandra off of Zhan Tiri’s advice for good because Zhan Tiri isn’t actually offering anything. Temptation requires the person to be, you know, tempted by what they want, but Cassandra doesn’t know what she wants so none of this makes sense. 

The writing is desperately trying to make Cass sympathetic here, but all it winds up doing is making her look like a moron instead. 

This Isn’t Consistent

Not only does this fail to explain why Cass could control the rocks previously but no longer can, but it’s also contradicted just a couple of episodes later with the incantation bullshit. 

You need an established magic system in place in order for the character’s actions to make sense show!

This Ultimately Goes Nowhere

Ignoring how Varian should have been in season two and how translating the scroll should have led to freeing his father, which we’ve talked about previously; this subplot should have had more impact on the narrative than it actually did. Yes, Varian’s translation winds up driving the plot of Cassandra’s Revenge, but 90% of that episode winds up being utterly pointless, including the incantations themselves, so.... 

I Like This Sequence; Shame It Winds Up Being Undermined Later  

Unlike the majority of dream sequences in this show, this nightmare has an actual point. It more firmly establishes Varian’s fears and gives the audience some insight into what happened to him back in season one. Something we were sorely lacking. It also becomes the core conflict and drive of Varian’s character development through out the episode. 

Only for the episode to ignore Varian’s real issues and fail to adequately address anything. By series end this plot point will be completely forgotten. The show acts like bringing it up once and then never acknowledging it ever again just magically revolves Varian’s character arc. It doesn’t.  

So How Come Quirin Isn’t Affected By the Rocks? 

He’s right there next to them and he shows no reaction to them at all. You’re telling me the man who lost his home twice to these things, almost died to them, and nearly lost his only child because of them, is just not going to respond to new creepy red ones popping up? 

Quirin would have a treasure trove of trauma to explore in his own right, that undoubtedly would connect back to Varian’s own issues, but we’re just going to ignore it and have Quirin off screen for the majority of the episode?

Are These New Character Models?

Are you shitting me!? 

They built five new models just for a short two minute scene, one where none of the new characters are named nor given lines, only to never appear ever again!

What the fuck? Why did you waste time and money on this? What happened to all of the other background characters you already built? Did a bunch of season one models just get lost or deleted or something? 

Also why are they all wearing green? Is it St. Paddy’s Day? 

This Plot Point Wasn’t Established Enough Beforehand

Look, I’ll buy that there are people in Corona who still blame Varian for what happened in season one and for the Sapoiran take over. I mean they’re only getting half the story and were directly effected by his actions whether or not he intended harm to them. But we needed to see more of it beyond just this one scene.

No one was bullying him in Lost Treasure or The King and Queen of Hearts, so for all purposes he appeared to be integrated back into society, and now you’re telling me he’s not and that Rapunzel risked his well being by forcing him to interact with people who were hostile to him back in Lost Treasure? 

And yeah you can’t really move Lost Treasure back any further than it already is cause that’d leave a giant hole in the wall of the throne room for over a year. Which also makes no sense either. 

Or hey, maybe it’s just Feldspar being an asshole. In which case why should Varian or the audience care? 

Eugene is Wasted

Look I understand that there’s only twenty five minutes to tell this story and that Eugene isn’t the focus of the episode. I also understand that the B-plot is meant to be comedic in order to relive tension from the A plot, but this wasn’t the best way to go about it. 

The B plot swings too far wide in the other direction that it dilutes the tension too much. The A plot now has to work over time to keep the urgency going. I could understand it, if the show wanted start off with small fears first, but it needed to ramp up the drama as it got closer to the climax, not under cut it. 

We never see Eugene freak out over anything other this this cowlick. In fact we never see him scared of anything else beyond this one scene, which undermines Rapunzel’s arc this episode as she’s suppose to be the only one bottling things in. What makes Eugene so special that he can keep a lid on it with out consequences, or are you telling me that a dumb cowlick is his only fear? 

Either answer is stupid. 

I Hope You Have Copies of the Map

You went through all that trouble to steal the journal for this very reason and now here you are prancing around without it like it’s not that big of deal. Way to undermined past story arcs. 

It’s like the writers know that season one was their most successful season, and therefore try to make callbacks to it whenever they can, to make up for ignoring it in season two completely, but they still don’t want to actually acknowledge anything that happened during that season so they just refer to it in the laziest way possible, rendering the previous events pointless. 

So Close and Yet So Far

I’m mainly posting this whole conversation so that you dear readers will have context for what I talk about next. 

For you see, this scene starts out okay and it looks like we’re finally going to address the elephant in the room regarding Rapunzel’s involvement in Varian’s past trauma, only for the scene to immediately side step the issue all together and not resolve the conflict at all. 

No! Don’t Interrupt; Listen! 

Or at least go all the way and accept some of the blame yourself. 

It may look like Rapunzel is comforting Varian here on a superficial level, but without her verballing acknowledging what she did wrong, this action just winds up taking the focus off of Varian and what he needs and places it upon Rapunzel, both narratively and physically.

So what happens is that, in universe, it comes across like she’s just consoling Varian for her own personal comfort rather than genuinely trying to help. 

Why Would Varian Ever Think This? 

Okay, first off this has nothing to do with what Varian was talking about previously. Why would he jump from discussing his trauma to praising Rapunzel? You know the woman who is responsible for said trauma? 

Secondly, this switches the focus of the conflict off of Varian’s specific trauma and makes it about a generic “over coming fear” lesson mixed with an out of place validation issue. Which is not what’s actually needed for his character development; nor for Rapunzel’s for that matter. 

Third, being the sundrop has nothing to do with Rapunzel as a person. Her being born with magical powers was an accident of fate, same as her being royalty. She’s not innately better than anybody else because of this and nobody has any narrative reason to assume otherwise. Especially since her powers are utterly disconnected from her actual personality, choices, and actions. All three of which have become unbearably unpleasant by the last season. 

Finally, Varian, of all people should be the last person on earth to ever think so highly of Rapunzel. Them being friends again is already pushing believability. Him suddenly kissing her ass the same as everyone else this season is just flat out bad writing.  

Varian knows better than anybody what an awful person Rapunzel is. He’s seen her at her worse. He’s seen her not live up to her hypocritical ideals. He knows the larger problems that steam from placing people in power on pedestals. As her former victim, Varian by all accounts should be the one person who can bring Rapunzel down to earth and poke holes into her ego, even while still being her friend. Especially while still being her friend. She needs that! Writing Varian as another blind Rapunzel stan is not only writing him out of character, but it also damages Rapunzel’s own development. 

Also Varian hates magic. Why would he now worship someone just for having magic? 

THIS AIN’T ABOUT YOU BITCH!!!

I literally yelled that at my tv screen when I first saw this scene. Those were my exact words upon the episode’s first airing. And believe it or not, I’m not one to usually scream obscenities at inanimate objects. 

I understand what the writers were trying to accomplish here. They wanted Rapunzel to ease the tension by saying something funny and to make Varian laugh to distract him from his woes; thereby defusing the situation. But it doesn’t work because of season three’s tendency to make Rapunzel the most egotistical, smug, self-centered, abusive, self-righteous twat in the show. 

It really boggles the mind just how unaware the writing is. Like, surely no one makes their protagonist this unlikable on accident. Clearly they meant for Rapunzel to be an ass on purpose right?  They wanted Cass to have a reason to hate her so they decided to make her insufferable to the viewer in a misguided attempt to make Cass more sympathetic? Right? 

Then where is the bloody comeuppance? 

I genuinely thought this was all going to lead somewhere. That Rapunzel was going to learn to be a better person and I would have been fine by that. I would have applauded the show if they had turned her into an asshole intentionally so that they could teach a mature and nuanced lesson about morality. 

But they didn’t, and here I am; still shaking my head in confusion over a year later. 

Seriously what the fuck happened behind the scenes to cause this? How can processionals paid by the largest animation company in the world be so incompetent? 

Having Trauma is Not the Same Thing as Having a Phobia  

This is where Varian’s arc falls apart. Not only does the episode fail to have Rapunzel acknowledge her past wrongs for a second time, but it also completely mishandles Varian’s trauma because it equates it to being an irrational fear. One that can be overcome through pure force of will at that, same as Lance and everyone else’s fears in the episode. 

Ok first off Varian’s fear isn’t irrational. He even just said so at the start of the conversation. Varian’s trauma is very real, it’s not a hypothetical unlike clown-spiders and cowlicks. Also has been given very little reassurance that it won't happen again. Varian has no reason to trust Rapunzel or anybody else in the show. They never owned up to abandoning him previously, and both he and the audience have little reason to believe that Rapunzel wouldn’t just neglect him again if it was convenient for her.   

Secondly one does not simply ‘overcome’ trauma. Oh you can deal with trauma, you can manage it and learn to live with it. But it never goes away. It doesn’t magically disappear just because you ‘faced it’. 

In fact confronting it head on is actually the opposite of what your suppose to do when going through something traumatic. Studies have shown that distracting your mind after a car crash or what have you actually helps with PTSD later on. And ‘dealing with it” doesn’t mean ignoring the problem out right, but rather learning how to function despite the pain. 

But as the show acts like Varian’s trauma never even existed after this episode. 

This Doesn’t Resolve Anything!

What does “being special” have to with fear? How does this help Varian with his trauma? Empty validation has nothing to with what we were just discussing. 

Everyone gets afraid. Everyone has trauma of some sort. Are you telling me that my need for therapy some 20 years after being physically assaulted is just because I’m not special enough? Fuck you show! 

Moreover, this doesn’t resolve the story arc from season one. Varian and Rapunzel’s conflict with each other has nothing to do with self esteem. It was about personal responsibility, conflicting needs, and abuse. Yes, self image and acceptance was a small factor in their motivations, but it was never the driving goal behind their decisions. 

This is yet another broken narrative promise to the audience. There’s no closure to be had from this and leaves the viewer wanting, if not outright frustrated. 

In order to justify this exchange fans have to ‘read between the lines’ and make shit up in order for any of this to make any sense. People who still defend season three do by doing all the heavy lifting that writers themselves should be doing. 

If it’s not on screen, it doesn’t count. 

If Rapunzel never apologizes on screen, then she never apologized. If Rapunzel never checked up on Varian on screen, then she neglected him outright. If Rapunzel never acknowledges her wrong doings on screen, then she’s never learned anything. The characters pretending like she has doesn’t make it so. 

Why Does Cassandra Even Want a Destiny? 

Yes, Zhan Tiri is lying, there is no destiny, but Zhan Tiri being a liar doesn’t absolve Cassandra of her own actions. 

Cassandra herself believes in destiny and is looking for her’s, but why? 

Why does she want a destiny? What is this destiny she’s after? Why does she believe such a thing exists? What does she believe it’ll gain her? Why is she willing to risk so much for such a vague goal? What does any of this have to do with the moonstone or her mother? How does this destiny connect back with her personal feud with Rapunzel? 

It’s all disjointed and confused. Nothing lines up. It’s like the writers just had this dart board full of ideas for Cassandra’s villain arc, but couldn’t decide on which one to go with, so they just threw darts randomly each episode and went with whatever stuck for any given scene.

“Oh she want’s revenge for her mother during this scene, or wait no, she’s actually looking for destiny this episode?” “What destiny?” “Who knows. Now for this scene we need her to be sad because reasons...” “What reason?” “I don't care, make something up... Uuuuh, she’s sad cause she’s not a royal guard still” “But she became a guard during season one.” “Ignore that. Kids won’t remember. Now she needs to be angry and threating here” “Why?” “Because it’ll look cool.” “But why is she angry?” “Cause it looks cool Bob! Geez! Oh but she still needs to be sympathetic so give her a frowny face afterwards. Just have Zhan Tiri remind her how much she hates Rapunzel later, so as to egg her on and keep her doing stupid shit?”  “But why does she hate Rapunzel?”  “Do I have to think of everything BOB!!!???”  

There, there’s my non-so-accurate behind the scene’s glimpse into the Tangled writer’s room when discussing Cassandra’s arc. I could be wrong. There could have been some intricate and complex plan thought out that just didn’t make it onto the screen for whatever reason, or maybe everyone involved was so far up their own ass that they just forgot to give their main villain an actual reason for being the villain. But regardless the over all effect is that Cassandra is handed the idiot ball for a whole freaken season in order to even have a conflict and that is never good writing; or rather she’s hit in the head with it repeatedly. 

This Actually Goes Against Zhan Tiri’s Plan

Zhan Tiri’s short term goal is to be released from her dimensional prison and apparently she needs Cass and Raps to fight into order to do this. This was never established before hand and goes against her disciples pervious plans, but whatever. One could argue that this is just a lie in order to get them to fight later... 

However, this lie jeopardizes her long term goal. She eventually wants to wield both the moonstone and the sundrop herself in order to destroy Corona, but Rapunzel is the sundrop and you can only take her power during an ellipse, supposedly, which means if Cass actually succeeds in killing Rapunzel before then, then Zhan Tiri is up a creek without a paddle. Also if Cassandra did manage to steal Raps’ power with or without an ellipse then Zhan Tiri would still be out of luck. 

This was wholly unnecessary; you didn’t have to go from zero to sixty in one fell swoop. Have Zhan Tiri claim that fighting Rapunzel will award the power to the winner or something. There’s no need to bring up the ‘kill her’ option. That should logically just drive Cassandra away and puts Zhan Tiri’s plan at risk. 

The series wants to act like Zhan Tiri is this master manipulator, a chess master like Zantos or Palpatine, but she couldn’t even tie their shoes. Her plans make no sense and often contradict one another. They only work because the rest of the cast are reduced to imbeciles in order for them to work. 

This Plot Point Contradicts Season Two

His fear of spiders was establish early on, and I’ll accept the clown thing as there’s nothing to contradict it, but Lance has preformed numerous times before now and has never show stage fright. He’s a huge ham and back in Return of Quaid he mentioned how much loved acting and preforming and apparently been on stage before, so where does this fear of singing in public come from? Heck he sung in public just a few episodes ago in Rapunzel’s Return. 

If you have to sacrifice established character into order to make your plot work then you need a new plot. 

This Song is Nice; It Just Needed to Be in a Different Episode 

I’m glad Lance got a solo. He deserved one and the song is good. However it breaks the tension of the climax and gives the episode tonal whiplash. 

More than a song, Lance needed an actual focus episode in season three. One that was fully his. If anyone else shared it with him it needed to be Red and Angry, not Varian and Cass. 

Just imagine if this song came during an episode where he had to watch the girls. Imagine if he was singing it just for them. How much more impactful would that have been? 

Now imagine that we had a Rapunzel and Varian duet in it’s place here. That would have tied the episode together better and helped to further their own stories. Glenn Slater can write lyrics far better than Chris can write dialogue. I bet you a thousand to one Tangled the Series would have solved like half of it’s problems had Menken and Slater been allowed write and actual apology duet between Raps and Varian. 

Such a duet was proposed during Rapunzel’s Return but it could have worked here too, and you could have placed Lance’s solo in Day of the Animals or something, just leave Rapunzel out of that episode all together. 

Nothing honestly needed to be cut music wise, yet for some reason season three has less songs than the other seasons, even when counting the reprises, and they’re mostly shorter too. 

That’s mismanagement right there. Plain and simple. Someone at the top didn’t know how to balance the budget or resources and didn’t know where to the throw the money at. 

You Have a 70 Foot Shield Made of Magic Hair, Rapunzel

You couldn’t think to just block those rocks instead?

Giving your protagonist a big hero moment doesn’t work if they placed the person the have to save in jeopardy to begin with show. 

I Do Not Care About Rapunzel Right Now, Show

Yes, she’s the main character. Yes, her feud with Cass is the main conflict of the season and kicked off the episode. That does not mean that I automatically care about her personal feelings at this moment in time. 

Rapunzel has kept such a tight lid on her real feelings for the whole episode that this just comes out of nowhere. I was never waiting with baited breath for her to confess her deep dark secrets or whatever. 

It’s not even an interesting reveal. It’s just “Oh, see Rapunzel’s human too. She’s gets scared just like everybody else.”. I already fucking knew that, thanks. And what she’s afraid of isn’t even that compelling either; it’s a just a rip off of the prophecy dreams she had back in season one. The same ones that had no explanation and never furthered the story, so why should I care about this one?  

You have to earn the audience’s investment in your conflict. The character’s likability, as little as that may be currently, will only carry you so far, you have to establish shit first.  

Varian’s conflict has been the focus of the entire episode so far, and it’s a conflict that was set all the way back in season one, so of course that is what I’m invested in seeing get resolved. Rapunzel is once again just butting in and making it all about her when it’s not actually her story. 

And if you wanted it to be her story then you should have made her the actual focus to begin with and had her learn something by the end of it. 

This is Poor Choice of Words, Writers 

I could be generous here and pass this off as Rapunzel not fully believing in this prophecy. After all Corona’s destruction is still a hypothetical at this point and Cassandra really has left already. Since the episode is about fear, Rapunzel is of course more afraid of losing Cassandra’s friendship as it’s real tangible possibility. 

More than a possibility even, Rapunzel’s been dumped. Season three is a classic break up story, right down to the poor plotting and tunnel vision, hence why it’s so gay baity. 

However, this reading only carries so far. For starters this is Rapunzel’s what, fourth prophecy dream so far? Haven’t the past three already came true, so why would she think this one wouldn’t? 

Secondly, all that good grace goes right out the window once it becomes clear that, yes, Cassandra is indeed a threat; a threat that Rapunzel refuses to take seriously because she cares more about her own personal validation than her kingdom. 

Even as Cassandra does succeed in destroying Corona, and no doubt harms other people while at it, Rapunzel still is obsessed with ‘winning Cassandra back’. Oh and make no mistake, this is not because she actually cares about Cassandra as a person and her needs or feelings. Nope. Rapunzel just doesn’t like being dumped. 

Why Does Varian Need to Shove His Feelings Aside for Rapunzel’s Bullshit?

Rapunzel’s ‘confession’ has fuck all to do with Varian’s current issues. They do not connect in any way.  

Varian is dealing with real trauma, trauma that she helped cause, while Rapunzel is only dealing with a hypothetical prophecy and one very shallow, self-centered fear. There’s nothing to relate to here. Neither for Varian himself nor the audience. 

Yet for some undefined reason this is what gets Varian to ignore his PTSD flashbacks? What? 

This is once again break the narrative promise. I was promised closure for Varian’s story arc and instead of that the writers just brush it up under the rug. 

From the outside looking in this doesn’t come across as Varian ‘overcoming’ his ‘fear’. It looks like an abuse victim using learned helplessness to placate his abusers.

And yes, for the last time Rapunzel is Varian’s abuser. 

NEGLECT IS ABUSE!!! 

And and even though he is no longer her ‘responsibility’, she is still neglecting him emotionally as his supposed friend. 

Varian’s and Cassandra’s Stories Undermined Each Other’s 

Varian stopped the rocks. Rapunzel had nothing to do with it. Zhan Tiri blaming Rapunzel for it steals agency away from both her and Cassandra. 

However, if Rapunzel had used the hurt incantation to stop the rocks and Cassandra had felt it rom the other side, then you’d have something to back up Zhan Tiri’s claim and an actual point of real conflict to carry the rest of the season. Not to mention an actual tangible goal for Cassandra to work towards, survival. 

Cassandra’s conflict with Rapunzel not only prevents the resolution to Varian’s arc from being satisfying, but Varian fulfilling his arc in turn winds up cutting off Cass’s story at the knees. 

It didn’t have to be this way. Varian’s and Cassandra’s arcs should have complimented each other, but instead the creator decided to make them complete for screen time and relevance. 

It is such an gratingly stupid and petty decision that winds up being a disservice for all the characters involved.   

Cassandra’s motivation and goal should have been revealed back in season two. Varian should have been the sole focus of Rapunzel’s Return and gotten his big hero moment there along; with an actual ending to his conflict with Rapunzel that didn’t feel so lopsided and half assed. Then Rapunzel and Cassandra could have both been held accountable for their conflict in season three, instead of pretending like their shit smelled of roses the whole damn time. 

Lance Got a Whole Crowd Cheering Him On For Singing a Song, Varian Just Gets One Asshole Giving Him a Single Line of Congratulations

Did I mention this show has an odd anti-Varian bias? Cause it does. For whatever reasons his own creators hate him and that’s just utterly baffling to me. Like why create a main character that you don’t like? 

I look down on professional writers who treat characters they didn’t create poorly within their works, like with James Gunn and Scrappy Doo in the Scooby Doo Movie, Adric in the Doctor Who spin offs, or even the treatment of Doofus in Ducktales 2017. I don't care how much a character is liked or disliked by fandom, that shit is just tasteless and often unfunny. But at least I understand where they are coming from when they do it. 

But I’ll never understand what compels a writer to sabotage their own work; one that they are getting paid to write no less. Especially when said character is super popular with their fans. And Chris knows this. He knows the ratings plummeted without Varian in season two. He knows the merch didn’t sell because there wasn’t enough Varian products. That’s why he hyped up Varian’s return a whole week before Season Three’s airing with a massive online campaign, but he wasn’t smart enough to treat the character decently afterwards? 

I mean congrats, you convinced a just enough viewers to come back to season three to keep the show on the air I guess, but you left them all pissed off and have nothing to show for it to the higher ups a Disney. 

And Chris wonders why he wasn’t asked back to work on new Disney princesses shows that are currently in the works. 

That is Not Quirin. That is a Plank of Wood Pretending to be Quirin.

*Beep* *Boop*...*Dad Bot Is Proud. exe* 

Quirin is such a pale shadow of his season one self that he might as well not exist. I genuinely don't know why the writers released from the amber so early if they weren’t actually going to use him until the season finale. 

For the longest time I honestly thought that Rapunzel sucked out his soul with that decay incantation; what with that lyric about “setting the spirit free”. I genuinely thought that would be a later plot point, but nope, it’s just bad writing

Him just saying hi to son once and smiling blankly isn’t compelling and it’s isn’t fulfilling. It doesn’t actually resolve his arc. I mean he’s at least shown spending time with his son, but that’s not enough. We need to see him acknowledge past, we need to see him acknowledge his own flaws, and we need to see him being more attentive when Varian is in need. .  

Season one Quirin would be trying to stop Varian from going near the red rocks, a post season one Quirin should logically go after his son to make sure he’s alright, even if he’s know longer trying to actively stop Varian like he once did. 

There’s also that damn note and it’s secrets! 

You know what? That’s it. That’s the problem. The focus is all wrong in season three. Episodes get pulled into to many directions trying to juggle too many characters rather than dedicating the needed time to each individual arc. 

Season two’s finale should have been a three parter with Cass’s full motivation and goal laid bare before leaving.

Rapunzel’s Return should have been solely about Rapunzel and Varian’s conflict and resolving that arc fully 

Either Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf or Day of the Animals should have been a Lance episode about him and the girl’s, no Rapunzel. 

And this episode should have been about Quirin and Varian resolving their issues, with the Rapunzel and Cass stuff as the B plot not the stupid talent show 

There, all fixed. You don't even have to cut much, just rework the focus and leave Rapunzel and Cassandra out of conflicts they have no business being in. 

This Does Not Excuse Rapunzel’s Later Negligence Regarding Cassandra

Just because the red rocks was an accident doesn’t mean Cassandra should get a free pass for all the awful things she does later. Rapunzel uses this one interaction to excuse everything else Cassandra does in season three, as if she was just some poor lost baby and not a grown ass woman out to kill them. 

In fact Cass showing hesitancy here actually makes her later actions even worse. This means that she fully acknowledges that what she’s about to do is wrong, but goes ahead and does anyway, even gleefully so at times. Then she has to gall to act baffled when people see her as a threat? 0.o 

When fans say Cass isn’t redeemable or shouldn’t be redeemed, it’s not because he actions are so much worse than everybody else’s (even though they are), It’s because she doesn’t act like she wants to be redeemed half the time. The show doesn’t properly set up her ‘redemption’, instead it just lazily has Rapunzel yell at us how she’s ‘not lost’. 

Like below for instance. 

What Does Cass Need Saving From?

Cassandra is not in danger. She is the danger. 

She made the conscious decision to leave taking a world endangering artifact with her, and she later makes the conscious decision to come back and be an asshole for no adequately defined reason. 

She’s never shown to be in any physical danger from the rocks, the moonstone, or even Zhan Tiri herself. She apparently can take care of herself in the wild for over a year. She also has the capability of getting a job else where and just living out her life if she wanted to. Nothing is forcing her to listen to Zhan Tiri. 

Heck, even her hurt arm, the one thing Rapunzel is responsible for and could potentially be a continued threat to Cass’s well being, is just completely forgotten about.

And no, mental illness and past trauma are not excuses as well. In fact it’s rather insulting to both people with mental heath problems and abusive survivors to suggest otherwise. We don't need ‘saving from ourselves’ and we aren’t automatically dangers to anybody. Nor do we get free passes if we hurt someone. A jerk who happens to have a mental illness is just a jerk who so happens to have a mental illness; coloration is not causation. 

Conclusion 

It’s better than Rapunzel’s Return, but this episode was still a disappointment. A small part of me whishes this was a two parter because it has so much untapped potential, but I know it’s just be wasted in Chris’s hands. 

Anyways, I consider this to be the true mid-season finale of S3. Not only did the hiatus kick in after this episode, but it also clearly divides the season between the first half filler and the later Cass conflict. As such the next entry will be the mid-season recap. See ya, then. 

Ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

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#anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #anti-casandra #varian #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure

[lovenona]

“SONGS FROM THE LYRE”

or – the odyssey, interlude ii

“what, you don’t believe me?” toji’s voice is syrup and honey against your eardrum. “you’ll believe whatever an old man with yellow teeth tells you about the fabled sukuna, but not me?” 

he bites your neck, playful, and you giggle against him, a light and airy sound. it sings like wind-chimes against summer rain, and you float with the noise, float with him as he nips at your skin. 

“i didn’t say that,” you say, but your voice is too unconvincing when fushiguro toji’s disheveled hair tickles your jawline. his hands play with your waist, thumbprints pressing against your hips: and how can you answer his questions in such a state? how are you supposed to maintain your calm? 

“i said,” you manage in between bouts of laughter, of soft and precious moans, “that i’ve never even heard that serpent speak, and i’m near it just as much as you are.” 

(even now, it swims circles in the corner of the room, oblivious to your antics. you have long since grown used to the idea that this serpent has seen enough of you to last a lifetime.) 

“he’s just scared of you,” toji argues, but his voice is too unconvincing when his tongue is licking stripes across your collarbone as if he’ll never devour anything as enticing as your body again. you tug mindlessly at his hair, running the coarse strands between your fingertips like sand and diamonds. today, toji smells like the sea, like danger, like wine. you know this because you shared it all with him. you know this because if you saw yourself in a looking-glass your mouth would be stained with drink, with toji, with thunder.

toji drags his lips from your collarbone back to your jaw as he plants his garden with a gentle kiss. “he doesn’t like to talk when others are around. but trust me, i know. i’ve always heard it. how do you think i found him in the first place?” 

you eyelids flutter shut beneath toji’s ministrations. you are warm, you think, and perfectly content, even if you know that toji’s bed against the open window will never be a real home to you. but here, mindlessly indulged, it is enough.

“mhmm,” you say, because you are more than willing to believe anything fushiguro toji tells you. “the serpent talks, i’m sure.” 

“he does. some things in this world exist differently than we do. if anyone should know that, it’s you.” 

you know there is some truth to his statement. but lost in the sensation of toji’s calloused hands playing games between your legs, you do not have it in you to argue about it further. you do not have the strength to challenge his words. 

so you say instead, breathless, eyes full of the moon: “tell me more.” and, eyes alight with mirth and pleasure and stardust, he does. 

––

not everyone is the same: not everyone lives powerless. there are those, you see, who hide in shallow coves and windless waters, who do not understand what it means to be alive. there are those who saw stars burn and those who will watch cliffsides crumble. they will not live, but they will not die, so they wallow in darkness. 

and of course, among them, lie creatures of night and hurt and seduction. you know them easily by sight and smell: sirens from the deep who emerge from the shallows to offer their scaled hands in marriage. they peer at you with large and intrusive eyes, searching for the soul they lost long ago. 

everyone knows they were once human. but, as they say, something precious has been stolen away that can never be returned. something has been taken from those lost corpses of the deep, something that has rendered them different and strange and unknowable, until they sing their long and sorrowful lamentations of a love that could have been, of a love that will never be, until they sing for the mortality they left behind.  

they do not know what it means to be alive. and they do not like you, breathing creature of the sand. if you chance upon one, perhaps you should hate them too: hatred for their pain, hatred for their fury. 

(but it is difficult, is it not? to remain heartless in the face of a gentle tragedy?)

once, long ago, a young siren, brittle and strange, lived on the rocks of a desolate coast. day by day he peered out into the open expanse of a midday sky like he could find his missing past waiting for him there. he could not speak: he could only listen. and when he tried to tell of his woes, to ask for food and love and assistance, he found himself cursed by the gods’ tongue. all he told to die would do it. all he told to starve for his sake would do it. all he told to stay with him would do it. but even those who stayed loyal to him could not feed on the salty air, so they too would leave, their bodies damp and cold and still. 

the young siren did not understand why he had changed. he could recall a face, cunning and cruel, that once peered down upon him as he slept. he could recall a cold hand on his throat, icy and frozen with the absence of a heart. but what he could not recall was the time, or the place, or the name. he knew he had changed and that he was no longer alive. so he sat upon his desolate rocks on the desolate coast and let himself stare into oblivion.  

he waited for his lostness to be returned to him. but all those he asked could never find it. and so he waits, still, with his eyes forever fixed on the horizon. 

there are others, too, who live bonded by the cold hand of fate. there are those who linger and should not speak: a ruffled panda on a humid coast who searches for his master, a young man with his heart standing both in and out time. there are those who must have committed an egregious error in a past life to end up so alone. there are those who have sinned from power and now sit in lonely coves as they wait for lovers to take them. there are those who are cursed to watch time pass but to never feel it themselves, to rot within the godliness they alone thought they had attained.

the curses of the sea were human, once. they all were. but water and anger and fate created entities that could not speak enough or could not speak at all. they are no longer us, but something else, immortal and bitter and wasted. those curses would like to be freed; they would like to go home. but, as they say, something has been stolen away from them that can never be returned. 

(do they wait forever for release? they must. they wait, ghosts of the ocean, sirens of the sea, until something will drag them back under.)

–– 

“wake up,” someone tells you, “it’s time.”

you do not know if you would like to listen to the voice. you are plagued with an impeccable sadness that turns your body to lead. you think there is something, a forgotten history perhaps, that has eluded you with the grace of a rabbit. there lies a rock in your throat, tears in your eyes. 

what were you dreaming? and why are you crying? 

(there was a fire, a burning heart. there was blood. there were faces you swore you would protect. there was a molten man with fire in his eyes who dressed your wounds and cured you. you decide to discard the feeling.) 

instead, now, a midday sun sits heavy on your eyelids. you open them, slowly, and you do not immediately recognize this rowboat as your own. you do not seek to recognize these arms which cradle you, this self you must have become while your mind was away. it must all be a story, isn’t it? these faces on your memory? 

the water is shallow, clear, impossibly blue. you must be far from the malevolent shrine, you reckon, although you cannot find the strength to turn back and look for it. it does not matter. something tells you this four-armed man will tell you where you need to go. something tells you that you can trust him.

(i will cure you, you remember he said, although you do not want to. and then i will make sure it never happens again. i will give you power.) 

he swiftly maneuvers the boat into a large and lonely cove. anticipation dances in the air, a warm and welcoming breeze that whispers among the lush trees which litter the mountain beyond the beach. the boat slows as you sail towards the sand, navigate through the smooth rocks and boulders dotting the water. 

but, to your horror, you realize you have been here before. and it had not been in an old dream, because the details are much too vivid to shy away from. you know that you have seen this idyllic place, this narcissus pool, once before. because you know, when you turn your head and find the lonesome figure waiting for you on a smooth and pensive boulder, that you would fall into the endless expanse of those bright blue eyes again. 

(so they wait, ghosts of the ocean, tragic sirens who wish for sand.) 

the four-armed man rows closer. and just beyond, sitting on the boulder, he waits. 

#the odyssey! #toji x reader #sukuna x reader #fushiguro.toji #ryomen.sukuna #jjk x reader

[elencelebrindal]

Female Cloths that have no reason to exist

You all know what I’m talking about, right? Yeah, you do. You absolutely do. 

I’m talking about three specific instances of Silver Cloths that, instead of looking like armor and acting like armor, are more like... oh, you’re a girl? Let’s show that body! Let’s have nothing but a pathetic excuse of armor that should you try to fight will have you easily stabbed in the guts. 

What pisses me off is not the (bad) design itself. It’s the fact that the Silver Cloths are described are armors that cover the body more than the Bronze Cloths. Yet, we have Marin, Shain and Yuzuriha wearing nothing.  These Cloths should adapt to the body of the wearer, right? Well, I want you to imagine how those pathetic armors would adapt to a man’s body. It’s so painfully clear that those armors (or lack of armors) were designed without keeping practicality in mind, but just to have something revealing.

This is a really long post, so I’m hiding it under the “read more”, but I wanted to put my thoughts out there because I’m honestly tired. 

We have example of functional armor. We have June (who’s still better in Awakening as far as design goes, imo), and we have Thetis. 

So first of all, let’s take a look at those good ones, shall we?

This is, in my opinion, one of the best armors I’ve seen worn by a woman on this series. It’s not different from an armor you would see a man wear, just adapted to fit a woman’s body. It has everything; gauntlets, boots, cuirass, pauldrons... nothing’s missing.  A perfect example of how an armor should look. Not a comparison for a Silver Cloth, because the probability of a Silver Cloth having less pieces is high, but a comparison between a good decision and a bad decision. 

This is really good for a Bronze Cloth. The amount of armor, given the description of those Cloths, is perfect. She has everything, and at the same time not too much, perfect for an armor of that rank, since we know that the Bronze Cloth cover the smallest amount of the body when compared to Silver and Gold.  The only thing I don’t like is that she has an impossible “catsuit” (I really don’t have any better ways to call that) under it. It would make way more sense if the upper part was more like a tank top, than whatever sorcery is going on. You ever tried to wear sleeveless anything? You know that stuff slips off continuously.  Aside from that, she’s amazing. 

The main reason why I wanted to present these examples to you is to clarify that I’m not complaining about how much of the body is shown. There’s plenty more male characters that literally are unable to stay dressed on this show (Shiryu, I’m talking to you, wear a goddamn shirt for once).  I’m complaining about how unfair it is to have female characters being so... in a way, objectified. We have good examples, so why not using those examples for characters that should need more than what they’re given?

To make this even more clear, another armor that has no reason to exist is this:

Because honestly, a Surplice covering nothing of importance is really useful. 

I’m focusing on the female characters here because, while half a Surplice is bad, is not as bad as women wearing Silver Cloths that are supposed to be a better protection than Bronze Cloths and instead they get to wear metallic underwear.

This little armor: 

only makes sense for a Bronze Saint. They are supposed not to have a lot of it. And yet, this example in particular has more pieces than the classic Eagle Cloth. It does nothing, but it literally covers more than a Silver Cloth. This armor also has boots, of course. 

Let’s tackle the problem, shall we?

Try to convince me that she’s not wearing just a goddamn metal bra. Come on.  This is not armor.  This is Marin opening her closet, finding one of her fanciest bras, and wearing it alongside those gifts that are actual armor parts. 

The smallest Bronze Cloth of the classic series has a large total of pieces. Boots, gauntlets, some kind of cuirass, pauldrons, knee guards, helmet (in Saint Seiya the definition of helmet is weird, by now we know). Some of them also have those pieces that in a suit of armor could be faulds or tassets, some of them have simple belts, some have cuissess. Give or take 1 to 3 pieces, basically.  The smallest proper Silver Cloth has the same pieces, only they cover much more of the body. Or at least, they should, but we have examples of Silver Cloths literally being the same as Bronze Cloths. It makes me kinda frustrated, but knowing that those armors are stronger gives me a bit of peace.  The best Silver Cloth is the Lyra Cloth, obviously, since it actually matches the description accordingly. 

So... we have what? 2 for the boots, 2 for the gauntlets, 1 for cuirass, 2 for the pauldrons, 2 for the knee guards, 1 for the helmet, and give or take 1-3 pieces for the “optional” ones I mentioned. It’s 10 pieces of armor. 

How many pieces is the Eagle Cloth composed of? 0 boots, 1 gauntlet, 1 breastplate (in absence of other words to call that), 1 plauldron, 2 knee guards, 1 helmet.  It’s 6 pieces of armor.  She’s supposed to have the same, if not more, compared to a Bronze. 

Not only that, have you seen what she’s wearing under it? How is that even remotely comfortable in battle? You know how many times that weird... what the hell is that? A tight high sock? would slip down during a fight? Unless she glued it in place, I highly doubt it’s a good fighting outfit.  It would have been better for her to wear either a single catsuit, or even to keep the leotard but have both of the red tights (preferably leggings uh, you don’t go to battle in tights) be a full piece. 

The manga armor actually has one more piece. It’s not much, but it’s something. It resembles way more how other Cloth’s are treated, when the breastplate is so small.  However, it’s still missing boots. There’s literally no other Cloth, save for Ophiuchus, that doesn’t have boots. What now, they are too much for a woman to handle? June and Thetis have boots.  Marin gets leg warmers and shoes she has to personally provide, apparently, because her Cloth is a discount one. I get that it has to resemble an eagle, but come on. There’s totems depicting smaller animals that have more stuff. 

This artwork I found is from CamilleAddams on Deviantart:

See how easy is to give her a proper armor? It’s still missing the boots, but it’s already much better. It looks like a Silver Cloth, now. And this is only one of the many “updates” I’ve seen made by artists way more talented that I could ever aspire to be. 

This is my own sketch of a proper Eagle Cloth:

Is this really so unrealistic? To have an actually good Cloth for a Silver Saint?

Now, time to take a look at Shaina.

How many pieces is this armor comprised of? 1 breastplate, 2 pauldrons, 0 boots, 1 gauntlet, 1 helmet, 2 knee guards. A total of 7 pieces, just one more that Eagle. 3 less than a basic Bronze Cloth. 

The same exact discourse applies to the Ophiuchus Cloth. Copy-paste what I wrote for the Eagle Cloth and use it here.  Also the hot pink leg warmers paired with yellow HEELS (which yes, are stupid), green leggings and brown leotard are a spectacular combo. Who in the fresh hell decided the colors for her, this is a disaster more than her Cloth. 

At least she actually has no gaps between leotard and (hopefully) leggings.

I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but the Omega Ophiuchus Cloth is so much better than this, at least in base concept. The art is as ugly as my face in the morning, but the concept is legit. 

Look at this, ridiculous but PROPER armor. 

Once again, the manga has one more piece. It looks like she’s not wearing shoes, but it’s the manga, I give that a pass. 

But this particular Cloth makes me unbelievably angry, and you know why? Because the Ophiuchus Gold Cloth exists. And the Ophiuchus Gold Cloth is the proof that this thing doesn’t need to be so useless, because if that can be proper armor, this could be as well.  It’s a design choice, and it’s a poor one to say the least. 

Look at the Gold Ophiuchus Cloth (render by LadyHeinstein on Deviantart):

Look at this, and tell me that a decent suit of armor couldn’t be conjured for the Silver Cloth as well.  The Ophiuchus constellation is literally a man holding a snake. There’s no excuse for not having a human-like Cloth like, I don’t know, the Andromeda Cloth.  Instead, Shaina gets a version that’s not even half a human figure, with nothing to wear but discounted armor that honestly should go straight back to the shop where it came from. 

This is what makes me even angrier when it comes to this particular Cloth. 

Again, this is an “updated” version of the Ophiuchus Cloth by CamilleAddams on Deviantart:

See how much better it is? How much more realistic it looks, when it comes to Saint armor? It looks like a proper Silver Cloth like this, even with no boots. 

In comparison, here’s my own sketch (much lower quality, I know) of the Cloth:

It’s not that difficult! Just have them wear the same stuff their companions wear, is this so much to ask?

But now we come to the best one. Peak character design. So amazingly appropriate for battle that it’s stunning. Crane Yuzuriha from The Lost Canvas. 

What. The. Absolute. Fuck. 

How is that a Silver Cloth? How is that a Cloth? Come on!

Leaving aside the fact that I hate how she doesn’t wear the mask (I made a post about this whole issue, back in the day, I’ll try to link it as soon as I can), she has basically no armor on expect for her legs and arms.  Whatever bullshit is going on on her chest is everything but armor.  She has sandals, for gods sake. Sandals. You don’t want to be a Saint wearing sandals, this is not Ancient Romans having wars for breakfasts, this is a supernatural warrior constantly kicking the shit out of stone and trees (generally speaking). How are sandals something appropriate for a Saint? This is the same exact stuff I wrote for the skirts of the Saintias, it’s not appropriate for the setting. 

But let’s leave this, and let’s tackle what she (doesn’t) wear under her armor. Yuzuriha, my dear, I know that you have abs of steel and you want to show off, but that’s an excellent way to get injured all over with no effort whatsoever. Unless you have invulnerable skin, you’d want to wear something better than booty shorts and bandages that are apparently glued on her boobs. Wear at least something like June, if you don’t want to have sleeves.  This is a design flaw, not something beautiful. The concept is good on its own, but a Saint should NOT be dressed like that. They’re constanly being thrown at whatever surface is the hardest at the moment. Imagine your bare skin sliding at the speed of sound on rocks and dirt.  It’s not only unpractical, is technically dangerous. And I get it, this is an anime, everyone is invulnerable unless blood is needed, but even then this is utterly ridiculous. 

And now, the most ridiculous thing of them all: the breastplate.  It’s literally two sheets of silver feathers apparently glued to her skin. Nothing more. It’s not armor, it just... it’s literally nothing. She’s better off not wearing it, at this point, because it’s useless. 

She would just need a better breastplate/cuirass for that Cloth to be appropriate. Everything else is fine (minus the heels, but at this point why do I even try).  In comparison, a male Saint wearing that Cloth would probably end up shirtless, either the Cloth adjusts itself to the body or not. Who in their right mind would go in battle shirtless????? (yeah yeah, Shiryu and Dohko, but those two have armor on when they don’t act like strippers, at least pay them good money dammit). 

What infuriates me is knowing how the other Silver Cloths are like. It’s painfully obvious that Yuzuriha had to be the edgy woman with revealing clothes and armor, when you look at the REAL Silver Cloths of this series. 

Those shrtless dudes also want trouble, but at least they are somewhat covered. They still need to wear a goddamn shirt, but they also have more armor.  Why they can be THIS normal, but Yuzuriha has to look like she lost half her armor in a dumpster fire and tried to make to with the remnants?

I really like her as a character, and I don’t mind her wearing what she wears (dude, she’s can afford to dress like that, I wish), but the Cloth is terrible. 

The women in Saint Seiya Omega were better equipped than these three poor souls. I don’t like that series at all, and I forgot at least half of it (if not more) since the last time (aka the first) I watched it, but they do have more properly designed armors.  These three - Marin, Shaina, and Yuzuriha - are a perfect example of what you don’t have to do when designing armor for female characters, unless you don’t actually need the armor and it just aesthetic.  June and Thetis, on the other hand, are the perfect example of what you HAVE to do when designing armor for female characters, following the circumstances and the setting. 

Thank you for reading my (way too long) essay. Have a good day. 

#saint seiya #i cavalieri dello zodiaco #los caballeros del zodiaco #os cavaleiros do zodiaco #knights of the zodiac #the lost canvas #silver saints #bronze saints #eagle marin #ophiuchus shaina #crane yuzuriha

[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible - 15

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: canon typical, discussion of injury

***

Sookie sat at the bar with a glass of whiskey and coke in front of her. That was as close as you got to consoling her over what she just saw. You didn’t want to make it better. In fact, you preferred her wanting to stay the hell away from Bill.

Eric stood behind you sipping at his own drink while he ran a finger up and down the back of your arm. You leaned into his chest savoring the contact. Finally, Bill emerged from the basement. Sookie refused to look at him even when he stood right beside her.

“I want to thank you for securing my release,” he said.

“Uh huh.” Sookie stood but still didn’t look at him. “Let’s go. I have to pack.”

“Pack?” His gaze darted from this blonde to the two of you. “Where are you going?”

“None of your business, Compton,” you answered for her. You glanced at Eric and gestured toward Sookie with a nod of your head. “I think I better go with. Just to make sure everything stays on track. I’ll pack when I get back.”

He nodded once and kissed your temple. “Be safe.”

You walked backward away from him with a little smirk. “Just driving to Bon Temps, Eric. Think I’ll be just fine.”

***

You sat in the back while Sookie drove and Bill sat in the passenger seat. They’d been arguing almost since the drive started. Fortunately, you were nearing the little town.

“You killed him, probably both of them, and you don’t even care,” Sookie said for the fourth time.

Apparently, Bill was as tired of hearing it as you were. “I am a vampire, Sookie. I needed to feed. If you insist on associating with vampires, you need to grow up. And if you wish to blame someone for the deaths, blame Eric. If he had fed me during my incarceration, I wouldn’t have been so ravenous.”

“You’re seriously not going to take any responsibility? You know why you were in that basement. You would still be there if not for her, so watch your tone,” you snapped.

Bill snarled at you. “Just because you and Eric are fornicating, does not mean you have any authority over me. So, you would be wise to watch your tone.”

The car slid to a sudden stop causing you to rock forward. You glanced to Sookie with a frown.

“Get out,” she said.

“Pardon?” the vampire asked.

“You heard me, Bill Compton. Get the fuck out of my car. First, you insult me and then you threatened my friend.”

“I am not getting out of the car, Sookie. Just drive.”

“Fine,” she said before throwing off the seatbelt. She got out of the car, taking the keys with her and slamming the door.

Bill groaned and started to open the door until you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got this. I think you’ve done enough.” You followed after your friend without giving him a chance to respond. You were surprised to find she’d already put a good deal of distance between herself and the car. She apparently could get a move on when she was pissed. You jogged after her. “Sookie. Wait up.”

She slowed and turned to you with a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Something was in the brush keeping pace with you but you didn’t even react. No sense in freaking out the telepath unless necessary. “Hey,” you said as you reached her.

“Hey,” she said as she turned to start walking again. You put a hand on her arm to stop her.

“Stay still.”

She looked at you in confusion until another burst of sound came from the trees around you. She jumped a little. “What was that?”

You hummed to let her knew you heard, but you were too busy listening to give her more of an answer. You needed to pinpoint the origin of that noise so you could get Sookie the hell out of here. Suddenly, a figure stepped into the path and caught your attention. What the fuck was that? It was a thin figure with a bull’s head and large clawed hands. You pulled Sookie behind you so you were between her and the beast.

The only weapon you had was your knife and you certainly didn’t want to face this thing with just that. As the beast hunched forward in a charging pose, you pushed Sookie down the path. “Run, Sookie.”

“What?”

“Just run!” You yelled as the beast launched itself toward you. Shit it was fast. You might be able to outrun it, but Sookie couldn’t and you were keeping yourself between the two of them. Your only hope at the moment was that your vampire felt your terror and was on his way to perform a daring rescue. Or something like that.

You didn’t look back—looking back only slowed you down. You just kept running and pushing Sookie forward when necessary. Then white-hot pain raked across your back as claws tore through your clothes to rend the flesh. Fuck. You collapsed to the ground and curled in on yourself. Oh god, that hurt.

Sookie screamed at a rather impressive decibel then yelled for Bill before kneeling next to you. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” you said on a groan. “Fuck.” The wounds burned and you really wanted to what the hell had attacked you because this wasn’t an ordinary injury.

“Bill, do something,” Sookie ordered.

You chuckled though it was masked in another moan of pain. Compton wasn’t going to do shit for you.

“Eric will be here shortly. He would not appreciate my interference. We should go.”

“I’m not leaving her here.” Sookie sounded disgusted at the mere thought and you were certain you didn’t have to worry about her returning to Bill any time soon.

“I should hate think you were refusing to render aid to my mate, Bill,” Eric’s smooth voice flowed over you. Despite the implied threat, he barely spared the other vampire a glance as he crouched by your head. He brushed hair away from your face and ran his gaze over your face to see how you were handling the injury.

“Something’s wrong,” you forced out through clenched teeth.

He bit into his wrist and held it out for you to drink. You took a long swallow before jerking away with a cough. Then you heaved as you vomited up the blood. The motion made your back burn in fresh pain.

“Fuck,” Eric muttered. “What attacked her?”

“I don’t know what it was. A man with a bull’s head. It just stood in the dark then charged at us,” Sookie explained, still sounding terrified.

“Clawed hands. The wound burns. Like acid,” you added.

Eric gathered you up in his arms. “Bill escort Sookie to her car, then walk home. Miss Stackhouse can finish the drive without you I believe.”

He undoubtedly argued, or would have if Eric had given him the chance, but you two were already on your way back to Fangtasia.

You passed out on the trip and were awoken by someone poking at your wound. You were laying on your stomach on something soft in the middle of the club. You hissed and turned your head to see a very short woman in scrubs. Eric stood nearby with his arms crossed over his chest as he observed. Once he realized you were awake, he was by your side in an instant, kneeling by your head.

One hand brushed your hair away from your face and he grasped your hand with the other. “All will be fine, mitt allt.” He shifted his attention to the doctor. “What is it?”

“We don’t have a lot of choices. She’s been poisoned.” She paused to examine something on her glove. “You hear of Komodo dragons? Their mouths are teeming with bacteria. They bite you then follow you around until you succumb to the toxins and you are helpless. Then it will devour you alive.”

“This wasn’t a Komodo dragon,” Eric responded in annoyance.

“No. But the toxin is similar, only much more effective. I don’t think I’ve seen it before but it’s hard to tell without further testing and we don’t have that kind of time.” She pulled a blue bottle from her bag and looked at Eric. “You need to leave so I can remove her clothing.”

You squeezed his hand. You didn’t want him leaving you alone.

“She is my mate. I will stay.”

The woman’s gaze shifted to you and you gave a small nod.

She sighed. “Very well. You can help then.” They stripped your shirt, Eric doing his best to jostle you as little as possible. It still hurt like a bitch. “Hold her down.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. Your fears were validated when the doctor opened that blue bottle and poured it across the wounds on your back. Whatever was in that vial hurt far worse than the wound itself. You clenched your teeth against the pain before finally giving up and releasing a scream that left your throat raw. Just as the pain began to subside, the bitch of a doctor dug one of her fingers into the wound and dragged it the length. “Fucking fuck. Son of a bitch.”

You weren’t certain how long the torment went on. It could have been hours or minutes that simply felt like hours. Finally, she finished. You were exhausted and still hurt, but apparently you weren’t dying any longer. “You can give her your blood now. Her body should accept it. I’ll expect payment by the end of the week.”

Eric gave her a nod then bit into his wrist before offering it to you. You drank long and deep. When you finished, you remained still as you waited for the healing to kick in. Eric sat beside you, holding one of your hands in his own. Once the pain had mostly subsided, you opened an eye to peer at him. “A couple more decent injuries and I’ll have more of your blood in me than my own.”

He gave you a look that said you weren’t nearly as funny as you thought you were. “I sent Pam and Chow into the woods. They found nothing but a scent they couldn’t recognize.”

You huffed. “That’s helpful. Is it healed yet?”

“Nearly. Let me get you something to wear.” He released your hand and you closed your eyes as you waited for him to come back. You heard him sit but kept your eyes shut. “Do you recall the last time your father drank from you?”

You furrowed your brow. What an odd question. But it had been months at this point now that you thought about it. “Three months. Maybe four. Why?”

“Because he felt your panic almost as soon as I did. Not only have I drunk from you far more recently, but as you’ve said, you’ve had quite a bit of my blood. It should have diluted your connection with him.”

He was right but you had no answers for him so you simply shrugged.

He hummed then stood. “Come, mitt allt, let’s get you cleaned up.”

***

You called your father as Eric drove you home. You were dressed in an oversized t-shirt from the bar and your panties. Everything else had probably been burnt by now.

“Y/N,” he answered. Oh, he was pissed.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Don’t you daddy me. What the fuck is going on over there? You quit working for me because you were tired of all this shit but here you are nearly dying for free. Is it worth it?” His tone was one you rarely heard directed at you and you didn’t like it. It immediately had you on the defensive.

“So are you pissed I was hurt or pissed I don’t work for you anymore? I’m having trouble telling.” Eric’s hand found your thigh and gave it a little squeeze. You laced your fingers together with his and held his hand.

“Don’t start that shit with me, Y/N Y/M/N. This is twice you’ve nearly died in as many days. I have every right to be furious. At least if you were still working for me, I’d know exactly where you were and what you were up against. I could send the entirety of the resources at my disposal to assist you.” He paused and sighed. You could picture him pacing his office as he spoke to you. “I want you to come home.”

Eric’s hold on your hand tightened.

“Eric is my mate. I am home.”

You heard something break on his side of the line. “You haven’t completed the ceremony yet. It’s not too late to back out.”

“I accepted his claim. That is enough and you know it. What is this? I thought you liked him?” You took your hand back to rake it through your hair.

“That was before he proved himself utterly incapable of protecting you,” your father snapped.

You swore you could almost feel the irritation and paid radiating off Eric. You took a breath to calm yourself before responding to Roman. “Eric doesn’t have to protect me because he has faith in me to protect myself. And when things went bad, he was there to pick me up and take care of me. How many times exactly did I nearly die running errands for the Authority? I lost count but I’m sure you have a tally somewhere. I don’t want to talk to you for a few days. Please don’t call me.” With that you hung up.

You were nearly home before Eric spoke. “Are you all right?”

“Sure. You?”

He chuckled. “He is not my father.”

You thought about saying he wasn’t yours either, but that would be a lie and you knew it. Biology be damned, Roman Zimojic was your father in every way that mattered. You simply sighed and turned to look at the window.  

#eric northman x reader #eric northman fanfiction #true blood fanfiction #impossible #series

[constantsvariables]

꧁  B I O S H O C K  STARTERS ≪ PT . 3 ≫ ꧂ 

An extensive collection of dialogue from the video game Bioshock to be used as rp starters / prompts. Feel free to change pronouns and details as needed. trigger warning for : violence , death , injury , foul language. 

" I'm sorry for that outburst … "

" You'll have to forgive an old fool his artistic temperament . "

" How about some fucking service around here ?! "

" He was a nasty one … and my favorite . "

" What happened to you ? "

" I see Cohen's lost his touch . " 

" If you knew him when he used to believe in the work … in the struggle . "

" But look around … it's a regular convention of worms around here . They all had mothers , fathers , people who loved them . What makes you any different ? "

" I'd explain the science that renders what you're trying to do impossible ,  but that would be like playing Mozart for a tree frog . "

" Ignore the lies of Atlas and his Parasites . Rapture is on the rise . "

" I've seen such terrible things , and done worse myself . "

" Thank you for reminding me that the light of the world has not yet been snuffed out . "

" Are they all dead ? Hope so . "

" So far away from your family , from your friends , from everything you ever loved . But for some reason … you like it here . "

" Mark my words - your only reward will be a knife in the back . "

" Christ  , what a racket you're making down there . "

" In the end , all that matters to me - is me . And all that matters to you - is you . It is the nature of things . "

" Even in the book of lies , sometimes you find truth . " 

" There is indeed a season for all things . "

" But know this - you are my greatest disappointment . "

" A season to all things : A time to live , and a time to die . A time to build , and a time to destroy . "

" The assassin has overcome my final defense , and now he's come to murder me . "

" In the end , what separates a man from a slave ? "

" A man chooses . A slave obeys . "

" I gotta say , I had a lotta business partners in my day , but you … "

" You've been a pal , but you know what they say … never mix business with friendship . " 

" Thanks for everything , kid … "

" If you won't dance to that tune , I got others . "

" ADAM improved every aspect of a man … except his character . "

" That's it kid . You're busto . "

" Florence Nightingale huh ? That'll come crashing down before you can say canned tomatoes . "

" Kills me to turn my fist to you , but business is business . "

" Don't let it get you down … won't make a difference when this whole place is fish food . "

" I hear your wings flapping in my home . "

" Stay and enjoy the dance , if you wish . "

" When will you ever learn to take instruction ? "

" Hate to see you this way , kid . " 

" You will not believe me , but there was a time when this place was all so beautiful . "

" Whadya take me for , some kind of mental incompetent ? "

" They say to save one life is to save the world entire . "

" I'm gonna miss this place . "

" Rapture was a candy store for a guy like me . "

" Give me a smart mark over a dumb one any time . "

" A new curfew will be enacted on thursday . Citizens found in violation will be relocated to Apollo Square . "

" Perhaps you unlock a future for them that I cannot even imagine . "

" You don't have to build a city to make people worship you . Just make the chumps believe they're worth a nickel . "

" You think Ryan's gonna be there for you when you're down and out ? "

" You , me , and a submarine topside . "

" You let him get away ! "

" You're playing a bad hand ! "

" Now there's nothing left for you but a long , cold , nothing . "

" I'd turn tail if I were you . Ain't nothin' here for you but tears . "

" What things we have done … what things … "

" Look around you ! There's nothing to save ! "

" Rapture is a mausoleum , a god damn cemetery funhouse . "

" You're just a ghost … just a matter of time until you realize it . "

" Come back when you get some money , buddy ! "

" You know , you should be THANKING me ! "

" It's a wounded world , is it not ? "

" How can I thank you for this kindness ? "

" Where you gonna go ? "

" Better with you than alone . Alone in the crawling darkness . "

" There will be no going back from here . "

" You gave them the one thing that was stolen from them . A chance . "

" In the end what was your reward ? You never said . "

#resources #bioshock starters #video game starters #rp starters #rp prompts #roleplay sentence starters #roleplay sentence meme

[algernoninwonderland]

Miraculous’s Paris feels quite impersonal and its geography is incomprehensible most of the time, which makes it difficult to care about it whenever it’s in danger

TL;DR: Paris in Miraculous has a weird geography, and unfortunately, the show doesn’t hide it all that well, which makes it hard to believe in the city as a coherent and cohesive space. Bad lighting and poor texturing makes scenes set outdoors during the day look real bad, and while some of the famous buildings in Miraculous are pretty close to the real thing, they don’t mean much to the viewers emotionally speaking, they don’t elicit a reaction other than “huh, that’s neat”. If your heroes’ mission is to protect a city that’s just “neat”, well it’s pretty hard to care about said mission. 

When you aren’t French and you want to make a show or a film with a scene set in Paris and you want to sell it to an international audience, you put the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre and cafés everywhere. And that’s fine! It’s just a backdrop, you’re not supposed to care about it all that much, because you’re going to spend 2 hours there at most and what’s more, more often than not, Paris is just a decor, not the whole conceit of the film/show.

Miraculous’s version of Paris follows that same logic, weirdly enough, even though it’s made by French people, and initially intended for a French audience. The Eiffel Tower is in a whole lot of shots, we spend a lot of time at the Louvre and near some other touristic landmarks such as the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, the Grand Palais, the Place des Vosges and the Place du Châtelet alongside the occasional metro station, they’re all decently made, at least they’re recognisable. Good job, you guys! (I’m sincere about that bit of praise, too)

It uses referential elements, i.e. things from the real-life Paris… And mashes them together in a bizarre way. Monuments are way too close to one another, or they are places they shouldn’t be. That, in and as of itself, would be fine. Paris is big. You can’t model every single Parisian street in existence, you have to make choices to stay within your budget. And with Miraculous, it kind of works…? If you don’t think about it too much, that is.

This, for instance (that’s from Animan) doesn’t make any damn sense. The Eiffel Tower should be on the other side of the Seine, not here, and the Place des Vosges isn’t that close to the water. Still, it sort of works, if you haven’t lived in Paris yourself. Which will be the case for most people watching Miraculous. It’s a show about a girl who uses a magical yoyo, so I can excuse that sort of weird stylistic choice due to budget constraints.

So, basically, Miraculous has pretty good individual sets, especially indoors sets,Marinette’s house, Agreste mansion, the school, these cool touristic locations, the Grévin museum, even, but they either feel too close to one another or like they belong to different, disjointed spaces. It’s hard to tell where each location is meant to be in relation with one another, even when our characters travel from one place to another.

And how do they travel? Well, they jump from rooftop to rooftop and the landscape stretches endlessly. Rooftops that all look the same. It’s the exact same "set” every time. That isn’t a bad stylistic choice per say, if the point you want to make is that Paris is really really big and there are lots and lots of houses that all kind of look the same, it’d work really well. It’d make the city feel a little oppressive. But you want Paris to be a space the audience cares about, right? So maybe don’t do that?

The way travelling works in Miraculous is, you jump onto a rooftop, you run you run you run and then you land and you’ve reached your destination. Each trip works the same. Doesn’t help make the various sets feel connected, no, sir. Plus, the Eiffel Tower teleports all over the place.

Can you tell me where Alya’s flat is supposed to be? No, really, can you? It’s a nice art déco building, someone probably went through lots of references to model it and it shows! Nice job, really, I mean it. But where is it?  

Well, it’s in an Autodesk Maya file in a database somewhere, but other than that… You’ll tell me if you ever figure that out, I sure wasn’t able to!

So it’s hard to believe in Paris as a kind of non-fragmented space, even more so when wide shots look like this 

and that tells you everything that can go wrong with Miraculous’s outdoors scenes. (also that shot composition isn’t bad at all but it’s weird for a scene like that)

Copy and paste your assets, benches, trees and houses, and don’t modify them one bit. The thing it, that’s fine in shots in which the camera moves a lot, it works well with certain angles, which is the reason why there are lots of chase scenes that go too fast for you to notice that there aren’t all that many “regular house” models, some with an alternate “café” ground floor which features awnings with three different colours. That’s a trick cartoons like Scooby-Doo already used in the 60s to simulate speed. That’s good when things move!

Only, sometimes you see two awnings with the exact same colour in the same, very still shot that lets you see the street in which the house models alternate in a pattern that is easy to detect. You become truly aware that this is a set created by people that feels very artificial. 

Textures in Miraculous are great when it comes to the character models. For the rest not so much. The really ugly pavement texture you see here…

… looks fine when shot from above but looks like dogshit when the camera is closer to the ground, if I may be so blunt. Everything looks worse in the daytime, because daylight is rendered rather poorly most of the time, and the textures either haven’t loaded properly or aren’t high-res enough. That pavement feels real flat, like a texture, not like pavement. Which isn’t very good. Trees often feel like plastic, dirt doesn’t look like dirt at all, more like sand. Miraculous isn’t going for a photorealistic vibe, nor should it be, but these textures just don’t work very well to represent what they are meant to represent. They seem a little off, just enough for you to notice.

Often, everything looks squeaky clean too. Norman Reynolds of Star Wars fame understood that squeaky clean props and sets and costumes aren’t very convincing and tend to feel cheap, so you need to apply a bit of weathering. And Paris isn’t exactly clean. In Miraculous, most buildings are spotless. They don’t feel like they’ve existed for long despite their 19th century architecture. Are you supposed to feel like this is a story set in a giant dollhouse starring action figures? I’m not sure that was the intended effect, there’s an episode with alive toys and the toy world looks even plasticky-er

(Nighttime scenes, on the other hand, can be really gorgeous. Sapotis’s outdoors scenes are truly magical, it’s a really nice-looking handful of scenes because you get to have a better control on the way your scene is lit. Likewise, most scenes set indoors tend to look quite good because there’s greater control over the lighting sources).

Some spaces feel familiar and friendly, homely, even, namely Marinette’s house, the houseboat to a lesser extent, these are all places you’d hate to see get destroyed, and you get a sense of where they are. Sort of. Ish. But outside of that… There aren’t any memorable streets, most monuments are just that, monumental, important imposing buildings don’t feel personal. There are no charming details about them for the camera to zoom on either. 

Miraculous’s outdoors Paris is a series of more-or-less well-made sets that are loosely connected to one another in a way the audience can’t properly process. You aren’t made to feel attached to most of these sets. Technical issues and a limited budget alongside creative choices to feature iconic touristic landmark rather than having streets that feel more intimate, unique and lived-in means that you can’t really care all that much about Miraculous’s Paris as a place.

And it’s a shame. If these two heroes are fighting to protect a city the audience isn’t made to care about, the stakes are much lower all of a sudden. 

The scene in the New-York special with that helicopter shot of all the destruction caused by Mayura’s amok didn’t feel nearly as impactful as it should have. You really ought to wonder why.

#miraculous #ml #ml salt #ml critical #ml canon salt #long post #paris

[i-sold-my-soul-to-house-wrath]

The 'Tied-To-The-Bedpost' Scene - Chain Of Iron

James retired to his room with Thomas, who helped nail the window shut before heading back downstairs to play cards.

Cordelia, after visiting her own room to change into a comfortable tea gown, joined James, who locked the connecting door firmly after her and moved a chair in front of it for good measure.

Then he began to get undressed.

Cordelia supposed she should have expected this. The whole idea was that James would go to bed, after all, and he couldn’t be expected to sleep with his shoes and jacket on. She pulled a chair up beside the bed and settled herself on it, Cortana across her lap.

“Your drive today,” he said, undoing his cuff links. His shirt sprang apart at the wrists, revealing the strong line of his forearms. “Did it lift your spirits?”

“Yes,” she said. “There’s a fanciful story of a barrow in the Berkshire Downs where if you leave a coin, Wayland the Smith will mend your sword. I brought Cortana there, and it does seem to be sitting easier in my hand now.”

She wanted to tell him the rest—of Wayland the Smith, of her swearing fealty as a paladin. She had not told Matthew. It was too new, then, and there was too much wonder in it. And now, she found, she could not tell James, either; it was too much, too strange a tale for tonight. If all went well, she would tell him tomorrow.

“They say Wayland the Smith made the sword Balmung, which Sigurd used to kill the dragon Fafnir,” James said, stripping off his jacket and braces. “A king imprisoned Wayland, to try to force him to forge weapons. He killed the king’s sons in revenge, and made goblets from their skulls and a necklace from their eyes.”

Cordelia thought of the blue stone necklace Wayland had been wearing and shivered a little. It had not looked even a bit like eyes, but nothing about the man she had met made her believe him incapable of the deeds in the story James was telling.

“They say all swords have souls,” she said. “That makes me feel slightly uneasy about Cortana’s.”

He smiled crookedly, unbuttoning his shirt. “Perhaps not all the stories are true.”

“We can hope not,” she said, as he clambered onto the bed in trousers and undershirt; there were already pillows stacked against the headboard, and a coil of rope on the coverlet. The undershirt left his arms bare from the elbows down, traced with black Marks and the pale scars of faded runes. “I will tie my wrist to the bedpost, here,” he said, “and then, if you could tie the other wrist, it would be safest, I think.”

Cordelia cleared her throat. “Yes, that—that does seem most secure.”

His glanced over at her, his hair ruffled. “What was the trouble with Cortana?”

“It had not felt quite right in my hand since we fought Belial,” Cordelia admitted; that much was the truth. “I think that his blood might have affected it somehow.” Which Wayland himself explained to me, but I cannot tell you that.

“Belial.” James took the rope, carefully looping it around and around his left wrist and binding himself to the bedpost.

His head was down; Cordelia watched the muscles in his arms flexing and relaxing as he secured himself. Though it had been months since the summer, there was still a visible line where his skin was browner, then whiter, below the sleeves and collar of his shirt. “That is why I wanted you in the room with me.” His voice was low, almost rough. “The others know Belial is a Prince of Hell, but only you and I have seen him. Only we know what it means to confront him.”

Finished with the knot, he sat back against the stacked pillows. His hair was very black against their whiteness. For a moment, Cordelia saw again that blasted place where they had fought for their lives: the sand flaming into glass, stark trees like skeletons, and Belial, with all his beauty, and every bit of humanity burned from him.

“You don’t believe the others would be willing to stop you if it meant harming you,” she said. “But you think I would be.”

James gave the ghost of a smile. “I have faith in you, Daisy.And there is one more thing I must tell you.” He squared his jaw, as if he were steeling himself for something. “I kissed Grace today.”

The night lay before James in all its possible horrors, yet at this moment, his whole world seemed to have narrowed down to Cordelia. He knew he was staring at her, and could not stop himself. He did not know what he had expected—she did not love him, that he knew, but he had broken their agreement, his promise to respect her dignity.

In a way it would be easier if she did love him, if he had broken a romantic agreement. He could throw himself at her feet, beg and apologize. She could weep and make demands. But this was Daisy; she would never do either of those things. She said nothing now, only her eyes seemed to have gotten a little bigger in her face.

“She came here,” he said finally, unable to bear the silence. “I did not invite her. You must believe me; I would not have done that. She came unexpectedly, and she was upset about the murders, and—I kissed her. I don’t know why,” he added, because he could not explain to Cordelia what he could not explain to himself, “but I will make no stupid excuses.”

“I noticed there was a crack,” Cordelia said, in a low, expressionless voice, “in the metal of your bracelet.”

The rope looped James’s right wrist, partially concealing the bracelet. Glancing down, he saw Cordelia was right: a hairline crack ran along the metal. “I may have punched the bookcase, after she left,” he admitted. His hand still ached from the impact. “It may have split the metal.”

“May have?” she said, in the same low voice. “And why are you telling me this now? You could have waited. Told me tomorrow.”

“If you are to watch over me all night, you should know who you’re watching,” said James. “I let you down. As a friend. As a husband. I didn’t want to compound that by keeping secrets from you.”

She gave him a long look. A considering look.

“If you wish to leave,” he said, “you can—”

“I am not going to leave you.” Her voice was measured, even. “On the other hand, you have broken our agreement. I would like something in exchange.”

“As if I had lost at chess?” She never failed to surprise him. He almost smiled. “You might want to ask me at a different time, when I am not tied to a bed. The services I can render you at the moment are limited.”

She stood up, leaning Cortana against the wall. The red tea gown she wore was loose but of clinging silk material, with bands of black velvet ribbon at the hem and sleeves. Her hair was a shade darker than the silk, her eyes the same color as the velvet, and fixed on his as she climbed onto the bed.

“Adequate to what I need, I think,” she said. “I want you to kiss me."

His blood seemed to speed up in his veins. “What?”

She was kneeling, facing him; their eyes were on a level. The gown spread around her as if she were a water lily, rising from leaves. Its deep collar plunged low, edged with white lace that feathered lightly against her brown skin. There was a look on her face that reminded James of her expression the night she’d danced at the Hell Ruelle. A determination close to passion.

“You will one day find your way back to Grace, who knows of our situation,” she said. “But I will marry some other man, and he will know I was married to you. He will expect me to know how to kiss, and—do other things. I do not expect a complete tutorial, but I think I could reasonably ask that you show me how kissing is done.”

He remembered Cordelia dancing, all fire. He remembered the moments after that, in the Whispering Room. He could say to her that she hardly needed any teaching from him; she knew how to kiss. But his mind was consumed with the thought of this man, some man she would marry in future, who would kiss her and expect things from her—

James hated him already. He felt dizzy with it—with rage toward someone he did not know, and with how near she was to him.

“Get on top of me,” he said, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears.

It was her turn to look surprised. “What—?”

“I am tied to the bed,” he said. “I cannot get up and kiss you, so I will have to sit here and kiss you. Which means I need you”—he held out his free arm, his gaze never leaving hers—“closer.”

She nodded. A flush had spread across her face, but otherwise she watched him, wide-eyed and serious, as she moved across the bed toward him, crawling a little awkwardly into his lap. His blood was already running hot and fast through his veins as she settled her knees on either side of his hips. Her face was close to his now: he could see the darkindividual lines of her eyelashes, the movement of her lower lip as she took it between her teeth.

“Tell me again what you want me to do,” he said.

The smooth column of her throat moved as she swallowed. “Show me how to kiss,” she said. “Properly.”

He put his free arm around her, angling his knees up so that her back was against his legs. The tea gown rustled, the material tightening as she moved, molding to her shape. He could smell the scent of her perfume: smoky jasmine. His hand slid into her thick, satiny hair, cupping the back of her head. She sighed, settling more closely against him; the feel of her sent a jagged shard of desire up his spine.

Her lips were heart-shaped, he thought: that dent in the top lip, the circle formed by the lower. She was no longer biting her lip, only looking at him, her eyes filled with the same cool challenge with which she’d faced down the Hell Ruelle. There was no reason to treat her as if she were afraid, he realized: this was Daisy. She was never afraid.

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” he said, and when she leaned forward to do just that, he kissed her.

Her grip on him tightened immediately; she exhaled against his mouth, surprised. He swallowed her gasp, parting her lips with his tongue, until her mouth was hot and open under his. He teased the corner of her mouth with butterfly kisses, sucked and licked at her bottom lip as she gripped his shoulders harder. She was trembling, but she had asked him to teach her and he intended to be complete.

With his free hand, he stroked her hair, pulling the last pins from it, tangling his fingers in the thick strands. Her hands moved to cup either side of his neck, her fingers in the curls at his nape. His tongue teased hers, showing her how to return the kiss—how the exchange could be a duel of lips and tongue, of breath and pleasure. When she sucked at his bottom lip, he surged up against her, deepening the kiss ruthlessly, his free hand fisting in the back of her dress, crushing the material.

Oh, God. Thin silk made hardly any barrier; he could feel her body all up and down his own, the shape of her: breasts, waist, hips. He was drowning in kissing her, would never get enough of kissing her. The softness of her mouth, the noises of pleasure she made in between kisses—she moved to get closer to him, her hips rocking against his. A sharp hiss escaped between his teeth. His arm ached; he had been pulling and pulling against the rope restraining him, his body operating by its own set of needs and desires now.

Cordelia moaned and arched against him. Sparks shot through his veins; the need to touch her was blinding, searing, the ache growing in his blood to do more, to have more of her. She probably had no idea what she was doing to him—he barely knew himself—but if she kept moving like that—

She was his wife, and she was adorable, incredibly desirable. He had never wanted anyone like this. Half out of his mind, he moved his lips across her jaw, down to her throat. He could feel the beat of her pulse, inhale the scent of her hair, jasmine and rose water. He kissed his way down, teeth grazing her collarbone; his lips grazed the hollow of her throat—

She drew away swiftly, scrambling off him, her face pink, her hair tumbling freely down her back.

“That was very instructive,” she said, her calm voice at odds with her flushed face and rumpled dress. “Thank you, James.”

He let his head fall back against the headboard with a thump. He was still dizzy, blood slamming through his veins.

His body ached with unexpressed desire. “Daisy—”

“You should sleep.” She was already gathering up Cortana, already sitting back down in the chair by his bed. “You must, in fact, or we will never know.”

He struggled to regulate his breathing. Bloody hell. If she were anyone else, he’d have said she’d intended this as revenge: his body felt ravaged by wanting her. But she had settled herself calmly in her chair, her sword across her lap. Only the slight disarrangement of her hair, the red marks on her throat where his lips had been, showed that anything had happened.

“Oh,” she said, as if just recalling an item of shopping she’d forgotten. “Did you need your other wrist tied as well?”

“No,” James managed. He was not about to explain why further proximity to Cordelia seemed like a bad idea. “This is —fine.”

“Do you want me to read to you?” she said, picking up a novel from the nightstand.

He nodded very slightly. He was desperate for a distraction.“What book?”

“Dickens,” she said primly, opened the volume, and began to read.

#MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA #CORDELIAAAA #REVENGEEEEE #lmao rip #this was hot #jordelia #james herondale #cordelia herondale #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #the last hours #coi #chain of iron #kita's mind #i love this scene #<3333333