#like they said he lost his faith and implied it had to do w his visions but like he suffered a monumental loss and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fruiteggsaladit · 5 months

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Brain going brrr a yyh fan may speak at length on how Keiko and Kuwabara are parallels of a close and romantically coded bond with Yusuke and from there speak on how the two may mirror each other with Yusuke as the plane of glass and metal, but who will speak on how Yusuke and Yukina are parallels of a romantically coded bond with Kuwabara?? And could therefore be parallels too!

Something something about needing to take care of yourself when you're at your most vulnerable and need to forgive yourself for having vulnerabilities with Yusuke needing to accept Puu, only for Toguro to pull Yusuke two steps back from that huge leap in self-acceptance because he doesn't want Yusuke at his personal best, he wants an executioner that mirrors his own past self, overlaid over the scene of Yukina's birds being crushed* before her own eyes when she had decided she wasn't going to "allow" Tarukane to benefit from her pain anymore and then she was forced into doing so anyway. And Toguro tells her to train herself to cry**

Something something Yusuke speaking with Kuroko the first SD and when she expresses that humans are inherently good, Yusuke thinks out loud that he thinks some humans are fine to kill and Kuroko interprets that in the most bad faith way possible, and Yukina telling Hiei she thinks that if a society is made up of cold-hearted people then those people should die only to seemingly give up when he tells her that she shouldn't rely on her brother when it might be more likely that she was exaggerating for the sake of hearing his opinion (you think a character can lie in a narrative without the narrator stating that they are lying? No, not possible, surely...)

Something something Yukina apparently leaving Hyouga to seek her brother for greater understanding and/or assistance of power... when this was a story initially told by Koenma, who we know by the end of canon has lied and omitted significant information from Yusuke and the others before, why wouldn't he now? And it's some time before we see Yukina again, having apparently returned to Hyouga after the rescue, surely enough time for Yukina to potentially have heard what "the official story" from the Spirit Office is and adjusting her story from there when she tells it to Shizuru, Botan, and Keiko. ... And Yusuke, who is forced to leave Earth because of his new status as a Mazoku distantly related to one of the Demon Kings, and chooses to leave before he strictly needs to be escorted from there in the hope that he'll return sooner if he does.

* Yukina's birds being crushed: Interesting, because Toguro comes across as someone who knows how to torture someone? He has a whole company of individual people who want him dead because he seeks someone "who will give him a worthy fight" (fucking liar if he meant that he would have settled for forcing Genkai to fight him or if it had to be Yusuke, he could have issued an invitation when Yusuke was an adult and not fourteen years old! This man pisses me off! I digress!); at many points he's fought a person and then left them alive so they'll return to him in the hope of revenge, even inviting them into this silly company so he can keep easier track of them and they of him.

I said I digress and then I lost my tangent!! My point was that if this man seems well-versed in torture and using a person's loved ones against them for a goal he has in mind, why kill all the available birds at once? The anime sticks to two birds, the manga has three and may be implied to be more than that, but I feel like he could have said "kill one" or "leave the other/rest alive" to use them again. By murdering the birds all at once, this was just one instance of getting Yukina to cry, when Tarukane has asked for a way to make her cry again, implicitly not just once.

** And Toguro tells her to train herself to cry: Where are the yyh-fans w daddy issues on this topic, one would think they'd eat this part up! An initial first-time reading of this could be that he's telling her to harden her heart because he feels for her and the only advice he knows is to turn oneself into a killing machine as a response to grief. This is annoying to me bc that's far more sympathy for Toguro than I feel he deserves (I hate this man! He's an effective antagonist in that way). Also, it just makes Yukina yet again into a reactive subject?

Idk, all I know is that I had the thought the other day that Toguro hadn't seen or fought Yusuke yet at that point, and had the following thought of "What if Toguro intended to have Yukina join his stupid evil lackey company bc he saw something in her that reminded him of himself" (namely: the determination not to let herself be harmed; the inability to protect her loved ones in spite of that determination; finally, the despair that washed over her following it). Also notable, is that Tarukane stole Yukina from Sakyo. One can wonder what would have happened if Yusuke and the others hadn't arrived when they did: I think the original plan in-narrative by Sakyo was to re-capture Yukina from Tarukane. And I think Toguro considered Yukina for being an executioner candidate. Aaah this might not be a very radical theory out there but I see so few speculations about canon that isn't "who would win" or "whats the best ship" or "kurama: demon and human but mostly demon" or "hiei my comfort gremlin".

#yyh things #yukina #yusuke #kuwabara #keiko #long post

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ptergwen · 3 years

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smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it.

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison��s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions.

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

#tom holland #richkid!tom #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

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douxspider · 4 years

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— 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐲 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐧.

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( potential spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) — Reader is new to town, working at a bakery ran by a kind old lady. Getting used to the ropes of the city, a man in blue arrives unsettled, holding a bloody rag against his knuckles and shivering just slightly. (occurs after arvin approaches the three bullies.)

warnings: blood, mentioned alcohol abuse, bullying. word count: 2,330 published: 9/17/20 ao3 link — part 2, 3

— — • — —

You didn’t ask for much in life. You didn’t want much. Your entire life you let the sea take you where it wanted to take you, and if it brought you to a flourishing island with the most beautiful sunsets and the softest sand, you let it. If it wanted to take you to the dangerous, icy hurricanes where waves clashed and thrown against each other and you drowned in the salty depth, you let it.

You don’t have a will, the town would mock you.

You were new to Ohio, originally coming from New York, and they liked to call you city girl. Your accent was more urban compared to the rural dialect around you. You stuck out like a sore thumb. The community grew together, knew everyone’s names, and when a random strange girl with only a plastic bag of clothes arrived at the nearest motel, it was all the rage.

Luckily, you managed to find a sweet baker lady to take you in. She had a plump figure, rosy cheeks, and graying auburn hair that spoke of pies and sunshine. Her name was Marilyn McCann, she was in her late 50s, and she had lost her two dear sons in the Vietnam war, her husband previously passing from health complications. Marilyn opened the baker, naming it McCann Boys in honor of them.

You were seated behind the counter on a stool, picking at a lemon and poppyseed muffin, placing chunks of the bread in your mouth and eating slowly. It was a quiet day, rain splattering against the window, most people wanted to bake indoors.

While you fidgeted with the book in your lap, idly reading it, you heard the bell ring. You glanced up, and instead of the man moving to the counter, he only took a seat by the window, a rag covering his knuckles as his hat hid his face. He refused to return your eye contact, which was used as a silent method of do you want me to come to you?

You were running the shop alone. You couldn’t ask Marilyn who this strange fellow was. You had to take the initiative.

Getting up from your seat, the stool groaned against the hardwood beneath you, and you made your way towards him. He was bouncing his jean-clad leg excessively, winding the rag around his tightened fist. There were dark stains on it, but you paid it no mind.

“Sir?”

The man twitched his head in your direction, his cap revealing only an inch more of his face before moving back down to the table. “Yeah?” His voice was low, a bit hoarse.

You leaned to the side a bit, crossing your arms, crooking a brow upwards. “You good?”

“Yeah, ah,” he spoke, moving his chin upwards to look at you, and he stopped. You did as well, a silent, complex tension thick between the two of you, before he continued, “Just uh… needed to sit down, s’all. Do I…” he cleared his throat after a voice crack, “do I need to buy somethin’?”

Shaking your head, you gave a quiet, slow, “No.”

Taking a better look at his hands, you noticed it was blood on the rag. So, he was getting that post-fight clarity. You moved to the back and grabbed some pure alcohol you and Marilyn liked to keep, pouring only a bit on a clean washing rag, before heading back to the mysterious man’s location. Taking his hands, he gave a quiet noise of surprise as you tore open his fingers from the old rag and placed it to the side.

“Lady, what are you— ow! Shit...”

Lightly sponging the rag against his knuckles, you then placed the new cloth in his hands, taking a seat in front of him.

The man in front of you seemed somewhat offended, clutching onto the rag and padding it over his knuckles, but also giving you a scowl. “The hell you do that for…? ‘Didn’t need that, I can take care of myself.”

“So, what’d the man do? Pissing contest taken too far?”

He removed the cloth from his hand and wrung his knuckles together, and you stared at the scabs. “Maybe you should keep your nose where it belongs, darlin’.”

You hummed, leaning over the table and resting your bare arms against the surface, looking out the stormy window. “Y’seem like a sweet girl,” the man spoke up, catching your attention, “but that kinda behavior here… askin’ too many questions, it can get ‘ya hurt.”

Eyeing him up and down, you tilted your head so it nearly rested on your shoulder. “Well… y’gonna hurt me, stranger?”

Brown eyes fogging over with clear distant memories, you watched his expression dampen, no longer seeming agitated but only conflicted. “No… no, I wouldn’t hurt ‘ya.” His voice was only a low grumble. “I was taught better than to hurt girls.”

Giving a hum as a response, you tapped your painted fingers against each other. “I’m not trying to be nosy,” you then confessed, “...just curious. Don’t hear much from this town regarding fist fights.”

“You’re the city girl?” With a wince, you nodded. “Ah.”

“That a bad thing, mister?” You asked, trying to analyze his expression. He seemed distant, staring off, before his eyes turned as round as saucers glancing at you.

“No, no, miss, I ain’t imply that. Lotta people know about you ‘round here, it’s rare for a cityfolk to come to this dot on the map,” he explained, “Just curious.”

Clearly that was an insinuation for you to indulge him on his question. Though, feeling smug, and honestly in your right, you told, “You tell me why you’re bleeding from your hands, I’ll tell you my harrowing tale of ending up in Ohio. How about that?”

Surprisingly, the stranger let out a quiet laugh. It was breathy, and for some odd reason you could tell he doesn’t do that often by the way it seemed foreign coming from him, the product from his lips being stopped with his mouth closing. “Fair. You’re good at this game, little lady.” He let his knuckles out into the open air before crossing his arms together, leaning back in the booth.

“My old man,” he started with a distant voice, grimacing at the latter, and you assumed there was a dark history there, “he taught me t’protect myself. To protect others. Now, he was no layabout, he was straight outta the war,” the stranger chuckled, “if anyone tried anythin’, he wouldn’t let ‘em. He taught me that with physical expression.” The jean jacket around his arms got tightened with his whitening grip. “Now, y’see, lotta folk in this town ain’t kind. They ain’t acceptin’, they don’t like new things. They don’t like concepts.”

You listened quietly, feeling your heart slow its pace within your chest, trying to silence itself to take in every word. “I got a sister. Step-sister. She’s sweet, but she ain’t like the others. They don’t like that.”

His jaw tightened as he looked out the window, his blue cap shading his eyes. “...Had t’put an end to it.”

An understanding finally settled in your head. You fiddled with the apron draped around your legs, chin tilted downwards as you took in the information. You looked back at him. “...That’s a good thing.”

“What?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Protecting your sister. That’s a good thing.” You could tell he felt guilty only slightly, perhaps he was scared of himself, scared of what he did. “I never had a sibling growing up,” you told, “having someone there to protect me would’ve done me wonders.” The stranger moved his hand up to his mouth, rubbing the side of his index finger against his chin. You gave a weak smile. “People aren’t too kind here to me, so I don’t need to fantasize your sister’s reality. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be outcasted from your own town like that. Your sister must be a kind soul, being thrown to the wolves like sheep like that.” You shook your head. “It’s not right. I think you did what you had to do. Sometimes that’s the best you can do.”

He was staring at you, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if you said too much. If you were prying too much. You had never met this man before, he could’ve just killed someone for all you know for no rhyme or reason, he could be a sociopath, luring his next victim, but you trusted your gut on saying that this man was right in what he did.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards and he gave a quiet exhale through his nose, nodding his head before glancing at you, head tilted downwards. “Now, your story. Fair trade, little lady.”

With an amused smile, you shrugged. “Came from New York, had no ties. Father ditched when I was still learning my ABCs, mama abused alcohol, that’s what wound her up in the grave. Took that as my sign to go.” You recalled the dirty poor Manhattan streets you grew up on. “Manhattan… it’s a busy city. Too busy. No one knows ‘ya, but they assume they do.” You pointed at him to exaggerate, closing an eye, “If you’re in the wrong neighborhood, that’s what you are now. Wrong. I was a wrong, poor girl with no faith.”

“No faith?” The stranger asked.

“Faith didn’t keep me alive there. Only money.”

He nodded slowly. “Surprised to see someone here not lookin’ to God.”

You clasped your hands together and shrugged. “Well, when he brings me something nice, I’ll go to church.” Glimpsing up at him, you asked, “Do you have faith?”

“Only for my grandmama and sister. I ain’t got no interest listenin’ to a man for hours.”

“You seem like a family man, mister.” You smiled, leaning back. “Are they the only reason you’re here?”

A moment of hesitance resulted from him. “Yeah.”

You decided not to press further.

Taking in the quiet rain, you tapped your hands on the table beneath you three times and stood up, placing your hands on your hips. “Well, mister, do you drink coffee?”

He seemed so small in the booth, huddled up with his arms crossed, brown eyes that were no longer iced over with memories, but instead focused on you with a round childish charm to them. “Ah… yeah, I do.”

Smiling with a nod, you headed and started up the yellow coffee machine. You looked back at him, saw him staring out the window, and you finished up the mug of coffee and gave it to him, hot. Sitting in front of him with your muffin, you both indulged in your delicacies in a peaceful silence.

When his coffee was just about gone, he asked, “Mind if I smoke in ‘ere?” He wondered, and you gave him permission.

“Sure. The only thing I’m concerned about is the gross taste coffee and tobacco must have together,” Wrinkling your nose at the thought, the man laughed, amused as he placed a cigarette in his mouth and used a lighter.

He puffed in the smoke and then removed the cigarette from his mouth, pulling over an ashtray that rested on the table. Blowing through the thin slit between his lips, he murmured, “Arvin.”

“Hm?” You asked, wiping off your hands on your apron from crumbs.

“My name is Arvin Russell.”

Blinking at him, you smiled, testing out his name carefully. “Hi, Arvin. I’m Y/N L/N.”

Arvin seemed a little shy, his cap hiding most of his face before he moved his head up just slightly, catching your eye, pointing out, “‘Like that name. Suits you. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

A little flustered, you pinched your bare lips together before giving out a breathy chuckle. He moved his cigarette to his lips, watching you closely, inhaling the smoke. “You’re sweet.”

Arvin smiled, the paper-wrapped cancer stick between his lips, he pulled it out with a quick huff and said, “You’re the sweet girl talkin’ to bloody strangers sulking in the corner of your shop and givin’ em free coffee, Y/N.” He was staring at the window when he said this, but his head turned towards you, relaxed against the seat behind him, tapping the ashes into the ashtray. “Y’deserve better than this place.”

Feeling overwhelmed with all the positive comments— you didn’t receive many— you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Well, Arvin, I think you deserve good things, too.”

Arvin gazed at you, a soft expression on his face before checking his watch. “Have to head home.” You both stood and you began to clean up. Arvin went up to the counter and gave a few dollars, and you stared at the money, gawking before giving a nervous smile and shaking your head.

“You don’t need to do that, Mr. Russell—”

“Arvin was doin’ just fine, sweet girl,” Arvin said with a smile. “Y’helped me out today. Thank you. Genuinely. I wanna pay back however I can.”

You took the money cautiously, feeling shy.

“Take that money for yourself. Buy yourself another pretty dress,” he said, eyeing the one you wore and tipping his hat. He was about to leave before he turned, hand flat against the glass, the other tucking his old rag into his coat pocket and gazing at you. “...We’ll be seein’ each other again, Y/N.”

Feeling overrun with flustered emotions, you smiled and said, “I would sure hope so, Arvin. I liked having you around.”

Arvin looked to the side, murmuring, “Likewise.”

You were left in the silence of the bakery, the rain turning into a light mist outside. Pressing your lips together, you changed your weight from foot to foot, turning to lean your back against the counter and giving a sigh.

Each encounter with him from then on would slowly grow into something more.

#arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #fic #the devil all the time #tdatt #reader insert #tom holland #mine #2k #peachy keen #douxdamian #my writing #sfw #T #multichap

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enderspawn · 3 years

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It's alright if u don't wanna answer this cuz this argument gets people really riled up but do you think c!Techno is a tyrant or nah?

Cuz many c!techno apologists argue that he isn't just cuz he's an anarchist but I've also read a lot of essays that go against it and it'd be really interesting to see ur opinion on this

i think he, in some contexts, can most definitely be called tyrannical, yes. a tyrant? no.

to avoid spamming ppl w discourse we've all def heard before (and bc this ended up MASSIVE (like 2.3k ish), but fairly in depth bc i didnt wanna speak out of bad faith and wanted to be EXPLICTLY clear-- oops), the rest will be under readmore

so heres the thing i want to preface: i used to really LOVE c!techno. i joined beginning of s2, right when exile started, and he was arguably my favorite character. since then though i've fallen out with him a LOT, to the point i almost... actively despite him at times (though mainly in a toxic kind of way which i can acknowledge is flawed).

in short, his actions started to speak louder than his words and i lost investment in his personal character struggles because of the actions he took (doomsday was my breaking point. i get feeling angry and betrayed, as well as seeking revenge against lmanberg, but his actions went too far for me to CARE and it hurt so many more characters as well.)

so when i speak, i come from a place of disliking him but also somewhat understanding the position c!techno apologists come from: i used to be one of them myself.

NOW, do i think he's a tyrant? no. for reference in my analysis, i try to look up the definition of terms to make sure they are utilized properly. while "tyranny" and "tyrannical" can have multiple uses, tyrant itself is a more specific term. to combine the top two definitions, a tyrant is referring to "an extremely oppressive, unjust, or cruel absolute ruler (who governs without restrictions, especially one who seized power illegally.)"

techno's position as an anarchist, imo, DOES indeed make him unable to be a tyrant. tyrants are rulers with very clear power over others from a structural way. anarchists are about the lack of structure or power over others and instead viewing the people around you as equals in power.

in forming the syndicate, they very explicitly worked to not designate a leader and instead make it so that no one would have any power over the others systemically. techno may have taken a integral role, yes, but it doesn't make him suddenly "the leader", its a role that wouldve had to be filled by someone (even if it was democratic to decide who to invite, they'd need someone to hand over the invite itself yknow? like no matter WHAT there needed to be A ROLE)

one could argue that he IS a leader in the shadow hierarchy of the syndicate (which, yes, is a real and professional term used in management courses despite sounding like it comes from a 4kids yugioh dub) in that everyone CONSIDERS and looks to him a leader without him having any actual structural basis behind it, but to argue that allows him to be a tyrant is in bad faith i believe. especially because to the people he would be "ruling", he ISNT oppressive, unjust, or cruel. they are his friends and support network and critical for a lot of his personal development (since feelings of betrayal and trust issues are critical to his character and why he acts the way he does). I wish we were able to SEE this develop more, but oh well.

but like i said: tyrant is fairly specific in definition. TYRANNY, and thus TYRANNICAL are not as limited. I've discussed their definitions here. originally, i made that post because i was angry at a take i had seen that claimed that, like you said, because techno was an anarchist and not part of any government or leadership position, he couldn't be tyrannical. to which i heartily disagree.

for something to be tyrannical, they simply must have an overarching/oppressive power over someone or something. it would not be inaccurate if i were to say that something is "under the tyranny" of a concept, because what it means is that something is under the power of another thing/concept. you can frankly call anything tyranny if it is widespread/overarching and you don't like it. mask mandates? tyranny, its forcing me to act in "rigorous condition". hell, theres even such things as tyranny of the majority in which people agree too much on one thing and it gives them unfair power or tyranny of the minority where people with minority opinions have too much power (thats a very grossly oversimplified definition of both, but it covers the base idea well enough for my point)

the point im making above isnt meant to be taken as "anything can be worked to be defined as tyranny thus it is a meaningless claim", it is that tyranny (and again, thus tyrannical) are very open and nonrestrictive terms.

to make it easier to define, alongside the definitions provided i want to add an explicit clause that is (imo) implied in the original definition: tyranny is... well, bad. that is to say if someone has power over a group but literally everyone is fine with it and agrees to it, its not tyranny. thats just a group of people getting along and one happens to have power over another. a leader does NOT equal a tyrant (as discussed above), so leadership should not be equated with tyranny.

thus as an example: wilbur acting as president (before the election) may have been "unelected" with power over his citizens, but no one was upset with that power. thus, he is not a tyrant and not acting tyrannically (as well as the fact his power was, arguably, NOT rigourous or absolute but thats another topic for another time). SCHLATT however IS a tyrant, as his power was absolute (he did not consult his cabinet) and forced people to comply instead of them complying willingly, thus he was acting tyrannically.

now to finally get to the damn point of this essay: where does c!techno lie? honest answer? it depends slightly on your perspective, but it depends a LOT on the future of the syndicate.

techno is incredibly clear in his goals: no governments, no corruption. in fighting with pogtopia, he is actively working to topple a tyranny-- he isn't tyrannical for doing that.

when he strikes out on nov 16th, it is because he opposes them forming a new government. when they oppose him and disagree, he launches an attack against them. is this tyranny? maybe, but probably not. he IS trying to impose his own physical strength and power (as well as his resources) over the others to stop them from doing what HE doesn't want them to do.

however its more nuanced than that:

1. hes lashing out emotionally as well as politically. he feels betrayed by those he trusted and he believed that they would destroy the government then go (i'm ignoring any debates on if he did or did not know that they planned another government, though it is a source of debate). but typically idk about you but i dont call tyranny for someone fighting with another person.

2. he also may be acting with good intent again, in HIS EYES. if tubbo was part of manburg, whos to say he wont be just as bad? he, in his pov, is likely trying to stop another tyrant before they rise.

3. and finally, and tbh the most damning from any perspective: he gives up. he quickly leaves then RETIRES without intent to try and attack again until he is later provoked. tyranny is defined by it not just being power, but power being USED. if he doesn't use his power to try and impose any will, then he's not tyrannical.

Doomsday I am also not going to touch very in depth on for much of the same reasons. My answer is again a "maybe", depending on the weight you personally place on each issue:

1. he's lashing out as revenge for the butcher army and as revenge against tommy for "betraying" him (though this one we explicitly know he was ignoring the fact tommy did not want to go through with it, however he still did trust and respect tommy regardless so his feelings are understandable anyway)

2. he sees new lmanberg as corrupt and tyrannical (which is undeniable: house arrest for noncompliance, exile without counsel, execution without trial, etc), and thus obligated to destroy it

but also, theres the implicit understanding he's doing this to send a message: do not form a government, or else. its a display of force that also works to warn others unless they want a similar fate. phil even explicitly states that he is doing so to send that message, so one could assume techno is doing the same alongside his personal reasoning listed above.

what i just described is the use of a oppressive and harsh (physical) power in order to gain compliance from people (that compliance being 'not making a government'). does that sound familiar? exactly. it follows the definition(s) of tyranny given previously. technoblade is acting in a way that is, by very definition, tyrannical.

so the debate shifts: is he valid in doing so because he is trying to PREVENT corruption and tyranny. like i said, new lmanberg was undeniably corrupt at points. i held nothing against techno for trying to topple manburg, so does that apply to new lmanberg as well? short answer: i dont know. it depends on your specific opinion of what is acceptable. its like the paradox of tolerance: to have a truly tolerant society, you have to be intolerant of intolerance. to have a truly non-tyrannical society, do you need to have a tyranny enforcing it?

personally (and bc im a lmanberg loyalist /hj) i say it is. regardless of the corruption of new lmanberg, they are also giving a threat to EVERYONE. even those who are innocent, they are presented with the exact same threat and rule set: if you make a government, you will be destroyed.

(which, small divergence here, is part of why debating c!techno is so frustrating. so many times you end up hitting a "well it depends on your political views" situation and there ISNT a correct answer there. im here to analyze characters for fun, not debate political theory)

so: the syndicate then. this is where this debate really "took off" and i think its due to one very specific miscommunication about its goals and plans. the syndicate, upon formation, declares itself to stand against corruption and tyranny. when they are found, the syndicate would work to destroy it. so heres the golden question: what do THEY define as corruption and tyranny? if you were to go off c!techno's previous statements, seemingly "any government" is a valid answer. however, he also states he's fine with people just being in groups together hanging together.

what then DEFINES A GOVERNMENT for them? what lines do they have to sort out what does "deserve to be destroyed" and what does "deserve to exist freely"

this is a hypothetical i like to post when it comes to syndicate discourse:

i have a group of people. lets say 5 or so for example. they all live together and build together. any decisions made that would impact the entire group they make together and they must have a unanimous agreement in order to proceed, but otherwise they are free to be their own people and do their own thing. when you ask them, they tell you they are their own nation and they have a very clearly defined government: they are a direct democracy. does the syndicate have an obligation to attack?

there is absolutely no hierarchy present. there is no corruption present. but, they ARE indeed a government. is that then inherently negative? my answer is fuck no (see the whole "difference between a tyrant and a leader" thing above).

but THATS where the issue of this discourse LIES. in some people's eyes, the answer to that is YES. techno's made it clear "no government" is his personal view, but does that spread to the syndicate as a whole? do they act preemptively in case it DOES become corrupt? is it inherently corrupt because its a government, regardless of how it is ruled? the fact of the matter is because of how little we've seen the syndicate work as a SYNDICATE, we don't know that answer. so we're left to debate and speculate HOW they would act.

if the syndicate were to let that government exist, then they are not tyrannical. they are showing that they are working to stop tyranny and corruption, just like in pogtopia again.

if the syndicate were to destroy/attack that government, then they are tyrannical. simple as that. they are enforcing a rule of their own creation without any nuance or flexibility under the threat of absolute destruction.

miscommunication in debates comes, in my opinion, in the above. of course theres more points of nuance. for example:

would the syndicate allow a government like i had described with early lmanberg, where there is an established hierarchy but everyone in the country consents to said leadership? on one hand, there is no tyranny or corruption present which is what they are trying to work against. on the other hand, theres more a possibility of it occuring. perhaps they'd find a middle road between the two binary options of "leave or destroy" i am presenting, such as checking in occasionally to ensure no corruption occurs.

but if they were to destroy it without, for lack of a better word, "giving it a chance" they would be, in my opinion, tyrannical. they would be going aginst their words of opposing corruption and instead abusing their power to gain compliance.

your/others opinions may differ, again it depends on if you see it as worth it to possibly stop future tyranny or if a hierarchy is INHERENTLY a negative thing.

part of the reason so many blog gave up this debate, beyond not getting very clear answers for the syndicate, is because of the nuance present. there. is. no. right. answer. every single person will view it differently, because there is no universally agreed upon truth of right or wrong here. BUT, i hope this helps shed some light on the discussion and my thoughts on it

#dream smp #mcyt #techno #syndicate analysis #YEAH IM MAINTAGGING WHAT OF IT #also i-- idk if it should be crit tagged? i tried to be as fair and open as possible #lemme know what yall think #ANYWAY ANON IM SO FUCKING SORRY THIS THING ENDED UP 2.3K WORDS LONG #I JUST RLLY WNATED TO BE THOUROUGH AND AS FUCKING CENTRIST /HJ AS POSSIBLE FJDKSLFJ #its very nuanced and theres no right answer but you sure as hell know mine now #answered #anon #im at work rn im gonna get fucking fired for this FJDKSFJKL #/HJ HOPEFULLY IN THAT I AM AT WORK BUT I WONT GET FIRED #og post #(jeb bush voice) please clap

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wingletblackbird · 3 years

Text

My Complicated Thoughts on Merlin

I started watching Merlin because I’d seen a lot of posts about it on Tumblr and heard good things. I struggled to watch it once we got to Season 4 though. I don’t think I have ever experienced such a love/hate relationship with a series in my life. I’ve tried to figure out why I have so many mixed feelings. Writing this post is cathartic, and has led me to the ultimate conclusion that I am in love with the potential of this show, but I don’t actually like what we were given.

The Portrayal of Oppression/Morgana’s Arc:

Morgana’s arc could have been way more interesting, but they skip over too much important character development that we needed to see. In the beginning we see that Morgana opposes Uther’s cruelty. She is portrayed as being compassionate. We sympathize with her plight, especially once she discovered she has magic.

This leads to an interesting moral dilemma. Should Morgana simply assassinate the king? Is Merlin’s long-game with Arthur more effective or moral? Uther is killing innocents. A revolution might be considered just.

Instead, extremely rapidly, Morgana is played as the bad guy simply because she has decided to betray Camelot. We see her slaughtering innocent people herself when she becomes Queen. Why this transition to becoming like Uther but with magic so quickly? It made sense for her to want to assassinate Uther. That does not immediately make her evil. That needed to be more gradual. I saw the motivation for her hatred of Uther. But how she became evil, that is not portrayed well at all.

We see hints of Morgana’s self-centeredness when she refuses to leave the Druids even knowing they’ll be slaughtered. Examine that streak. Show how a good cause can be corrupted by someone who becomes drunk on hate and power. The show tries, but it doesn’t quite get there. Show me that even a righteous cause can be led by a corrupted individual.

Worse, the show does not show the nuance in any satisfying way. Show me that Morgana’s crusade against Uther and Arthur can actually be justified given that the law indicates that they would kill her and her kind. Morgana could legitimately consider Merlin a traitor. Her initial opposition to Uther is justified. He has committed and is committing genocide. Killing him could be seen as defense herself and other innocents. This could be opposed to Merlin’s bloodless coup, if you will. Which is the better option? What are the pros and cons?

And speaking of such oppressions, Merlin frees Freya and helps with Mordred. We really could have afforded to see more about how Merlin helps sorcerers escape, or about an underground network in general. How do they see Merlin? Do they hope he will influence the future king? Do they see him as a traitor? We see hints of this throughout the show such as with Gilli, but the writers never truly take it there. The story with Gilli ended up being about the corruption of power etc., and I liked it, but there was more to that story that needed to be addressed. Is it right or wrong for Merlin to defend Uther? Does it depend on the context? There are many times Merlin does that.

How Merlin Views Arthur:

Speaking of oppression, let’s talk about the effect it has on the psyche of Merlin. When we first meet Merlin, he has a strong moral compass, and confidence in his abilities. What he does not have is good self-esteem. He wonders if he’s a monster. He struggles because he is so powerful with something that is hated and can get him and his loved ones killed. Imagine the kind of fear that can creep into your soul when you have been watching people like you get executed since you were a child. Worse, you struggle to control your own abilities. You love your magic, maybe, but you also loathe yourself for the danger.

Merlin, then, is a prime target for believing in Destiny. It’s nice to think he has a purpose in this after all. It is pretty clear that the Dragon is being manipulative. I don’t blame him after being trapped for decades. But Merlin is vulnerable and initially starts to protect Arthur because he needs to think he has a reason to be the way he is and is not a monster.

Having said that, I think we can say that Merlin does quickly come to love and respect Arthur. He believes that Arthur is a good man and will lead a good kingdom. All of these are good reasons to stay in his service. It is a good way to eventually show Arthur that magic can be good, to get a kingdom without oppression and the bloodshed of a revolution, and to protect a man he considers a friend.

The problem with this is that by the end of the third season, Merlin’s double or triple motivation seems to narrow down in focus to simply protecting Arthur. Okay...but when are you going to have him see magic is good? I understand Merlin not being able to outright say anything because that might make him seem like a sympathizer, or just because of a lifetime of fear. But after all that subterfuge with Dragoon the Great and you can’t come up with a way to show magic doing something good without implicating yourself? Trust in Arthur’s character that you extol?

The fact is that by not revealing his magic to Arthur at the multiple different opportunities offered implies that Merlin does not in fact believe that Arthur is the man Merlin claims he is. I equally understand that growing up under that kind of oppression Merlin is not thinking straight. (Gaius does not help.) Furthermore, once you’ve risked your life to protect a man, it can become very hard to back out because you’ve already lost too much. It can also be hard to admit to secrecy after years of a relationship. But Merlin’s actions show that in the end, he does not trust Arthur, which is why he was supposed to have been protecting him. This suggests that Merlin is really just being emotionally manipulated. He has grown up in this oppression, and wants to believe his magic is good, and he has sacrificed too much, lost too much, at his point so he protects Arthur...even at the cost of other’s of his kind.

If anything, Merlin goes from a kind-hearted boy who rescued people like Freya...to being willing to turn a blind eye to their suffering....!? Merlin goes from confident in the first season, with a clear moral compass...to being less so later on? When in theory, especially with Uther dead, he should be safer? More willing to take risks?

There is another military aspect to consider as well. Morgana is a legitimate threat and without magic, Camelot cannot defend itself well. By not telling Arthur about his magic, or by not finding a way to make Arthur think about magic, Merlin is endangering everyone in Camelot. Arthur cannot defend his kingdom without the tools he needs. Merlin is now disrespecting his king, and making the decisions that are Arthur’s to make. How can Arthur command his armies without vital information? Merlin is powerful enough to be able to flee Camelot on the off chance Arthur tries to execute him. (In which case, maybe Merlin should join the other side.) He chooses to risk every life in Camelot rather than reveal his secret and help Arthur plan. That was acceptable for a minor coup when Morgana first took over. It’s not so great as the stakes progress. Merlin was always willing to risk his life to do the right thing. And yet, when it counts the most, when Arthur is the one on the throne, he doesn’t?

This is never addressed in any satisfactory manner.

Arthur’s Arc and Unfulfilled Expectations:

This leads us to Arthur’s character arc. If Arthur’s character had shown Merlin the same respect in later seasons as in the first couple, I don’t think Merlin would have been placed in the position of having to truly betray his kind or indicate his trust in Arthur was wrong. Arthur even early in their relationship, like with Valiant, listens to Merlin. However, in later seasons, after so many years of faithful service, (and being right), Arthur is quick to dismiss him. (And then even that might get reversed in a dime...what are the writers thinking?) Of everyone from the knights to Gwen, Merlin is afforded the least recognition or respect it feels like at times.

Arthur also in the beginning showed concern for his friend. Additionally, he showed great concern in his own constipated way for Merlin’s feelings when he was down. Not so much in the later years... Why?

Moreover, has Arthur really learned to treat everyone as equals? Or only the one’s who have done something for him?

I don’t blame Arthur for his stance on magic much, because he has little reason to believe otherwise. However, in the earlier seasons we see him defying his father over things like killing Mordred, a child. Yet, in later seasons, he never seems able to step out of his father’s shadow. Never seems to truly realize how abysmal his father’s rule was. The Arthur of the early seasons ought to have grown enough to be able to do that, and therefore safely allow magic again. This does not happen. He is shown as being devastated by what he did to the druids...is this ever followed up on?

This leads into unfulfilled expectations. Arthur was supposed to usher in a period of peace. Did he? No. And no matter what Kilgharrah says, I’m not buying it. If they had framed Kilgharrah as lying about that and manipulating poor Merlin for revenge, it would have made for a dreadful tragedy. As it is, it’s just a huge let down. If they had shown Merlin to be a tragic victim of oppression and manipulation who ended up not serving the man he thought he was...it would have been horrifying but interesting. As it is, I just hate it.

Why would I want to watch someone who has been oppressed and threatened with death, lose everything to protect what he hoped would be his friend and his freedom, only to have to live with just being used? And be told that eventually, if you wait long enough, then you will have succeeded? That this was a good thing?! Is framed as a good thing? NO! I was sold a story about a man in a position of power being befriended by a man who has been oppressed. The man in power learns from his friend and becomes a man who helps liberate the oppressed. Together they create a better world. Eventually, the man in power dies tragically and we all cry. Instead I got this absolute garbage.

I can see why Merlin’s fandom is so prolific. It is perfect for fanfic, because we have an interesting premise and interesting characters, but god-awful canon-writing. BBC Merlin is garbage with potential.

#notstarwars #bbc merlin

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teruthecreator · 4 years

Note

Hey... let’s play in the chaos Fitz space... I’m so curious how magic lessons with Festo would go now Fitz is aware of Chaos in relation to his magic...

anon idk what u were expecting when u sent this, but im sure it wasn’t a 1.7k drabble of fitzroy and festo having a lil chit-chat. that being said, though, this was incredibly fun to do so thanks for the suggestion!!!

_______________________________________________________________

“I don’t want magic lessons anymore,”

The question makes the fairy halt in their fluttering, staring at their pupil with a curious stare. Fitzroy hasn’t been the same since the centaur assignment, they knew that already. Word has made its way through the faculty about the barbarian’s outburst on the field; hushed whispers of concern that never seem to make it to either headmaster’s ears. Althea Song even came in to discuss with Festo about the future of Fitzroy’s lessons; what might be the safest approach to controlling his wild magic.

Festo is well aware, though, that “control” and “wild magic” tend to not mesh well.

This is the first time they’ve managed to get Fitzroy to come to a lesson since his return over a week ago. Usually they meet three to four times a week, practicing simple spells and focusing on how to channel the energy for larger ones. He used to be adamant on his distaste for magic, but after a while he began to warm up to the idea of understanding the arcane abilities he was granted. Snippers seemed to help with that warming, becoming less of a familiar and more of an emotional support crab when Fitzroy’s feelings would go haywire and seep into his magic. But, after the centaur assignment, they were advised to postpone a few of their lessons to give Fitzroy the space to recoup after being cursed (and whatever triggered his outburst).

After that grace period, though, Fitzroy just became a no-show. No matter how many cheerfully threatening letters Festo would send, Fitzroy never came to a lesson.

That is, until today, when they came into their class to find Fitzroy already seated in his usual spot; twiddling his thumbs anxiously as he looked down to the floor. Festo was hoping this meant Fitzroy was finally ready to get to work, but...it would seem that’s not the case.

“...Is this why you’ve been hiding from Festo?” The fairy asks, seating themselves atop a stack of books so they can face the half-elf properly. Fitzroy refuses to meet their gaze, nervously scratching his neck as he nods. “Ah...I see…You do not believe in Festo’s teachings.” Fitzroy perks up at that, turning to them and vehemently shaking his head.

“I-It’s not that, Festo, really! It’s just…” Fitzroy trails off, looking frustrated and caught between words. “I just...When I came to you first, Festo, it was because I didn’t know why I had been given my magics and, therefore, was unable to control the outbursts. O-Or, that’s why I felt these lessons were good--I know they’re required, given my schooling track, but--”

“--Festo gets your point.” Festo finishes, not wanting Fitzroy to get lost in the semantics before getting out what needs to be said. He nods his head bashfully and continues.

“Right, yes. B-But now that I...I feel like now--or, I know now why I have magic. When...When I got cursed? I-I, uh...I met someone…”

“You met Chaos, yes?” Festo asks, simply. Fitzroy buffers for a moment, mouth sputtering as he attempts to grapple with the knowledge, and Festo snickers. “Fitzroy, did you think Festo did not understand where your powers came from upon first meeting you?” Fitzroy’s cheeks are tinged red as he opens and closes his mouth to try and retort. “Festo knew your magic was wild from before Festo even saw you! There are not many schools of magic that manifest in catfish transformation.”

“I...suppose so. B-But Festo, if you knew where my magic came from this whole time, why did you never tell me anything?”

“Because you never asked!” Festo answers cheerfully. Their response makes Fitzroy’s shoulders sag as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Also, it would not have been wise of Festo to give you such an answer when you were first learning your magic. Knowledge is not always key to understanding.”

“I’d say it is!” Fitzroy bites back, his hand dropping from his face. “These powers were imparted on me to do evil, Festo! A deity has been watching over my every move, cheering me on whenever I goofed up severely and got people hurt!” The air begins to crackle with static electricity as Fitzroy gets riled up, anxiously running both hands through his hair and lodging them there.

“I ripped a man’s hand off, Festo! That’s fucked!! I struck fear into innocent bystanders! A-And the worst part of it is th-that...I didn’t feel bad for doing it! The hand part, at least--I felt awful once I noticed how everyone was...was looking at me like some sort of monster. It’s terrible! I can’t sleep because of it, I don’t have an appetite anymore because anything I look at just becomes a hand or a shitty magic apple, a-and I can’t...I won’t do magic anymore.” He looks to Festo pleadingly, hoping they see his anguish and understand. “I-I can’t even summon Snippers anymore because I’m paranoid about him being a direct line for Chaos to watch me mess up! I-I don’t--I don’t want my magic anymore, Festo.”

Festo sits there, watching as Fitzroy huffs and puffs on the verge of a meltdown. Then, after Fitzroy seems to have regained a little bit of his compuse, they get up and fly over to him, grabbing his right hand with both of theirs and flipping it over so it’s palm-side up.

“Make a flame for Festo,” they command, not even bothering to look up and see the utter confusion and hurt on their student’s face. “Just do it, it will be fine. Have faith in Festo.” Fitzroy sighs, deep and long, before shutting his eyes and concentrating. In a few short moments, a small blue flame appears in his hand. Festo makes an affirmative noise as they study the flame. “How did that feel for you to do?”

“Um...Fine? I guess?” Fitzroy replies, sounding unsure.

“It did not hurt?”

“No…”

“Did not feel forced out of you?”

“No.”

“You feel confident that it was by your will that this flame came to your hand?”

“Y-Yes, Festo, what does that--”

“Then you are fine!” Festo states matter-of-factly. They push Fitzroy’s palm closed, thus extinguishing the flame. “You should not feel worried about Chaos’s influence!” They look up in time to see Fitzroy’s eyebrows furrowing. “You said yourself that the magic felt natural to you--it was not forced out of your hand or influenced by a force that was not your own brain, yes?”

“R-Right…” Fitzroy responds. Festo flies up to his face and pokes their forehead with maybe a bit too much force than necessary. “Ow! What the heck, Festo!?”

“Your magic may have been bestowed upon you by a being of influence, but it is you who controls how that manifests.” Festo explains, suddenly sounding wiser than normal. “Chaos can only influence your magic if you let them; other than that, they cannot control how you choose to use the gift they gave you. From Festo’s experience, they actually hate doing that, so you should not worry about being ‘controlled’!” Fitzroy’s eyes widen and he guffaws for a moment.

“W-Wait, Festo, you’ve had experiences with Chaos?” Festo twirls around in a circle and giggles mischievously.

“Not in that way, silly! Fairies are creatures of unpredictability; Chaos is one of our patron deities! Festo has had quite a few communes with them in Festo’s lifetime!” Fitzroy’s face scrunches up in disgust at the implication of their first sentence, making Festo laugh again. “You were the one who said ‘experiences’, not Festo!”

“Right, but I was not implying you had sexual experiences with a deity, Festo. I really don’t want to be thinking about...really anything like that ever, thank you very much.”

“You brought up sexual! Not Festo!”

“Ahhh! I am covering my ears until this conversation ends!” Fitzroy screams as he slaps his hands over his ears. Festo rolls their eyes and kicks Fitzroy in the nose. “OW! Are you even allowed to hit a student?!”

“Festo has tenure, remember?” Festo chides, letting out a snarky “teehee” before flying a little further back so Fitzroy can look at them properly. “Now, do you still want to stop your lessons? Festo won’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Fitzroy stares for a long moment, brows furrowing once more as he thinks. He doesn’t think for too long before squaring his shoulders and sitting a little more confidently in his chair.

“Y’know what, Festo? I think...I think I’m going to keep at this magic thing! Show that Chaos who’s boss!” Fitzroy announces, his usual bravado back. Festo claps their hands as a shower of sparkles rains around them.

“Hooray! Festo is proud of you for conquering your fears!” Festo cheers, making Fitzroy flush a little with the praise. “Now, to make up for your missed lessons, Festo wants you to come here every day for the next two weeks after your classes! This is non-negotiable!” At this, Fitzroy deflates, just as Festo expected.

“Alright, I suppose I...deserve that for ghosting you for so long…” Fitzroy groans.

“Correct!” Festo chirps, causing Fitzroy to roll his eyes. “Now, to pick up where we left off, show Festo how you’re doing with Mage Hand…”

---

It’s later that night, when the school has settled and all the students have gone to bed, that Festo returns to their office. They pull a set of small candles from one of the drawers in their desk and lay them out in a pattern on the desk’s surface. With a flick of their wrists, the candles are lit in an iridescent flame, and they close their eyes to pray.

Coming to, they find themselves in a familiar woodland clearing, looking unimpressed at the figure seated across from them. The figure, on the other hand, looks positively delighted to see them.

“Festo does not want you meddling with Fitzroy anymore,” Festo says, their voice uncharacteristically serious. Chaos smiles and shakes their head.

You, of all the beings in my court, should know I cannot do that. They reply. I have a special mission in mind for him, and I do intend on seeing it through to the end~

Then, the wind blows, and Festo wakes up back in their office in a circle of smoking candles. With a sigh, they put the extinguished candles away and leave.

Futile as it seems, Festo is determined to give Fitzroy control over his powers, Chaos be damned.

#taz graduation #taz grad spoilers #(kinda)#taz fitzroy #taz festo #taz chaos #taz sir fitzroy maplecourt #sir fitzroy maplecourt #festo #chaos #ignorance cloud on #this was really fun to do anon!!! thanks!!#i forgot how fun doing requests were yall should send in some if the spirit moves u

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one-winged-dreams · 3 years

Text

Ship: King and Lionheart (Varian Wrynn/Adriel) Word Count: 1,033

Summary: An essential confrontation between a King and his priest before the assault on the Broke Shore. Feelings erupt as Varian offers Adriel an important decision.

"We need to talk, Lionheart."

Despite being addressed by his King, Adriel still refrained from averting his gaze from beyond the balcony.

"I can only imagine," he replied as his eyes aimlessly surveyed the surface of the pond and all the stars it reflected in turn.

Varian stood a short distance away, the issue at hand weighing so heavily upon his shoulders that he was loath to bring it down upon him as well. As the priest serenely looked out upon the surface of the water, Varian too, wondered, though instead at his visage. He was the picture of composure, leaning against the embrasure, his face unreadable as ever as all expression was lost behind that usual mask of melancholy.

The King would have been heartbroken to disrupt such a moment had it not been evident that they both knew this conversation was inevitable.

"We'll be shipping out for the Broken Isles soon." he finally spoke, turning away as he found himself utterly unable to look upon him any longer.

"I'm aware." the priest sounded indifferent to the prospect, despite all that it implied.

Varian sighed. "We've established our assault on the Broken Shore. Our battle plan is set, and we'll be carrying it out the day after next."

"Yes, I know. I was also present at the war council, if you may recall."

He was not making this remotely easy.

Adriel let out a wistful sigh as he looked out into the night. "Yep, I was standing right there between you and Genn. He's to be part of the third fleet, yes? And we'll be joined by Gelbin w-"

"I want you to seriously consider your involvement in this, Adriel."

Silence.

Varian hesitated to turn around just yet, continuing his case. "This is something the likes of which you have never faced before. That WE have never faced before. Plan as we might, there is no guarantee of what will happen. We go into this with the understanding that some of us may not come back." his fists tightened as he spoke, his conviction more than clear. "You can walk away from this fight. I can not, WILL not, send you to your death."

"You insult me, Varian Wrynn."

Varian finally turned, met with a seldom-seen fury glistening in the priest's eyes.

Adriel began to stalk over to him, indignation weighing down each step. "Walk away? You expect me to walk away from this?"

Varian said nothing as his fuming priest made his way over to him.

"I have been your war priest for almost a decade now-" As his disputation apexed, he was interrupted by Varian just as he stood before him.

"And my lover and companion for almost as long." Varian interrupted in a soft, loving tone. He grasped his hands, surprising him and throwing him off his minor tirade. "I'm not doubting your capability, Lionheart. Since the day I met you, you've proved yourself a hundredfold... But I have no way of knowing what will happen this time. I've faced uncertainty before, but this... This is different."

The heat in Adriel's eyes flickered and faded away as the King reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear. Surprising no one, Varian especially, his eyes began to well up with tears.

"What would I do then, Varian? I could never just watch you leave knowing that I should be there with you. That is not what a priest, what a healer, what a PARTNER does." the dam of his lashes opened, allowing the tears to stream down his face.

A hiccup turned into a sob, and Varian comfortingly pulled the priest into his chest. He felt Adriel's fists immediately ball up the fabric of his shirt as he valiantly tried to keep himself from weeping, silently commending his resolve.

"What would I do with myself if something happened to you and I wasn't there to have tried to stop it? How would I face Anduin knowing I could have been by his father's side until the bitter end? But instead I was here, doing nothing but languishing away at 'what if's." Adriel pressed his forehead against Varian's sternum, struggling to compose himself.

Both he and Varian allowed themselves the moment, time between now and the inevitable battle proving to be a precious commodity. Adriel felt Varian regarding him, and he hoped his words would reach him. He lamented that he couldn't hold his bout of lividity long enough to keep himself from crying, like he always inevitably did. More than anything, he wanted to be taken seriously, wanted his King to know the raw visceral feelings he had been harboring over this very matter.

He jumped suddenly, his eyes opening at the feeling of Varian's hand on the top of his head.

"Your conviction is strong, as always, Lionheart. I... I understand."

As the King's hand moved to tilt his face up, Adriel stared at him with wide, wet eyes. He wondered at him, never feeling more secure than when he was in the presence of his King, than when he could look upon him in all his valor and majesty.

Varian offered him a soft but solemn smile, making him feel his heartbeat resonate in his chest.

"I recognize your decision. If you do so choose to stand beside me, I promise you, I will fight with all that I have. And I know that you will too."

Adriel took a moment to let his words sink in before returning that same sad smile. "Always, my King."

Varian's fingers traced across his jawline, his strong hands cradling his face ever so gently.

"And if you have faith, when it's all finally over..."

His hand dropped from Adriel's face to take the priest's, turning it over and placing something solid onto his palm.

"If you hold on to this until then, I'll make you mine forever."

Adriel's eyes widened once more, focusing directly on the King's ambiguous expression as he processed the meaning of his words. Only after that did he find the nerve to look down at the pendant that was placed in his hand, reflecting with shades of blue and green securely confined within bands of copper.

"Varian?"

A/N: now y’all get ~context~ for the damn pendant lmao

#self ship #self shipping #virus fics #king and lionheart

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mallowstep · 3 years

Text

tpons initial/reading thoughts

keeping my "liveblogging" in one place to maintain my mortorium on spoilers

tpons spoilers below the cut. obviously.

prologue

i swear to god if bramblestar comes back and i don't get squirrelstar i might actually seek out the collective representation of erin hunter and kill her

chapter one

bristlefrost.

bristlefrost, can you hear me [1].

jayfeather is under exactly the same stress as alderheart. so either you're implying alder is weak or you're in the "adoption isn't real" camp and i'm neutral on you as a character, i don't want to dislike you.

you know, i thought the scene in mtbnsof where all of thunderclan is like "yeah, let's just exile squirrelflight" [2] was exaggeration, and honestly i spent a long time workshopping it to make sure it felt natural, but apparently i didn't have to do that, because the characters are canonically OK with it!

do y'all want your leader back or bramblestar? (i'm not salty nope not me.) also twigbranch the fuck do you mean "it would be wonderful if bramblestar came back" like what he barely let you stay in thunderclan stfg.

fuck, i can't tell whether or not sparkpelt is denying lionblaze and jayfeather as squilf's kits, but they're really ruining my good faith in adoption. or just proving my point that it's not about adoption.

does thunderclan care about shadowsight? what is going on i swear did they forget he killed bramble and is responsible for the entire mess right now?

chapter two

shadowsight you did a bad of course they're not hiding how disappointed they are you did a bad my son

lmao it's the reverse of tawnypelt's clan [3], shadowsight is being kidnapped against his will for the tribe. also please can we go back to the tribe but only if it's good

he listed dovewing next to "clan leader" not "clan leader's mate" which implies dovewing has shc's respect which yes i stan

aww siblings being siblings. i miss that from po3. nothing has captured it as well. well, like, the sight.

chapter three

you know, i think part of why i've struggled so much with this arc is because i just don't like any of the pov characters. i don't dislike any of them but i don't like them.

yeah! tree defending rootspring!!!! fuck. good fathers in warriors.

so rootspring calls lionblaze TC deputy which means squirrelstar [4].

god they go, like, ages without caring whose parent is who and suddenly they're covering it all over again but like, in an adoption bad way, and just, fuck you erin hunter [5].

it's good to see lionblaze does care about her, fuck, can we just get some consistency here. (i mean god rootspring he lost his mom too --- i mean, if anyone should know this, your mom was violetshine, posterchild for bad adoption, who fought w twigbranch over adoptive mother shit)

i want a bernie meme like "i am once again asking for adoption to be treated like a legitmate form of family."

chapter four

wait why the fuck is bris faster than windclan their whole thing is being fast

also that moonkitti video about harestar having no personality[6] is painfully real i know nothing about this man

oh huh we were just talking about windclan camp[7]. this is actually pretty similar to the first ever description, right down to bris wondering how people sleep there (they don't.) well, uh, credit where credit is due, good job for sticking to your guns on windclan sleeps outside.

i love how crow and breeze being difficult is just common knowledge.

oh, so crowfeather gets credit for the three? fucking hell man i'm done.

also fuck you crowfeather for victim blaming i will be making a call out post so help me [8]

okay i'm ngl it feels like bris is crushing on lionblaze. i don't think that's supposed to be a thing [9], it just feels like that.

okay okay okay i'm confused in earlier books the great battle was like a well discussed thing. god, avos had that whole the names of the fallen thing. and now, not even a full generation later, and bris doesn't understand the dark forest? (also who's even in the dark forest?)

(oh wait this book is going to answer that. uh for the record, now, squirrelstar/mtbnsof has been fully plotted and will disregard whatever this book says, unless it's good.)

oh wow i guess we're just throwing out the concept of the moonpool why don't we. really, everything i heavily justified/couched in mtbnsof is happening unironically in canon.

mothwing and willowshine god fucking damn. they're prob my fav mentor/apprentice relationship. mistystar's omen stg.

what is it with everyone and bouncing all the fuck around with squirrelflight? like, okay, i'd get it if they doubted her because yeah, i could make a strong argument about clan morality and her actions [10]. but they're so on and off about it i hate it.

shadowsight.

shadowsight, can you hear me.

you're literally saying, "i could solve this, if i had a solution to the problem."

well ig we know who he takes after.

chapter five

what's up with this "darkest thoughts" bullshit come on you're really going to invalidate ivypool like that?

lionblaze really do be going back and forth. can't blame him he's not used to having a character.

also, i really love jayfeather standing up for alderheart [11].

mothwing wtf how're you getting to hell you don't believe in it. how do you have faith in shit. also please stop trashing shadowsight [12]. that said, she's absolutely right, she would be the ideal cat for the job, considering she has warrior training.

jayfeather what the fuck dude why are you suggesting it. although i'm glad at least he acknowledges his connection to squilf. good job. good job for being the one fucking character.

willowshine. willowshine baby no. don't do it. willowshine. willowshine no. don't do it. baby. no. please. i'm crying please don't do it.

"well, Mothwing, I admire everything about you" holy fucking shit what a line that's a line to inspire so much fic [13].

willow please baby no. please. send kestrelwing or something. puddleshine. anyone but you please baby.

damn okay what is with the connection between mothwing and.

no.

no no no no no.

they're killing willowshine.

why.

she's. baby. please no. she's not read. she's too. no. i can't.

ffs moth please stop dissing shadow like this he doesn't deserve this. (also, unrelated, did, uh, did puddleshine name shadowsight for spiresight, a cat he never met and had no connection with? fuck i forgot what happened there.)

you know, out of the med cats, mothwing and jayfeather are the oldest. it's nice to see that dynamic have weight: when jayfeather speaks, people listen. it's been a while since we've had that role of the med cats in thunderclan.

god willow is dead and i'm going to sob.

chapter six

I FUCKING CALLED IT I HATE EVERYTHING

why did they have kill my baby [14]

when did rootspring get fucking responsible this is worse than when i got responsible

also mothwing i'm so sorry.

fuck.

i didn't cry i was too angry and i cried about it last night because i knew it was coming just.

they didn't have to do her dirty like that.

chapter seven

just, before we begin, still sad about this willowshine bs. give me back my baby.

oh gee bristlefrost i wonder why lionblaze can't talk about his mother being taken away

does this mean they're going to acknowledge adoption again? please let this not be me raising my hopes too soon.

also really with all this lionblaze = deputy stuff...i just want squils [15]

oh lionblaze is back on his bullshit again. like, dude. he was instructed to treat ashfur. he was ordered. jesu maria.

uh. spotfur. what the fuck?

okay, first of all, squilf was chosen as deputy, so yes, she does in fact inherit leadership. that's...that's just wrong.

if you want to complain about lionblaze, sure, i hate it as much as you [16]. but squilf?

yes, yes, please give me ivystar [17]. if i can't have squilfstar (and i don't think i can, hence the existence of mtbnsof [18]), please let me have ivypool. (although mousewhisker? who said that lmfao.)

uh, lionblaze? there are so many better choices. i think bristlefrost would do a better job. (that's not an idea please don't give me bristlestar.)

ayyyyy! graystripe! what a man. what a time.

(graystripe and his gd dramatic entrances.)

also it's good to see elders getting the respect they deserve. (wait what what what the fuck happened to him.)

hehe (mtbnsof spoilers) i'm glad at some level that like, i identified key things that need to happen to make the story interesting and compelling, and they're happening. tbc really is picking up with the good writing. i have a lot of thoughts about this, but mostly, like, these books have changed since when i started them, but i'm happy with where they got. also, lmao i'm dying because like, yeah fuck i don't even know, i can't believe both the worst and best parts of mtbnsof have made it into this. god. what a world.

oh thank god lionblaze is stepping down.

hey, uh...is anyone going to follow up with what graystripe was doing? this is getting sus i can't take another thing i just need to trust someone.

chapter eight

i'm still not over willowshine

i. can people decide if dark forest is punishment or. wasn't lionblaze against sending shadowsight? i can't remember shit i should be taking useful notes i have a memory problem xd

aww dovewing mom.

you know i have a quick q: in skyclan & the stranger, leafstar's kits call her mama. but i don't think we've seen any adult cats say that. what's up w that?

oh dovewing i love you but...nah i just love you

that said, uh, can shadowsight's behavior be treated consistently? i don't know something is just bothering me.

oh yeah icewing exists lmao. forgot about that. can this continue like can shadowclan be the new home for wayward souls? they kind of deserve it after all of the villains they've had. and the earliest books kind of implied shadowclan used to do that.

i really, like, okay. cats like icewing are all "durr hurr dark forest very bad" and then others are like "bruh hell is real?"

uh. nope. i hate this implication that the dark forst is poisonous. very bad very bad very bad.

aww tigerstr being a good dad. breaking the cycle. first one [19].

i really, like, why do cats blame shadowsight? he wanted to go? he wanted to be the one? like, wtf?

urgh who wants to be warriorcatsfandommisandry [20] would praise shadow's rule breaking while victim-blaming squilf for the same behavior.

well, uh, ig i'm glad mothwing secretly cares about shadowsight? like, that's kind of fixing her character. kind of.

chapter nine

wow this post is getting long whoops i mean it is all of my notes on a book. usually i condense em into the good stuff.

lmao shadowsight b like "yeah if i die sorry my dad's gonna kill u luv u thanks for coming >3"

seriously mothwing was definitely the cat to choose considering she could 100% fight. also, like, his body is at risk?

you know, i think mothwing is supposed to be having a jayfeather arc here, but it's crippled by the fact that we're not in her head [21].

how many cats are even in the dark forest wasn't this the whole plot of oots that they're all dead?

also, like, i'm glad mothwing is back to herself. i don't even care about the inconsistency i'm happy to have mothwing back.

seriously it's starting to get to me that the knowledge of the great battle is so inconsistent.

okay i like that we've ditched the "darkest thoughts" thing that was kind of stupid

squirrelflight

(i am crying she's here again fuck)

chapter ten

okay yeah valid gotta maintain that tension (altho fuck you erin hunter [5])

huh. i still kinda hate rootspring for basically no reason ngl

you know, i've never questioned this, but how the fuck does moss ball work? moss doesn't work like that god no no no i can't over think it [22].

you know, forbidden romance might be "overdone" but it's worth pointing out that we very rarely get the perspective of the cats in the forbidden romance

lmao what is it with greystripe? like? is everyone in love with him? i'm not being fair to him just...what?

emotional support wife dovewing [23]

i really wish there was a deeper bond between bris, rootspring, and shadow. i appreciate the viewpoints into different clans, but with no meaningful differences in culture, it's just weird because we're used to po3 and avos and stuff where our leads are really close to each other.

willow

willow baby

you know it's occurred to me i've never vocalized my love for willowshine on this blog before now? xd see i don't actually talk about my favorite characters that much. i talk about dovewing the most out of my top 3 (dovewing, jayfeather, willowshine, in no particular order), but they just kind of feel...too personal? because i have really specific reasons to connect with all of them.

dovewing just happens to be for reasons i'm most able to share >3

willow please don't be corrupted

chapter eleven

please i just want to know squilf is okay

bris u fucking idiot we've established the moonpool is deep. don't you remember literally yesterday?

flametail imagery

"drypaws" what a word. interesting ik leopardstar just avoided water, but here bris can't swim. i don't care i'm just happy for some gd culture

okay i've said it before and i've said it again: i draw the line at cat cpr

wait what is daisy doing? fuck was i supposed to read the novellas first? is this what daisy's kin is about? when did daisy leave? did i miss something? what's going on??

okay can we...like, cats who aren't elders trained in the dark forest. this wasn't even a full generation ago. lionblaze. breezepelt. just...guys.

tigerdove...so cute. i love them [23].

where tf are the sisters they got here so fast

like bruh...i liked the sisters but now they're like, clan on demand ghost summoners? i think? idk clearly i'm missing something very important

emotional support wife dovewing

chapter twelve

i see shadowsight and i don't see squirrelflight and i have a complaint

oh uhhh who's snowtuft again?

also i feel like, i feel like i made my point about it being empty

a light in the mist title drop dodoododod

bruh what is ashfur even

oh series one cat xd yeah that checks

look. if they're not in the allegiances, i don't remember them for shit, okay? my series one memory is excellent, it's just that series one cared about thunderclan, and, like, tallstar

squilf squilf squilf squilf squilf if she's not in this chapter i'm going to scream it is 2am bitch

I AM SCREAMING BITCH

chapter thirteen

the scream lengthens

just give me her

at least i get to spend time with willowshine?

wait mapleshade is still alive? i thought someone killed her oop

also uh yeah how did ashfur amass power like, that bitch is an incel he's done nothing but fail to kill three cats and get murdered and go to heaven

are there even enough dark forest cats for that?

rootspring this is a bad idea don't do this haven't you seen horror movies stop being the white chick

sad ghosts r sad sigh

chapter fourteen

when did warriors get all "oh no can't do multiple chapters of the same narrator in a row" please nobody fucking cares that bris is sad i just want to see squirrelflight

lmao bris like "it's illegal to be atheist" bitch i read code of the clans exactly once i know it's dovestar who tried that and the answer was no.

ah, tree. actually mediating, for once.

god, bris...why is firestar's legacy so large? like, fuck, i know why, i just...

also, tree, she said a nobel and true Clan, not the clan. so like, maybe chill out for a moment [24].

hnnnng family drama also i really like that tree loves his wife very good very good

dfskj okay mothwing missing riverclan would be much more impactful if we actually knew what was going on in riverclan. (like, say, if willowshine was a pov in this arc [25]?) also, you know, riverclan has had so many problems with treating cats badly? god, a shadow in riverclan. wait, like, shouldn't mothwing also remember/reflect on this? wait this would be so much better if we had more pov for this fuck

also fuck off bris about being proud you are so fucking priviledged your forbidded romance drama is as intense as like, idek, the notebook? from someone who lived through, uh, forbidded romance that involved threatening to send someone to conversion camp [26], fuck off

bruh. why is she acting like thunderclan is gone xd you have no idea what it's like for a clan to almost fall apart yeah i stand by my comments on shadow/skyclan.

"what will my place be?" it will be a fucking warrior of thunderclan??? all you've ever wanted???? god she's...look i get it she's like, my age. and lord knows i don't react gracefully to shit. she's stressed, i get it. i do. but also, just, ffs bris. get it together.

"you die in the dark forest, you die in real life" can we meme that?

oooh okay it would be really good to get all three pov cats in the dark forest [27].

also, how long has rootspring been down there? how does this work? what's up with shadowsight? what is anything even? how long has it been?

thank you mothwing for pointing out bristlefrost is extremely unexperienced.

also can i just say, i really like bris' name? like i think bristlefrost is an extremely cute and good name. cute in that it's cute and good in that it conveys her character well.

god i want mothwing pov on this [25].

why is bris so convinced that if she doesn't act, rootspring isn't coming back?

chapter fifteen

wow i had a lot of notes on last chapter huuuh

oh vibe do i finally get squilf

stopping caring about bramble shadow no one fucking cares

seriously when did ashfur get this, uh, good at being a villain?

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

she's

here

fuck i'm crying

poor bb i just. poor baby.

okay. ashfur. let me making something clear.

i do not understand why in the world squilf would ever choose bramble [28]. but you're fucked as a choice.

ffs yellowfang this is why we don't say "his only crime was loving too much"

okay well as much as i'm confused by his power his characterization here is fantastic. i'm really glad we got ashfur back as a villain, you know.

good job squirrelflight. do not take unnecessary blame.

(also please learn to transfer these skills to your pos husband.)

#when you can't get her to love you by killing her husband and dragging her into hell so you think you can make her love you by showing her how you're torturing the souls of her loved ones

you know i had the snowtuft thing spoiled for me i just forgot who snowtuft was so it had 0 impact

damn bramblestar is still alive.

dammit.

people kept calling lionblaze deputy don't do that to me if you're not following through on it ffs

okay not to pimp out my own fic but if you're interested in a squirrelstar au, "may there be no sadness of farewell" is my squils (squirrelstar) au and it does have an imposter arc. so you know. if that's your thing.

hnng my thoughts on bramble [29] aside i can appreciate the drama

ashfur. ashfur. ashfur you fucking idiot you're the one fighting her. also fuuuck i love this character. if i was bookmarking this on ao3 you know it'd get the "hot damn" tag.

huh. uh, wow. good chapter. hot damn. loved it. loved it so much.

hate what it means for my hopes and dreams, but very good. very intense. i approve.

chapter sixteen

eh, wasn't she going to the dark forest? did i forget something?

ohhh dream

huh this is interesting

and cute.

i love the "everything is fine" trope so much tho

does...did no one ever describe ashfur to bris?

you know, i think this is why so many people, me included, go with the we-don't-talk-about-our-villains thing. sure, it makes some bits awkward, but...yeesh

huh. weird chapter. both impactful and kinda meh.

chapter seventeen

you know i'm feeling a lot of things right now, and i might have to just give in and finish this damn thing.

we'll see.

willow willow willow willow willow

sigh ffuuuck she's dead. i'm sad. i'm going to write a fic about her. "under a willow tree" i have plans. it's going to be good.

yeah see okay. i made a joke about warriors needing to make not talking about shit part of the culture and i'm glad they did because it works

squilf!!!!!!!!!

oh fuck i'm crying again. my girl. she's here. she's here.

of course they saved you!!!!!! you're!!!!! squilf!!!!!!

please get nine lives.

please.

let the body be dead.

let bramble die.

please.

chapter eighteen

okay seriously i really want to memify "if you die in the dark forest, you die in real life"

oh rip shadow's ear. that sucks. huh. i'm gonna have to explore this, too. esp. w dovewing.

eeeeee mothwing being mothwing again i'm happy

willow

mothwing stick to ur guns for a moment

also i appreciate the "u can't tell me what to do i'm a med cat" thing going on

hehe tigerdad (where's dovewing my beloved)

chapter nineteen

wow okay i'm 3/4 of the way through

dammit rip squilf something something exploring some canon complient stuff.

huh, shadowsight. do you think maybe. being in the dark forest. is bad. do you think. maybe.

bruh shadow way to go call out your own father smh.

mothwing, my dear, you're the one who didn't want to treat him like that. i mean i'm glad you're standing up for him but this kind of makes your whole treatment of him feel like a plot device.

okay, i'm glad that's a formal thing, med cats > leaders, that makes me happy

i really want to know what alderheart is up to.

yeah really why have they waited so long. i mean i forgot about them too but the sisters seem like an obvious choice? since they're here?

(also i'm still really confused by the daisy thing.)

heh i really do need to read squilf's hope. i've been putting it off (i don't want to read cft, but...), but i think it's about time.

rootspring what? okay going to read it now ig

okay okay i'm really glad the sisters are like fuck we're done w y'all cause that's been a long time coming

what debt where the sisters in to the clans XD???

chapter twenty one

"moonpond"xxd i'm dying

awww tigerdad

don't the sisters know the basics of herbal healthcare?

poor tigerstar. no no guys. his wife was in a dangerous prophecy, and now his son is. :(

tigerdad!!!!!!!

ohhh this chapter hit hard

chapter twenty two

"the sign of a true leader" is...talking fast?

dfsjadfskj rootspring you are lead by leafstar the best and most capable leader the fuck are you talking about

:((((((((( brambles........alive

is squirrelstar so much to ask for

y'all're lucky i was going to release "ilex aquafolium" tonight as a follow-up to "better left unsaid" because freyja (my cat) chose it to be next in the rotation but i might end up finishing chapter three of "may there be no sadness of farewell" first because coping

chapter twenty three

you know writing that chapter did not take me better i forgot mtbnsof is angst until like...the epilogue

heyyy they're back....i'm.....soo....happy...about......this [30]

i mean i feel like every one is way too trusting how do u know it's the real squilf?

shadowsight bris rootspring polycule? just a thought

oh. so that's it, then.

you know, i enjoyed it.

citation: a moonkitti video ↩︎

see here to read it, but...you could probably get it in canon ↩︎

legally i have to tell you i haven't actually read this yet ↩︎

please let me have this. ↩︎

where "erin hunter" refers to the collective who writes warriors ↩︎ ↩︎

it's called "leader chance" if you're interested ↩︎

okay, techincally i was talking about riverclan dens, but it's close. ↩︎

for my own personal reference, pg 50 on phone. about 19% ↩︎

warrior cats still hasn't invented cheating. also, no, i'm not going overboard on the footnotes. ↩︎

nts, do this. or add on to like "daughter of mine" or "secrets passed over in the dead of night" ↩︎

gives more weight to sunset and evening star. ↩︎

although also guys it's not that out of character for her. like, she's always been quick to do what she thinks is right, and this time, it's the wrong thing. you know? ↩︎

including my own fuck. ↩︎

spoilers for mtbnsof. i mean i know i killed willow for exactly the same reason but...why'd they have to lift all of my least favorite parts of squilfstar. ↩︎

squilf but for squirrelstar. coined in my drafting notes for mtbnsof ↩︎

to be clear, he's wrong, i just wouldn't bother arguing because it's annoying having lionblaze as clan leader. ↩︎

nts: do something with this. mtbnsof spoilers. even if i don't end up going through to squils death, i want to do something with ivystar, preferably before the entire clan is ocs. ↩︎

in case you're new here, my ao3 is mallowstep and mtbnsof stands for may there be no sadness of farewell, a squirrelstar au that begins at the end of lost stars. ↩︎

"love knows no bounds (but maybe it should)" (unannounced) spoilers. ...i say, knowing about how he's, uh, not in lknb. ↩︎

hopefully, i'm speaking ill of the dead and not summoning the devil. hopefully. ↩︎

yes of course i will now be writing that thank you for calling me out. we will also be exploring her relationship with religion. title? unsure, but we might reuse "i'll believe the wind is calling me" since that has been scrapped and salvaged ↩︎

only valid kit play scene is now the one at the beginning of the sight. ↩︎

no tigerdove discourse please. i'm not in the mood for it. play nice. ↩︎ ↩︎

although to be clear, the only actually noble and true clans, at least time of this book, are shadowclan and skyclan. ↩︎

nts - "under a willow tree" ↩︎ ↩︎

oh. so that's why i don't like her. ↩︎

it triples my odds of seeing squilf. ↩︎

i do. i really, really do. but until the erins acknowledge it, i try to ignore it in canon. otherwise i get too sad. ↩︎

as mentioned before, when i'm interacting with canon, my standards are a lot lower. because i like to enjoy the stories. that's why i write fix-it fic. ↩︎

i'm crying ↩︎

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feliciamontagues · 4 years

Text

My Ranking of Every Hercule Flambeau Episode (S01-S08)

There are some spoilers for S7 and S8, but they are fairly vague and pretty much the sort of thing that you might see on the official press release. So not true spoilers as such. Also this is totally subjective and the result of my own personal biases. It’s also behind the cut because it’s looooonnng.

8. The Two Deaths of Hercule Flambeau (s06e10)--

So, this episode is *fine*. It’s hardly the worst episode of the show, but it’s easily the weakest of the Flamby eps, despite their being a few isolated moments I enjoy. (Hercule getting a long overdue bedroom scene for one :P)

My main gripe is with this episode is the uneven way Lisandra Flambeau is written. The script seems to flip-flop over whether we are supposed to find her sympathetic or not. On one hand, many scenes imply that she genuinely loves Hercule despite them having a shotgun marriage after only a few days of knowing each other. On the other hand, she does not hesitate for a minute before poisoning an innocent (Fr. B) for no other reason than to hurt Flamby, which makes her lose a lot of sympathy points.

And as a result, it seems to make Flambeau seem like more of arse than normal for betraying her, while somehow also absolving him of responsibility for doing so, because she turns around and does *THAT.*

And ngl, it does make me a little uncomfortable that while the character of Lisandra (as an Italian) is possibly not meant to be interpreted as a POC, the actress portraying her definitely is. (Sara Martins is of Afro-Portuguese descent). Which makes the uneven characterization (and underwritten-ness) seem even more glaring, especially when compared to that of the other (white) women in Flambeau’s life (his first love Rebecca and his daughter Marianne, arguably Lady Felicia as well). It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth even if in all likelihood, the part wasn’t written with Sara Martins in mind.

I think a much more interesting approach to Lisandra would be to have intending to betray Flambeau all along. Maybe she had her own agenda for seducing Flamby, meanwhile he thinks he’s the one using her for his plan. Maybe she does develop some feelings for him along the way, but it only makes her hesitate for a moment before going ahead with her original plan. That way, she keeps her agency and isn’t reduced to the “woman scorned” stereotype while also leaving the writers free to ship Flamby with others in the future without seemingly endorsing guilt-free adultery .

Other random note: I can’t take parts of this episode seriously because the “Crown of Lombardy” is very obviously Guinevere’s crown from BBC Merlin with no attempt to alter or disguise it.

7. The Daughter of Autolycus (s04e05)--

Not gonna lie, I am not really a fan of “character has long lost relative that we’ve never heard of until now” plots. And that goes double when said long-lost relative is a child or sibling. As such my low ranking of this episode is partly due to unconscious personal biases against that trope.

That being said, if we had to get a long-lost relative that we’ve never heard of until now plot, I’m so glad we got Marianne--even if it takes her another episode to really live up to her potential.

I have to knock off a few more points for Nero Hound as a villain. For one thing, he was played by Nancy Carroll’s real-life hubby, but they didn’t let let him interact with Lady F at all. Such a *waste.* Also Nero Hound is far too similar a name to Nero Wolfe, and I’ve definitely confused them on more than one occasion). He’s also rather generic in my opinion, even compared to some of Flambeau’s other “generic mobster” rivals/associates like the ones in S8.

However, there are some moments in this episode I genuinely like--particularly the theft “imagine spot” and Flambeau’s bishop disguise in general. Plus, the scenes where Flambeau and Marianne appear together are excellent, as are the hints that Marianne will become a redemptive trigger in Flambeau’s life.

6. The Judgement of Man (s03e10)--

Again, the low ranking of this one may be due to personal biases. In this case, I’m still low-key bitter--five years later-- at the BBC marketing department for baiting me with the idea of Flambeau actually interacting with the rest of the squad (esp romantic tiems with Lady F) and then giving me the absolute minimum of Felicia/Flambeau flirting and no Flambeau/Sid and Flambeau/Mrs. M interaction.

But there are other reasons why this is in my bottom 3 Flambeau episodes.

Honestly, I feel like an equally compelling episode about the Vatican’s complicity in Nazi art theft could’ve been made without having to insert Flambeau in it. I mean I suppose it does make sense to have the art thief character in the art episode, but still I feel like both Flambeau backstory and important historical lesson about Nazis, the Church, and Jewish art suffer from being crammed into the same episode.

That being said, Mrs. McCarthy’s duchess disguise in this episode cleared my skin, watered my crops, etc, which is why I’ve ranked it higher than the previous two.

5. The Folly of Jephthah (s08e05)

It loses a few points because I got very exited about the idea of Marianne becoming Bunty’s thief gf cool new friend, and yet in the episode itself, they only shared one scene and didn’t really interact much in it. That being said, I did like like that Bunty and Mrs. M had a bigger role in this episode than the squad usually gets in Flambeau episodes.

Overall, I feel this episode works a lot better than most of the other “backstory-heavy” Flambeau episodes, because we’ve already gotten the Marianne-related exposition out of the way and can focus more on allowing her character, Flambeau’s and their relationship with each other to develop.

I’m also a bit smug in that I predicted (or at least hoped for) this exact character arc for Marianne within a few weeks of “The Daughter of Autocylus” airing and that my hopes came to fruition so beautifully.

It doesn’t particularly impact the ranking too much, but I do feel like this episode deserves a special shout out, because it has established a (hopefully-continuing!) pattern of Father Brown calling Flamby almost exclusively by his first name, which is a major significant step in their bromance and deserves recognition as such.

4. The Blue Cross (s01e10)--

As someone who was first exposed to Father Brown through reading the stories for a college course, I always find it especially interesting to look at the episodes that were adapted from Chesterton.

This episode is neither the most faithful book-to-show adaptation (which is probably “The Three Tools of Death”) nor is it the best (imo “The Sign of the Broken Sword’) , but it is arguably the most significant. “The Blue Cross” was the first ever Fr. Brown story and is probably the most well-known. It’s also the first real look we get at the character of Flambeau, who (in the stories and arguably the show as well) is probably the closest thing we get to a clear character arc.

The show keeps some of the important elements of the short story: Flambeau’s clergyman disguise, the switching of the packages. But it also has the challenging task of upping the relatively low stakes of the story, as well as introducing a major recurring character that resembles his book counterpart but remains distinct enough to justify the fairly different direction show canon is taking him.

The show does this reasonably well--if not particularly imaginatively. I do enjoy some of the touches (I’ve written an entire meta before about Flamby’s reading material on the train and how it relates to his character)--particularly the show’s choice to have Flambeau fixated on religious art specifically (RIP for Flambeau’s Dairy Company though. It will always live in my heart).

Unfortunately in the adaptation, loses a few points for not really using the show-original characters particularly effectively. It loses still more for Flambeau’s characterization in this episode . He comes across as much more serious and menacing in this episode than in all the others. It works okay when we consider this as a standalone episode but provides some glaring Early Installment Weirdness when we compare it to other episodes.

3. The Penitent Man (s05e15)--

So as the rest of this list will testify, I have strong preference for the “fun” Flambeau episodes over the more series ones. This is the exception that proves the rule--the serious, cerebral, melancholy episode that simply “works” for me in the way that some of the others have not.

A lot of it is due to the more-intense-than-usual Flambeau character focus that goes into this. Sure, we’ve met his (presumably ex-by-now) wife, his daughter, and his first love by this point, but all of those episodes focused primarily on Flambeau as an extension of the relationships with others. (”The Judgement of Man” in particular is far more Rebecca’s story than Hercule’s.)

Whereas this episode is very definitively focused on Flambeau himself and allows more nuanced exploration of two of the most defining facets of Flambeau’s character: (1) his fascination with religion--and spiritual salvation in particular-- as something he seems to resist and crave in near equal measure (2) his almost masochistic streak of recklessness.

Even though Flambeau’s supposed “piety” is revealed to be all part of his heist plan, there are strong hints that his desire for redemption and atonement are at least somewhat genuine, even if he is not ready to pursue them just yet.

Off topic, but a few random things of note in this episode: this episode all-but-confirms bi!Flambeau, wet!Flambeau at the end is extremely relevant to my interests, Father Brown attempts to smuggle Flamby a lock pick from the beginning and has the audacity to say “ I only use it when I get locked out of the presbytery.”

Also, it has this iconic exchange:

Goodfellow: What is that awful smell?

Father Brown (covered in sewage): It’s me

2. The Honorable Thief (S07e10)-- So nearly all of the Flambeau-centered episodes from S3 on have been a little preoccupied with filling in some of the gaps in Flambeau’s backstory, which is *fine*, but honestly, I feel like in doing so, they’ve really lost sight of why we fell in love with the character in the first place.

He’s vibrant and clever and funny and over-the-top. But most importantly, Flambeau is a lot of fun. Therefore, it follows that episodes that feature him should be a lot of fun too.

And well... they are all fun in some way, but they aren’t as fun as they really could be. John Light is insanely charismatic, but charisma can only go so far when the episode in question is a downer.

Fortunately, this episode is the furthest thing from a downer imaginable. It’s absolutely delightful from start to finish. The plot is serious enough to keep things engaging, but also light enough to keep us from getting too distracted by angst.

I’m also incredibly biased in favor of this episode, because it finally gave me the Felicia/Flambeau ship tease I’d been passionately hoping for (if not really expecting to get after “The Judgement of Man” disappointed me). But it was so much and so good, and I wasn’t ready for it.

In a broader sense though, this episode really delivered with Flambeau/squad interaction in general--which was a key component that has been missing from most of the other episodes. And the Father Brown & Flambeau interactions were also has heartwarming and funny as they always are.

If I have one tiny little gripe with the episode, it’s that Daniel is not Sid. He has enough broad similarities with Sid that I can’t help but wonder if the episode was originally written with Sid and then hastily re-written when Alex Price couldn’t return. That being said, he was a likable enough guest character in his own right, and I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

1. The Mysteries of the Rosary (S02e05)-- Perfection. Not only is this THE definitive Flambeau episode, but is also one of the best episodes of the show overall. It has everything: the birth of bearded Flamby, bromantic road trips, a treasure hunt, great guest turns from Anton Lesser and Sylvestra Le Touzel.

I think part of the reason this episode resonates so strongly with me is that it’s really the first proper sense that we get of Show!Flambeau as a character. Sure we officially met him in “The Blue Cross,” but considering he didn’t show up until halfway through the episode and was in disguise for most of it, we didn’t really get much of a sense of who he is.

This episode changes all that and sets Flambeau up as the character we will know and love for the rest of the series--charming, urbane, funny, passionate, a carefree carpe diem exterior masking (or overcompensating for?) a sense of uncertainty and conflictedness.

Somewhat off topic, but as great an episode as this is for Flambeau’s character, it is nearly as wonderful for both Sid and Father Brown’s characters. We get to see Sid’s ease with Father Brown, the casual camraderie that the two of them have--as well as Sid’s protectiveness (and jealousy) when Flambeau decides to gatecrash their bromantic road trip.

Honestly, there are so many things that are great about this episode that I don’t think I could possibly list them--but one little detail that really struck my the last time I watched was that the first proper glimpse we see of Flambeau in this episode (we see him in shadow in a flashback before) involves him saving Father Brown’s life. Whereas the last proper glimpse we see of Flambeau is after Father Brown has saved Flambeau’s life. Thematic reversals. Cinematic parallels. We love to see it.

#father brown #bbc father brown #hercule flambeau #the adhd hitting hard; this was in my drafts for well over a year #that's right another flamby episode aired and had to be added before i finally finished it #that being said i really enjoyed it #let me know if you want me to rank more things #like i don't think i could rank every episode; but perhaps every episode in a given season #or the seasons themselves #or the top 5 best or worst episodes--either in general or for a particular character #meta #misc #one of these days i'm gonna go full feral english major and write a giant character analysis on book flamby vs show flamby #and all the interesting adaptational implications and nuanced writing choice of #mon petit gallique merde

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kileyrose-2003 · 4 years

Text

Dan Torrance x Fem! Reader Part 3

A/N: Hi lovelies! Here comes another one of my extremely angsty psychological dive into Rose and Crow’s relationship. Lol. Very, very emotional write for me. Some of you might be wondering after you read this on just how exactly and I will simply say one thing: The relationship between Rose and Crow is very explicitly written and there while as in the film it is implied. In this AU I wanted there to be a reason why Rose and Crow seem more distant, hence why I am taking my own spin to them like this.

Anyways, I love you guys! I know there are a lot of people on Tumblr right now as well as myself dealing with the affects of COVID-19 in our every day lives. If you ever need anyone to talk to, my DM’s are always open. I might not be a therapist but I am willing to help :) I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe, lovelies!

Link to intro is here , pt. 1, and Pt. 2

Enjoy!

Warnings: Trigger warning for mentioned/implied child abuse, child death, baseball boy scene, blood, gore

“..Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me and especially don’t fucking touch me.”

“Crow-”

“No, Rosie! This is your fault. Not her fault, it’s yours. You hurt her! You hurt our baby!” In a rare display of emotion, hot tears were streaming down Crow’s face.

Rose chose her words very carefully before speaking. “..She is not our baby. We did not birth her into this world. She never belonged to us in the first place. And, no. I don’t hate her. I am not jealous of her either and I am not entirely to blame for all this. While maybe your way of thinking on this not being her fault may be correct, you are part of the reason to blame.” Her tone was calm and diligent like a mother trying to keep a tantrum prone toddler calm. “I told you from the start, that I didn’t think it was a good idea for her to be here. In general, our way of life is not fit for any child.”

“I-”

“Don’t talk! Just listen. You however insisted at keeping her here when I told you it wasn’t fair to her to live like this. Once she seen what we did, I did not want her to live like this. Had we of just-”

“Rose, I wasn’t just going to send her back to where she came from! Because-”

“Because you grew attached to her! When I told you not to get to fond of her too quick because it was supposed to be a trial thing. We don’t give affection to rubes, Crow. It’s a rule of thumb. That’s what we gave to her though. Not just you, but me too and I will admit with that I was wrong but yet you fail to recognize the reason I brought her into this in the first place was to make you happy and whether you think it’s right or wrong to do what I did to make you happy: I don’t care. To knock some sense into her was the only option. That was the only way she was going along with the whole thing though. So I did what I had to do, even if I didn’t like it. None of that would of happened though had you just let her go.”

Crow sat there on the ground, staring at the falling leaves around him while he processed every word that Rose said to him. “Comments?”

He had none. Yet. His head felt like a over boiling tea pot waiting to just spill over and burn the person closest to him. In that case, Rose. It wouldn’t be the first time he killed one of his lovers. His rage was infrequent but when it came out, it was a force to be reckon with like a blazing fire. It was what he related to most. It was the only thing that had passion that burned and grew as quick as he did until he met Rose. Rose burned as bright, if not brighter than he did. Crow wanted to kill Rose right then and there and she felt it. They all felt it.

Rose was quick to step away despite of her certainty he wouldn’t kill her. Yet something gave her the maybe, just maybe, he would one day. She’d make sure to keep that under control though and keep her dragon tamed.

Just like it wouldn’t be the first he killed a love, it wasn’t the first time he was a father either. Though that time was as far from him as the setting sun was near his finger tips, the memories though old and a little wishy washy, were engraved into his mind. The smell of smallpoxs immediately entering his nostrils at the thought of it. Just like he hadn’t forgotten the name and face of his own child, he was sure he wasn’t going to forget yours either. Or the way it made him the feel the last time he got to speak to you.

You felt stuck and he was stuck too. Except unlike the first child he lost, you didn’t feel scared to leave him. You felt almost relieved. Like you could breath now while the other felt like they were drowning in fear and pain. It was in that moment he realized you were scared of him. You were afraid he’d hurt you at one point

‘No, I wouldn’t hurt her,’ He told himself over and over. He would of never intentionally tried to make you scared of him or put you in a position where you felt uncomfortable. You adored him and he loved you just as much, if not more, than you loved him. You were his baby, even if it meant he had to kill to have you.

Finally he had his comment and the words came out full of fury and rage. “..Bullshit. You all fucking lie!”

…

He wouldn’t touch Rose for months let alone look at her until she forced him too and even then, that was a battle. He wasn’t the same after that. He became more cynical, more distant. Almost an empty shell of the person he was.

Any out spoken nature he had and was replaced by soft spoken snarkiness. There was no more The Irish Rose and her Crow. Only the remnants of a broken past and flings that occurred in the event of their primal feedings. Nothing more and nothing less.

While the stars shined down on you and Danny brightly as you were yet again acting out your passions in the privacy of your own home, Crow Daddy stood in the darkness of the abandoned ethanol plant in Bankerton, Iowa as he sharpened the blade of his knife. The only lights shining on him were the glares of The True Knot’s RV’S nearly blinding him.

He felt soft hands rub up and down the bare skin of his upper arm and a head press against his shoulder. Rose. “I’m excited. It’s been months since we’ve done our thing, you know?” She nipped the cartilage on his ear and fought the urge to push her away. “Sure,” He grunted.

Rose furrowed her brows. “Aren’t we testy tonight?” Crow fought the urge to laugh in her face. “When am I not lately?” She bit her lips. “You’re really going to do this. Right now?”

“It’s not like what’s been between us is exactly a secret to anyone in the family, Rosie.” She pulled away from him slightly repulsed and stretched her arms. “I’m ready.” The reply was snappy and quick and Barry was quick to obey.

'The boy is going to be the one to suffer for that reply but who am I care?’ Crow thought to himself as he looked at the bite mark the Baseball Boy left on his hand. 'The little bastard deserves it.’

“No! No! Please don’t! No..” The first couple of times he had to bare witness and participate in the unholy act after you left, he could hardly take. There was a slight lapse of faith and for a while he thought maybe he just didn’t deserve to have children. Now was different though. He felt numb.

After being in constant agony for over 20 years his sympathy began to decrease and soon he felt nothing for anyone. As Rose knelt down to Bradley Trevor’s level he took his position behind her, standing tall. To child on the ground, he was terrifying but the rest thought nothing of him.

Rose gestured for the knife and he handed it over immediately. “A-are you going to hurt me?” The reply was husky and menacing. “Yes.”

There were screams of protest but Crow took no mind to them. “Pain purifies steam. Fear too. So now you understand.” The Baseball Boy let out a scream of protest before Rose stabbed deeply into him.

…

Meanwhile as you laid in bed next to Danny who was in a dead coma, you felt someone poking at your mind. “Danny, stop it.” You elbowed him. He grunted and slapped your ass cheek. “W-wha?”

“You’re poking in my head again. Stop it.” He rolled over onto his side and shoved his face into the pillow. “I’m trying to sleep.” You rolled your eyes and as you went to wrap your arms around him, you felt the poke again. Accept this time it hurt. Like an electric shock.

(Hello?! Hello! Please tell me you can hear me.)

You paused before responding.

(I can hear you.)

(Good! They’re hurting him and they won’t stop.)

(Who is they?)

The response terrified you.

(The woman in the hat.)

All the sudden you felt nauseous and you gripped at bed sheets. You knew what was going to happen and you were terrified. The room began to slant on an angle and you gripped onto the head board tightly.

“Babe! What are you doing?” Dan sat up in bed and his face went flat at seeing the expression on your face. “Honey?”

You tried to respond to him physically but couldn’t so instead you turned to the person in your head.

(You’re mine and my husband’s pen pal, aren’t you?)

(Yeah.)

(Are you comfortable with telling me your name?)

(Yeah, it’s Abra.)

(Well Abra, can I ask you to do me a favor?)

The room began to tilt on an angle and you felt your grip on the head board becoming lose.

(Anything.)

(If I get stuck in here, tell Dan I love him.)

Your fingers lost their hold on the frame and you began to spiral down into a dark hole. 'This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.’ You prayed, silently hoping Abra was wrong but something told you she wasn’t. The dark hole began to reach it’s end and you had enough time to see trees and a sign that read 'NO TRESPASSING: BANKERTON ETHANOL PLANT’ When you felt the spiraling of your body stop.

Your astral body hit the ground hard and you had to spit the dirt out of your mouth. “Ugh, gross.” You attempted to reach forward to try and find something to grip onto that way you could stand up but your hand connected with human skin.

“Oh shit!” You scrambled back at the sight of Barry and you felt your body beginning to levitate upwards. “No! No! Please, please! I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to see it!” Your body wouldn’t move though. You had to look. Unless you were going to get stuck here and hesitantly you opened your eyes. “Oh my god! Stop! Stop! Please stop!”

Your body began to lower and suddenly you felt eyes on you. One of them heard you. “No! No! No! No!” A hand ran itself through your long locks and you trembled.

“What is it?” You knew that voice and you didn’t have to open your eyes to know who was infront of you.

(Look at me.)

You shook your head but felt fingers lifting your head up to force you to look at them and slowly you opened them to see Rose. Her hands covered in blood and her eyes full of steamy lust.

(Well, hi there sweetie!)

Panic began to rise inside you and you reached out to Abra.

(Ru-)

Before you could even finish your thought, Rose plunged the knife back into the Baseball Boy and you let out a scream. “Holy shit! Holy shit!” You screeched feeling his pain.

(Funny how things come around isn’t it, Y/n?)

“Stop! Stop! Rose, please stop! Just stop!” Just as Danny was about to lay back down he jumped up in bed and gently shook your shoulders. “Y/n?! Baby? What’s wrong.”

(You got a friend there, Y/n? I want to see him.)

As Dan leaned over to caress your cheek, you pushed him back. “Y/n!” You could feel the rise Rose was getting out of your pain and it made you mad. You wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of getting kicks off your pain. “Get away from me, Danny! Get away!”

Instead of now just seeing Rose in your eyeshot all of them were in eyeshot with those haunting blue eyes staring at you and you slammed your head against the back of the bed. “Make it stop, Danny! Make it stop!”

This time when you tried to push him away, he held your arms down against your chest that way he could try to wake you up. “She’s going to see you Danny!”

(Yes, Danny. I am going to see you. That your little friend you made down in Florida?)

“Shut up!” You screamed. “Who’s going to see me?!”

“No!”

“God damn it, Y/n! Who do you see?”

BAM!

The room shook and Danny landed backwards onto the hardwood floor. Now he was pissed, not at you but whoever it was he couldn’t see. He grabbed your wrist to stop you from pushing him away. “Leave her alone!”

As Dan continued to shake your body and beg for you to wake up, the astral world around you began to slide. This time you were hanging upside down as you fell and as you did, yours and Crow Daddy’s eyes unintentionally interlocked though he would be aware enough to know it.

As you slammed back into your physical body, you rolled off the bed and hit your head on the dresser. “Oww!” You screeched and started sobbing. Dan tried to pull you into a hug but you kicked at him. “No! No!”

“Y/n-” You let out a scream. “Just leave me alone!” Danny backed away and you let out a sob. “What happened?” He asked gently as he scooped you up into his arms like you were a child. Normally you would protest said act but for right now, you didn’t care. You needed the comfort and that’s how he was giving it.

“They killed him..” You sobbed and you felt Danny let out a sigh as he ran his fingers through your hair. “They killed who?”

“That poor little boy!” You let out a screaming cry and buried your head in his shoulder. “Okay..okay.” You choked on your own sobs and nuzzled closely to him. “It’s alright.”

…

Meanwhile thousands of miles away, the lights of RV’s shined brightly in the darkness of the Iowa night on Crow and Rose as they buried the baseball boy.

As Rose finished throwing her scoop of dirt over Bradley Trevor’s glove she paused for a moment and looked at the ground. “We had a looker.” Crow stopped what he was doing and for the first time in years she actually seen a glint of what she would like to think was excitement in his dark eyes. “Tonight?”

“Yeah.” Rose dropped the shovel on the ground and Crow did the same. “East Coast, I think.” He furrowed his brows. “You’re saying someone looked in from I’ve 10,000 miles away?”

“Could of been farther. Could of been up in Canada, but it gets better. She wasn’t alone either.” Rose smirked slightly. “Y/n was with her.”

They say a picture is worth 1000 words but in that moment Crow Daddy’s face had an expression of infinite emotions. He tried tracking you down a few times after you ran but he honestly wondered what good it would do. He didn’t have to be in your mind to you were petrified of Rose and he figured you probably would want nothing to do with him. His mouth went dry and he felt like he wanted to throw up. “What?”

“Oh yeah and she wasn’t happy to see me either. The second she seen me stab into the kid she was out of there so fast and back to her man friend.”

“Man friend?” He looked boggled. “Oh yeah. Danny is his name. She wouldn’t let me get a look at him though..or the looker but I swear Crow Daddy, I haven’t felt power. Raw power like that off the looker than I’ve felt in so long..”

“Then do you think we should look into it? The sooner the better. Before her parents send her to a psychiatrist. Put her on pills. Muffle the steam and make her harder to find.”

“No, giving paxil to this kid is like putting a piece of saran wrap over a search light. And when either of them come back and trust me, I’ll know they’ll be back, I’ll be ready. Oh I’ll be ready..”

Crow dreaded the prospect though. He didn’t want to see you older. A little bit younger than him. It served as a reminder that time went comes and goes fast and there was no buying more of it. For the rubes at least.

“Besides,” Rose straightened her posture as if she was reflecting back on another thought. “What is tied can never be untied.” As Crow raised an eyebrow Rose met the look with a smirk.

…

Your hands shook as Danny handed you a cup of tea. “There we go.” He wrapped you up with a blanket from behind and hummed appreciatively “Thank you.” He nodded and there was an awkward moment of silence as he stared at the REDRUM on the wall in the next room. “So you going to tell me now or never?”

"Danny,“ You begged and he shushed you. "Just listen to me. I think it would help if you told me about it though.”

“There’s a reason why I don’t talk about my childhood, Dan.” He squeezed your hand. “I know.” You kissed the tops of his knuckles. “It’s painful.” Your voice started to crack.

“If you’re afraid of me thinking differently of you, I would never. I love you for you. Whatever they did, it’s not on you. Please baby, I know it’s hurting you. Just let me in.”

You sighed and looked down at your kitchen counter. “You remember when you met me all those years ago in Florida?” He nodded and rubbed the tops of your hands. “I was only there for a brief amount of time. I moved around alot as a kid. For a while I never really understood why.”

“You mentioned your family was pretty nomadic but what does this have to do with anything?” Dan asked softly and continued to caress your skin. “The people who raised me, they were special like us. They shined maybe as much, if not more than we did. There are things out there, dark things, that hurt people like us.” Tears started to well up in your eyes. “Y/n-”

“They make people like us never be seen again and they warned me about the dark things and told me to stay away from them but I didn’t know I really didn’t have to worry about them at the time.”

Dan wiped one of your tears away, trying to ignore the hairs sticking straight up on his arms. “Why?” Your teary eyes interlocked with his. “Because I was living with the dark things that hurt people like us.” His posture stiffened and he slowly let go of your face. “What?” You ignored his question, continuing to ramble on.

“They always looked the same. It was the strangest thing. My grandpa went from having a limp in his leg to walking without a cane over night and sometimes when they were near me, my one uncle always looked at me like he was hungry. I was nine and we were staying long term in Georgia for the winter because I was sick. It made my mom a nervous wreck, so she’d stay with me every night while I slept and the one night I woke up over night and she wasn’t there so I panicked and I just remember hearing these screams. They were awful. Like these husky barks and even though I was supposed to be in bed I got up to look for my mom and when I got up she was on top of this little boy and she was-” You choked up a little bit. “She was gutting into him like he was a fish and they were eating him.”

“Like Hannibal Lecter eating him or-” You shook your head. “His shine. They were drinking his screams and pain too.” Dan looked so upset. “Honey.” Your body wracked itself with sobs. “And I’ll never forget the look on his face! Like he was being violated.”

“W-what did they do when they seen you were there?” You tried to wipe some tears away but they just kept pouring rapidly. “Most of them didn’t care or notice at first. My dad on the other hand looked so mortified. I can’t remember if it was him or my mom that picked me up and kept telling me over and over again it was out of survival and that I wasn’t supposed to see it. That it was all for the better. That way they could live longer and be healthier and that they wouldn’t hurt me. They could never hurt me like that.”

“Please don’t tell me you believed them.” His tone almost sounded judgemental and you became defensive. “Dan! What was I supposed to do? They were my family and it’s not like I had any where to go to. Despite what they did, I still loved him even though part of me was scared of them.”

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m just trying to wrap my head around all this.” He kissed the top of your head and you had to supress the urge to just shove him away. “Could you live like that? Live a lie?”

“I kept my mouth shut, Danny and if you were in my shoes you would of done the same. For about 7 years we went on like that until my dad left for business for about a week and I finally couldn’t take it anymore and then truth came out about everything.”

You let out a screaming sob as Rose threw plates around you. “..They would of never of been able to provide for you the way your father and I did! Those rubes pigs were selfish and given the chance, they would of used you and abused you even more than they already did.”

You shook your head feverishly, trying to block out Rose’s word. “You were so desperate to have someone love you, that I barely even had to wipe your mind. You were so touch starved that we practically did nothing but hold you the first couple of weeks you were here. We loved you when no one else did! Not even your fucking mother.”

You choked on your own sobs and slumped down to the ground, not caring if the broken glass on the ground cut into your fragile skin. Rose knelt down to your level and began to pull some of the shards. “But don’t worry though, honey. Daddy fixed that issue.”

You felt your blood run cold and you tensed. “W-what do you mean?” Part of you knew the answer to that question though and you dreaded hearing it come out of her mouth. Rose reached up into a nearby drawer and pulled out an old Polaroid photograph. “Does that answer your question?”

“OH GOD!” You screamed and broke back into hysterics. “He never did it to hurt you. You wanted her dead. Trust me. It was all out of love, my sweet. Every single piece of it was out of love.”

"T-that’s not love!” You stuttered. “No?” Rose’s tone was cynical. “No!..”

“Y/n-”

“14 years, Danny. 14 fucking years, I let them scare me into thinking all people were bad besides them and I thought they were my family the whole time yet it was all just a lie!” Dan wrapped his arms around your waist and planted a kiss on your cheek, trying to process it all. Your water works started up all over again and Danny sighed. “Y/n..Y/n, it’s not your fault.”

“It is Danny! It fucking is! And then she started hitting because she knew I despised her for the truth and it hurt so bad because we went from being so close to so far apart.”

“Baby-”

“My trust with the rest of them too was so torn because they all knew what she was doing and they hid. Over two years I had to lie my dad because I didn’t want to make him upset because he was the only one of them that I trusted and then I let him kill my mother..”

“You were a child, honey. You couldn’t of known. It’s not your fault and that’s all over now. I’m here.” He rocked you back and forth as you cried into him. “And the worse part is that even after everything they’ve done to me, part of me still loves and misses them sometimes.”

Dan’s mind drifted back to his own father and he tensed, understand what it was like to still love the abuser even though they caused more damage than could be repaired. “I know, baby..I know. It’s a fucked up cycle.” You nuzzled close to him.

“Don’t leave me, Danny!” You begged. “I won’t..it’s okay.” As you wept into him, Danny looked off to the side room that had the ominous REDRUM scrawled on the walls and hugged you tight.

“We need to keep that little girl away from them Dan. They’ll hurt her.” He pulled away from you. “We? No! No there is no we in this. If anything, we should stay out of this.”

“Dan! You’re being selfish. We can’t just abandon this little girl.” He shook his head. “It’s not abandoning her if I tell her to keep her head down.”

“That’s the exact opposite of what we should do!” Dan huffed and you placed a kiss against his cheek, cradling his face in your hands. “Look, just listen with an open mind. Okay?”

He nodded and your eyes interlocked with his baby blue ones. “I know they work, Danny. That’s why they took me. To use my shine to find people. They’ll prey on people who put their heads down because it’s easier for them to seem like the good guys. It’ll make her more of a sitting duck. To make her hide this, all of this, it’ll just kill her self esteem and her herself. You have to encourage her.”

“Why me?”

“Because besides me, you’re probably the only person that hears her Dan. Who understands her. She knows you more than me because she turned to you first. You’re the only one who probably interacts with her the way people like us can.” You held his hands in yours. “Do you remember how lonely you felt being younger? We can’t let that happen to her.”

“And I can’t let you get hurt either. If these people, whatever the hell they’re called can find that little girl-”

“Abra. Her name is Abra,” You corrected but Dan only rolled his eyes. “-They probably can find you and I just-”

Dan visibly shivered. “I don’t want to even picture in my mind what things they’d do to you or what would happen you if they found you.” He cupped your face and took in all your features. “I-i’d never be able to live with myself, knowing I could of prevented it. I can’t- I won’t let them hurt you. They’ve done enough damage.”

“So that’s it? We’re just abandoning her?” Dan rubbed his face. “I wouldn’t call it that just..cutting ties for a while.” You pushed away from him and rolled your eyes. “Y/n, I’m sorry but I don’t want you getting killed!”

“Just don’t talk to me right now, Danny. I want to be alone.” You went back to yours and Danny’s bedroom and locked the door before he could get it. “Y/n..come on baby.”

“I told you I want to be alone.” You sat down with your back against the door and Danny did the same from the other side. “Okay..Honey?”

“Yes, Dan?” He laid his hand against the woods barrier between the both of you. “I love you.” Despite how mad you were, you smiled slightly and did the same. “I love you too..now go. Please.”

Dan did as you asked and as he made his walk to the guest room in the second floor of your house, he stopped at the spare room. Staring at the REDRUM on the wall before picking up a piece of chalk and scrawling a quick message. 'Abra: I hope you’re okay and you have a better day tomorrow. Your friends, Dan and Y/n.’

#doctor sleep #dr sleep #imagine #imagines #fanfiction #crow daddy #abra stone #rose the hat #Danny Torrance #dan torrance #x fem reader #x female reader #stephen king #The Shining #the true knot

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wammys-house-a · 4 years

Text

Page CXXI ⎯ Secrets

Awoke 5:49 ⎯ Late again.

Another promise to myself broken

The room is faded in dawn's bleaching white radiance.

Spring's heat raises from the folds of my sheets, the collar of my shirt, sweat trickles down my spine as I breath slow, shallow.

Luminated dust meets my slumber-drunk vision, floating on my breath, flickering like earth bound stars, like sparkling embers from dragon maws, burning through my dreams.

⎯ The illusion is still on my fingertips...

But slipping away like sand though a glass,

In my dreams,

our home was lit by an unseen power.

The walls unmarred by the feeds of electric lines, without outlets, the lamps glowed on golden perches like pygmy suns. I had not believed B, when he said it was the result of a tsuki-mono, a curse passed down through b l o o d l i n e s...

But when he held one of the glowing orbs in his hands and I looked into the ivory light, I saw there was nothing there to keep it alive...

At the heart of this structure, the source of it’s power.

⎯ Beneath the house, a secret .

Ecclesiastical fenestrations cast prismic light into the scaffold ribs like captive rainbows but could not penetrate the underbelly, where stone walls wept ⎯ windowless, their long alleys, narrowed like spires until they converged to a single door . . .

Behind it, truth.

B led me down, down into the quiet core where the tear drop lanterns grew dim and died in the night held hostage in our home’s roots. We groped along the walls together, blind but emboldened by the other’s company until he found it and pushed open the door.

Within ⎯ a curtain of light bleed inexplicably from the basement ceiling, like daylight piercing a forest canopy.

Resting beneath it’s glimmering veil was a long, polished b o x perched on spiraling iron legs that penetrated the concrete floor like the roots of Methuselah.

⎯ Richly veined, it’s scarlet mahogany surface was like that of the floorboards in the halls above, making the c o f f i n both familiar and as disquietingly foreign as friend that one has not seen in many years.

As I drew up to it’s side, my perspective shifted as though I was sinking imperceptibly into the ground, until my line of sight was even with the base of the smooth varnished lip.

I was suddenly small... Like a child.

I pressed my weight onto my toes and reaching out blindly, my fingers meeting the chilly facade of the closed lid.

Dust or static created a strange, phantom-velvet texture, overlaying the polished surface beneath my touch.

Then, I glided them down, d o w n

until my fingers met an indentation . . .

⎯ The edges sharp as engraved stone.

Foreboding grew as I followed the carved line, it enlarging,

e l o n g a t i n g ,

the size of it traced beneath my fingers, a trail that for an instant I thought might stretch all the way to the foot to crease down it’s throat ⎯

But then ... I felt it curve , slope .

It was an answer waiting.

What l e t t e r was cut into the wood⎯ ?

Startling awake, I opened by eyes to the shimmering sunlight that had penetrated my dreams ...

My body, hot and aching with words left unsaid,

⎯ " ... I don't want to know . . . "

⎯ 11:13

Can I even call what he is doing to me betrayal?

The desperate hammering of my heart is the same ear filling thump, coming hard against the door as I hid behind it’s brass lock ⎯ Backup’s heel; the buckling, booming rattle of his rage in the background of my agonizing desire to

just.

be.

a l o n e . . .

I suppose, I may finally have it.

This is my fault.

In my desperation to delay the end of this game we've spent half our lives playing, I lost sight of my principles. Perhaps, my escalating insincerity and his giftedness, made this ultimately inevitable.

Experience has left me few doubts of his semi-clairvoyance but only now am I considering what his precision implies...

That there is a fated nature to it all.

That I never had a chance.

It took two ego-bruising weeks, driving my exhaustion bone-deep, before I began to consider that the passion that had sustained me for nearly two decades was fading. My spirit had withered with the effort to reach it more depleting. I began to wonder, if I simply wasn’t good enough to solve this one.

Just as despair took hold of me, B's index finger came uninvited over my shoulder and pressed into the screen ⎯ creating a rippling prismatic bulls-eye over one photograph in a sea of over one-hundred-twenty.

The answer. The next fatality.

He handed it to me, without having asked.

⎯ Cooperation is forbidden; it complicates the variables and the validity of the existing hierarchy, it obscures where our loyalties truly lie...

I knew it and took it anyway.

Because I am not who I should be.

They wouldn’t be questioning him now, if I had not created a trail in retrospect, justifing my intuition .

A thread of truth could be enough to hang me.

Facing the possibility of losing all that anchors me, I am on the precipice of a terrible epiphany — choking on the question; ⎯ " Where does the person I’m trying to be end, and who I am begin ? "

I once believed that who I was could be distilled down to it’s essence, that if the parts that did not matter could be cut away;

the fingers that brace me,

the feet that carry me,

the sight that leads me --

What was left would be me , a tiny piece of the universe that had becoming miraculously and unmercifully aware of itself... And, that I could never truly lose myself.

I am beginning to doubt that.

And with a fascinated horror, I am beginning to realize that I simply don't know how to be anything other than what I have been trying to be for the last seven years... I don't think I would know who I was if everything but my life was taken from me.

Staring down the barrel of a derelict future, the prospect of my life coming to an abrupt end is disconcertingly comforting...

Actually, in the darkness of a loss of this depth, the alleys that pave the way to massacres are unnervingly clear ...

and I don't know if who I am beneath Alternative is above k i l l i n g y o u a l l ...

That prospect is no longer unthinkable.

I once asked a senior pathologist if the difficulty of dismembering a body was a limiting factor for suspects, to which they warned me to be careful of assumptions because almost anyone is capable of almost anything — given enough time and determination.

It is particularly poient in this moment as I contemplate how long it would take me to pick all your locks and strangle you in your sheets ...

Slip thallium into the soup, listen to you all miserably puking out your corroding insides as metallic venom slithers into your brains before they can get it o u t.

Trace the opulent halls with ignition fluid following up to your doors with you barricaded inside ... praying for smoke to coat your lungs, to smother you from the inside.

Watch B crawl out to see the carnage.

see it dawn on him that this is no accident,

see a genuine response — unadulterated by his intellect or prevarication — just raw, bleeding instinct from this animal I've called my friend, becoming at once so mortal and so equal to me, that we can end this era of our lives together in violently, intimate truth ...

Maybe you would understand, if everything you were was on the brink of utter erasure. You might find that you aren’t who you thought you were either.

The truth is, I am afraid that if I cannot have it, I can't find it within me to recognize that I owe it to my species, to civilization itself, to let B take it from me.

Not in this way.

I don't know how I thought this would ultimately end, If B would wrench victory from me or if I would wait on a tragedy to eliminate my part in all of this...

But not betrayal, not when it's my fault.

I think I was resigned to carry forward indefinitely, — losing pieces of who I thought I was to the current I've been fighting against, believing that if I only kept going, and never stopped, I might outrun regret and what could have been.

Maybe I believed I would rekindle faith again — in myself, in this path, in leaving a better world for the next A .

Maybe a world one step closer to not needing an L at all.

If nothing had stopped me, one day there would have been nothing left but Alternative. He is not a mask one can take off when it becomes inconvenient, he is a skin you sew yourself into slowly, until his integrity is what's keeping you intact.. A has become a deathbed I realized too late I was making.

But, it isn't that I never thought of leaving.

I could walk away...

Wandering like a ghost, unhindered by past or societal taxonomy, exempt from the yokes placed on young men to make them whatever is most useful; armed with bibles or guns or shovels to do what needs to be done.

But, my freedom is overshadowed by the total absence of certainty, my purpose swallowed up by a life concentrated on survival. — Adrift, I know there will be no rescue when any there was lies six feet under and rotting.

I have no one. I am no one.

I know many resent their safety nets while accept cliff sides nesting sleepless vipers. I don't envy them, despite being in freefall myself. — At least, I don't have to go home to fight more battles than those I am already losing...

That is why I don't resent Wammy's House.

This path spared me what will haunt so many others — I've no memories captured in the immoral chirons of media posts or infinite digital clouds.

The voices and faces that once comforted me have been slowly pulled ever-deeper into my conciousness, my mind quietly eating itself alive, —

the way nature intended

I never had the opportunity to agonize over unwashed sheets, holding the last trace of their scent, because there was nothing left for me to hold onto.

My loss left no footprints for me to follow.

All I have is the implicit memory of sunlit lilies draped over searing black coffins and the lingering hope that it would mean something ... someday.

Maybe that's why this is so hard to give up.

I don't want it all to amount to nothing.

I have become nothing but t h i s , now.

I am nothing without t h i s .

If he takes everything from me,

I will leave L nothing to salvage.

I don't want my motives misconstrued.

What I will do with the Backup does not make him collateral damage in my private catastrophe.

He is not a martyr.

I am not inspired by a hatred of B for his opportunism,

It is not that he doesn't deserve victory, it is that, if he turns on me now, he has proven he has no honor.

An L without honor is a monster of limitless evil.

I am recovering my friend's body

and incidentally sparing you an incomparable tyranny.

I cannot speculate on how Wammy's has shaped B's psyche, but he has always had a recusant character ... and he knows I can keep a secret.

⎯ "Why did you do it?..." He sucks his teeth at the question as though there's room for doubt, as though he could delude me too. ⎯ "You didn't have a good time at the party, Alt’ ?" I watched him begin idly digging into his coat, the collar billowing around his face, his complexion is a sickly pale against it’s dark grey tweed ⎯ "You've gone too far this time. " He knew it, but I wanted nothing to be ambiguous about where I stood. ⎯ “You're not taking this seriously. Someone could have been killed. You could have been, I could have been- What is wrong with you? ” He pulled something from his slacks and only when he struck it against his heel did I recognize it was a match. He shook his head at my indictment but gave no indication of noticing that I had taken a step back. ⎯ “No, you wouldn’t.” His face turns, dark lashes casting sleepy shadows over the clinquant daylight caught in his eyes. I'm struck by how young he looks For a fleeting instant, I'm acutely aware that the teenager I'm standing next to is the same boy that played hide and seek with me in the meadow, long before we cared where this path was leading us. And, I am scared that if he turns a meager smile on me, I might forget all the heart ache he's caused. I might remember ... what it felt like to meet my wild-eyed friend at the fenceline and escape what brought us here, immerse ourselves in a world far away from the homesickness and disappointed adults and the fear of what would come apart next. When our hands would meet on the sun-warmed bars, metal and skin becoming homogenized heat that bound rather than separated us in a way that felt timeless to my seven year old senses, when it never crossed my mind that one day our fingers would grow too big to fit between the gaps... Standing together on the grassy nole, the breeze combs tender fingers through my hair and I sigh quietly as we watched the dining hall being assessed for damages, the smoldering aftermath of what should have been a re-birthday now the scene of a bottle rocket's explosion. The blossoming, radiant morning rang with shrill alarms and the sharp scent of flash powder like heaven at war. B lit a cigarette and perched it on his lip, allowing the silence that fell between us tell me everything I needed to know. Outrage swelled within me like a rising tide. He didn't think I deserved an explanation, I'm just another pawn caught up in whatever game he's playing,

⎯ "Why are you-?... Are you trying to tick me off ? !" He inhaled. soft, unruffled.

Uncaring. Not even meeting my eyes. ⎯ "You are .... your most endearing when you're angry, you know that?" His words carried on the smoke exiting his lungs, mirroring that pouring out of our home's windows between crashing booms. — "Direct and honest. ... For once. The right girl will appreciate that about you, you should stop wasting time and find her." He smiled around the smoldering stick in that way he does when he knows he's made a clever move and wants to say without saying ‘what now?’ I could viscerally feel my flushed rage. He's the only person I know that can belittle me with such a thorny effect, making me feel petulant and ridiculous for expecting anything from him, like he owes me. ⎯ ��"You'll put yourself into an early gave with those, B." I wanted it to be true. I want to spite him.

Maybe I want him to die right now. If one of the agents mistook us for intruders and shot him here in the blood-velvet reeds, then my company would be all he had. Then, maybe, he would appreciate that I’m here and what that really means, in spite of it all. Instead, B pulls the cigarette from his lips and flicks it against his fingers, letting ash fall like loose petals to the breeze. Careless. — "Ironic you would say that ..." Cryptic. It's as though he wants to rile me up. He should know by now where he is provocative, I am unrelenting — because I have to be, because I have to survive him. In my periphery, I take notice of the unfamiliar security moving in our direction and feel a twinge of fear that I should be more careful of what I wish for. But I don't move, there's nowhere to go and I admit there is an unexpected ounce of relief in the approaching danger. Though I'm not certain where it's from... — "There are so many... did they bring them here for us? Do you think it has to do with the bioterror case?" ⎯ " I considered that." He said with another flick of his cigarette. — " But, there's not enough unrest. No lock down, no interrogations, no medical testing, no travel bans. We’re going head-long into this, it's inevitable. It's a matter of when, not if, but we aren’t there yet... I warned him— about K, about X, about Y— but he won't listen. I did it, so when this is all over, he'll know I was right and he was wrong." "He's unreachable..."

— "He is. But, he would notice I breached security and slipped into his case files and left him a puzzle to follow. If he pieced it together, he knows someone's predicted who won't make it out of this alive." More than the fire and the guards, I am astonished by his lack of concern for self-preservation. "Christ— He might think you're part of it!" — "Maybe. Maybe that's why they are here, because as far as I can see I've either failed or he was never here to begin with." Bewilderment is followed by a surge of understanding that spreads over me like ice water, "You did this to flush L out..." ⎯ " P r o r s u s. " Exactly.

This is what it feels like to wait for the end of the world Only for it not to happen... — B said nothing. Battling a remarkably bloodless gratitude, I stumble to find something to say — anything in my lightheaded shock that's replaced the black-buzzing distress... but nothing comes. He begins to walk away, just as thank you begins to form unsteadily in my throat, but there emerges the smallest prick of dissatisfaction at this outcome that leaves me feeling too ashamed of being ungrateful to speak above a whisper . ... it's a macabre disappointment. I realize I have been holding onto a poisonous hope that B would show his true colours, that I would be exempt from our abiding alliance, I would have enough reason to take control, — that my end would be a turning point, that I could choose to burn it all down and not be fated to disappear quietly... Now, I've returned to the same indecision that will most likely lead to exactly that. But... I cannot ponder further how I may outmeuver fate, why he chose to continue a more difficult path with me as an obstacle, nor confront the calamitous fear lurking within me — I cannot risk the possibility that this will ever be seen. I cannot justify condemning us both, though that was my original intention. In the end, I didn't want my last chapter written by speculators. I didn't want the flaws in their design to go unaddressed, the way they must remain while I'm alive to suffer the consequences of failed propriety. I wanted them to know why. Now, no one can know these things ... I'm afraid that no one ever will, that by the time the real end arrives, I will not recognize it's here...

Of all the secrets I've kept, I think those that I know will die with me terrify me the most.

#enteries #death note #wammys house #beyond birthday #death note a #a (death note)#Journal Entry #Entries

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thestoryofhiccstrid · 4 years

Text

HICCSTRID ONE SHOT: NIGHTMARES

So today is a very very special day!! Indeed, it's the birthday of my bestie @foreverandalwayshttyd , and I wanted to write you a little something sweetie ♡ I really hope you will like it, even though it will never be as good as I wish it could since you deserve the very best! Love you lot, you make me the happiest and I'm beyond grateful to have you! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY GIRLIE!!! I WISH YOU A YEAR FULL OF HAPPINESS, UNFORGETTABLE MEMORIES AND LOVE <3

Now, as for the context, it's taking place in rtte, after season 3 episode 5 :) I'm so sorry for all the mistakes I've made (hopefully not too much!!) Enjoy :D

☆☆☆☆☆

Astrid couldn't stop turning around in her bed, and her hut had never seemed so nerve-wracking and scary. There was sweat dripping on her forehead and her temples. It seemed to her that the bedroom was burning and that she couldn't do anything to make it stop, to put an end to this agonizing heat.

Her heart was racing, as if he was threatening to get out of her rib cage at any moment. Her headache and her arms shaking did not help to realise her overwhelming urge to find a normal breathing again and a less blurred view. She just could't focus on anything else than herself on the brink of death.

She was about to cry, and she hated that. Indeed, she couldn't cry just because of a nightmare! She was a strong and fierce girl, undoubtedly fearless! She was Astrid Hofferson for Thor's sake!

Well, even if she was repeating to herself this anchored thought of her, her shivers wouldn't stop, just like her heart pounding. It looked so true, she could feel the huge pain of the Scourge of Odin all over again, and it was simply so exhausting.

Suddenly, she heard someone knocking on her door boldly.

_ "Astrid, you forgot your knives on the table of the central pavilion. I ... I wanted to give them back to you... Can I come in?"

She immediately recognized the familiar nasally voice of Hiccup that she liked more than she would admit, always shy about her increasing feelings for him that were quite scaring her about how deep they were, and the last thing that she wanted was him seeing her being a total mess.

Since he didn't get any reply, he soon started to worry and decided to knock again, the want to make sure that she was okay devouring him.

But still, no reply at all.

_ "Astrid? Astrid! Are you okay?" he said, his voice full of concern for the girl that, only a week ago, caused him the fear of his life, but also the same girl that was always the main character of his craziest dreams (that may or may not include a passionate and all so desired kiss), since... well... since as long as he could remember.

_ "Yes, don't... don't worry Hiccup, I will take them tomorrow. But thanks."

She felt so guilty about not opening her front door to her... best friend? That was what he was to her, right? Or maybe more? No, what was she thinking about! And even if she had developed feelings for him, which is clearly not the case, would it be mutual?

She didn't know anymore... Another thing she wants to figure out, since there were so many different feelings rushing in her heart at the same time whenever his cute face full of freckles was in front of her. And his bright emerald eyes, those that looks at her like nobody else do, and that definitely were her weakness. She could litteraly get lost into them.

She thought for so long that he was just her best friend and nothing more than the guy who share with her the taste for adventure, the guy that completely changed her opinion about dragons and war, the guy the most awkward yet cute she ever met, the guy the most caring and protective and faithful to his convictions, and attractive...

By Odin! Did she just admit to herself that she found him attractive? Her?? And meaned every word she said, if not more???

She was so not the type of girl paying attention and importance about looks, but she had to admit that Hiccup was no longer a pretty boy with a sweet smile. No, he was so much more than that.

She just didn't want to put words on it, so afraid that it might reveal her obvious feelings for him, her uncontrollable want to be with him, to make him understand how much he means to her, how much she couldn't picture herself waking up without seeing his usual grin with his adorable crooked teeths, or his excitement about a new exploration that obviously imply rescuing dragons (and she wouldn't want it any other way).

How much she couldn't imagine doing any mission without him, get some sleep without saying him goodnight, eating if she was not sitting on her usual chair because then she would have to deal with the twins stealing her food or worse, having Snotlout teasing her about how she can't live without him.

How much she cherishes every single thing that makes him him.

She didn't know how long she had been lost in her thoughts, but she was unquestionably really shocked to hear him again, testifying that he was still here and that he won't give up. Why she's not even surprised? He's definitely stubborn when he wants to, and she also deeply love that part of him. As most as she find his determination heartwarming, her flushed cheeks and her dilated pupils clearly don't want to confront his gaze, not now!

_ "Astrid, I don't want to appear intrusive or anything, but I feel like you was trying to avoid me today... Did I do something wrong? If it's the case, I'm so sorry! You know I'm here for you and that you can tell me anything and... yeah I really hope you're okay after everything you've been through this past few months. I... I miss spending time with you..."

That was it. She couldn't take it anymore. She let hot tears rolling down along her blushing cheeks, trying her best to choke her sobs. She felt so weak, so vulnerable, so fragile at this very moment.

And him, he was so nice to her, so receptive at any move she make, at any tone of voice she use. He was always there for her, exactly like he said, making sure she feels alright, happy and surrounded, offering her all the support she could wish for and even more than that.

And her? What did she do? What did she do to deserve this amount of goodwill and kindness and this unstinting support ? Was she really losing her self-confidence?

She obviously didn't wanted to be an emotional wreck. She had to believe that those horrible nightmares will come to an end with all her might!

Thus, she wiped her tears with determination and decided that the bravest thing that she could do right now was to open the door to him. After all, if there is someone in this world that won't judge anyone, it's him for sure.

_ "Hi Hiccup! Don't you worry, you didn't do anything wrong, like at all! Hum... Well... it's not you that have to apologize... I mean, I don't know where I would be without you... you litteraly saved my life and I can't think of a way to thank you enough, to repay you... I am so sorry, I didn't wanted to hurt you!!!"

And with that confession out of her chest, quiet sobs returned in spite of herself.

Instinctively, he pulled her against his chest, wrapped his arms around her waist and cradled her delicately while drawing gentle circles in the small of her back.

She immediately relaxed and put her head in the crook of his neck, taking the time to breathe his woody scent, which reminds her so much of the forge and all the hours of work he spends inside. Everything became more peaceful and bearable. It was as if this place in the hollow of his arms was meant for her. It felt like home. The precise place where she can be herself, and she was definitely overwhelmed by love right now.

She opened her eyes and dared maintaining his gaze but what she found was no longer determination. It was without a doubt hesitation.

_ "What is it? Are you feeling uncomfortable about this?"

_ "What? No! No, no, no, no, no! It's just... argh!"

_ "It's just what?", she replied, squeezing his hand in order to encourage him to continue.

_ "Forget it, it's not that important anyway", he answered, trying to avoid her gaze.

_ "What happened to you?"

_ "What are you saying?"

_ "We promised to always tell each other the truth!"

_ "Are you telling me that I'm lying to you?! Seriously Astrid?!"

_ "Up to you to convince me otherwise!"

_ "Is it the lack of sleep that makes you say things like that?"

_ "WHAT?? Say that again to see!!!"

_ "I'm just saying that I'm not hiding anything from you Astrid! But what about you, huh? You haven't told me anything lately!"

_ "Okay, well, what do you want to know?!"

_ "I don't know! How are you feeling, why are you avoiding me, how do you manage to make me feel so insecure about our friendship..."

_ "Our friendship? You question our bond?!"

_ "NO! OF COURSE NOT! It's still not my fault if everything you do makes me doubt!"

_ "I don't follow you... doubts about what??"

_ "About us!! I... urgh! I just... I just... let me show you"

Without another word, he crushed his lips againt her own, and both of their hearts skipped a beat. He said he wanted to show her, that's what he will do. He cupped both of her cheeks, leaned a little more and tilted his head a little for having a better angle to take control.

Her lips were so soft, so perfect, so addictive! He felt like he was in heaven. He took the time to memorize every new sensation, every little sigh and moan, exploring every inch of her divine lips who had become in a quarter of a second his favorite place of all time, as if they were meant to be pressed against him own.

Paying attention of any possible sign of reluctance, he definitely felt more alive than ever when she answered fervently, wrapping her arms against his neck, which send shivers along his spine and made him groan of pleasure.

She even intensified the kiss, brushing her lips against his own languorously while mobilizing an infinite tenderness at each new meeting, full of anticipation.

They kissed with passion until they were forced to part to catch their breath, which they did grudgingly.

He scanned her face and found an Astrid grinning from ear to ear, with cheeks flushed red and pupils blacker than ever. As for him, his blissful smile and the soft tingling on his lips were the proof that he only wanted one thing: repeat this delightful moment as many times as she would allow him.

_ "This sounds kinda familiar" she said, her eyes sparkling and focused on his reaction.

_ "I think I'm definitely more comfortable when I directly show you what I mean. Note that this time I didn't throw you on a branch" he admitted with a teasing smile.

_ "I think so too, and I appreciate it, really", she confirmed, letting out a chuckle that made his heart melt instantly. He wished he could hear her laugh on repeat.

_ "I'm so sorry Astrid, I feel so dumb to have waited this long! I was so scared about losing you, I- I..."

_ "Shhh.. that was amazing! You are amazing Hiccup, and if there is someone who must apologize, it's really me! Wanting to repress my feelings was propably the worst idea I ever have! The only thing holding me back was the fear of ruining our friendship, and I would never have forgiven myself if that had happened! But I definitely want to be more for you" she confessed, eyes filled with hope.

_ "And I definitely want you to be your boyfriend, you insomniac", which earned him a light punch in the shoulder, but it was all worth it because what followed made him feel high, as if he was able to touch the sky, and this time, Toothless wasn't there to make fun of him (but he'll catch up eventually).

#hiccstrid fic #hiccstrid #rtte #httyd #astrid hofferson #hiccup haddock #birthday #gift for my bestie

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phoenix-downer · 4 years

Text

Of Which Reason Knows Nothing - Chapter 2

I’m happy to post the second part of the project @chibiranmaruchan and I collaborated on! (You can find the first part here). They drew the art, and I wrote the fic. Working with them was a lot of fun, and I’m really happy with what we’ve created. I will also be posting this story to FFN and AO3 if those are your preferred reading spot(s).

Length: ~3000 words

Summary: Kairi may have lost someone important, but she isn’t alone, and she isn’t without hope. And her mysterious dreams just might have a clue as to Sora’s whereabouts…

Characters: Kairi, Sora, Riku

Additional Info: Implied Kairi/Sora, Riku and Kairi friendship. Post-Kingdom Hearts III. Referenced Character Death. Guilt, Grief/Grieving, Angst, Comfort, Dreams, Friendship.

Enjoy!

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That night, Kairi wore Sora’s hoodie to bed again. Maybe it wasn’t related to her dream at all, but it couldn’t hurt to wear it, just in case there was some sort of connection.

As her eyes flickered shut, she murmured, “Sora, if you’re out there… if you’re trying to reach me… I’m listening.”

Neon lights, flashing colors. An enormous city with skyscrapers pointing towards the moon, trying to reach the heavens but getting pulled back down to earth. Water on the ground in puddles as raindrops splashed into them, disturbing the surface of the water, reflecting the surroundings like a mirror.

She was back. She was back in the same place as before.

White paint on the ground. Lots of lines running across the street. Big billboards running dozens of different ads at the same time. Cars with bright lights, too bright in the dark. The sky a strange shade of purple with ominous black clouds. A big white tower with the numbers 104 in neon red letters.

She glanced at one of the puddles nearby. A face with blue eyes and spiky brown hair stared back. Lifting her hand, she gasped at what she saw. It wasn’t her hand. It was Sora’s, and he was holding a small black pin with a skull-looking emblem on it. He turned it over, and the whole world seemed to go wonky.

“Huh?” He dropped the pin and clutched his head.

“Sora!” she cried, but he couldn’t hear her. His Gummiphone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out.

The message said:

Reach 104. You have 60 minutes. Fail, and face erasure.

—The Reapers.

“Huh?!”

He put his phone back in his pocket. Pain shot up his arm, and he winced and looked at his hand again. Engraved into his palm were black numbers with yellow outlines and a red background.

59:49. 59:48. 59:47. They kept changing, kept… going down. Kept decreasing with each passing second. When he looked at the 104 building again, it said YOU HAVE 7 DAYS in big red letters against a black background.

“Sora!”

But the dream was over, and her eyes flew open. Fingers shaking, she grabbed the Gummiphone on her bedside table. The phone rang and rang and rang as her heart raced because of her dream.

“C’mon, Riku, please, please pick up—”

A few moments later, and he did.

“Kairi?” came his familiar voice, if a little groggy. She glanced at the little time display at the top of the screen. A few minutes after six. The video kicked in, and he yawned as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

“Riku, I had another dream about him again,” she said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

Riku perked up immediately at that. “You did? What was it about this time?”

“He was in that city I saw before, only this time there was more.” She closed her eyes and pictured it now. The busy crosswalk, the building with 104 written on it, all the colorful lights and sounds. And the red and black numbers carved into his palm. “There was a countdown, on his hand,” she added, trying to include as many details as possible.

“A countdown?” Riku repeated, his voice rising.

Her eyes flew open. “Yes. I’m not sure why, but—”

“Kairi, I think I know where he is. I think I know where he is,” Riku said, and his voice had more energy and hope in it than it had since… well, since everything had happened.

She tugged at Sora’s hoodie and sat up straighter at that. “W-what? But how?”

“When we were taking our Mark of Mastery exam, he met this guy named Neku. He told me later on that Neku talked to him about a game.”

“And?”

“There was a countdown on Neku’s hand that was a part of that game.”

She thought about this for a moment. “So you think he might be playing the same game as Neku?”

Riku nodded. “Yeah. He said Neku was from this place called Shibuya. If we can find that, we can find him.”

This was it, this was their best lead ever since he’d disappeared. She said goodbye to Riku and threw on some clothes. They had to go see Master Yen Sid about this. Their friends all deserved to know.

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Kairi waited with bated breath as Master Yen Sid closed his eyes and stroked his beard. Stealing a quick glance at Riku, she wondered if he was feeling as wound up as she was right now. His face was a calm mask, but then again, he’d never really worn his heart on his sleeve the way she and Sora did.

“So, you are convinced Sora is somewhere called Shibuya, playing some sort of game,” Master Yen Sid said.

Kairi nodded. “Yes, Master. I know it may seem a little crazy—”

“On the contrary, where else would a heart go after fading from the Realm of Light? Sora did not die a normal death, and there are legends of the same thing happening to others.”

“Really?” Riku asked. “Like who?”

Kairi knew what he was thinking. If it had happened to someone else before, there might be clues as to how to save Sora.

“There was a man who called himself the Master of Masters,” Master Yen Sid said. “He had six Keyblade-wielding apprentices, all named after the Seven Deadly Sins. Ava, Luxu, Invi, Gula, Ira, and Aced, with him as their leader: Superbia. Legend has it that instead of dying, he simply faded away, never to be seen or heard from again.”

Kairi and Riku both waited to hear more, but it soon became clear that was all.

“That’s it? That’s all?” Riku said, echoing her thoughts. “This… Master of Masters guy never returned to the Realm of Light?”

“Well, there is more to the story, but it relates to the events of the Keyblade War, and the two of you would be here for days if I were to recount it all to you. I do not think a history lesson is what you want right now. I shared this with you so you would know that the same fate that befell Sora has befallen someone else before, if the legends are to be believed. That was why Mickey tried to warn him against doing what he did, but as the philosophers say, the heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.”

Master Yen Sid smiled sadly, and Kairi’s heart sank. They had warned Sora not to save her and he still did? Why?

“I know it should be him here with Riku instead of me,” she said. “But if there’s anything I can do to—”

“Incorrect. You are exactly the person who should be here with Riku right now,” Master Yen Sid said. “For if Riku is to dive into realms unknown, who better to keep his heart tethered to the Realm of Light than a Princess of Heart?”

“I can do that?” Kairi said.

“You kept Sora tethered to the Realm of Light, did you not?”

“Well, yes, but… that was different, Master. My powers don’t work on other people the way they work on Sora, and I’m not really sure why, though I do have a few guesses.”

Riku raised an eyebrow but thankfully kept his mouth shut.

“As I said earlier: the heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing,” Master Yen Sid said. “But no matter; in keeping Riku tethered to the Realm of Light as he descends to the depths, you will be helping Sora. Surely you can see how your powers could still be used in this manner.”

“I suppose…”

“Have some faith in yourself, Kairi,” Riku said. “You kept Sora alive, and that let him save the rest of us. I know you’ll be able to pull this off.”

Kairi’s hand fluttered to her necklace. “But what if I can’t? What if I screw up again? I already lost Sora because I was too weak to stop myself from dying. I can’t… I can’t lose you too, Riku!”

Riku put his hand on her shoulder. “You can do this, I know you can. You’re not alone. Together we’ll find Sora and bring him back.” His expression softened. “And you know how I know that?”

“How?”

“Sora believes in us. He believed he’d find you when you were lost. He never gave up on me after all the crap I pulled. So let’s believe in ourselves the way he does.”

Riku was right. Even though Kairi had trouble believing in herself, she couldn’t deny that Sora believed in her. And she believed in him. She believed in Riku, too. And maybe that would be enough.

“Okay, I’m willing to try,” she said, and Master Yen Sid and Riku both nodded.

“We must begin preparations at once,” Master Yen Sid said. “There is no time to waste. The sooner we can reach Sora and bring him back to the Realm of Light, the better.”

Finally. They finally had something to do besides sit around at home and grieve. Taking action felt so much better than doing nothing.

As she and Riku made preparations, she couldn’t help but reflect back on those words she’d told Sora and Riku before. This time, she wasn’t just going to protect Sora. This time, she wasn’t just going to fight. This time, she was going to act. She was going to be the one searching for Sora for once instead of the other way around.

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The night before the mission, Kairi dreamed of Sora again. He was still in that same city, but he wasn’t at the big crosswalk anymore. He was on a side street, fighting some strange-looking creatures Kairi had never seen before. They weren’t Heartless or Nobodies, but they did look like large frogs with elaborate red and black tattoos where their legs should’ve been. And even through the dream, Kairi could sense how the atmosphere surrounding them felt. Her skin crawled and her mood dropped, and she could only imagine how Sora felt fighting them.

When he had destroyed the last of them with his Keyblade, he stumbled against a nearby building, a store with bright red letters. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, and he was breathing hard. How long had he been fighting? How many of those things had he already fought?

But what really drew her attention was when he reached into his pocket and pulled out her lucky charm. Her heart soared at the sight of it. He still had it. He still—

“Why can’t I remember you?” he said, and his voice was anguished.

Her heart sank. Sora didn’t… remember her?

Why not? What had happened to him? Were all his memories gone?

“Sora?” she said. “Sora, I’m here!”

But he couldn’t hear her, and he tucked the charm back into his pocket. “Doesn’t matter. Whoever gave this to me has to be someone important to me.” He looked right at her and made a guts pose, even though he couldn’t see her. “Whoever you are, I’m gonna get home to you, some way, somehow.” He smiled, and it was so good to see his smile again. “I promise.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but the dream was over, and her eyes flew open. She rolled over onto her side, still wrapped in Sora’s hoodie, and huddled beneath her blanket as light poured through the window.

Did Sora really not remember her? Her lower lip trembled at the thought. How could he have forgotten her after everything they’d been through? This was like when she’d forgotten him, and a lump built in her throat when she remembered how awful that had been. The memories slowly slipping away from her. The day she’d forgotten his name. The night she’d forgotten his face. The moment she realized she couldn’t hear his voice anymore. All of that came crashing back to her, and her eyes welled up with tears.

But she and Sora had gotten through that, in the end. And his promise did make her feel a little better. Maybe the memories were all scrambled up, but they weren’t gone for good. They had to still be in his heart somehow. The bond they shared couldn’t be broken that easily.

The important thing was that he was fighting to get back to her. So she would fight to reach him, too. Whatever obstacles they might face, she and Riku would bring him home.

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“You ready?” Kairi asked as she held her hands out to Riku. They were back in Master Yen Sid’s study, and everyone else was here too – King Mickey and Donald and Goofy, Terra and Aqua and Ven, Naminé, of course, and Roxas and Xion and Axel. Even Isa was present. Admittedly, that made her feel a little uncomfortable, but at least he had the good sense not to try to talk to her.

“Ready if you are,” Riku said with a half-grin. How he was so relaxed about this, she’d never know. Her hands were shaking a little, but when he grabbed a hold of them, a wave of calm washed over her.

“For Sora?”

“For Sora.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she pictured Sora searching for her in Shibuya. Pictured Riku, pictured his heart.

There. She could see his Station of Awakening now with its stained glass-like panels showing the people that were most important to him. Friends and family and memories spread throughout his heart. Taking a deep breath, she reached out with her light, tethering her heart to his. His memories started flowing through her mind, and she opened her eyes.

“Okay, I’m connected to you now. Whenever you’re ready.”

He looked around at their friends. “Hey, why the long faces? Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back here with Sora in no time, you’ll see.” He looked at Kairi one more time and smiled. “We won’t give up on him, because he never gave up on us. And he’s helped every person here in this room at one time or another. Now it’s time we return the favor.”

There was a general chorus of agreement and well-wishing at that. Letting go of one of Kairi’s hands, Riku summoned his Keyblade and opened a large portal above them complete with swirling colors and elaborate designs of a bygone age.

“Stay safe, Riku,” she said. “See you soon.”

And with that a great beam of light shot down and pulled him into the portal. Her hand was now empty, and she rested it over her heart.

“Well?” King Mickey said.

She smiled. “He’s okay. I can feel him.”

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“And… I can feel Sora’s heart, too. He may not remember me yet, but I know he will soon.”

“That’s the magic of the paopu fruit!” Goofy said, then slapped his hands over his mouth as Donald tapped his foot.

“Hey, you weren’t supposed to tell everyone that,” Donald scolded, and everyone laughed as Kairi blushed. Great, did all their friends know about the paopu fruit? Well, not surprising. Juicy gossip had a way of spreading like wildfire.

“Hey, if the Wayfinders can bring me and Aqua and Terra back together again, imagine how powerful the real thing will be!” Ven pointed out. “Especially because you and Sora—”

“Less teasing, more practicing with your Keyblade,” Aqua chided, but she was smiling, and Terra grinned and ruffled his hair. Ven pretended to protest, but it was obvious he liked the hair ruffling and playful scolding.

As the others started up conversations with each other, catching up on how everything had been going since everyone had last seen each other, one person in particular sought Kairi out. Naminé, still holding her sketchpad and pencil but wearing a cute new dress, blue and yellow and white.

“Kairi?”

“Yes Naminé? What is it?”

“I know you’re feeling sad about Sora forgetting you, but I doubt those memories are gone for good. Look at Xion,” she said, gesturing at their friend, who smiled and waved at them. “We all thought no one would remember her, and yet here she is now. Sora’s memories of you will come back, I just know they will.”

“Thanks, Naminé. And when Sora finally comes back, he can thank you properly, too.”

Naminé smiled, and Kairi went over to talk to Axel and Roxas and Xion some more, then to King Mickey and Donald and Goofy, then lastly to Terra and Aqua and Ven. She had something very important to ask, something she wanted to do as Riku searched for Sora and she kept him tethered to the Realm of Light.

“Master Aqua, please take me on as your apprentice,” she pleaded as she bowed low. This was her best shot, her best hope at becoming a better Keyblade wielder after the disaster that had happened at the Keyblade Graveyard.

When she straightened, her throat dry, Aqua was beaming down at her. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She clasped her hands and thanked Aqua profusely. Here was an opportunity to get better, to improve, to become a better fighter by the time Sora and Riku returned. She wasn’t the weak girl that had gotten kidnapped and killed anymore. She had the heart and will to be strong, and she was going to prove it.

However long it might take, however hard she would have to work, it didn’t matter. Someday, she would fight by Sora’s side again. Someday, she would be able to spar with Riku and give him a run for his munny. Someday, the three of them would be together again and all would feel right in the worlds.

And someday, she and Sora would finally be able to make good on the promise they’d made. They’d be together every day, and nothing would be able to keep them apart anymore.

For that, she would train and fight for as long as it might take. Now was the time to step forward like she’d said she would. Now was the time to act. The fight was in her hands, and she was ready at long last.

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A/N: A big thank you again to @chibiranmaruchan! And thank you to everyone who read, reblogged, liked, and commented on the story! Hope you enjoyed :)

#kingdom hearts #kairi #sora #riku #sokai #implied sokai #destiny trio #kairi and riku friendship #kh fanfiction #phoenix writes #phoenix-downer #chibiranmaruchan #collaboration #long post #kh3 spoilers #twewy references

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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years

Text

Untied Knots [Whumptober 2019 - Day 6: Dragged Away]

Summary: Kaede doesn't cope well with being forcefully separated from a loved one.

Fandom: Danganronpa V3 (Non-Despair AU) Ship: Established Kaede/Maki/Kaito/Shuichi

Content Warnings: Implied life-threatening injuries/accident, hospital/ER setting

Wordcount: 874 words

Notes: I'm super late I know, but yesterday really wasn't an inspired day. I more or less stood there with very little incentives to write despite train times and such. Woops. I love my ship squad and have missed writing them. It doesn't help that a Tumblr blog has recently opened about them as an OT4 (so go check out @murder-mystery-musical-in-space, just sayin’), which is one of my DRV3 OTPs for sure. Man, now I just want to write about them haha. I don't doubt the fact my next fill for Whumptober could be for the OT4 too. This started as a "standard" Saimatsu fic ft. Makaito but in the end I dunno I've wanted to write this specific OT4 for more than a year so here you go! I really to provide more for them in the near future and further future.

Event hosted by @whumptober2019

AO3 version available here.

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Her screams echoed in the corridors of the ER, tearing her vocal cords apart, sorrow filling her voice with hiccups and coughing fits. Her lungs dug through the air for oxygen to continue screaming with, as if she’d stop breathing altogether if she stopped and the world would shatter before her shining eyes. She had become nothing short of a banshee whaling over someone soon to be gone, her despair wrapped around her soul like a snake smothering its prey, untamed, unmatched.

Her hand reached for the other side of the corridor as a stretcher wheeled at full speeds, pushed further and further away from her by a team of dedicated nurses, legs about to follow to the other side of the building if she had to. Her heart was beating against her ribcage, throwing itself forward as she tried to push through her own barriers, feet hurting from having stood around for so much already and yet forced to continue doing so. Would have she listened to her instinct, and only her instinct, she’d have sprinted towards the stretcher she could still her distressing information told by medical staff.

However, a hand grabbed her arms and pulled her against someone else’s chest.

“Kaede, that’s enough.”

Kaito’s voice was firm and no-nonsense, eyes staring right into hers with all the worry in the world she wasn’t already stocking inside her heart. The way his eyes glimmered under the overly bright neon lights were conveying the sense he, too, wanted to cry and was retaining himself from doing so. In that regard, he was much stronger than she was, considering the tears running down her cheek and melting her mascara into black stains.

“B-b-b-ut!” She stuttered, panicked, anxious. “W-w-what if…”

“You can’t do anything against it,” Maki then told her as she handed her a tissue. “We can’t do anything against it. Leave them to their job.”

Even if her partner was right, Kaede wasn’t quite willing to believe it, not yet at least. Her mind wasn’t ready despite being on the verge of either exploding or collapsing, that she didn’t really know. All that she knew was that Shuichi was getting dragged away from her and that she was getting dragged away from him at alarming, dizzying speeds for a brain that was plagued with fears and black thoughts. Her body wasn’t keeping up with her mind, leaving her limbs weak and easy to drag around like a rag doll.

Feeling somewhat of a disconnect between her different parts, she let herself get carried around by the wrist, which Kaito clutched with weakening strength. The air was heavy and tense, the three of them concerned beyond their minds, sinking deeper and deeper into silence with moments passing, to the point the only noises around were their breathing, footsteps and distant conversations carried by the walls. All these sounds floated in a sea of buzz in her thoughts as she lost her touch with reality for a few moments, too deep in thought to even realize where Kaito was walking her.

“I hope he’ll make it,” Kaito tried starting a conversation, hesitant.

“I think we all do,” their girlfriend replied, bite lacking in her words. “Even if there are chances that…”

“Don’t, Maki,” he interrupted before she could finish her sentence. “Please.”

“…understood.”

In truth, they had barely moved from where Kaede had been screaming for minutes. They were having the hardest time dragging themselves away from the leftovers of the catastrophe, feet heavy and heads heavier. In an attempt to find comfort, Kaede picked both of her partners’ hands in hers, letting herself be walked by her most trusted persons, as the fourth side of their square was in great danger. She finally admitted that there was nothing any of them could do, head hanging low and hair flowing down her face.

“Rise your head,” Maki told her, glancing at her with concerned features.

She silently obeyed, sniffling, as her boyfriend wiped her face with his arm.

“Hey, he’d hate to see you that way and you know it,” he said to her, a forced smirk on his lips. “We need to be strong, don’t we?”

“Of course,” Maki replied, nodding along despite her eyebrows never leaving their frowning state.

“…yeah,” Kaede eventually responded, her voice hurting from how overexerted it now was.

Her smile wasn’t coming back and so was her usual optimism, but she knew they were right. Shuichi would have hated to see her collapse like that, so she shook her head as the three of them headed for a waiting room, dragging themselves away from the pain and the fatigue soon to plague their limbs even further than it had already had. They couldn’t let their worry and anxiety take an unsustainable toll on them, could they? Shuichi counted on them, they counted on each other. Part of the deal, she’d say.

Their fingers intertwined and didn’t leave each other’s hands as they sat in the waiting room, trying to find harmony in the cacophony of life brought upon them by the most unfortunate accident. Putting their faith in the surgeons’ hands and their boyfriend’s will to live, the three of them finally released a breath they were all holding.

#danganronpa v3 #saimatsu #kaemaki #makaito #momomatsu #akasaimomoharu #kaede akamatsu #kaito momota #maki harukawa #shuichi saihara #whumptober2019 #no.6 #dragged away #angst #otp: requiem quartet

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bemused-writer · 5 years

Text

VNC Chapter 35 Analysis

In many ways this was a more “straightforward” chapter but there were still some important revelations and a couple things really got me thinking.

To start with, Vanitas was reluctant to let Noé face Astolfo again but, I think as a sign of trust, he opted to go along with it. This ties in neatly with his declaration from the previous chapter: “I’m telling you I’ll act on the assumption that you’re going to convince me.” He’s giving Noé a chance to “convince” him he can really handle facing Astolfo this time around along with everything else. He’s giving Noé a chance to punch him for Vanitas as well--he really hasn’t let go of the fact he was forced into a fragile position with Jeanne yet, clearly.

We also learn that Vanitas was 100% correct in his assessment of Noé‘s poor battle form previously. He really did see Astolfo as a child and he really did want to talk things out so he held back to his own detriment.

“I thought of my opponent as a child, underestimated him, and was too sure of my own power.”

Interestingly, Noé‘s reflection brings back another one of Vanitas’s critiques of his personality from volume 3, which is that he’s too sure of his own power.

And yet, while having too much faith in his own abilities is something that infuriates Vanitas he also can’t stand pacifism. Below (volume 4) we see that Vanitas doesn’t want to see vampires holding themselves back; this is perhaps even more infuriating to him than having too much confidence in their abilities.

This doesn’t just apply to Noé either but to Jeanne as well (though Noé couldn’t know that). Vanitas goes so far as to compare the two of them in volume 5 and how they share this weakness.

It looks like Vanitas was going to add someone else to this list, perhaps? “You ... and Noé ... w--” But whatever he was going to say is covered up by the sound affect.

To be honest, I find this trait of Vanitas’s a little strange. His parents were killed by vampires, he was trained by the chasseurs, and he hates Vanitas of the Blue Moon but his issue isn’t with the cruelty of vampires exactly but with how they, these powerful creatures, keep overestimating themselves, holding themselves back, and acting kind instead of practical. Despite that he’s really gone out of his way to forge strong ties with two people with these exact characteristics: both Jeanne and Noé.

It makes me wonder if I’ve been completely wrong about his problem with VotBM. Maybe she was also too kind and overestimated herself? That would be wildly different from what I’ve been assuming, which is that she was cruel and marked Vanitas against his will. If she was cruel then someone else must have had these traits that infuriate him so much but at this point I can’t say who. Perhaps the mysterious “Lou.”

Getting back to Noé, I would say he’s taken Vanitas’s critiques to heart and is really thinking about them. Noé has two traits that are both his strongest and weakest: chivalry and curiosity. Astolfo was on the receiving end of Noé‘s chivalry in volume 5, which is why Noé lost. Now, while he isn’t facing that so much, he’s instead facing Noé‘s curiosity, which seems to be much worse for him.

Wondering why Astolfo hates vampires so much is fair (although he really shouldn’t expect a proper response to that; they’re in the middle of battle...) and, I think, inspired by the fact that Vanitas doesn’t even though Noé thought it would make sense for him to.

Astolfo claims it’s because vampires have no right to exist in the first place but Noé, being the selectively perceptive person he is, knows that can’t possibly be the truth of it. “Is that what you think, personally? Or is it the collective will of the Church?”

So, at some point Astolfo helped a vampire around his own age. I wonder if his family was invested in the healing arts or if he helped this vampire of his own accord. Either way, it looks like this vampire betrayed him utterly by bringing him to be fed on by a group of vampires. It’s a deep trauma and Noé is correct that what Astolfo said isn’t quite what he really thinks; it’s far more personal than that.

We don’t get much more on the subject but there was an interesting revelation: the original beast was entirely created by the chasseurs during a vampire hunt. The evidence being marks of torture and beheadings. We already knew the Church wasn’t exactly great in its handling of vampires but this is much worse than had been stated previously. Apparently, massive vampire hunts were a known thing, which was implied previously by Jean-Jacques when he was saying he was a “hidden” vampire but this is far more overt.

Knowing whether someone was a human or a vampire was a crucial step in making sure you stayed alive. I’m curious to see what Astolfo’s response to Noé‘s accusation about the Church will be. To be honest, I have a feeling he won’t care; he just wants to remove vampires. Whether the Church is “honest” or not is probably not even on his radar.

Those were the most important elements of the chapter but there were some smaller things I really liked such as seeing Noé and Vanitas’s fighting skills:

For Noé to just be able to pick up a pipe, a two-handed weapon much like a staff essentially, and wield it without much difficult implies this was yet another thing his Teacher must have taught him. Usually, Noé sticks with hand-to-hand combat while reinforcing his strength with the world formula but this shows us he could wield a weapon if he so wished.

It isn’t emphasized much but Vanitas just took out two people without really trying (not to mention the wolves from the previous chapter). We don’t get to see him do a lot of fighting, he usually let’s Noé handle that and seems to prefer subterfuge and stealth more generally, but he’s clearly capable.

Another thing I really want to hear more about is this:

A pendulum is generally only used for two things: yes-and-no questions or dowsing. Both are methods of divination. I’m guessing Vanitas wasn’t trying to get an answer to a specific question but he is trying to locate The Book of Vanitas, so he must have been dowsing. Noé didn’t know what he was doing, so this implies it’s not an art form vampires employ or that this is just another gap in Noé‘s knowledge.

Regardless, this raises a lot of questions for me. Dowsing is something people do in real life, so it’s not totally strange that Vanitas was doing it but it does imply it’s something he knows will work. Is this something he can do because he’s human or is it because he has the mark of Vanitas? The pendulum was glowing, so was he manipulating the formula? Does this confirm he doesn’t need the book to do so necessarily? This one small scene has raised so many questions not least of which is: does Vanitas do any other kinds of divination?

We didn’t get much of an update with Jeanne this chapter although she appears to be holding her own very well. Still, that battle is at a standstill; neither one of them appear to be winning. Furthermore, we’re not totally sure where Vanitas has run off to. I’m assuming he’s either looking for the book or for Chloé, possibly both since he’s likely assuming Chloé has the book. I’m not sure this is entirely wise for him to do without Noé. She’s exceedingly powerful and knocked Noé out with a single slap to the face.

Regardless, I really think Noé needs to hurry that battle with Astolfo up and join up with Vanitas again because things are only going to get worse the longer they’re allowed to continue. Just look at this sky:

That looks pretty ominous. Is it stemming from the beam of light Chloé has brought forth? Is it the flames from Jeanne’s weapon? Either way, I think we’re going to see some interesting things taking place!

#vanitas no carte #vnc theories #spoilers

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