#though that poses a threat to a structure i had of trying my best to actually finish arr but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nevermindirah · 3 years

Note

Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

#nile freeman #linguistics #TOG POC Love Fest #nileweek2021 #tog meta #tog #long post #mine #antiblackness #jewish things #hi i'm an antizionist jew no i don't really want to talk about it

229 notes · View notes

dragongirl642 · 3 years

Note

I really love your writing and noticed your asks are open (i think). And, I checked your masterlist and didn't see RE8 listed as a universe you write for, so you can ignore this if you want. But, could I request Heisenberg, Donna, and Lady Dimitrescu reacting to a male dragon-shifter reader who has decided to make the character's residence their hoard, and as such, going to extreme lengths to protect them and the residence?

OOOHHH 😮😳 How did you know dragons (and by extent dragon shifters) are my favourite things in the whole wide world!!!!!

As a treat, you get all four of the Lords' reactions. 😎

For extra drama, the dragon-shifter (you) basically crash land nearby (after a loooooonnnngggg flight) and decide to take up residence in the nearest abode while you rest, and end up getting comfortable and liking the area so decide to stay.

You have a full human form, fully dragon form, and an in-between form.

Also, you have like saintly levels of patience.

Heisenberg

It takes him a minute of staring to figure out that the giant dragon in the factory, is not a hallucination, induced by either the drinking he was doing the night prior, or a trick of Mother Miranda's trying to destabilize him mentally.

However this quickly turns into a lot of yelling "what the F are you doing in my factory!" and "What the F are you!" while chucking metal at you.

You melt the more dangerous pieces and yell at him to "Cease this nonsense! You can't hurt me like this."

Heisenberg.exe has stopped working.

He's partially re-evaluating his life like...did I just get sassed by a giant lizard.

You take the initiative to tell the small angry man telekinetically chucking metal around to chill. "Listen, I'm just going to rest here a few days then leave. You leave me alone, and I won't Incinerate you."

He quickly weighs up how much he doesn't want you here vs how much it will piss Mother Miranda off if he uses the giant dragon crash landing in his factory as an excuse to do absolutely nothing for her.

He's a bit annoyed about you taking up all the room by the forges so he can't make new soldats but...

Hate for Miranda wins!

He actually uses this as an excuse in his next report and Mother Miranda comes to 'get rid of the problem herself since Heisenberg cannot'...you almost incinerated her and she checked out. (He's putting that down as one of the best days of his life).

Since he now has nothing better to do he either leans on a nearby balcony or stands on a floating gear and starts trying to get your attention.

Will ask you everything from your name and where you came from to your favourite colour and if you have a specific favourite scale on your body.

You're distrustful and annoyed at first but soon warm up to this obviously lonely man.

You get so comfortable you decide you just might never leave.

The first time you feel comfortable enough to shift back to your human form Heisenberg is like (o_o) hot person! Two for one deal, annoying Mother Miranda plus Eye Candy!!!!

Makes a joke about having you turn into your dragon form again so he can keep making excuses to Mother Miranda. Which gets you curious and you ask about her, and he explains about the cadou, the experiments, and what she did to him.

He will make a bunk for you, so he can get back to work and you can stay near the heat of the forges, (absorbing the energy from the flames speeds up recovery and/or keeps you charged at 100% so you're always ready to burn a b1tch...specifically Miranda).

You both talk about whatever while he works. Lots of late night chats. One time he accidentally doused the forges and you just blew into the chamber and they re-lit immediately. (Mechanical Heart Eyes)

Since you start considering the entire factory to be your hoard, sometimes you claim a random object as your specific favourite piece for the day, maybe one of his tools or a specific piece of scrap. If he needs to use it, you won't let him and a small argument can be had. A solution is soon found though, you can't have a conflict of interest if your favourite item is him.

When you protect him, he's super flattered and hypes you up.

Cue him on the sides cheering you on.

If you two have started dating he will definitely yell "that's my boyfriend!" and gush about you to whoever happens to be standing next to him. (Bonus points if it's any of the other Lords. Especially Miranda, she is dying!)

Definitely makes a sign saying 'Beware of Dragon' to put on the fence.

Sometimes you jump to his defence even when he's in the middle of handling the threat. He gets huffy, saying he can take care of himself. You respond by telling him you won't let anything harm what's yours and once again, Heisenberg.exe is experiencing an error.

Alcina Dimitrescu

She is absolutely dismayed and angry at the giant lizard that barged its way through the doors and took up residency in her hall. It's tracking in mud and snow, burned the curtains, and took a good chunk of the wall, (letting in the cold).

Her daughters can't handle the cold, damn you!

Tries to fight you...fails. Turns out she's not immune to incineration and loses quite a few limbs (they grow back...eventually).

When she sees you shift to your human form, she's doubly-incensed...not only did you barge into her home but your also a D I S G U S T I N G M A N T H I N G !

You shift back whenever she tries to kill you so eventually she just gives up. (According to her she's waiting for the right opportunity NOT giving up.)

Wants to kill you, calls Mother Miranda for help and well, the same thing happens if you had crashed in the factory...she checks out!

Refuses to leave the castle for any reason, she's not leaving you along with her daughters.

Resigns herself to yelling insults at you from the balcony.

You respond in kind and it slowly devolves into a competition to come up with the most creative insults.

Your dragon form radiates heat...like...a lot. (Even counteracting the cold coming through the hole in the wall, which you attempted to fix.) This of course attracts the Dimitrescu daughters to the hall (against their mother's will).

If Alcina sees you lying their in dragon from, her three hive-mind children chattering away happily with you encouraging their curiosity, (Bela is half-asleep by your side, Daniela is complimenting your claws and asking about your bone structure, while Cassandra proudly proclaims her mother's are better than yours), she partly reconsiders her stance on you being a filthy, horrible, disgusting lizard man thing to just a filthy lizard man thing.

Seriously, your filthy, take a bath.

You quite enjoy all the little luxuries that can be found in the castle and decide to stay. Alcina almost shreds her hat in exasperation.

You get more comfortable and she starts to tolerate your presence, although she will take a swipe at you if she thinks she has a chance at killing you in your human form.

Jokes on her you can partially change and still fit through the hallways.

You never told her you've claimed the castle and the Dimitrescu family as your hoard but she does notice you being oddly friendly to her and she is "suspicious!"

You've met a few vampires and have a few suggestions for a more sustainable food source (buying blood donations from villagers instead of killing them). She's skeptical but considers it.

The first time you defend her is actually against Mother Miranda...over the phone. You have sharp hearing...and you don't like what you're hearing.

She's both flattered you would defend her so, and disgusted with herself for accepting a man thing's help.

When she realises she likes having you around, she starts to rationalise to herself that you're not just any man thing, you're her dragon man thing and therefore okay.

Gets more comfortable with leaving you with her daughters. You treat them well and keep them entertained?! That's a free babysitter if ever she's seen one.

When she sees the more extreme lengths you will go to protect the castle and her family, she is impressed and flattered and a little scared, and acts like it was her idea to have you stay.

"Oh, haven't you heard, that's the Dimitrescu Dragon."

Definitely rubs it in Heisenberg's face that she has a dragon and he doesn't.

Donna Beneviento

What are you!?!?!

To protect Donna, Angie is ready to fight you or die trying!

Just kind off avoids you and sends the pollen at you to make you leave.

The only one of the four Lords most likely to actually defeat you.

When you speak though, telling her to "release (your) mind, witch, or (you'll) incinerate everything", she's surprised and scared enough to actually do so.

Asks if you'll be her friend. Angie is cussing you out.

You see how scared and lonely she is and just *adoption mode activated*.

You only need to rest a few days, why not do so on friendly terms with your host. (keep telling yourself that).

It takes a day for you to shift to human form, partially because you don't want to have your measurements taken because Donna wants to make you a giant bonnet, (You reason it's a waste of resources, you'll only be here a short while).

Jokes on you, this is your home now.

You've never hoarded dolls before, but there's a first time for everything.

You will spend most of your time in human form since your dragon form kinda scares her.

Even though she's still scared of it, Donna does find your dragon form interesting and will ask to sketch you (from a distance...no fire please).

Make various over-exaggerated poses and joke about "draw me like one of your french girls" and she will laugh, (even though she doesn't get the joke).

She makes a plush doll of you. It turns inside out to shift between human and dragon.

The first time you protect her, she's scared. The flames take her straight back to her childhood, she's crying and she hides. You shift back to human form very quickly and find her, holding her close and apologising for scaring her over and over.

Will tear a man apart in human form to avoid this (or almost human form).

She slowly works up to being comfortable in your dragon form, the first time she falls asleep against your side is a good day.

You start insisting on accompanying her to meetings and escorting her whenever she has to meet another Lord. They start talking sh1t, they get hit (or burned...you let Donna choose).

Angie cheers you on.

Salvatore Moreau

He is terrified of you when you first show up.

You basically tear your way into the mines for shelter and he is frantically plugging the entrance to his home with the enzyme to hide.

Calls for "mother" to save him and that's how you find him.

You see this small deformed fish man crying in the mine and think, "i'm not gonna ask."

You settle in the slightly larger chamber and just lie down for a rest.

He soon realises your not going to attack him and ventures out to stare at you. He just keeps staring at you for like an uncomfortably long time, peeking around a doorway.

Eventual you snap and ask him to stop staring.

He slowly comes out of hiding and starts asking the basics.

"You can talk?" "Who are you?" "Why are you here?"

Seeing no reason not to, you tiredly answer all his questions.

Hearing about your long journey has him curiously asking about the places you've been to.

He quickly figures out you must have some sort of human form since you end up on the topics of favourite foods or movies and your favourites are all distinctly human. (He's the fastest at figuring this out and the least surprised when you shift).

Terrifying (hideous) creature going through an unnerving transformation into a humanoid form...he can relate. Although he's slightly jealous of how 'normal' you look when you shift to human form.

You two have a movie night where he proudly shows of his collection. It is in the middle of him analysing the context of THAT ONE SCENE that you decide, Yes...This one is mine.

The entire reservoir and mine is your territory and if anything comes anywhere near it they will be ash in 30 seconds.

When you protect him from danger, he's shocked that someone cares enough about him to f-ing incinerate a lycan for even looking at him weirdly.

You act like its natural and eventually he starts to get used to you.

Has self doubt and questions your motives...you tell him he's worth it or that he's your jewel.

C O N F I D E N C E B O O S T

Starts talking back to the other Lords when they insult him. It's easy with you hovering menacingly behind him, veins glowing with barely contained R A G E.

One source of friction however, is the fact that he doesn't like that you keep trying to kill Mother Miranda and he will latch onto you sobbing until you agree to spare her (for now...you'll get her when he's not around).

However, the longer you two know each other, the more self-confidence he gains and the more you talk through what Mother Miranda did to him and why he deserves better, (pointing out her manipulation, analyses whether she's ever 'cared' about him, etc...), the less bothered he gets. (Give it a few years, he'll cheer you on alongside Heisenberg).

Bonus:

The second you see Mother Miranda...it is on sight. (Especially if you know what she did to the Lords).

Cue you shifting to dragon form and preparing to unleash a volley of flame, "I smell the blood of children on you."

You may be comfortable(ish) with the actions of your housemate but you have STANDARDS.

Alright 😊 Hoped you like these headcanons, jaychirps. They were really fun to write and grew quite a bit. 😅

(I feel like Moreau's a bit ooc but I don't know enough about him to dispute that claim....)

Oh and p.s. ... asks are open.

260 notes · View notes

septembercfawkes · 3 years

Text

Getting Passive Protagonists to Act

Many beginning writers struggle with protagonists who are too passive. The plot seems to constantly be happening to him or her, but the protagonist doesn’t take an action to make the plot happen.

Ideally, when an event happens to a protagonist, the protagonist responds by taking an action that influences the next event, which then influences the protagonist, which then influences an event—and on and on. But that can be easier said than done. Especially if you have a protagonist who prefers to live life passively.

This could all get confusing, though, because in story structure, almost all protagonists will more or less become more proactive. But for the sake of this post, I'm talking about protagonists who are characteristically passive. A protagonist who may want to kick up his feet in a hammock with a glass of lemonade and watch the world deal with its own problems. How do we write a story about that guy?

Many people will tell you that you can't--you must change the character.

But that is not wholly true.

It's true in a good story, we need the protagonist to act--especially at key moments--but that doesn't mean he innately yearns to act.

Often the best solution in dealing with a passive character is to strengthen the stakes. Let me explain.

Anyone will Act with the Right Stakes

The stakes are potential consequences; they are what are at risk in the story. We often think of them as negative things (someone's life may be at risk), but they can also be positive things (the opportunity to be taught by a professional in your ideal vocation).

Stakes are important because if there is nothing at risk, then what happens, doesn't really matter, which means what the protagonist does, doesn't really matter, because it doesn't change any outcomes. The story only matters insomuch as we understand potential outcomes. The protagonist's choices only matter if they affect the outcomes.

For example, we only care about Frodo destroying the Ring because we know doing so could rid Middle-earth of Sauron’s evil. If we didn't know that, what happened with the Ring wouldn't really matter. And what Frodo did wouldn't carry any weight. (You can learn more about stakes in my article "How to Write Stakes in Storytelling.")

When struggling with getting a passive protagonist to act, (almost) always look at the stakes.

No Stakes

Make sure that you’ve at least laid out stakes. Sometimes writers feel like the stakes are obvious, so they don't mention them. Just as bad, if not worse, the stakes may be too vague. And definitely worse: nonexistent.

If the protagonist doesn't have anything clearly to gain or lose, why would she act? If what happened to the Ring didn't change something, why would Frodo go to Mount Doom? Why would any of us do anything if it didn't make some kind of difference?

In a case like this, clear stakes need to be on the page.

Let's look at some examples of what one might consider passive people within the context of their stories.

Shrek wants nothing more than to live alone on his swamp. If there is nothing at risk, is he really going to go on an adventure to rescue a princess? Probably not.

In The Edge of Tomorrow, I think it could be argued that the protagonist, Bill Cage (played by Tom Cruise) is somewhat passive in relation to the main conflict. The story is about him fighting in a war against aliens, but he has absolutely no desire whatsoever to enter combat--in fact, he's a coward. You think he would sign up to be the first in combat out of the goodness of his heart? No way.

In Trigun by Yasuhiro Nightow, protagonist Vash would rather spend all day, every day eating donuts, playing with kids, and helping out the person down the street. He'd rather live life under an alias than face the fact he's the only one capable of standing up to the antagonist and saving the human race.

If none of these characters ever had anything at risk, then they would have never taken the actions they needed to, to move the story forward. They would have been forever passive.

In short, they only acted once there were stakes.

Wrong Stakes

If there are stakes on the page, and the character still isn't acting, then chances are they are either the wrong stakes (things she doesn’t care about) or the stakes are too small (the potential consequences don’t pose a real threat or a meaningful gain).

If they are the wrong stakes, you need to think about what the protagonist cares about and put it in jeopardy. We all care about something--whether that’s a reputation or a pet.

For a passive person, you might need to dig deeper and brainstorm longer to figure out what it is. And if you are having trouble, keep in mind that it's also possible the passive protagonist wants something for someone else or his environment. Maybe she's satisfied drinking lemonade and getting picked on, but she's not okay with her kid getting bullied--that's not something she can let happen.

Shrek mostly cares about living alone on his swamp. If his distant neighbor is at risk of dying in loneliness, Shrek's likely not going to do much about it. The best way to get him to act, is to put his home and lifestyle at risk. He will be willing to take action to save that.

Bill is afraid of dying (it's part of what makes him a coward). If he's put in a situation where he could die, he'll be forced to act.

Vash is obsessed with saving people. Children, friends, innocents, criminals. It doesn't matter who. He doesn't want anyone to die. If no one is at risk of dying, then it's unlikely he will be drawn to fight his antagonists. Almost always he is led to act because someone's life is at risk.

Small Stakes

If the stakes are too small, you need to make them bigger by making them broader or more personal.

Even the most passive person is unlikely to feel passive with a gun pointed at them. Unless they have a death wish, in which case, you could have the gun pointing at a loved one, or you could threaten torture. Even people who have a death wish don't want to be tortured. Almost all of us will act if the stakes get big enough.

Alternatively, you can promise an opportunity that is too good to pass up. If all I want is to live out my life on a hammock by the beach sipping lemonade, then maybe the best motivation is the promise of getting that. Maybe I'd be willing to act, if it ensured that.

It's bad enough for Shrek to have a few creatures come on his swamp, but the fact that countless numbers of them will be exiled to his swamp, is even worse. This is a big enough issue to get him to act--he decides he must visit Farquaad, which moves the story to the middle.

It's bad enough to die once, but it turns out for Bill, that he has to die over and over and over again. He also has to go on the battlefield over and over and over again, too. He keeps repeating the same events. This is enough to get him to try new tactics (and really, what other choice does he have?).

It's bad enough that Vash can't save everyone. But when it turns out the antagonists plan to destroy the whole human race, well, he can't live out life in donut-filled peace, playing cops and robbers with tykes. He has to act.

Inaction Stakes

If your passive character still really does not want to act, it's worth keeping in mind that inaction is an action--it just needs significant stakes. There needs to be negative ramifications for the protagonist not acting. Ideally, eventually these negative consequences get so big or so personal, that the protagonist has to do something about it.

For example, at one point, Vash decides to live under an alias and do nothing. He decides to be inactive. Unfortunately, this results in an entire town getting wiped out by the antagonist. Doing nothing has steep consequences. He needs to at least try to do something.

This can become a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation--where "damned if you do" at least carries a small chance of success over "damned if you don't."

At one point in Edge of Tomorrow, Bill decides to do nothing. He even goes to a bar to drink in the middle of the day. Guess what? He still has to repeatedly die. Whatever he does, he ends up dying, and having to repeat that time frame. He can either be endlessly in a tortuous loop where he dies, dies, and dies, or he can keep trying to fix the situation. On the surface, it seems like he has a lot of options, since he gets to make different choices each time he repeats the day, but 99% of them lead to the same outcome. So in reality, he has very few choices. Act and maybe die. Or don't act and keep dying.

Limit Options

Related to the last one, one way to push a passive character to act, is to limit her choices and the outcomes. In fact, if we want to take this to the real world, studies show that the more options people have, the less likely they are to make a choice--or even make a good choice.

Like Bill, when there aren't really any options, the protagonist will be pretty much forced to act. Either keep reliving the same torture or try to do something about it.

Add to it some kind of countdown or convergence, so that the protagonist has a very limited window to act, and she'll have to do something.

Stakes Reveal Character

How the protagonist acts when there are things at risk, will reveal what kind of person she is.

In this sense, one might argue, that by strengthening the stakes to get her to act, you are changing her character after all.

Or perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that you are now revealing who she truly is.

Whatever the case, it can become an argument of semantics.

Similar things can happen with the term "passive."

Just understand the concepts and the tools.

The Reluctant Hero

In most, if not all cases, a characteristically passive protagonist will create a reluctant hero. Shrek doesn't want to save Fiona. Bill doesn't want to win the war. Vash doesn't want to confront the antagonist. They just want something to not happen, more than they want to do The Thing™️.

In this sense, while the passive protagonist will ultimately still be acting within the plot (which is necessary to write a good story), he or she may still yearn for passivity.

Of course, the character's arc may possibly shift that yearning by the end.

And it should go without saying, that pretty much all these same tricks will work for passive side characters, as well--when you need to get them to act. For example, in The Office, Stanley is characteristically passive. He pretty much sits in silence and does crossword puzzles. But when pushed far enough, he will back talk his boss. And when he wants something bad enough (like a free pretzel on pretzel day), he'll actually act.

#Writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writeblr #writer problems #writing reference #protagonist #fanfic

853 notes · View notes

daaziscoolbesties · 3 years

Text

minecraft endermen are really weird. theyre unnatural and make me feel off.

when i was a small child like seven years ago i would always play minecraft on creative mode and i made an ugly ass enderman "farm" made out of bricks. i had an enderman spawn egg and id just spam it and the enderman couldnt get out (so i thought). anyways having them in this enclosure was probably so i could feel "powerful" over them because to date theyre still the only mob in minecraft that makes me anxious. even above skeletons(which i used to have a horrible fear of (the real life ones not mc ones)) and spiders (which i still have a horrible fear of (again the real life ones not mc)). anyways the endermen just ended up completely teleporting out of the farm and i checked on my world the next day and they were all gone and i didnt appreciate it (this was the same world where my brother blew up my pets but thats a different story).

anyways back to endermen. besides the fact that i just didnt like dying and i did like building ugly structures, one of the main reasons i didnt play survival much for a while, or if i did id put it on peaceful, was because of the enderman. every time i passed one my heart would drop and if i happened to look it in the eye on accident my throat would feel like its closing up and idk why. if it sounds like im bullshitting you or not remembering correctly i swear im not because it still happens actually.

i play survival a ton more now simply because i enjoy it more, it feels like theres actually a goal to achieve, but i never really make efforts toward said goal(ya know, beating the dragon). none of my worlds are really created with the intention of beating the dragon, and therefore i dont have to worry about endermen. if i happen to be outside my house and theres one there, no worries i just wait for it to go away. it may spook me for a sec but im fine.

but recently me and my sister started a world with the sole purpose of beating the dragon. we may have cheated a little (like putting on keep inventory cause honestly we both suck at pvp and have died so many times) but its okay cause thats it. we still have to fight endermen to get pearls for the end portal. and so we were hanging out in the nether and made a little two block tall hidey hole and id stand by the front and taunt endermen to get them to come close so i could kill them without them being able to get to me and it worked really well actually. except for the fact that to get them to come near i had to get them to aggro onto me and to do that i have to look them in the eye and you know where this is going. and so i was like "it has been so long since i looked an enderman in the eye surely i cant still be scared of them" and i turn to my sister like "<sister> you stay in the hole ill get us some pearls"

so i go out and taunt the dudes and guess what bitch got the pit in their stomach from these fuckers!! thats right bestie and my throat started to close up and i started talking to my sister again but i could tell me voice was off from it and i dont know why it happens but it pisses me off. like theyre not even scary looking theyre just a bit odd. and i continue to do this and kill the endermen and it just. doesnt. stop. my throat keeps closing up and im not "in pain" or anything just inconvenienced like what the fuck dude its a bunch of fucking pixels. i dont know its weird.

and now this part is gonna sound super fuckin stupid but ever since i started watching dsmp i immediately got attached to ranboo (cc! and c!) and knowing that c!ranboo was half enderman made me really think "hm endermen arent that bad. granted i havent interacted with one in a while but still not that bad. perhaps my favorite hostile mob" because you know people get attached to characters and think dumb things. and then again ranboo's character straight up existing and also this one specific headcanon i saw that was like "endermen use telepathy to talk so when a player looks at them all their thoughts get projected into them and it hurts their brain :((" makes me feel kinda bad for aggro-ing them and killing them again even though its literally just some pixels dude. my brain is not kind to me about this stuff and its really dumb.

i dont know what about the endermen staring back at me sets off the sort of fight-or-flight that makes me unable to breathe for a second but its something. its not the fact that their jaws basically unhinge when theyre mad because the throat closing up sensation happens before that. it happens when i look at an enderman and it looks back up at me and holds my gaze. i dont know. i dont know why im worked up(even slightly) over a video game. theyre still my favorite hostile mob i think (not just because of ranboo honestly the other hostile mobs just kinda suck).

and also i like the idea of how humanoid they are. not human. humanoid. they have the basic aspects of a minecraft human- square, head, torso, legs, arms, eyes. most mc skins dont even have mouths anyways just eyes. but the endermen have these features differently than us. their eyes are unnatural, legs and arms too long, body all one color, one that can blend in, and you can only see its purple eyes staring you down from a distance. theyre basically just cryptids.

despite skeletons and even zombies looking closer to the player than the endermen, they still seem the most human-like of all of the mobs. they arent aggressive unless provoked. they dont like eye contact(socially awkward). they like picking up stuff and moving it around. theyre curious (i cant explain this one they just are, okay?). even the sounds they make are just phrases like "hey" "hello" "whats up" distorted and in reverse.

i want to know more about them.

i want to know where they came from.

why theyre found in every dimension.

why they sound like us.

i want explanations, i want to know why they scare us.

i want to know if they know.

if they know that we're like them in some way.

that some of us dont mean harm, but for others thats all they want to do to the endermen.

i saw a post once that said "what taught humans to be wary of things that look human, but arent?" i believe the phenomenon is called uncanny valley. what if in the minecraft universe, the thing that taught us that was endermen. or rather, the thing that taught the endermen that was us? because again, the endermen pose no threat to us unless theyre provoked. by one of us. the endermen try to communicate with us- "⊑⟒⊬" "⍙⊑⏃⏁⌇ ⎍⌿?"- but we kill them without reason. thats why they dont like eye contact, its been ingrained in them through evolution that eye contact with a human/player will end in death, and they dont want it to be theirs, so they attack first.

we- or rather, the first minecrafters, maybe (in the lore(?)) people before the game, taught the endermen to fear us. i mean we literally kill them, use their remains to enter their home dimension, and then kill their leader/mother. they do their best to stop us, but we can respawn and they cant. and then, some people even go as far as to make farms, having them all spawn in one place, crowded, cant teleport out- their only defense mechanism gone- and then are slaughtered for their pearls. and due to the mass of these farms there will be chests upon chests full of pearls that no one's using, i saw someone the other day ask what people do with them and someone straight up said they just burn them like god what a waste.

"but izzy, players make mob farms all the time and not just for endermen!!!1!!11! why are the endermen ones so bad why are you only talking about those1!1!1!!!1" 1) because i can, 2) this is an endermen-themed post, and 3) i dont like the other mobs. and of course im not actually mad at the players who like beating the game and making endermen farms and such, i mean thats what it is its all just a game just a bunch of code, 0's and 1's, so why does it matter why bother writing a whole post on it?

because when you look paste the game, when you read in between those ones and zeroes and discover this non-intentional lore, it can make things so much more,, interesting. this is fanfic material. hell, its probably fanart material too. its all for the content to see what the community can create i guess. or maybe i just really like talking about endermen and this has been on my mind for two days now and once i started typing i couldnt stop.

but yeah, thats my final thoughts.

we, humans, experience uncanny valley about the endermen.

but the endermen experience uncanny valley about the players.

#time is empty and thoughts are yes #long post #endermen #minecraft enderman #minecraft #minecraft lore #lore #tw video game death #not really sure if i need to put that since a lot of stuff in minecraft is killing stuff but might as well stay on the safe side with it #god this might be even longer than my other post #at least i formatted it this time #sorta #this post went from endermen make me feel weird to oOoOo psychology at 3 am with no proof real quick #and gonna be honest thats not at all what i had planned but its okay

79 notes · View notes

hard-boiled-criminal · 3 years

Text

Planetary Magick: 2

(Twisted wonderland x reader)

Masterlist

_______________________

Unedited

“Yeah…charming.” Apparently, by ‘charm,’ the headmaster meant ‘dilapidated and might have asbestos.’

An old Iron fence surrounded the perimeter, the bars mangled and twisted, as if something rammed into it over and over at each possible section of fence. You could only hope that whatever did that was no longer here. Unsurprisingly, the fencing was rusted in many places and had dead vines draped around them, no doubt having tried to survive on the fence but to no avail. What stood out as odd to you though, was the gate: it had an intricate design reminiscent of the black skeletal structure of a stained-glass window. Though it was odd to see these graceful curves and patterns on the gate compared to the arrow-headed fencing, it was something else that put you off. The gate itself was in pristine condition—no rust or dents whatsoever. You noticed an old, rusted padlock on the ground nearby, which was most likely used to seat the gate once upon a time, but that only lead to more confusion about why only the gate was so well taken care off.

The grounds themselves were mostly barren, save for a few vertical hedges and some dead trees. The dorm building itself sat atop the small hill and was in pretty bad shape. All the windows had been sloppily boarded up and patches of shingles were missing from all over the roof.

“Right, right,” Crowley brushed off your comment and lead you up the stone stairs towards the dorm. “Please come inside.”

‘Maybe it’s not that bad on the inside?’

Scratch that, you felt like the guy on the receiving end of “Sike! That’s the wrong number!” You didn’t think it could get even worse, but the interior proved you wrong. It was a complete mess inside; furniture stained and overturned, firewood and books scattered everywhere, cobwebs and spiderwebs in every nook and cranny, paintings and pictures either crooked on the wall or on the ground. The wallpaper was peeling at the seams with patches missing all over, and one of the wall sconces was completely broken, both the lightbulb and glass cover missing. And while the floorboards looked okay, there was no doubt in your mind that some of them were definitely rotted and would collapse under your weight in a heartbeat.

You turn and blankly stare at the headmaster. Did he really believe these were suitable living conditions? You were almost positive there was mold in this run-down dorm, and who knows which ones pose a threat to you since you’re an alien? “Does OSHA not exist here or something?”

“I’m sorry, but I do not believe I have heard of this ‘oh-shuh,’” Crowley replied, sounding honest.

“The Occupational Safety and Health Administration?” You got a blank look from Crowley. You sighed, “figures…” ‘Note to self: learn how to establish a government-funded fantasy OSHA so you can pile Crowley with violation fines. Or at least threaten him with them so he’ll fix up the damn place.’

“Staying here will at least keep you out of the rain,” he rushed to get his sentences out. Maybe he got nervous when he heard you say ‘safety and health?’ “I’m going back to do more research. Make yourself at home. Don’t go wandering around the school! Goodbye!” With that, Crowley rushed out the door in a hurry.

‘Well fuck. First order of business: cleaning up lest I die of never-ending sneezing fits.’ You were only able to get all the furniture upright before it started to rain, making you lose all focus and run to peak out a window, trying to get a good angle to see the rain, and hopefully lightning, through the boards.

You’ve always loved the sounds of rain and thunder. More importantly, there was finally something normal. Hearing the rain pattering against window and seeing the occasional flashes of lighting in the distance relaxed you. Out of habit, you counted the seconds between the lightning and thunder to estimate how far away it was. You counted eight seconds before you heard the low rumbling of thunder.

You sighed, content, before you remembered, “It’s storming! I can collect storm water!” You ran to the first door you saw and flung it open to see what looked to be a kitchen. Excited to finally get a round of good luck, you searched through the cabinets, grabbing any jars and bowls you could find. You found a total of three glass jars, which you removed the lids from, and two large bowls. You stacked the bowls and placed the jars as best as you could inside the top bowl before heading back out the front door. You walked out from the covered entrance into the rain and placed the containers along the side of the stone path so they wouldn’t be in the way. The rain started to fall heavily, forcing you to run back inside before you were completely drenched. Luckily, the large hooded cloak you wore kept you dry for the most part. You carefully pulled off the partially-singed wet coat and draped it across the back of the rocking chair you righted earlier to dry.

“Hyii! It’s really coming down!”

Startled, you snapped your head to face the direction the voice came from, only to be met with that same bakeneko (monster cat) that tried to incinerate you.

“Gyahaha! You’ve got this stupid look on your face like a spider being attacked by a water gun!” The bakeneko cackled at you. They must have snuck in when you set out the bowls and jars. “I’ll have no trouble sneaking back into school. If you think getting thrown out is gonna make me give up on getting in, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Mm, well good luck little bakeneko. It might help to not set the school on fire,” you gave them some helpful advice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. All that matters is that I get into this school,” the bakeneko brushed off your words. “Afterall, I’m a genius who is destined to be a great magician! I've been waiting for the Ebony Carriage to come pick me up. But... But... Hmph! The Dark Mirror just doesn't have an eye for this. So that's why I came here on my own. Not letting me in would be a loss for the world; humans just don't get it.”

“Well, I have to agree with you on the Dark Mirror part. Afterall, it decided to kidnap me, and I can’t do any of that flash-bang-boom magic you’ve been throwin’ around.” ‘But I can do other magick… I wonder if they have my kind of magick here… I’ll have to do some research later…’

“Wha? You can’t use magic? Pfft! You’re useless!” The bakeneko shrieked as a drop of water fell on him through the ceiling. “So cold! The roof is leaking!” He didn’t move out of the way before another drop hit him. “Fgyaa! It keeps coming! My adorable ear fire is gonna go out at this rate!”

‘Instant karma, bitch.’ You sighed, “I guess I’ll go get one of the bowls.”

“Magic should fix this leak up real quick, but you don’t got any.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can’t make things go boom, I get it. If you’ve got such a problem with the leak, why don’t you fix it yourself, bakeneko?” You said over your shoulder as you walked to the door to collect one of the bowls from outside.

“Huh? Help you? No way! I’m just a regular monster staying in a rainy place. You better get a can of tuna ready before I do any work.”

You shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself.” You felt a drop of water land on your head this time. ‘Looks like I’ll need to get both of the bowls.’ You grabbed your damp cloak from the rocking chair and quickly threw it on before running outside towards the bowls. They had already collected about half a centimeter of storm water, and not wanting to waste it, you poured the contents of the bowls into the closest jar. Sprinting back inside, you first placed the bowls down at your feet so you could quickly peel off your now-soaked cloak and hang it back on the rocking chair. You placed the bowls under what looked to be the worst leaks in the lounge area. ‘I wonder if there’s a cleaning bucket or something in a closet somewhere.’

“Yo, I’m gonna go see if they’ve got a bucket somewhere,” you notified the bakeneko, not getting an answer, as expected.

You peered over into a nearby hallway, suddenly much more nervous as you stared down the long, dark hallway. ‘This feels like a horror game and I hate it.’ You tentatively took a step forward, and then another. You made it about five slow steps in before the floor loudly squeaked under your weight. ‘I just had an interesting thought: Actually, fuck this.’ You spun on your heel with false bravado, your entire body now tense. As you stiffly walked back towards the lounge, you froze in place as you felt the familiar tingle of eyes watching you. ‘Okay. Don’t look back. Just. Just keep walking. Put one foot in front of the other.’

It turns out it didn’t matter if you looked back or not because three ghosts suddenly appeared in front of you. They… didn’t look how you’d expect ghosts to look like. These ones looked more… cartoonish. They weren’t half as scary-looking as some of the monsters you’d seen in Scooby-Doo.

One of the ghosts giggled while the other two spoke, “We haven’t had a guest in so long…” Said one.

“I’m itching for some action,” said the other.

“Yeah, no, I’ll pass. I’ve had enough excitement for one day, thanks,” their completely underwhelming appearance circumvented practically all your initial fear, leaving you with only pure exhaustion. You didn’t have much of a filter in this state, but you didn’t really give two shits about what you said when you were tired anyway.

“Why are you talking to yourself…” the bakeneko walked around the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. “Gyaaa! G-g-g-g-ghooosts!”

Looked like someone was afraid of the cartoon ghosts.

“The people living here got scared of us and left,” a ghost explained.

“We’ve been looking for more ghost pals,” another spoke. “How about you guys?”

“Deadass? Fuckin’ go for it.”

The ghosts and bakeneko looked a bit shocked that you blatantly agreed to let them kill you to turn you into a ghost.

“Wow, you guys aren’t up to date on humor, are you?”

The bakeneko was the first to snap out of disbelief and shouted, “Grim, the Great Magician, isn’t scared of some ghosts!”

‘Heh, I ain’t afraid of no ghost.’ You had to mentally remind yourself to not start humming the ghost busters theme.

Grim, as you now learned his name was (you think), spewed more of that bright blue fire, completely missing all of the ghosts.

“Where are you aiming?” The ghosts mocked him and laughed. “Over here, over here!”

“Shoot! Stop disappearing!” Grim uselessly shouted at them and continued to be a living flamethrower.

“My mans, please, stop. At this rate there’ll be no dorm left to keep us dry.”

“Shut up! Don’t try to give me orders!”

“…I’m too tired to deal with this shit anymore. Fine. I’ll get you a can of tuna if you win without burning the house down.” You mumbled the first part before speaking to Grim.

“Wah? Mm, I-I’m a genius. I won’t let one—” Grim tried to keep his stubborn pride but was interrupted by the ghosts’ mocking laughter. “Bunch of cowards, ganging up on us!”

“Two cans. Take it or leave it.”

Your new offer seemed to change Grim’s tune in a heartbeat. “Hey, you! Tell me where the ghosts are!”

“’Kay. On your left,” Grim followed your orders and managed to singe one of the ghosts with his flames.

“I hit it!” Grim shouted, now sounding excited. “Alright, let’s chase them all outta here!”

Cue you shouting directions at Grim and him spewing fire in said directions. In all honesty, it felt like a pokemon battle. Except your pokemon was a talking cat with a holier-than-thou attitude. And you were fighting actual ghosts—not ghost type pokemon—actual previously-living-human ghosts. After a few minutes of Grim burning the ghosts, however that worked, they eventually fled the scene of your would-be murder.

“E-eh? We…won?” Grim spoke with the disbelief of someone who has never won in life before.

“Yup. Good job bakeneko Grim.”

“Ha-heee, that was scar—No, I wasn’t scared at all!” Oh Grim, what caused you to act like your pride is what matters the most? “This is nothing for the Great Grim! How ‘bout that, ghosts? You done?”

“Hey, don’t taunt them, bakeneko. If they come back, I’m not giving you directions.”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘bakeneko?’ What’s that even mean?”

“Mm, it’s because you’re like a bakeneko. They’re mononoke, yokai, that resemble cats,” Grim looked ready to protest, but you continued before he had the chance, “and are extremely powerful. If you anger a bakeneko, your chances of getting out alive are slim to none.”

“Hmmph, well, I suppose The Great Grim will allow you to call him by such a title.”

Before you could continue to talk about bakeneko and other mononoke or yokai, Crowley came in through the front door just as you and Grim made it back to the lounge.

“Good evening,” he greeted. “I have graciously brought you supper.” That’s when he noticed Grim beside you. “You’re the monster that ran amuck during the entrance ceremony! I threw you out of the school! What are you doing here?”

“Hmph! I exterminated the ghost problem! Be grateful!” Grim puffed out his chest as he spoke, continuing to act high and mighty.

“Hmm? What do you mean by that?”

“…There were ghosts here that wanted to turn us into ghosts,” you blandly explained to the headmaster.

“Now that you mention it, there were some prankster ghosts living here so students keep away from this dormitory. And that's why it is now empty. I'd forgotten that.”

You half-heartedly glared at the headmaster. ‘Oh, how convenient. You put up the broke alien in a haunted house with killer ghosts that you just so happened to forget about.’

“However, hmmmm…” Crowley either didn’t notice or acknowledge your glare. “For you two to work together to get rid of them.”

“I'm not gonna overlook that "together" comment. They were just standing there watching. And I did this for a can of tuna—Ah! I haven't gotten that tuna yet!” Grim spoke, still holding on tight to that attitude of his.

‘Grim, I swear to whatever deities rule this place that you aren’t gonna get those cans of tuna if you keep up this habit of pushing others down to raise yourself up.’

“I'd like the two of you to show me how you exterminated those ghosts.”

‘Crowley, no—'

“But we already got rid of all the ghosts! Before that: Give. Me. Tuna!” Oh Grim, so we can agree sometimes!

“I shall be the ghosts. If you beat me, I'll give you tuna cans. For I am gracious.”

“Uh, no, wait, Mr. Crowley, please—”

“Now then, Transformation Potion!” Crowley pulled a vial of liquid from his coat and downed it in one go. It didn’t take long for him to become transparent and ghost-like.

“Eeeeeeeh, I don't wanna. This is a pain and I have to team up with them again…” Grim whined.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Bakeneko, maybe if you show him how strong your magic is, he’ll let you be a student.”

“Grrrnnuuu,” Grim grumbled, annoyed. “This is the last time! You absolutely, absolutely have to give me the tuna!”

And you found yourself in a pokemon battle once more; this time, it was you and a bakeneko versus an actual living breathing person that can turn into a ghost.

‘If it’s a pokemon battle, might as well use pokemon rules.’ You pointed at the see-through headmaster, “Grim, bite him!”

“Hah? You really are a stupid human!” Grim shouted and spewed fire instead, though he missed like before.

“Fine, we’ll use your fire, but I’m explaining the pokemon system to you later. On your left!”

Turns out, pokemon battles can get boring when it’s just the same thing over and over again. Eventually, it seemed the effects of the potion wore out and Crowley returned to his usual opaque self.

“Hee-haaa…” Grim was panting, trying to catch his breath. “How 'bout that!”

“I can't believe… There is a person who can command monsters,” Crowley spoke in mild awe mixed with disbelief.

‘…Does this world not have pokemon? Should I?... No, I shouldn’t… but what if—what if I introduced myself as Gary Oak and just… no I can’t do that. I can’t tell people “smell ya later.”’

“Hmmm... Actually, my teacher senses were telling me since the uproar during the entrance ceremony that you have talent as an animal or wild beast trainer.”

‘…This man is really making this a cliché pokemon plot… Is this how it all started? Am I the original trainer!? Nah… Unless—’

“But, no matter how…” Crowley began muttering to himself, to quiet for me to make out.

“Hey, just let him stay here,” you were exhausted at this point and the bakeneko had honestly grown on you some. Plus, you needed him around in order to explain pokemon to him.

“What now? Let a monster live here?” You couldn’t see Crowley’s face behind the mask, but you were sure he was giving you a judging look.

“Well, I mean, he did just show you the magic he’s got, which is a whole lot more than I’ve got, and you’re letting me stay here. So why not let him stay? He still a magician, he’s just, well, in the shape of a cat.”

After a few seconds, Crowley sighed, “It can’t be helped.”

“Funa!? Really?!” Grim’s eyes widened and lit up as bright as his flames.

“However, I can't simply allow someone, let alone a monster, into school who wasn't selected by the Dark Mirror. Also, I can't let you be a freeloader here until you return to your own world.”

“Talk about short-lived joy…”

“Listen until the end,” Crowley then turned to you. “Concerning the fact that your soul was called here, the school has to take responsibility as the owners of the Dark Mirror. For the time being, you'll be permitted to stay in this dormitory for free, but other necessities you will have to provide for yourself.”

‘Uhhh what? I don’t even have my own clothes. How the hell am I supposed to live with no money or ID?’

“Seeing as you have nothing to your name,” he gave a slight chuckle for reasons unknown, “here is my proposition.”

Your mind immediately jumped to all the horror stories you’ve heard of what comes from owing shady people favors. The growing panic must have shown on your face according to Crowley’s next words.

“No need to fret, I'll have you do maintenance and odd jobs around campus. From what I can see, you're pretty decent at cleaning,” he said after glancing around the room. “Would you two like to become the "handyman" of the school? This way you will receive special permission to remain on school grounds. You'll also be able to research going home or study whatever you desire in the library. For I am gracious. However! Only after your work is done.”

“Eeeh!? I'm not okay with that!” Grim complained. “I wanna wear that fancy uniform and be a student!”

“It's fine if you're unsatisifed. I'll simply toss you out again.”

“Ffgnnaa!? I get it! I just have to do it. Just do it!”

“’Kay.”

“Wonderful,” Crowley clapped his hands once in delight of our agreeance. “Then, you two starting tomorrow, endeavor to be the best handyman at Night Raven College!”

“Cool, now that that’s settled, headmaster,” he turned to face you. “I’m, like, about to pass out from pain. I’m covered in bruises and burns, plus my vision is blurry and I can’t focus on anything. My eyes are like a camera lens that twenty children smeared their greasy fingers on. You’re magical in that flashy, immediate results way, right? Doesn’t that mean you or someone else can help me not feel like I want to peel off my skin? It’d be cool for my skin to not burn when I get cleaning solution on it tomorrow.”

“Oh, uh, yes, of course,” Crowley almost seemed sheepish, as if he were embarrassed to have not truly noticed the state you were in until now. “While healing magic is not my forte, it should be enough to heal the wounds you have.”

He pointed his palmed towards you and you watched as it began to glow a pale yellow. Slowly you felt your burns and bruises dull themselves to just faint aches. He kept this up for about a minute before he extinguished his magic and pulled his hand back.

“Now, the worst of your wounds are still be a bit tender, but they should be completely healed after a good night’s rest. So, off you go then; sleep now so you’re ready for work in the morning,” He shooed you off with a hand gesture.

“Thank you, headmaster. C’mon Grim, let’s get going.”

As you and Grim headed up the stairs, the headmaster turned around and walked out of the building. Each step creaked under your weight as you trudged up them. While the pain was all but gone, your fatigue was still all-consuming. You followed Grim down the upper hallway, since it seemed he already picked a room before, probably when you went to find a bucket. You followed him into a room in a similar condition as the rest of the dorm. Across from the door sat a fireplace in the center of the opposite wall, a large mirror mounted above it. There were tall windows stationed on either side of the fireplace, almost as tall as the room itself. Towards the left side was a chair covered by a gray dust-cloth, and on the right sat a simple twin-sized bed. You pulled the duvet off the bed and shook it out, watching as you made a cloud of dust dance in the air. As soon as you placed the comforter back on the bed, Grim jumped up and curled himself up in the center of the bed. You were too tired to do anything about that; you’d just have too try and sleep around him. After shaking any dust off of your pillow, you slid yourself under the covers, one leg dangerously close to sliding off the bed. You fell asleep in record time that night.

. . .

You had a rather rude awakening the next morning consisting of Grim yelling at you and pawing at your face because the ghosts were back. Streams of blazing blue fire almost singeing your face made this one of your worst morning experiences to date. With a final warning of there being a one-sided prank war, the ghosts phased away.

“We’ll get rid of you eventually!” Grim shouted after them, but there was nothing but thin air left.

“C’mon, bakeneko. Let’s go see if there’s any food in the kitchen,” You beckoned Grim with a small wave.

“Hmph. Fine. But there better be tuna!” Grim said with a harrumph and trotted out the door ahead of you.

As you went down the stair at the end of the hallway, you saw Crowley standing in the lounge room, waiting for you and Grim.

“Good morning, you two,” he greeted when he noticed you. “Did you sleep well?”

“I was sprawled out then fell out the bottom! Just how ramshackle did you let this place get?” Grim shouted, equally as upset about the state of the dorm as you were. “Then the ghosts woke me up, this is the worst!”

“Like the dead,” was your response.

“Even though you just got tossed from another world you can still be cheeky, wonderful!” Crowley was as upbeat as ever. “I came to speak to you about your work for today. Today you are to clean the campus, but campus is quite large. Cleaning it all without magic is impossible. So, I'd like you to clean Main Street to the main gate to the library, understood? Please watch Grim closely so he doesn't cause a scene like yesterday.”

“I’ll try best,” you said and shrugged. You didn’t know what you’d do if Grim went out of control; you’re not fireproof, after all.

“I'm counting on you. You have permission to have lunch in the school cafeteria. Take care of your work enthusiastically,” and with a flutter of his feathered cape, Crowley took his leave, presumably going back to campus.

“Tsk, no way I'm doing any cleaning,” Grim scrunched his nose at the thought. “I wanna go to class and, bang! Boom boom boom! Use a bunch of awesome spells!” He punched at the air with his ‘booms.’

“How ‘bout we just go to the library after we finish cleaning. Besides, libraries are where they keep all the old forbidden knowledge!” Yeah, under lock and key so no one can read them, but you weren’t about to tell Grim that. “Imagine just how much the other students will revere your power if you master ancient magic!”

“Well, what are you waiting for, human? Let’s get going!”

“Okay but let me collect my storm water first. If I wait too long, it’ll all evaporate.”

“Hmph, fine, but make it quick!”

You quickly jogged over to your bowls and jars that each held a good two inches/five centimeters worth of storm water. You poured all the water you collected into one of the jars before carrying everything back inside. You set them all down on the kitchen counter, then checked the cabinets for a lid to the jar. After finding a lid and sealing the storm water in the corresponding jar, you met back up with Grim in the lounge.

“Alright, let’s get moving.”

“About time,” Grim sauntered off, sass radiating from him with each step.

. . .

The campus was bustling with life, students with hair every color of the rainbow going every which way. After a couple minutes of walking towards what you hoped was Main Street, the crowds began to thin out, students having made it to their respective classes. It wasn’t all that hard to find Main Street, seeing as it was the busiest and largest street on campus. What you weren’t expecting was the street to be lined with seven statues of iconic Disney villains.

‘I thought… I thought I was supposed to be on another planet or world or something? Why are there Disney Villains? Are you telling me that Walt Disney himself was able to expand his franchise across all of time and space?! And maybe across dimensions and alternate universes too?! Hey Walt? You’re taking it too far, man.’

“Uwaaaah~ Amazing. So, this is Main Street. I didn't get a good look yesterday but what's with these statues? All seven of them look pretty scary. This granny looks especially snobby,” Grim said, making a face at the Queen of Hearts.

“You mean the Queen of Hearts? Yeah, she played croquet with flamingos as the mallets and hedgehogs as the balls. While they were alive. Not cool if you ask me. Or most people. Animal cruelty is bad.”

“Ehh?! Why would this lady do that?” Grim looked appropriately confused.

“Who knows? Besides, the Cheshire cat is way better. A true chaotic neutral, that one.”

“Who’s that? And what does a cat have to do with this granny?”

You were about to answer before you were cut off by a new challenger approaching. “You don’t know about the Queen of Hearts?” They had a boyish appearance with short, messy orange hair and a red heart stamped over their left eye.

‘Actually, we were just about to discuss the Cheshire cat, but go ahead and assume, I guess.’

“You know her too? Is she important?” Grim asked the redhead, his attention easily being grabbed by this newcomer.

“In the past, she was the queen who lived in the Rose Maze. She was someone who valued rules and discipline above all, strict in all things from the march of the Card Soldiers to the color of rose bushes. It was a land of madness where all submit to her rule. Why you ask? Because or else it was off with your head!” The heart-eye boy monologued with some dramatic flair.

“That's terrifying!” Grim shrieked, probably at the thought of someone chopping his head off.

“It's cool! I like it. Nobody would listen to a queen who's just nice all the time, right?”

‘Uhhhh, that queen is a tyrant, and tyrants are what lead to revolutions so… vive la révolution.’

“I suppose. A strong leader is better.” Oh, Grim, you sweet summer child who doesn’t know the difference between strength and fear.

“By the way, who are you?” Grim asked.

“I'm Ace, a fresh-faced first year. Nice to meetcha~” The boy, Ace, said with a musical lilt.

“I am Grim, a genius who'll become the greatest magician. The dimwit over here is (y/n). They're my henchmen.”

“Bakeneko, don’t you dare put me on the same level as a Scooby-Doo villain’s underling.” You glared at Grim who gave a sheepish chuckle in response.

“You've got an odd sounding name.”

“People from different places have different names. It’s called culture.” You said blandly, trying to cover up your growing anxiety.

Ace shrugged. “I guess. Just never heard your name before.”

“Hey, Ace,” Grim grabbed his attention; you could feel your shoulders sag in relief. “The lion over here with the scar, are they famous?”

Well, Ace seemed to have this handled, and you didn’t need to hear him summarize the Disney villains. Instead, you ignored him and went over to the statue of Hades and looked at him.

‘If this confirms that Hades also exists in this world, does that mean I can work with him? I know many witches back on Earth work with Greek deities, with Hades and Persephone usually being the best of them to work with. Hmm… I’ll have to do some more research.’

You then crouched down to read the stone plaque engraved in Hades’ pedestal. The large plaque read: “The lord of the underworld and guide to the wandering souls of the dead. He carried out his fearsome duties with diligence and care, m…ing even the de…t to offer their aid.” Some words had eroded away, becoming mostly unintelligible sans a few letters.* You tried to make out those two unknown words, tracing your fingers around the grooves in hopes that just maybe you’ll be able to figure out enough of the letters to piece the word together.

“No matter how long you stare at it, you’re not gonna get anything out of that, y’know,” Ace said from behind you.

You sighed and stood up, your momentary reprieve from your anxiety over. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to check.” The plaque didn’t have any information you didn’t already know, except for maybe the words you didn’t know.

“Anyway,” Ace cleared his throat, “He's the Lord of the Underworld! He rules a land crawling with evil spirit on his own. No doubt he is extremely skilled. Even though he's got a scary face, he did that detestable job without ever taking a vacation, and his sincerity won over Cerberus, the Hydra, even the Titans, to fight for him.”

“Hmmm, Hmmm. So having talent doesn't mean you get to be haughty.” Grim hummed in thought.

‘Oh, my sweet tiny bakeneko, you’re learning about manners; I’m so proud.’

“And the last one, with the horns?”

‘Oh hell yeah, Maleficent! We stan an absolute queen. Besides, who doesn’t love dragons?’

“That is the Witch of Thorns from the Magic Mountains,” Ace said, addressing Maleficent with a title rather than her name. “Noble and elegant, even within the Seven, she is top class in magic and curses! She can summon lightning and storms, cover an entire country in thorns; her magic is on a whole other level. There was even a time she transformed into a huge dragon!”

“Oooh! A dragon! All monsters look up to them!” Grim shouted excitedly.

“They're all so cool~” Ace spoke, almost dreamily, before his tone did a 180 and turned snide. “…Unlike a certain raccoon.”

“Pfft... Ahaha! I can't bear it anymore! Ahahahaha!” Ace broke out into laughter. “Aren't you the guys who went crazy at the entrance ceremony? You were summoned by the Dark Mirror even though you can't use magic, and you, a monster, weren't called but still trespassed. Yeahhh, it took everything I had not to lose it at the ceremony.”

“Whaaa!? You're a rude one!” Grim fumed, his ear fire growing in size.

You just stood there and narrowed your gaze, your anger and anxiety fighting each other for full reign. Anxiety won out in the end, keeping you silent when met with his jabs.

“And now you aren't allowed in and got regulated to be a janitor? Haha, how lame,” Ace continued mocking the both of you.

‘It’s not like I had a choice in the matter…’ You clenched your jaw while Grim growled. You could feeling the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, beginning to rise.

“On top of that, you don't even know about the Great Seven,” Ace just didn’t know when to stop. “How ignorant can you be? As I recommend you go back to kindergarten before coming to Night Raven College.”

Grim’s growls got louder as Ace continued. You, on the other hand, couldn’t bring yourself to speak and defend either of you. You felt your throat begin to close up.

“I thought I'd just mess with you a bit, but you really blew my expectations away. Unlike you two, I actually have classes to attend. Keep this school squeaky clean, you two~” He gave you a patronizing wave before turning on his heel and sauntering away.

“This jerk! He's just gonna say that and leave! I'm ticked off!” Grim opened his mouth wide.

“Wait, don’t—” You weren’t fast enough to stop Grim from using flamethrower, for a lack of better terms, on Ace.

“Oh! Watch out! What're you doing!?” Ace angrily yelled at Grim, having just barely dodged in time.

“It's what you get for making fun of me! I'm going light up that fire-head of yours!” Grim matched Ace’s volume.

“Fire-head, huh? Heeeeee. You've really got guts picking a fight with me. I'll turn you into a puffy, little toy-poodle!”

Grim spewed more flames at Ace’s threat.

‘Nope, fuck this. Fuck this. I can’t breathe, dammit!’ You hid behind the nearest statue, which happened to be Maleficent, and kneeled on the ground, trying to steady yourself and calm down enough for your throat to reopen. You bent over to rest your head on the cool grass, closing your eyes and covering your ears, trying to block out the sources of your near attack. You focused on the feel of the grass against your forehead, feeling the separations between the different blades. They were still a bit damp from the morning dew. The more you distracted yourself from the thought of Ace: stressor of the century, the more your throat relaxed and allowed you to draw breath normally once more. You jumped when a shriek pierced through your ears, completely bypassing your hand barriers and reversing all the progress you made towards calming down. Worried that the shriek meant someone got hurt, you jumped out from behind the statue. Instead of someone being hurt, to your relief (you weren’t excited about being an accomplice to assault), the Queen of Hearts’ statue was blackened.

“Crap! The Queen of Hearts' statue is charred!” Ace yelled, the dread on his face matching the shriek you just heard from him.

“It's because you're blowing the fire around! Just let me fry you!” Grim shouted back at him.

“You really think someone is just gonna let you fry them?”

“Enough!!! Just what is going on here!” The voice of Crowley boomed at the three of you, making you flinch.

‘…Fuck,’ looks like you’re not going to be able to avoid an anxiety attack after all.

“Guh! Headmaster,” Ace went rigid.

“He's going to tie us up with the 'lash of love'!” Grim yelled. “Get outta here!”

Though they tried to run, both were caught by Crowley’s whip, foiling their escape plans and making them both yelp in pain.

“Hurts just as much the second day in a row!” Grim whined.

“This is my Lash of Love!” Crowley was furious, and it seemed like he wasn’t going to calm down anytime soon. “It'll be another hundred years before you can outrun me! I told you just yesterday to 'not cause any trouble', didn't I? Then you go and char the statues of the Great Seven!” He directed his words at Grim before turning to Ace. “I very much would like to see you expelled.”

“Wait! Not that!”

“And you,” Crowley looked at you, making you freeze in place. “This is not how you supervise Grim.”

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, unable to gather the breath to form a single word. How could you talk when you were struggling to even breathe?

“My goodness,” Crowley huffed in indignation before turning to Ace. “You, what's your grade and name?”

“Ace Trappola, first year.”

“Then, Trappola, Grim, and (y/n), as punishment, I order the three of you to wash 100 windows around campus!”

“Nyaaa!? It's all cause this joker was making fun of us!” Grim protested, his fur standing on end to make him look bigger and more intimidating. It didn’t work.

“Eeeh!? Me too?” Ace looked at the headmaster in disbelief.

“Most definitely! After school, meet in the cafeteria. Understood?”

“Fiiine…”

“Nothing but misery since yesterday!” Grim complained.

Soon, both Crowley and Ace left, and you felt your body slump in relief, your knees buckling under you.

“Wha—hey, human! What’re you doing?” Grim ran up to you, genuinely confused.

You held up a finger to say ‘gimme a minute’ while you caught your breath. “Sorry…Grim…” you said after a minute, panting between words.

“Why are you out of breath? It’s not like you were running or anything.”

“This…this just happens… sometimes…” you shifted from kneeling to sitting cross-legged, leaning against the statue of Maleficent behind you. “I’m not very good with yelling… or with people, for that matter.”

“Hmmm,” Grim hummed in thought. “You humans are weird.”

You gave a soft chuckle at that, “that we are, Grim. That we are.” The two of you sat there in silence for a minute or two as your attack gradually faded away. “Hey Grim? I have a proposition for you.”

“Hah? What do you mean human?”

“What if we skipped lunch so we can make Ace suffer a bit?”

“Heee! Now you’re talkin’ my language!” Grim grinned widely, showing of his shark-like teeth.

*That was all I could make out from the plaque you can see in the seven statues background image.

A/N: Life’s been pretty shit recently hasn’t it.

25 notes · View notes

chaoticqueertiefling · 4 years

Text

Zelda Theory: Zonai Genocide

Hyrule's Dark Past is Darker than You Think

The Zonai didn’t magically disappear, they were “exterminated” by the Hyrule Royal Family. Why would they do that? Would anyone stop them?

The Hylian/Sheikah/Zonai Relations

-Did Hyrule take over the Zonai Lands, or did the Zonai invade Hyrule?

We’ve seen all the Zonai structures across Hyrule. Many are old and broken down, covered in moss, the usual characteristics of ancient ruins. The ruins of Hylian structures are broken down, but lack moss on most of them. Only ancient pillars and ruins found in remote areas (the Ancient Columns and Lanayru Promenade just to name a few) have more wear and tear on them.

Also, there are no Zonai ruins located on the Great Plateau, the “Birthplace of Hyrule.” I believe the Zonai inhabited the land of Hyrule before the Hylians took over. Plus it’s plausible that the Great Plateau was raised to protect Hyrule from the “Warlike Tribe.”

Some Zonai ruins are pretty clean though, mainly the Lomei Labyrinths. However, in a video by NintendoBlackCrisis on the Zonai, he points out how the Labyrinths have incorrect Zonai Markings on them, and are most likely made by the Sheikah. I believe it highly likely. But the question is why?

We as the player know that the Barbarian Armor is from a Warlike Tribe, as stated below.

This description comes from the Sheikah though. So were the Zonai really Warlike? Or was it the Royal Family trying to defame the Zonai (More later on)

Well with an outfit like that including warpaint it’s highly likely, but that doesn’t mean they were savages. The dictionary (dictionary.com) definiton of warlike is “fit, qualified, ready for war; martial” The Zonai could’ve been excellent strategists, or great fighters in general. The skull could even been for intimidation purposes.

The Sheikah and Zonai may have had a good connection with each other. In a theory by @botwstoriesandsuch they theorize how the Zonai may have been the original Pilots of the Divine Beasts. IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE.

Could this collaboration between the Sheikah and the Zonai scare the Royal Family? Were they too close together that the Royal Family and the Hylians felt threatened?

Link: The Hero of the Calamity 10,000 years ago

- Was Link associated with the Zonai in that Era?

We don’t know a lot about where the Zonai came from, just that they once existed. We also know that the Barbarian Armor is/is similar to what they may have worn.

- Was Link born a Zonai? Half Hylian/Zonai? Raised by the Zonai?

It’s not impossible that the Zonai and Hylians may have married and had children. Could Link have been born Zonai? Highly Unlikely, since I’m not sure the goddesses would allow the chosen hero to be non-hylian, but also we don’t know if the Zonai are the Humans left on the surface after Hylia herself raised Skyloft. Link is also often an abandoned child. Not all the time, but we know his parents are NEVER present, so it’s likely he was left with the Zonai. Or worse, they may have killed his parents and stole him

-- If relations between Hyrule and the Zonai were good, Link may have even been sent to train with the Zonai to combat the Calamity. (Which if this is true may have turned out poorly for everyone)

In the tapestry of Calamity Ganon we see the Princess with the blood of the goddess, and a warrior wielding the soul of a hero fighting the Calamity. If we look close enough at “Link” he has a lot of similarities matching the Barbarian Armor Set.

1. No Pants. Definatly that skirt/kilt thing the armor has.

2. Red hair. This is the “big” one where people thought the hero here was Ganondorf because of the red hair, but it could be loose flowing hair from the armor the Zonai wore.

3.There are hints of white in this illustration. It could hint at the white fluff on the Barbarian Armor, or hell even bone like the arm guard.

4. The gold hand. That theory driving gold hand. Is it the hand in the Sequal trailer? I doubt it. My guess is it is the Golden Power or even the Triforce of Courage. We see the same power coming from Zelda.

But she has the full triforce! Not just wisdom!

Do we know for sure? 10,000 years ago maybe she did only have the Triforce of Wisdom, and Link had Courage. But who has Power? For all we know the Royal Family could’ve had both Power and Wisdom. Or Power was hidden somewhere else. Maybe even the Zonai had it?

So if Link was with them, he may have turned out more “warlike” more of a warrior than anticipated. And after defeating the Calamity he stood by the Zonai instead of the Royal Family.

Easy to say, the Hyrule Royal Family did NOT like how Link “betrayed” them. This brings us to our Last point...

Genocide of the Zonai.

The Hyrule Royal Family felt threatened not only by the Sheikah Technology that was very successful in taking down the Calamity, but also the combined efforts of the two tribes.

First off the Hyrule Royal Family may have always been weary of the Zonai, and would rather want them out of the picture.

They can keep their grasp on the Sheikah, so they make the demand that they relinquish their tech and live a simple life, which most Sheikah comply with.

They know that won’t work with the Zonai, especially with the Hero on their side.

So Hyrule launched a war with the Zonai. Destroying monuments and ruins, leaving their lands in ruin. How can they fight the Royal Army? And what if the Sheikah Tech played a part in the extermination? The advisors would most likely suggest pitting the two tribes against each other. And advised against controlling the Sheikah until the Zonai were disposed of. The Royal Army with the tech was so powerful that “even the most powerful of monsters posed no threat.”

Most of the Zonai were likely killed, poised as “warlike” and maybe even savage. (Those who escaped may have ended up in Luralin, but that’s a whole different theory I’m not going to chase) Wait? What about Link? If he stood by them, (especially if he was raised by them) he was likely killed in battle against Hyrule.

Wait wait wait what about the Goddesses? Or even Hylia? Zelda! Would they let this happen? Link is the Hero! Why would the Sheikah, who may have worked with the Zonai, comply?

Link did his job to stop the Calamity. They may have somehow known it wouldn’t be back for some time. His purpose was done. Did they need the hero anymore? Zelda may have put up a fight, but she may have had no say in the matter, being the Princess. If the King was still in charge, he would have been calling the shots. And we know the Goddesses rarely interfere. The Sheikah? They serve the Royal Family first and foremost. They would probably do what they were told.

- (Warning very dark!) If Link was born into the Zonai, it would give another reason for the Hyrule Royal Family to eliminate the Zonai, wanting their hero to be Hylian, not anything else.

Also if they made this mysterious tribe just disappear, there was no one left to say “Hey! Hyrule Killed their own Hero!”

And I doubt the other races would interfere, especially with Hylians being in control of the whole land. They wiped out one tribe, who else would they wipe out?

And if the Triforce was split? What better way to get all three pieces to the Royal Family than killing and taking them from the other bearers. (Ganon’s done this a lot, maybe they even got the idea from him!)

When understanding the history of our world, we can piece together what may have happened in Hyrule. Threatened Monarchs will do what they see best for them and their people, even if it means destroying an entire tribe. But can we believe everything we’ve seen in Breath of the Wild? Those who are victorious are the ones who write history.

#Zelda Theory #Zonai Theory #Genocide #Breath of the Wild #Legend of Zelda #Zonai #Zelda #Link #BoTW2 #OMG this is so long

27 notes · View notes

queen-of-bel · 4 years

Text

some semi-structured ramblings about kaz and paz, and why their dynamic is probably my favorite relationship of any media i’ve ever consumed

I really really love the dynamic that Paz and Kaz have with each other for so many reasons.

First off, it highlights two very important personality traits about Kaz during the Peace Walker era. It shows off how warm and friendly Kaz can be, but it also demonstrates how overconfident and reckless he is.

He takes what he considers to be “calculated risks”, vastly overestimating his own abilities to offset any negative consequences. He invited a Cipher agent to their own home turf, all for the sake of expanding MSF. It was risky as hell, and Kaz knew that, which is why he kept it a secret from Snake. In his mind, he had a plan to negate the risk of any damage that Cipher could do to them-- befriend Paz and have her switch allegiances.

Kaz knew exactly who she was– a spy only a few years younger than himself. He also knew what her objective was from the beginning. This is something that he admits to Snake at the end of Peace Walker. And yet, he still struck up a deal with Cipher and invited her and Zadornov to Colombia anyway.

It really is heartwarming to see how much effort Kaz put into reaching out to Paz.

After Zadornov was first captured, “Paz” had nowhere else to go, as Zadornov was paying for her room and board. I put “Paz” in quotes, because that was the situation that the character of “Paz Ortega Andrade” was in, not Pacifica Ocean.

Kaz knew this, and the risk of having Paz on mother base, but he was the one who really pushed for Paz to live there regardless. To quote Paz:

“I told the man that with no more money from the KGB, I could no longer afford school. …He bought my story, and when I said I would be willing to work, he took pity on me and let me stay. For some reason Miller really plead my case. That was helpful, but the man is still a fool…”

Now, you can chalk this up to him just going along with the business deal that he struck with Cipher, but his actions moving forward indicate otherwise.

It’s undeniable that Kaz really went out of his way to give Paz a comfortable and peaceful life while at MSF. Her diary tapes highlight all of the sweet interactions that they had:

“What I have got is just a common cold. The medical team said I’d need a few days’ rest, so I’ve been restricted to my room and put on bed rest… Miller told me to take it easy. “I will sing you a lullaby,” he said, then broke out a guitar and sang some incomprehensible song in Japanese. I did not need to understand the lyrics to know he’s an awful singer. Then he said, ‘You know what is good for a cold? Suppositories! Here, I’ll show you…’ He began to take off his pants, so I threw my tissue box at him to make him go away.”

“Every month, Mother Base throws a party for all the soldiers whose birthdays fall in that month… Miller seemed a little protective of me. ‘Hope they’re not being too crude,’ he said. ”

“‘C'mon, we even both have ‘peace’ in our names,’ said Miller. ‘And Zadornov - that old Russkie’s name has something to do with peace, too, right? Hey, as long as we’re having a day of peace, we ought to get an act together - The Three Peace Band!’ I thought he was joking. He then proceeded to share his idea without bothering to check with me, and now I am slated to sing. Apparently, he had heard me on deck one day and since then he’s wanted to form a band”

“With the lyrics finished, I was ready to show Miller. He does not often take things seriously, but all of a sudden he was saying ‘Paz, you have the soul of an enka songwriter.’”

(That last quote is technically from Phantom Paz, but nothing in PW states that Kaz himself was the one who wrote the lyrics for Love Deterrence, only the melody, so I’m going to go ahead and include this MSGV tape)

Of course, you could always make the argument that Kaz was just playing a role, that he was just going along with Cipher's lie and giving Paz special treatment because she's "just a teen", but let's compare his interactions with Paz versus his interactions with Chico, another youth at MSF.

Kaz's interactions with Chico were minimal at best. Not to say that he didn't like Chico, because he absolutely did. But there were never any special interactions between the two of them in the same way that he interacted with Paz.

In fact, Kaz never put that much effort into bonding with anyone else at mother base. Not Amanda, not Strangelove, not Huey, or even Cecile (or any other women at MSF that he would try to seduce). It’s clear that Kaz treated Paz differently than everyone else at MSF. Kaz is a very suave and charismatic person, and he’s used to charming his way into getting what he wants in life, with pretty minimal effort. Paz alludes to this in one of her diary tapes, scoffing at the fact that female MSF soldiers fall for his flirting "so easily".

Now, Kaz never tried to approach Paz romantically, but the success of his whole "let's get this Cipher agent to switch allegiances to MSF" plan rested on his overwhelming charm. Relying on his charisma has not failed him yet, and he had no reason to think that this situation with Paz would be any different. He thought that by reaching out to Paz, she would become loyal to MSF, effectively eliminating any threat that Cipher posed to MSF.

This is where his overconfidence comes in. He vastly underestimated Zero’s power, and how much of a grip Zero had on Paz. Paz absolutely despised Zero, but ultimately, she was terrified of betraying Cipher, calling the repercussions of that action “a fate far worse than death”.

Although, it's not as if Kaz’s efforts were completely wasted. Paz’s commitment to Cipher was wavering as time went on, and as she spent more time with MSF and everyone on mother base. However, it's important to note that Paz wasn't just grateful to the MSF staff as a whole. She was, but she particularly wanted to be close to Kaz.

In her diary tape when she was describing Kaz’s womanizing and his and Snake’s infamous sauna fight, she says something at the end that was really sad to me.

“But somehow I got the sense that for all his womanizing, Miller really only trusted one person, and that was Snake. There was no way I could ever come between the two of them. And at that thought I began to feel as if I had lost.”

We know that Paz had romantic feelings for Snake. She's suspiciously adamant in her third diary entry about her lack of interest in Snake, but her diary entries in the Phantom Pain were more honest about her feelings:

"[Snake] saved me, and I feel indebted to him, but I thought that was all he meant to me. Why does my heart flutter when I think of him?"

So going back to her diary entry in Peace Walker. When she says that she feels "lost", we know that this wasn’t her lamenting about Kaz’s womanizing habits, or what she calls his infatuation with Snake. What upsets her is her observation that Kaz only trusts Snake. She has this hopeless feeling that Kaz would never trust her in the same way.

Paz clearly wanted to be friends with Kaz. Not just friendly surface interactions, but she wanted to get to know Kaz more and bond with him on a deeper level. Unfortunately, it is this exact hopelessness that prevented Paz from expressing these feelings to him.

Of course, Kaz was blind to this inner conflict of hers. When you combine this with not only his underestimation of Zero's power, but his own overconfidence in his charisma, it's a bit of a recipe for disaster.

We see this testament to Kaz’s overconfidence after the ZEKE battle. He's actually shocked that Paz went through with Cipher's plan anyway. He really thought that his efforts to reach out to her worked, as he tells Snake:

“How could Paz… We were going to start a band together…”

At this point, Kaz has already come clean to Snake about knowing Paz's real identity. He no longer has to put up a front of "this is just a teenager". What this says to me is that these are Kaz's genuine feelings. He really was looking forward to starting a band with her, and performing with her on Peace Day.

I really like this moment because it shows that Kaz didn't just think of Paz as a way to expand MSF. He didn't spend all this time with Paz simply because it would benefit him. He felt a genuine desire to befriend and be close with her.

He’s clearly crushed that his efforts to befriend her failed. After the ZEKE battle, he admits that there was only one thing on his mind:

“After Paz tried to steal ZEKE from us, and we watched her get pulled beneath the waves… There was one thing I kept asking myself. Which was the real Paz? And which was the lie?”

What's interesting to me is that he’s not concerned about any damage to MSF that Paz may have caused, despite the fact that she hijacked ZEKE. He’s not even angry that she betrayed MSF, attempting to launch a nuclear strike on the east coast of the USA under MSF's name. He’s just dumbfounded and shell-shocked. Now, this is just my personal speculation, but I think his self-confidence really took a blow in this moment. He's always prided himself on his charisma and business acumen. For Kaz, to think that he so horribly and completely misjudged Paz’s character was a harsh wake-up call for him.

As time goes on, he does become angry, though. It’s mostly (misplaced) anger at Paz, but underneath it all, I think he’s mostly angry with himself.

In GZ, he asks Snake to bring Paz back alive, saying to kill her only if “worse comes to worst”. He uses the excuse that he wants her alive only because he wants to interrogate her and that she knows too much, but there are a couple lines of his during that mission that betrays his feelings:

“Paz is our only link to Cipher. If she’s still alive… …We need her on our side. If not us, who else is gonna rescue that bitch?”

I like that last line a lot because it really shows how conflicted Kaz feels about her. Yes, Kaz wants information on Cipher. Yes, Kaz is angry at Paz. But Kaz also wants Paz to be saved, by somebody, anybody. He just feels that MSF is the only group qualified to do so.

Now, I definitely don’t think that Paz’s well-being was the only motivation for Kaz’s asking Snake to bring her back alive. It’s just that underneath all the anger, Kaz is still clearly emotionally attached to her. In fact, Kaz even says:

“When we get our hands on Paz, intel on Cipher isn’t the only thing I want out of her. Putting aside her mission, her past, that sense of loyalty they drilled into her… I want to know… what she really thought of us.”

Ever since the ZEKE battle, Kaz has clearly been tormented with this question. At this point in time, Kaz is fully aware of what Zero and Cipher are capable of, and why Paz was sent to him. However, he recognizes Paz as more than just a Cipher agent. He wants to look past all of that– the “Paz Ortega Andrade” that Cipher had built up. He has to know what “Pacifica Ocean” truly thought of him and MSF. Whether or not his efforts to reach out to her were successful or not.

What makes this even sadder is that after the attack on mother base, Kaz incorrectly thinks that it was Paz who sold out MSF. He feels utterly betrayed, and his temper reaches a breaking point, lashing out at Paz, calling her a “spying bitch” and even attempting to attack her (which I firmly believe he would have if the medic hadn’t been holding him back).

Thinking about this from Paz’s perspective is also horribly depressing. She suffered so much torture at the hands of Skull Face, but she remained loyal to MSF, asking Skull Face to kill Zero if it meant it would save Snake. When Skull Face told her that he was planning to kill Snake as well, she pleaded with him to change his mind. Obviously, Kaz's plan worked. She did switch allegiances, betraying Zero in order to save Snake and MSF.

And yet, this is something that Kaz didn’t know. He thought that her loyalty ultimately laid with Cipher, which is why he was so furious after the attack on MSF. Paz likely didn’t even know that MSF was attacked, as she came to after Morpho had flown everyone away from base. The last experience of her life was nothing but pure rage and hatred from the person that she wanted to be closest to on mother base.

I don’t know, I just really love these two characters and their relationship a lot. Thinking about the friendship that they could have had, and the misunderstandings and tragedies that prevented either of them from knowing the truth was just heart-wrenching to watch throughout PW to GZ.

#i typed up something similar to this a while ago but it was a lot shorter and messy and i didn't proof-read it AT ALL LMAO #it was really more of a draft than anything else #finally sat down and fleshed it out and added over 1k words whoops and actually proofread so that's exciting #kazuhira miller #paz ortega andrade #two peace #metal gear solid peace walker #mg #amelia rambles

12 notes · View notes

theonceoverthinker · 4 years

Text

When Will My Life Begin (Fair Game 4/?)

Summary: Tangled AU. Clover Callows has been confined to a tower for all of his life, and given the threat that his Uncle Tyrian says his semblance poses to his safety, he accepts that fate. It’s the only life he’s ever known, after all. But when he’s offered the opportunity to fulfill his greatest dream after a chance encounter with a thief -- or bandit, as Qrow Branwen insists there’s a difference between the two -- both Clover and Qrow will discover joys that they never knew life could offer them before. AO3

Tumblr: (1) (2) (B1) (3)

A/N: Wahoo!!! I managed to get this done on time!!! I hope you all enjoy!

()()()()()()()()()

Clover considered himself pretty knowledgeable when it came to his body.

It shouldn’t have come as a shock to anyone. After all, he spent an awful long time getting to know it without the hassle of constant distractions and a biology book at his disposal since his eleventh birthday that was now in dire need of glue just to keep itself together.

Much of Clover’s life had been spent exploring his physical limits. Exercise was a key part of that, with much of his day used to stretch, work out, climb, pull, and reel. He’d seen the developing muscles across his limbs act as the payoff of that work.

Injuries were another. A child could only be so safe when left alone in a tower for much of a day, and even with the hindsight gained through maturity, injuries as a result of experimentation with what he could and couldn’t do were inevitable. Even when he wasn’t suffering them, he closely studied Raven’s injuries as well as his uncle’s when he could get a peek of or information about their existences.

But all the same, those experiences, both good and bad were fantastic teachers. The human body -- as well as the body of a bird -- was such an interesting thing to Clover. It was frail, yet durable and nuanced in its structure as muscles, bones, nerves and veins all made their homes in an interconnected mass that combined to create a living, breathing, thinking, feeling being. A million things could hurt a body, but a million things could also save it, and that wasn’t even factoring in the effects of semblances, an effect that in all honesty, he only had the vaguest idea about.

Many an hour was spent by Clover studying his book’s diagrams as well as his own growth, thinking about all the possibilities for how that one bodily structure could go about life in such a world as theirs.

So yes, Clover felt he knew the human body -- mostly his -- quite well.

However, despite all of his knowledge about that body, he had no idea how in the world he could possibly slow down the rapid beating of his heart as he approached his uncle.

Well, that wasn’t true. Clover knew plenty of ways to do so, but that rapid beating in his heart made it all the way over to his ears, deafening them to even the thought of any of those methods.

But he didn’t need to hear those methods -- today, he had no problem with letting his anticipation and excitement over asking what he was about to ask fuel the fire in his heart.

He was going to do it.

Oh Gods, he was really going to do it.

“Clover!”

The second time his Uncle Tyrian said his name was noticeably less patient than the first. Clover would be lying if he said it wasn’t just a bit annoying.

To be fair though, that impatience was very much understandable. Uncle Tyrian only had so much time to spend with Clover in the morning before he had to go to work, and he wanted to make sure each and every possible second of it was spent by Clover’s side. The process of getting him up the tower took long enough as it stood, so any further delays on top of it were just an additional hassle, and Clover absolutely felt the same.

Greeting and helping his uncle into the tower was the high point of Clover’s morning, and had been for ages. It not only provided him with the most activity he’d experience until his uncle’s return at sunset, but it gave him a friendly face on top of it all.

“Hello, uncle!” Clover called down to the bottom of the tower. “Looking good today!”

Despite the gentle wind’s efforts, he could hear the light sound of his uncle’s chuckle.

“I’m surprised you can tell one way or the other from all the way up there!” he said. “Bring me up!”

“Of course! Just another second, please!”

Clover quickly grabbed Kingfisher, aiming the weapon with his eyes. Once he was perfectly in place, he held his weapon above his head and behind his left shoulder, and then swung it downward, just as he’d done hundreds and hundreds of times before.

Just as it did everyday, Clover felt the familiar bit of pressure in the reel as Uncle Tyrian clicked Kingfisher’s hook into its usual spot and heard the ever so faint sound of him stepping onto their mechanism’s stone base.

“I’m ready!” Uncle Tyrian called out to him, and with that, Clover started pulling.

Kingfisher’s reel was strong -- it had lifted him plenty of times -- but lifting a person positioned on the heavy stone his uncle stood on was something Clover knew that reel wouldn’t be able to handle. Because of that, for the sake of keeping the reel’s strength and structure intact, Clover elected to regularly pull his uncle up to the tower by reeling in the line with his own two hands, bit by bit.

It was a good thing he had the foresight to take up wearing leather gloves when he pulled.

Whether the thing being pulled was made of the plant stems or metal, rope burn was a pain no one should have to deal with.

Clover lifted his uncle all the way up the tower to its window. As he exited the stone pulley, Clover gently lowered it down again until he was sure he could let it drop without risking cracking the stone itself.

When the task of resetting the pulley was at last done, Clover turned to greet his company.

“Good morning, Uncle Tyrian!” he called out. As Clover approached, Uncle Tyrian took a gentle hold of his head, giving it a kind pat.

“Clover! My boy,” he said through a dramatic, yet goofy sigh, “how you’ve configured that weapon of yours so you can pull me up each and every day, all on your own, I don’t know how you do it.”

“Oh,” Clover waved off as the hug broke, “it’s nothing.”

Uncle Tyrian smiled, almost too sweetly, as he released his hold on Clover. “Then I don’t know why it took so long,” he said, the slightest hint of a sing-song fashion in his voice as his index poked Clover’s nose to a rhythm his uncle developed. Clover frowned, causing Tyrian to laugh. “Oh, boy. I’m just teasing,” he cooed, right before walking himself further into the room.

Clover forced out a chuckle. His uncle had a tendency to joke around with him, no doubt a means of bringing some extra joy to his small and quite lonely world. It wasn’t that Clover didn’t appreciate it...but his uncle’s jokes had a habit of seldom being as funny as Clover imagined his uncle found them -- not to mention, sometimes, it was hard to tell what was a joke and what wasn’t.

Uncle Tyrian was, in a word, opinionated...very, very opinionated. He had something to say about everything, and what he usually said amounted to pointing out what was wrong with or what could be improved about whatever point of discussion came his way.

Of course, he wasn’t without his compliments -- Uncle Tyrian was by no means a cruel man. He appreciated Clover’s meal preparation and how much easier their pulley system made his morning climb than before. Criticisms were just his uncle’s way of trying to make his and Clover’s world better.

And that was a good thing, Clover supposed. Life in a tower or not, there was something to be said for effort and one’s quality of life. If anything, the fact that his uncle gave him critiques showed trust. It was a trust that Clover could improve, do more than he expected to, despite his limitations.

It was inspiring.

Clover just wished the difference between what was supposed to be inspiring and what was supposed to make him laugh was made just a little bit clearer. But perhaps that was a nuance that was more organically recognized in the world outside of the tower.

Uncle Tyrian probably picked it up.

He never would.

No...he would because he was finally going to ask for the chance to see just a glimpse of that world for himself.

It was finally time.

Clover took a deep breath, and finally enacted his plan.

“Uncle Tyrian,” Clover started, following him to the mirror by his closet. “As you know, tomorrow is-”

“Clover,” he interrupted, taking hold of Clover’s shoulder and pulling him beside him in front of the mirror. “Do you know what I see in that mirror? I see a strong, bright, handsome man.” Clover smiled at the unashamed compliment, and let himself lean more into his uncle’s touch.

“Oh look,” he then continued, “you’re there too.” A fit of laughter took over his uncle.

And there was the punchline…

Clover hoped his love for his uncle was something Uncle Tyrian never questioned, but all the same, his uncle really needed to work on his material.

Though he tried his best not to, Clover couldn’t help but drop the fragile smile that he’d built in the span of those few precious seconds before the proverbial other shoe was dropped.

At the sight of that, Uncle Tyrian playfully ruffled his hair. “Oh Clover, I’m just teasing! You really need to work on that oversensitivity of yours.” Uncle Tyrian then stepped away from the mirror and headed towards the breakfast table. “Now, what have you made for us today, boy?”

Before Clover answered, he took a second’s pause for a deep breath, still recovering from his uncle’s joke.

He told himself to relax, reminded himself that today yielded a far bigger prize to focus on, and repeated a sentiment he’d argue many a time in the past -- if his uncle’s questionable taste in comedy was his biggest failing, then Clover would take it with a smile the size of this very tower itself on his face.

Perhaps his uncle was right about his oversensitivity…

Well, if that was the case, then Clover would just have to show him that he could overcome that, too.

Clover smiled, walking over to Uncle Tyrian’s side of the breakfast table and pulling his uncle’s chair out for him.

“I’m so happy you asked,” he said once his uncle was situated, leaning towards the dish. “For today, I’ve prepared for us fresh bread rolls with cinnamon and brown sugar baked into the dough, an apricot spread, and some lemon tea.”

Tyrian hummed, clearly impressed. “Sounds good. And might I add that someone’s feeling confident,” he said, smiling a bit.

“What can I say?” Clover returned. “When I get to make breakfast for the world’s best uncle, I do it well.” He chuckled as he gave his uncle a pat on the shoulder, right before taking off for his own side of the table. As Clover sat down and spread his jam over his roll, he watched his uncle do the same and take his first bite.

He looked pleased.

That was a good sign.

It was now time to try again.

“So Uncle, I-”

Uncle Tyrian moaned in delight. “These are fantastic,” he said through a full mouth, pointing his free hand at the roll in his hand. “Clover, you are a God in the kitchen.”

“Well, you told me my mother was quite the baker. I felt like I owed it to her to try to do the same.”

“You’re a good boy, Clover -- always doing just what your parents wished you to do.”

Clover felt his smile wane.

Yes, he was a good boy.

Yes, he did always do just what his parents wished him to do.

But yes, he was also going to request to defy their dying plea.

It would only be for a single day -- barely a blink of an eye compared to the lifetime he’d dutifully spent in this tower already, and would continue to dutifully spend in this tower once he did it.

All the same though, it was undeniably a defiance he would be suggesting.

What would his parents or his uncle think of that?

Suddenly, Clover found that his heart was quite heavy.

“You know, Clover,” Uncle Tyrian continued, paying Clover no mind. “Your bread is nice, but when’s the last time you cooked up some eggs or sausage? A big, strapping young man needs protein in his diet. ...And so do you!” At that comment, he started laughing again. “I’ll need to pick you up some the next time I go out.”

Clover forced a laugh, trying to regain his metaphorical footing.

What was he thinking, asking to do this?

But then, Clover felt the tiniest bit of heat from behind him.

He had a feeling of its source.

Still, perhaps seeing it with his own eyes would help him make a decision.

Clover grabbed his butter knife and made a move to get some more jam for his roll. However, the knife ‘slipped’ out of his hand just before he could.

Oops.

From across the table, his uncle gave him a wistful shake of the head, one Clover responded to with naught but a shrug of his shoulders, a silly smile, and a chuckle under his breath before ducking under the table to retrieve it.

Once under the table, Clover looked behind him, towards the possible source of the heat he felt on his back.

Sure enough, looking right back at him was Raven.

A bird could only be so expressive. Clover knew that to be true.

However, the look she gave Clover was one that could be nothing else other than pure encouragement.

It did the trick of melting Clover’s anxieties away like honey in a cup of tea.

She was right. He could do this.

‘Thank you,’ he silently mouthed to her just before grabbing the knife and rising back up to the table. Raven gave him a nod from her hiding spot. Clover then grabbed his knife and brought it over to the kitchen area’s sink.

“Uncle,” he said. “Can we talk?”

“It was my belief that we were already talking,” Uncle Tyrian replied, smirking.

Clover returned the smirk with one of his own.

“What was it you always told me about not being a smart ass?” he said, unable to keep the laugh out of his voice.

“I’m not a smart ass,” his uncle returned without so much as a beat passing between them. “I’m just smart.”

Clover had to admit that was actually a good joke.

The two of them shared a laugh. It had been a while since they both did at the same time, and Clover loved the feeling of them unequivocally sharing such a warm moment more than he could ever explain.

And the fact that Uncle Tyrian’s mood had nicely improved as a result of such a moment right before Clover was about to ask him his question didn’t hurt either.

As it turned out, Clover was smart, too.

“So Uncle,” he said when the laughter had at last subsided. “As I’m sure you know, tomorrow is my birthday.”

Uncle Tyrian gave him a look similar to just a bit earlier, confused, but almost sarcastically.

“No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Your birthday was last year. You remember, right?”

Clover gave him a pointed look. “You know birthdays are kind of an annual thing, right?”

“Are they though?”

“Yes, uncle,” he said, half teasing and half tired.

Finally, Clover took a deep breath.

It was time.

“Uncle,” he continued. “I’m turning twenty-one tomorrow, and I wanted to ask.” Clover took a pause to sigh and collect himself.

It was really happening. He almost didn’t know how to process that, let alone ask for it.

All memories of the hours of practice he put into this moment abandoned him.

Oh well, looks like he was gonna wing it.

“What I really want for this birthday,” he said when at last ready. “Actually, what I’ve wanted for quite a few birthdays now…”

Clover could tell that the changes to his voice as a result of his reliance on improvisation pulled down his voice’s pitch and quickened its pace, now sounding like something that resembled a mumble, but he’d hoped Uncle Tyrian wouldn’t call attention to it.

He did.

“Clover, please,” Uncle Tyrian interrupted, dramatically sighing in an unamused tone. “You need to stop with the mumbling. You know how I feel about the mumbling. Everything you’re saying is just ‘Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah.’” he mocked, and in true Uncle Tyrian fashion, as soon as he was done admonishing Clover, Clover knew he was going to go right back to teasing him or praising him or something else, unintentionally deflecting from and further delaying the conversation.

But Clover wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“I want to see the floating lights!”

The words all but flew off of Clover’s lips. If Clover himself didn’t feel himself say them, he wouldn’t have believed that they were actually even said.

However, they were.

For a long moment, everything and everyone in the room basically froze.

He’d said it. There was no taking back the request.

Now, it was a matter of how his uncle would respond.

Clover studied his uncle’s face. It flashed through expressions of shock, confusion, and reluctance over the following few seconds.

He knew he was going to have to argue for his request after he at last vocalized it, so those expressions didn’t surprise him, nor did the single word that followed.

“What?”

It was now on him to elaborate on what he meant, and thankfully, he had the perfect visual representation of that.

Clover swiftly moved over to the curtains, the mask that had shielded a certain painting of his from his uncle for years.

Now though, it was time for that mask to finally be lifted.

Pulling at the curtains, Clover revealed the painting he’d made of himself watching the floating green lights.

“These,” Clover clarified. “I was hoping you could take these floating lights.”

He looked away from his painting and back to Uncle Tyrian, who was now studying it.

However, he did so only for a moment before smiling with recognition.

For the brief moment before his uncle responded, Clover let himself hope.

And then he spoke.

“Oh,” Uncle Tyrian said, nodding as his recognizing smile persisted. “You mean the stars. They are beautiful, but you won’t find a better view of them than you have in your tower.”

“N-no, uncle, please,” Clover said, raising his hand in a stopping motion. He grabbed Kingfisher, unhooking it from the pulley and shot its hook towards the upper part of his tower, where a little door had existed that acted very much like a window. The miniature door not only made for a nice skylight, but also illuminated a sky chart he’d developed.

“I’ve been studying astrology for years now,” he continued, “and whatever these lights are, they aren’t stars. They don’t stay in the sky for weeks or months at a time like stars do. They just appear on my birthday -- only my birthday. And...I just can’t help but feel like these lights and I are connected somehow.”

Clover sighed. He hoped to the Gods that he was making sense.

“Uncle, I need to see these lights, in person, and finally understand what they are.”

He’d never let his passion bleed for anything in his life like how he let it in this moment.

Upon saying those last words, Clover signaled to Uncle Tyrian that he was done speaking as well as thanking him for letting him do so uninterrupted.

Uncle Tyrian took a small pause, and then a deep breath.

“You want to go outside?” Uncle Tyrian clarified, his face and tone neutral.

“Yes.”

“You want to go against your parents’ final wishes for you?” It was said in the exact same way as the previous question.

Clover knew those words were going to come up. He knew his body would take it like ice water down his back, and tried to prepare himself for the feeling.

As it turns out, all the preparation in the world couldn’t make that notion feel any less painful than it did when it was finally out.

However, Clover had also planned out his answer to that inevitable question.

He nodded. “Yes.”

Uncle Tyrian gave him a dark look, filled to the brim with disappointment. “But,” Clover quickly added, “it would only be for a day, and you’d be with me the whole time! I bet you know good places to hide, and quick roads to take if we need to escape! You could keep me safe. So, please? Will you take me?”

Clover prayed that Uncle Tyrian could see the desperation and pure want that coursed through his entire being -- that he could tell that while Clover knew the risks of such a request, he wasn't intending on going through with this plan with naught but a childlike understanding of the world, and that he wouldn’t ask something like this if he didn’t long for it with every fibre of his heart, just like he did now.

Maybe Uncle Tyrian did see that.

He probably did, judging by the look on his face.

That didn’t make his response any easier to hear.

“Oh, Clover,” he said, getting up, approaching Clover, and taking his cheek into his hard, bony hand. “When your poor father -- my brother -- died protecting you, he begged me to watch over his most adored and fragile treasure, and I promised him I’d do everything in my power to ensure your safety for as long as I lived.”

“And, I know, uncle, but-”

“It’s a dangerous world out there, Clover.”

“You’ve told me that, but-”

“So, what else is there to say?” Uncle Tyrian gave him the floor, expectantly looking at him as he waited for a response.

Clover tried desperately to come up with an answer to that...but with every rebuke that came to his mind, he knew exactly what his uncle would say to shoot it down.

His strength? ‘Men out there have four times the strength you do, boy!’

His weapon? ‘That little fishing pole of yours won’t do anything against the weapons those outside the tower have!’

His stealth? ‘What stealth? You’re as subtle as a strike of lightning!’

“I-I just think-,” Clover started, trying once more to argue his point.

And just as some part of him knew it was going to happen, that was as far as he got.

“That’s the thing, Clover,” Uncle Tyrian interrupted, peering straight into his eyes. “You just think, but you don’t know.” With his free hand, Uncle Tyrian placed a hand to his own heart, smiling ever so slightly as he did so. “I do know, and I’m here to keep you safely cocooned from the world.”

Clover’s feelings on the way Uncle Tyrian described the tower they dwelled in was something of a mixed bag. Often, it was fine enough -- a safe place, rustic, unassuming. But when he said things like ‘cocooned,’ it just felt so confining, like a blanket tucked around his too tightly, constricting his arms and chest entirely. It made Clover want to go outside of it more than ever.

In that moment, it served to strengthen Clover’s resolve, however minorly.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be from all of the world?” Clover suggested, optimistically, yet slowly, in much the same way that one drank a cup of piping hot tea.

Uncle Tyrian laughed.

“Clover, Clover,” he said, patting Clover’s cheek. “You’re such a naive, funny boy, and I love you for that. But the world isn’t so simple to manage -- it never has been. I know you. You’ll let just a little bit of it into your life, thinking it won’t be too much, and then a bit more, and before you know it, the chaos of the world will find its way into this safe haven your father left you, and then you’ll be kidnapped and sold off, or perhaps even worse once they realize that you can’t control your semblance!”

Clover winced, audibly despite his efforts for it not to be.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t aware of the dangers he knew going outside would present. He could never let himself forget, nor would his uncle ever let him forget either. However, being reminded of those very dangers so directly never failed to send shudders down his spine and make his skin feel like it was crawling up it.

...Not to mention, Uncle Tyrian was right about Clover semblance. If anyone knew…

And like his uncle always said, even if they didn’t know...they’d find out, and sooner, rather than later, at that.

“Clover,” Uncle Tyrian continued, “I’m a strong man, but I can only do so much once I’m outnumbered. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything ever happening to you -- not on my watch. And I know you wouldn’t wish to put me in danger, either.”

“O-of course not, uncle,” Clover quickly assured. “I’d never want you to get hurt, especially for me.”

“Nor would I ever want you to be hurt. But don’t worry, Clover. You’re exactly where you belong -- away from danger -- nice, safe, and happy in this tower, and that’s exactly how you’ll stay. Be glad for that, my boy. Not everyone is so lucky.” Uncle Tyrian pinched Clover’s cheek. Clover knew it was meant to be in a joking way, something to lighten the mood between them, but it was just a bit too tight a pinch to do that for his taste. Even still though, Clover forced a chuckle.

“Y-yes, uncle.”

Uncle Tyrian looked at the clock, making a ‘tsk’ noise with his lips and teeth. “Is it eight-forty five already?” he half-groaned.

Clover looked at the clock. Indeed, it was.

That meant it was time for him to leave for work.

“Where does the time even go?”

Unfortunately, Clover had a pretty good idea, and if this conversation solidified anything, it was that that would remain the case for a long time to come.

“No idea, uncle. Let me get the pulley ready for you.” Clover turned away from his uncle as he started to make his way towards the window, trying all the while to desperately eat his frown before his uncle saw it. He succeeded in at least cloaking it behind a neutral expression.

Of course, Clover knew there ran the risk of this plan failing...but experiencing that reality was nowhere near as bad as imagining it had ever been.

He should’ve known it was stupid to try...

“Before you do,” Uncle Tyrian said, his words stopping Clover in his tracks and having him turn back to face him. “I have some good news for you, Clover.”

“Oh?” Clover asked, trying with all his might to simultaneously will his semblance to do something for him and to will his hopes away.

His semblance, as per usual, did nothing of the sort.

“My work is on the lighter side today, so I can come home early. I’ll bring some food, and we’ll have a delicious lunch together. How does that sound?”

On any other day, that would’ve been just about the best news Clover could ever hope to receive.

However, today, in comparison to his wish to see the lights and the clear rejection of that wish by his uncle, it just came off as a consolation prize more than anything.

But how ungrateful was that of him to feel, after all his uncle had done for him?

It wasn’t like Uncle Tyrian was saying no to his request to be mean -- he was just trying to keep Clover safe. And now, here he was, using the little time he had off of work not to treat himself to some alone time, but to instead do nothing more than spend a few extra hours with him.

No, Clover thought to himself, he couldn’t be that cruel, not to a man like that.

He could always just work harder to show his uncle how strong and independent he could be and try again next year.

Quickly, Clover shook all morose feelings away and forced a smile.

“That’s great, uncle,” he said. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

Tyrian placed a hand on Clover’s head.

“I love you,” he said.

Clover felt his smile soften, because it was now completely and utterly genuine.

“I love you too, Uncle Tyrian.” With that, Clover turned around and readied the pulley for his uncle’s trip down.

The good news about the pulley’s reverse trip was that it was a lot less straining on his body and took noticeably less time, too. Within six minutes, Uncle Tyrian was safely on the ground, waving goodbye to Clover as he made his way through the vine-y entrance that shielded the tower from the world, promising Clover before he went too far off to be heard that he’d be back soon. Much like every morning, Clover waved back and watched as he disappeared into the vines.

When he was at last gone, Clover turned, and sat down against the window’s wall.

Right next to him when he landed, Raven stood, placing her uninjured wing on his knee in an act of compassion.

It was an appreciated sentiment, a comforting one...but it also served to remind Clover that he failed in his mission today.

He wouldn’t be seeing the floating lights this year.

In fact, if today’s conversation was anything to go by, he might not see them ever.

At least he still had the view from his window...but that was no longer the comfort that it had been in the years prior.

He’d asked...he’d argued as passionately as he’d ever dared...and had come away with nothing to show for it...

Clover knew a lot about his body.

If only he knew for the life of him how to will the fresh tears he was now shedding away.

#fair game #clover ebi #tyrian callows #rwby #tangled au #lucky charms

13 notes · View notes

screamingatanemptyroom · 5 years

Text

I Can’t Eat Love pt 19

Spying on the King! What does he want?!!

Masterpost link here

Enjoy!

______________________________

Rig and I made our way silently along the secret passageway.

The space which had seemed so large when I was a child was now just barely wide enough to allow an adult to walk sideways. I heard a light scuffle in the distance, and wondered if we would see rats within the walls. I shuddered, thinking of the last time I had been here.

______________________________

“I hope there isn’t rats.” I muttered, trying not to breath too much of the dust that was kicked up by my passage. Rig had taught me to walk silently, leaving barely any trace of my passing, but I was too weak to manage it.

It felt like the final betrayal. Not only was I the last survivor of his group, but I couldn’t even carry on his legacy.

Useless. I chided myself silently.

I was tired, hungry, wishing desperately to sleep, but I kept moving forward, hoping desperately no one would notice the sound within the walls.

I had to find the Queen.

______________________________

“Lenora!” Rig whispered in my ear. I started, realizing with a shock that I had stopped moving, too caught in my memory of this passageway. Waving a hand to show I was fine, I moved forward once again, navigating the turns that would lead to the secret room next to the King and Queen’s suites

Rig didn’t look convinced at my silent reassurance, but followed along without further complaint. Finally we came to a slightly more open space, at least enough for us to sit on the floor side by side. I motioned to the small peep holes, and Rig took a look in one of them. Sitting back with an astonished expression, he leaned over to speak as quietly as possible.

“I can’t believe you got us here! How could you…?”

“An escape tunnel, for the royal family, long forgotten. The Queen only discovered it by reading old journals. She took me back here… a long time ago.”

“I can’t believe she trusted you with this…” He looked at me closely. “I thought you told me the Queen only was keeping up appearances, and didn’t really care about you?” Glancing at the unused passage around us, he murmured. “Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I stared through the peephole, watching the empty room.

“Of course not.” He muttered, settling in down next to me to wait.

Fortunately we didn’t have long to wait. Only a brief amount of time had passed before the king entered the room. Even alone, in a casual robe, a stranger would have recognized him as a king. He had a presence, a sense of power, control around him.

He scared me.

Sitting in a chair next to the fireplace, he sipped on a drink, motioning towards the door, likely instructing the servant there. He waited patiently, watching the fire and drinking, while we spied behind the wall, barely daring to breathe so we wouldn’t be discovered.

“Father,” Ronan stepped in the room, looking unsure for the first time I had ever seen in two lifetimes. “What did you call me about?”

The king smiled, the expression making me nervous at the clear anger concealed within. “I wanted to talk to you about the… interesting… decision you made at your birthday party.”

Ronan chuckled at that, clearly thinking that his father’s smile was genuine. “Oh that. Well, I didn’t think you’d mind. I mean… Lenora’s so boring! There’s no way she would make a good queen anyways. I think you’ll really like the woman I’ve chosen instead, this young lady named Edith…”

CRASH!

The glass from the king’s hand went flying across the room, smashing into the wall just a short distance from Ronan’s head. He shrieked, jumping away, his tunic already stained with some of the wine that had splashed as the king had thrown it.

“You idiot.” The king didn’t yell, didn’t stand up or scream despite the fury lacing every word. It was unnerving, his words were so quiet we had to strain to hear him. “Why do you think I allowed the engagement in the first place?”

“Because mother wanted it!” Ronan was pale, but he regained some of his former confidence, rolling his eyes. “She’s always doted on that dull girl, who knows why?”

The king sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “Your mother requested the engagement, yes, but why did I say yes?”

“I- I…” stuttering to a halt, the prince simply shook his head.

“The Duchy of Armeny is the largest in the kingdom. Their leaders have always posed a significant threat to the monarchy. Do you know how many times when the king was questioned in past centuries? And each time they always considered placing the Duke of Armeny as the replacement. They have wealth, they have power, and they have influence. “

“But… they don’t seem…”

“Under incompetent leadership, the balance is held. The current Duke of Armeny was perfect. Lazy, overly trusting. It took only spending a few crowns in the right places to complete corrupt their system.” He rubbed his face. “But even then I wanted insurance, as there was no guarantee his heir would be similarly weak. Thus your engagement. It would have tied our family to the duchy’s for the next few generations, negating most of the risk.”

Ronan sat down, shocked. “But, it doesn’t make sense. If they are so weak now, let’s just crush them!”

“Idiot.” The King, pouring himself another drink, paused as if considering throwing this glass as well. “That girl completely overhauled the entire duchy. She threw out the corrupted officials, reorganized their economic structure, and started schools and charities everywhere, making the people indebted to her. “

“Lenora did? I don’t believe it! The only things she cares about are marrying me and her pretty dresses.” Prince Ronan smirked as he spoke, making me wish I could punch him. “She’s probably just being used as a front.”

“I considered that, but she seems to be the one in control of things as far as I can tell. I can’t corrupt any of her current government, and I can’t discredit her ability as a ruler, the people love her too much.” The King frowned, looking around the room as if searching for answers. I forced myself to hold still, even as my skin crawled when his eyes passed over our hiding spot. “It would have been fine if I could control her as my daughter-in-law, but you… you ruined everything with your foolish little stunt.”

CRACK.

The glass cracked in the king’s hand with the force of his grip. Setting the leaking glass down, he cleaned his hand with a handkerchief, staring silently at his son.

“Well, it’s too late now!” Ronan shrugged. “I’ve broken the engagement and I’m marrying Edith. There’s nothing to be done.”

“No.” it was practically a whisper. “You will fix this, now.”

“But…” The prince’s words choked off as the father walked over, reached out and grabbed him by the throat. Lifting him out of the chair, the king smiled at his gasping son, and leaned forward.

“If you want to see the throne, you will get Lenora back as your fiancé. I don’t care how you do it, what methods you have to use. Just get it done.”

THUD. He opened his hand, dropping the prince to the ground. Ronan rubbed his throat, struggling to catch his breath.

“Or I will.”

The prince ran out of the room, leaving the king alone, except for us, his unknown observers.

“Maybe it would be simpler if Lenora were dead.” He muttered. I blinked at the words, caught off guard.

______________________________

“LENORA IS DEAD!”

The scream didn’t sound like the queen at all. It sounded as if her throat had been scraped with sand, rough and barely understandable.

CRASH!

The loud sound startled me in my hiding place behind the wall. Trembling, tired, barely able to think straight due to hunger, I forced myself to look through the peephole. Queen Amerande’s face was twisted in rage as she stared at the silent, unreactive servant. To my shock I recognized Hallers. I chided myself for being surprised. I knew he had gone to work for the palace after my family’s fall from grace.

“Your Majesty, if I may… Lady Edith simply wished…”

“NOTHING SHE SAYS WILL CHANGE MY MIND! SHE’S DEAD, AND SO I’M STAYING RIGHT HERE!” She sat down unsteadily into a chair, staring moodily into a fire. The Queen then muttered something intelligible under her breath. I leaned into the wall, desperately trying to hear, but I could only hear a few garbled words.

“…wish… dead.”

I stumbled backwards, my tired and starved brain trying to make sense of what I heard. Edith was right. She tried to warn me but I didn’t listen, couldn’t believe that I was dead to her.

There was something strange about how she was acting, though… Something wasn’t right. If only I could think more clearly.

I shook my head. No. Anything else was fantasy. The reality was clear:

Love was a lie.

Ronan had betrayed me. My best friend had betrayed me. My parents had never loved me. Anyone who cared for me since had come to ruin.

And the woman I thought loved me like a daughter. The woman I had loved as my family, more than anyone else?

It was all a lie.

I headed silently back down the passageway, wishing I could steal some bread from the kitchens before giving up, heading back to the streets.

To die.

Alone.

______________________________

A hand grasped my arm, bringing me out of the terrible memory. I let out a gasp of shock, before clapping my hands over my mouth. Rig and I stared at each other, dismayed.

Had the king heard?

He had definitely sensed something. His head turning to the wall we hid in, he stepped closer, his expression quizzical. The king listened closely near the wall, and Rig and I held our breath, terrified.

Finally he sighed. “Must be rats. They need to set out traps again.”

With that he was gone.

Silently, Rig and I escaped the tunnels, not stopping until we reached our meeting point in the center of town. Now sitting down on the ground to catch our breath, he finally spoke.

“That… wasn’t good.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I made noise…” I started to apologize, but he waved a hand, silencing me.

“Not that, girl! I’m talking about the king!” He cursed loudly. “And his idiot son! Do they really think we’ll stand by and take it while they threaten you?”

I put a hand on his arm, smiling. “Well, at least we know they’re coming.”

“But…”

“And they have no idea who they’re messing with.”

Rig grinned. “You’re insane.”

“Learned from the best.” We both laughed at that.

______________________________

The next day I was working in my office, going over some paperwork with Henry, when Hallers knocked on the door, his professional mask firmly in place.

“Nathaniel…” He paused looking over at Nate who shrugged at the implied question. “... Mr. Nathaniel here to see you miss.” He didn’t seem impressed by Nate’s secrecy.

I stood up with a smile. “Nate! I’m glad you could make it!”

Sitting down next to Henry after shaking his hand, he sighed with relief. “Not nearly as happy as I am to be here! Do you have any idea what it’s like to be stuck on a week long hunting trip with that idiot Ronan?”

“Imagine having to marry him.” I shook my head, pretending to be sad. “Poor Edith.”

“She’ll get exactly what she wants, which is more than she deserves after betraying your trust!” Nate grumbled. I noted that Hallers looked on the young man with a more favorable light as he complained against the girl.

“I’m just happy it’s not me.”

“Of course. Did you hear the song they’re singing in town?” Nate laughed. “Ronan the Ridiculous? Whoever wrote it was a genius!”

A smile flashed across Hallers face, disappearing before I could truly believe it was there. “Would you like some tea, sir?” He offered to the surprised visitor.

“Thank you, Hallers, I’m would be delighted to have some!” He waited until the butler left and then looked over to me, shocked. “I thought he didn’t like me?”

I shrugged. “Must have been something you said?”

Henry turned to Nate, his eyes bright with curiosity. “Did you see any good plants on your trip.”

“Henry…” I groaned. “Leave poor Nate alon…”

“Well, I saw an abundance of rosemary, which was great, as it doesn’t grow nearly as well in Tilendria! What I really need though is some mint. I found a small patch near a pond on our trip, but it wasn’t nearly enough to harvest and bring back...” He paused at my flabbergasted expression. “What?”

“You like plants?” I asked, confused.

He shook his head. “I like cooking. I keep a herb garden at home, but it’s pretty sparse.”

Henry was visibly shaking with excitement. “You like herbs?!”

“Y-yes?” Nate leaned back slightly in his chair, obviously unsure of why Henry was reacting this way.

“COME WITH ME!” Grabbing the young man’s arm, he pulled him out of the chair and towards the door. “TO THE GREENHOUSE!”

“WHa…” Nate shot me a confused glance to which I spread my hands helplessly.

“When you get back I need help arranging paperwork for two people to move to Tilendria, open up a new store there!” I called after them. I saw Nate wave an arm, indicating he heard me, before he was pulled around the corner and out of sight.

“…I have the tea.” Hallers stepped into the room, and looked around in shock. “Where…?”

“Henry kidnapped him.”

“Ah. I’ll take the tea to the greenhouse then. If Master Henry is excited about something plant related, it could take quite some time.” With an understanding smile, he headed out, expertly balancing the tray.

I looked down at my paperwork, rubbing my head as I tried to balance the accounts. Hearing someone enter the room again and assuming it as Hallers, I spoke without looking up.

“Actually, I will take some more tea as well.”

“I’m not your servant.” The haughty voice caught me off guard and I looked up to see Prince Ronan standing in front of my desk.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, not bothering to greet him properly or curtsey. He frowned at the insult, but brushed it off, making me even more curious as to his purpose here.

Taking a deep breath, he fell on one knee in front of him, an arrogant smile on his face.

“I love you, dear Lenora. Marry me!”

#writing #i can't eat love #pt 19 #second life #second chance #tw violence

201 notes · View notes

sheriffofmagic · 5 years

Text

Prompt: Burger finds Vango in the warehouse and introduces him to the world (submitted by @bargainfin)

Burger Chainz was meant to pick up an important delivery. The only problem was that he didn’t know where the hell he was. It was late. Too late to be driving his van around a huge lot of warehouses, not a person in sight. No signs on the sides of any of the buildings. No indication that anyone had been there in quite some time. He really needed to stop taking anonymous assignments. Dasha had been telling him for months it was gonna get him killed. And if he was going to be unceremoniously murdered, this seemed like the time and place for it to happen.

Burger eased his car to a stop, getting out to survey the endless sea of identical grey buildings, loose sheet metal, empty shipping containers. If it hadn’t been for his years as a nomad he might’ve been more freaked out.

He listened carefully for any sign of people around. With all this concrete and metal, sound traveled. But there was nothing, just the dull click of his van, the engine still sputtering down. Burger desperately wants to just cancel the job and go back, but he made a commitment and he’s going to try his best to see it through.

“Hello?” he calls, hearing it echoed into the rows of buildings.

No response comes.

“I’m supposed to pick something up!” he shouts, knowing already that he won’t get a response.

Maybe it was bad intel, he thinks, or a prank. That hasn’t happened yet.

Perhaps against his better judgment, he decides to poke around. Burger walks slowly around the buildings. They don’t look excessively old. Metal walls aren’t rusted or full of holes. The ground is clean for the most part. Not covered in scraps and trash as he’d come to expect from other abandoned places he’d visited. The strangest part was the lack of equipment. The yard was in good shape, the structures seemingly sound, by all accounts it was fit for business. But there was no work equipment. Manual or robotic there was no trace or work at these warehouses. It didn’t make sense. If the place was truly abandoned surely there would’ve been some equipment left behind, broken or dilapidated. And it the place was still in use there would certainly be machines around. Machines making noise. Any signs.

It was almost eerie, the emptiness. Like the place had been vacuumed clean and sealed off.

Burger wandered for what felt like hours. He was tempted to just give up entirely but there was something off about this place and he needed to figure out what it was.

He rounded another corner, telling himself again that if he didn’t see anything this time he was going back to the van. He knew he was lying to himself but it kept him motivated. Then-

Flash.

Out of the corner of his eye, nothing bright, something that easily could have been a trick of the light. His imagination. A flicker from one of the darkened windows that ran high along the warehouse walls. He watched the window for a minute, sure he’d only imagined it. But then- yes! There, another low flicker of light, there for an instant and then gone.

Burger made his way toward the building, circling it until he found a door. He put a hand at his waist, ready to grab his gun if he needed. The door was padlocked but he made short work of it. Softly, he pried the door open. He was immediately met with a voice echoing across the warehouse, “Damn I was sure I had him that time!”

He made his way slowly into space. It was wide and empty, no machines or offices. In the center of the open space sat a single desk. And a figure hunched behind a computer typing furiously and talking to himself. There was a single small, industrial light shining directly on them.

Burger kept his hand at his hip, making his way closer hoping the person would notice him. They didn’t.

“Uh, hello,” he tried.

The person seemed startled, broken from whatever trance they’d been in. With a quick press on the key, the light had dimmed down and the person slumped backwards in their chair. They looked rumbled, in a jumpsuit that had clearly seen better days, silver hair, too long and in need of a trim. Burger took in their unshaven face milliseconds before registering their foot, cuffed to the one of the desk legs.

“Who are you?” they said. Their demeanor was calm but there was a hint of fear in their eyes. Burger lifted his hands slowly.

“My name is Burger Chainz, I was told to come here and pick up a delivery.”

The person wrinkled their nose, “I don’t have anything for that.”

“I’m starting to get an idea,” Burger said, “How long have you been here?”

They shrugged, seemingly growing more confident now that it was clear Burger posed no immediate threat, “Few weeks, maybe. Could be a few months, who knows. Time’s all relative to Vang0 Bang0.”

“Who’s Jango Bango?”

“Vang0 Bang0 and that’s me. Maybe you’ve heard of me, I stream on TwitchYoutTubePrime.”

Burger shook his head, “Sorry I don’t think I have. Are you… are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re trapped here. Or that’s what it seems to me anyway. I don’t know you. But it seems like there’s something weird going on here and maybe I’m supposed to help you out.”

Vang0 Bang0 only looked more confused, “Help me out how? I’ve got everything I need right here.”

“I could help you leave. Take you home- to your home I mean. You said you’ve only been here a few weeks. Where were you before that? There’s probably people lookin’ for you.”

Vang0 had turned their gaze back to the screen in front of them. It was blank now and their eyes were unfocused. They spoke quietly, “I don’t know where I was before this.”

Burger stayed quiet, urging them on.

“Waking up here a few weeks ago? That’s the first thing I remember. I woke up at this desk and just got to work. Everything before that is just-” they gesture vaguely, “It’s gone. If I left, I don’t even know where I would go.”

Burger was standing next to them now. He tentatively set a hand on their shoulder in a gesture he hoped was comforting.

“Look, I know a bit about not knowing. I can help you, if you let me. I know people who can help you out. Get you on your feet. I can’t just let you stay here.”

Vang0 looked up at him with wide eyes, they sparkled in a way that itched at Burger’s mind. He shoved that thought away. For now he had more important things to worry about. Before Vang0 Bang0 could say anything else, Burger knelt down and began work on undoing the chain.

“Why would you help me?” Vang0 said as they watched Burger fiddle with a small laser.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Burger replies without looking up.

After making short work of the lock, Burger helped Vang0 to their feet. They were a bit wobbly having not stood without the weight of the chain in some time. Burger led Vang0 out of the warehouse, Vang0 glancing back at the computer setup, “What about my things?”

“We’ll get you another one no problem. Don’t want to be keeping that one though. Belonged to whoever put you in there, not exactly the kinda souvenir to keep.”

Vang0 looked like they wanted to argue more but seemed resigned. Their eyes flicked around the barren warehouse yard. Taking everything in. Burger could hear them taking steadying breaths of fresh air. As they approached Burger’s van he looked over at Vang0 who seemed lost in thought. Brow furrowed. He couldn’t imagine what they must be thinking right now.

“Hey,” he said, smiling softly, “Probably been a bit since you had good food. How do ya feel about burgers?”

#i hope this is alright #its not as fluffy as normal #but i tried #burgerbang0 #vang0chainz #vang0 bang0 #burger chainz #submission

57 notes · View notes

empressxmachina · 4 years

Link

by Imperial-Radiance (me)

I swear that it’s officially nighttime now – I can’t see the moon, but it’s dark as hell outside – and this guy is still here. I can’t say the same for everyone else, though. The amount of presumably innocent souls that's gone down that shaft is, for lack of a better word, repulsive. The worst part of it is how many are sending themselves down there on their own, just out of fear of the unknown.

How does this guy not know how intimidating he is? Or, does he, and he’s aroused by this? No, I probably shouldn’t say that. He genuinely might not know. No, wait, why am I playing devil’s advocate here?

He’s a monster.

He just amputated someone – a child – like… like… like nothing I’ve seen before. Meanwhile, all these guys are practically unfazed, that is if ‘unfazed’ applies to ‘being a sheep so that you don’t die’. They look fine. Look fine. That’s obviously not the case.

When it comes down to it, each small society on each Lilliputian, Laputan island is one of three sets of people.

One, there’s the group not taking any chances. They’re all stowed away in their homes, shelters, and other places in which they can hide. Am I a part of that? No. I’m accepting his arrival as a reality, no matter how much I don’t want to.

Two, you have those are just going on as normally as they can, doing their best to forget he’s there. How exactly do you ignore a beast that’s anywhere from thirty-six feet to thousands to you? I don’t know. So, I’m not going to try.

But, the last leg of the trifecta consists of those bold enough to address him directly. No, wait, is it bold? Is any of this abnormal? These divides were around for every other scientist that’s ever been in here. I guess it’s just strange to me that they’re still here while he’s still here, especially those helping him do checks and stuff.

From the grandest scheme of things, he’s following the usual scientist routine. Checking the infrastructure of the tiny towns. Collecting the bins of bio-wastes to presumably be tested if not just immediately thrown out. Retrieving small samples of even smaller products people are making or growing for themselves. Yadda, yadda, yadda. He’s getting nothing from me, though.

I’d rather wallow in my own trash than give myself up. Hell, I’m already doing that. But, looking closer, there’s something… off, and I mean more than just his get-up.

This computerized compartment in the floor is one thing – him dropping or flinging all his ‘finds’ and samples in there. Them including people too damn sick or broken to be cared for by any of us, er, these guys, is another. But what’s really grinding me is how he doesn’t seem… very human for a human, and I don’t think I’d be surprised if he was truly a robot.

For one, why the hell is he so stiff? I get petite persons and products or whatever should require precision. But if you’re plucking up people and places like they’re toys and throwing them to be sent who-knows-where, then why bother being precise!? On top of that, all his skin’s covered, and any sort of emotion from him is too difficult to decipher. Who’s to say he’s not just cold from a hidden metal exoskeleton?

His lining the streets (or entire neighborhoods if referring to the tiniest here) with a finger like a sand signature and then grinding whatever sticks to the latex to dust makes me lurch. May all unfortunate spawn thrusted here be left untouched from this hell, whether in this basement somewhere or stuck in a triage or something.

It’s my job—was my job to save lives, bring them in, too, when I could. I couldn’t bear the thought of— No. No. Not doing it.

Anyway, all I can say is that if he’s looking for me, then he’s doing a damn good job in hiding that. So many times, my heart has stopped from him coming over to this table, currently pausing in front of it, gazing around at structures and onlookers around me. My entire vision encapsulated with a sickly aqua sky or sea so wide is surely anxiety-inducing. The shallow breaths thankfully blocked by his mask and the loud ruffles from that almost-as-loud blue only punched the immensity of his girth harder.

If we had locked eyes at any point, then aside from me being found in this broccoli floret of a tree in this flowerbed of a ‘park’, I… I… I don’t know what might’ve become of me. I just know I’m too old for this shit.

Too old. Too tired. Too frustrated. I shouldn’t be here, damn it.

Alas, he’s no longer taking up space in front of my hovel. He’s closed the floor hatch and distanced himself from all of us, not even halfway past the door anymore. Though, I don’t think he’s leaving.

He’s just standing there, posed inquisitively like a statue in an art museum somewhere. Is he pondering his next move on us – on me?

It’s almost been a full minute now, and—No, wait, he’s breaking his stupor now, scanning the room like a panoramic camera.

He’s too far to see his eyes, as if I would’ve been able to see them through the plastic, anyway. He couldn’t have been an arm’s length (for him) away from me earlier, and I couldn’t see them then.

His scan eventually ends with him going solid once again, looking to the ground with his hands on his sides. A minute then passes, and nothing happens. Another, and nothing.

Okay, that robot concept is looking really promising.

What, is he charging? Is he powering his thrusters or something? Why would he just stop and wait? It’s not like I’m going to come out of hiding to see for myself. At this rate, it’d be more likely for a—

“Security: raised to Level Three clearance,” an actual robotic voice sounded from an intercom, echoing from lab wall to lab wall.

Some of the unexpectant flinched in the surprise of the message, and others flinched from its volume. While both were a surprise, sure, I can’t say that I was scared by them—well, not as much as some of these suckers, anyway. I got used to emergency situations in my previous profession, especially how long I was in it, and the motley of beeps, alarms, and panic that complement them. However, those generally occur to the patient, not the operator himself, i.e. me.

Aren’t these walls already blocked mad thick from the outside with bulletproof walls and it practically being a fallout shelter? Why would it – they – we need more security?

“Commencing specialized RFID tracking test,” the announcement continued. “Please stand by for possible trace recognition.”

Recognition? Tracking? Isn’t RFID like a sensor or something? Did we get to using those at the Clinic? I feel like I’ve heard it referenced before somewhere, but I—

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

A series of beeping sounds cuts me off, very similar to an EKG. Blaring eruptions… and they won’t stop. Why won’t it stop? Why is it here!?

It doesn’t echo, but I see a few souls nearby look around for a source and come up confused. So am I. Even one walks under my spot in this tree and gazes up in these branches. Yet, they don’t know I’m here. They eventually walk off, probably thinking they’re crazy. I’m sure they’re not.

I hope I am, though.

The beeps sound like they’re right next to me. Below me. Maybe even in me. Slightly muffled but doubtlessly apparent. But God, damn it; there’s nothing in sight.

I’m doing my best to not fall or move much, but the beeps seem to move with me with every pose I make. I’m practically one hundred percent sure that these signals and I, whatever they’re from, are one and the same now.

Well, whether or not we are, if these puny people are right under my nose and can’t detect me, then there’s no way the much larger one here would, right? All my good logic is telling me to not look at him and check. If I’m lucky, then maybe that dormant giant is still just that, and—

Oh, curse me.

His head is lifted, looking right this way.

Okay, that’s strike one, but that doesn’t mean he sees me or hears them: the sounds, I mean. For all I know, he might not know what these beeps are for. If I hide even deeper, then maybe I’ll be okay. Maybe they’ll go away: the sounds and this beast. A shot in the dark, maybe…. or the shot of my life, but it’s a shot to take, nonetheless.

Going back down shouldn’t be a problem. Keeping a grip on every usable crevice down this trunk here without shaking it should be simple. Heaven knows I’m light as hell. There’s just the overhanging threat of an unreadable behemoth possibly ravaging me because of an audible pseudo heart scan going through me right now somehow or some shit like that. No big deal at all.

Screw that. It’s the biggest of deals.

Note to self: never look toward your threat when you’re trying to pump yourself up to face – or, in my case, not face – it. It never works.

The only thing passing is him, coming back down this way in a power walk. There’s no denying it. He’s coming right for me. I can feel it, and I’m not waiting for him to get here, not while I still have a chance of getting away.

The closer he gets, the more the ground begins to shake under me.

I make my way down to the lean-to I’ve carved into this tree’s trunk, having to crawl over to the floor-bound door leading to my true hideaway. It’s basically a minimalist shed with literally nothing but a door in it now, but it’s enough to do the job: get me to supreme privacy.

It still shocks me how no one’s come across this being here. It shocks me even more how small this den used to be to me, particularly when I first made it and it resembled a phone booth. It’s rather massive now, but there’s no time to concern with this.

I can feel him through the bark.

I get to the door and heave it open, glad to see the dirt-dug tunnel still intact. I don’t know if it was pure genius or stupidity that made me think to make my actual headquarters deep underground – well, as far down as one can possibly go on a hill on a table – past the tendrils that kept this protective plant standing. If it’s rather troublesome for me to get in, then it’ll have to be a little hard for him to find me in it.

Threading the needle, like I’ve never had before, I slip myself down into the void – my void – just as soon as the giant-gait-driven shaking stops. As I descend, I do my best covering my tracks, i.e. narrowing the width of the tunnel as I go with surrounding dirt so that it resembles a pore in the ground. However, I’d be crazy to say I hadn’t felt the increasing heat and a force pulling me slightly upward as I go down. He might not have found me, but he knows I’m close.

Curse this damn ringing.

What exactly is he doing up there? Feeling for me? Literally leveling the field until he comes across me? Surely, it just can’t be a natural gravitational pull from him. He’s big but not that big. It’s almost fantastical.

Hell, it is a fantasy: one I’d love to be released from, thank you.

After what feels like forever with a hunter on my tail, I eventually drop through the malleable metal box I’ve been calling my home. Box. To think that this once held test tubes or some other tools… Now, it’s practically a studio apartment – more like two meshed together if I’m completely honest. For what it’s worth, it’s been a circumstantially perfect spot that I can gladly call my own, unlike most if not all the others here. Though, I think that’s mostly because of the location.

Dwelling under what could be considered a cemetery is generally looked down upon in most social circles. But its existence is one secret that everyone, even the most compliant tinies here, has kept from them.

I hope I don’t ruin that with this cat-and-mouse chase. I hope to not join it, either.

There are dents and punctures in places where they probably shouldn’t be that scrap labels and stickers can only cover so well, but they give the place a sweet, literally rustic charm along with making the camouflage of being one with the ‘ground’ more plausible. It does what it needs to do and then some very well.

Hold my storage of leftover foods and pieces of furnishings from the surrounding enclaves on one wall. Let me rest and compose myself every day by another. Figure out some way of cleansing myself by the third – I haven’t optimized that as much as I should have. Maintain the little sanity I have left by the window on the last.

My window.

It’s just like theirs, but it’s mine and mine alone. I can’t believe I’ve had a growing plant there for this long. Hell, I can’t believe I made a window how I did. Maybe that’s why they’ve been coming after me: they know how I acquired the glass. No, they wouldn’t be that petty. They’d just—

*CRUNCH*

Jesus, what was that?

*BOOM*

No, what was that?

*BANG-BANG-BANG*

What the—!?

What are all these noises? Those upward forces are back again, too, but these noises are coming from all sides, not just above me. Well, not all sides; the window wall is still thankfully clear. I don’t think I’d be able to take seeing a—Wait, how in the world is the ceiling less deformed now?

I’m literally under a forest scattered with pygmy plants and deceased, decomposing diminutives. To get rid of that pressure, one would have to—

Oh, God. He is leveling the ground, one tree at a time.

The dirt’s probably giving way as he plucks each one up like a carrot or something. Loose pebbles or dirt clots are falling back down onto the pseudo-roof. Well, I hope it’s those rather than a body or two. I don’t know.

I can’t hear anyone reacting to this.

Surely, if the departed were being uncovered right now, then there’d be more audible chaos. My window is undetected, not soundproof… and how has nothing fallen in front of it, yet!? I mean, I’m not asking to see a covered cadaver or anything, but not even a single leaf? That’s highly imp—

*CREAK*

Kill me. I had to call it, didn’t I?

A waterfall – mudslide? – of soil and dirt suddenly falls past the glass of the window.

The linear deformation and its resulting dips going down – up? – in the ceiling was enough of a giveaway for the cause. But the enormous shadow of harsh darkness that has formed in front of the window, somehow making the night sky even more abyssal, is pretty much verifying he’s found me.

Unless my beeps aren’t somehow audible through this metal, he’s just found my slum. Hopefully, it doesn’t also become my cof— H-Hey! Hey!

My floor friction suddenly vanishes, and now I’m sliding toward my right wall, right into—Ack! Ugh, right into *cough* the side of my bed. God, damn it.

Why is this happening to me? What did I do? I—I mean, I know what I’ve done, but how is that worse than what they’ve done – what he’s done and doing!? Like *cough* Like, right now, is… is he playing with me? I can’t even stand up straight at this angle, and… and everything’s falling… g-going everywhere, including *cough* r-right on top of me. Ugh, as if *cough* there wasn’t already enough of a mess in this damn place.

I— Ugh, I need to get this stuff off if I’m ever going to… to…

Jesus, when did I… I get so… m-much stuff? It’s… *cough* It’s t-too much. I—*cough* l c-can’t… m-move. I… *cough* …I… *cough* I’m…

*CREAK*

“Specialized RFID tracking test terminated. Security: lowered to Level Two clearance. Sect C technicians report to their stations. T r a c e r e t r i e v e d t o b e t r a n s—”

#g/t #my writing #patients zero #sm #giant male #pandemics amirite?

5 notes · View notes

whelmedtobehere · 4 years

Link

Chapter 2: Missing The Target

This was the first time Damian had been alone in the same room with Graysons’ offspring. He wasn’t stupid. He knew this was on purpose, that they didn’t quite trust him to be alone with her. Though he would normally be glad to be feared and respected he was a bit irritated that they thought he would hurt a child. What would be the purpose of such a thing? She didn’t pose any threat to him, not at this age. Though he was perhaps beginning to realize that his definition of harm to children was perhaps different than Richard and Barbara’s. Jessica hadn’t seemed to notice him yet seemingly engrossed in stacking huge, brightly colored building blocks her straight brown hair hanging in front of her face. He was about to retreat out of the room when she looked up her hazel eyes meeting his own.

“Play with me?”

“TT” Damian scowled and opened his mouth to object, but Jessica scooched over - presumably so he could sit next to her - holding out a vibrant blue block and he found himself inexplicably sitting on the floor next to her. She pushed the block into his hand and he looked it over, wondering what exactly he was supposed to do with it. It certainly wasn’t the best material for supporting more complex architectural structures, though he supposed that the size and lack of variation among the blocks limited the complexity of the building anyhow. Although he was sure he could still do better than just stacking them on top of one another to build a tower about two feet high as Jessica had done.

“This is not structurally sound.” He started taking the blocks apart. “Let me show you how to make it better.”

“Stop it!” The child yelled and threw a brick (presumably aiming for his head) but the throw went wide and he easily caught it.

He narrowed his eyes at the girl, who had dragged the tower closer to herself and was sending a glare that would have been very intimidating on someone with a much more impressive stature. “If this attack was a challenge it is rejected. You are hardly an opponent worthy of my time.”

“What’s going on here?” Damian looked up to see Richard standing in the doorway. Jessica, the coward ran right to him. Damian stood up. He never stayed seating when a teacher or an opponent entered the room and Richard was an uncertain mix of both.

Richard picked his daughter up immediately and Jessica pointed towards Damian. “He break it”

Damian didn’t know why he bothered to defend himself against the unimportant accusations of a toddler, but he started speaking anyway. “I was only trying to show her how to build a more impressive structure.”

“Damian, she's a toddler okay.” Richard moved closer as he addressed him. “Towers are about as impressive a structure as she’s making at this point. You can help her but maybe ask before taking apart something she’s working on okay?”

He scowled at the reprimand as mild as it was. “When I was her age I was working on scale models of classic architecture.”

Dick only sighed in response. He turned to his daughter. “Jessica we don’t throw things at people here. Even if they do something we find annoying, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” She nodded.

“It was quite a pathetic attack really. If you want I could show her how to throw a projectile much more effectively than that.”

“No.’ His response was immediate and firm. “She’s a baby. You’re not teaching her to ‘throw projectiles’”

Jessica, however, seemed like she might not agree as she looked at her father and then down at Damian. “Throw?” Damian ignored Richards pronouncement and spoke to Jessica. “I can teach you how to throw better.”

Damian wasn’t quite sure why he was offering to spend time with this small child who had no skills or control of her emotion as well as defy Richard to do so. But then again maybe that was reason enough. At his offer Jessica startled wriggling in her father’s arms and the look of bewilderment and betrayal on his face sent a feeling of smug amusement through Damian’s chest - Jessica clearly had better judgement than her father - until he found her being transferred from Richard’s arms into his own.

“What-” he spluttered. It was a most undignified sound but he couldn’t blame himself for being surprised. He’d never held a child before (nor had he thought he would ever be expected to). Richard now looked on the brink of laughter and Damian scowled at him. How dare he place him in this predicament and then mock him for it!

“She’s a child not a bomb, Damian. You don’t need to hold her away from you.”

Since Damian had no interest in learning how to properly hold a child, he lowered her to the floor. She didn’t seem offended by this but instead took his hand. He begrudgingly allowed her to maintain this hold.

She tugged on his arm. “Throw with me?”

“Now?” Damian knew he had offered despite Richards refusal ,but he found himself looking at him now. Would he fight him on this?

“I-” He stopped, sighing. “Fine. I suppose there’s no real harm in it. But we will throw soft balls. No sharp or dangerous objects.”

Jessica smiled happily and grabbed the hand of her father, without releasing his, linking them together like some sort of strange human chain.

“We have balls and things in the garage. I’m sure we can find things to set up as targets in the backyard.” Richard said as he stopped down to pick Jessica back up and started walking down the hall. Damian followed, wondering what exactly he had volunteered himself for.

Damian was in his quarters reading a book his philosophy tutor had assigned before he had left his mother’s care, when there was a knock on his door. “Come in.” He called. It was probably Richard coming to communicate something about patrol tonight. He opened the door and Richard walked in.

“Hey Damian. I just wanted to thank you for spending time with Jessica. You’re good with her.”

Damian bristled at his tone. As if this was a surprising revelation that led to a reluctant concession. “I never planned to harm your child.”

His tone was a challenge but Dick didn’t rise to it, keeping his tone calm and collected. “I know that, Damian. That’s not what being good with her means. It’s just- I mean- Jessica doesn’t warm up to people she doesn’t know very quickly, but she seems to have latched on to you. That’s all I meant.”

Damian paused not quite sure how to respond. He felt relieved that Richard didn’t seem to be accusing him of anything, but he wasn’t quite sure how to regard Jessica ‘latching on’ to him. “TT.”

“And Damian.” He nodded at Richard to continue, but he hesitated before going on. “I know you’re just living here because it was one of the conditions to be Robin and maybe because you don’t feel like you have a lot of options.” Damian opened his mouth to defend himself - he was an Al Ghul and so had his name and unlimited resources - but Richard continued before he could get a word in. “But this can be whatever you want it to be okay. Barbara and I aren’t ever going to try to force you into something you don’t want but we’re here for you in whatever capacity you need. Even if that changes, okay?”

Damian scowled. He had no idea what Richard was trying to say or why he felt the need to invade his privacy in order to say it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Richard, and I would appreciate it if you would cease this sentimental foolery.”

Dick looked him over in an assessing manner, hesitated, looked as if he were going to say more, and then stopped only nodding. “Well I won’t bother you anymore, but I hope you’ll remember what I said. It might make more sense in the future.” And he left the room closing the door behind him and Damian went back to his book with an uneasy and unfamiliar feeling in the pit of his stomach.

#dick grayson #damian wayne #fanfic #mine #i posted chapter 2 guys!#i don't know how to share one chapter though #that's why it says chapter one on the AO3 link #if anyone knows how to do that please let me know

2 notes · View notes

inkedmyths · 5 years

Text

Priorities are definitely in order here

Because who loves Feral? I do that's who

Summary: A certain hero finally sets out to get something actually done about that big bad thing over by the castle. Of course his shadow follows him for the ride.

Disclaimer: As unlikely and seemingly impossible as it seems, yes Link decided to do 40 shrines and get those 10 extra heart containers before even bothering with the Divine Beasts quests. He's just a frustratingly distracted person, doing glowy dungeons instead of actually trying to save the world.

Link hummed as he scanned the landscape before him. An inactivated tower stood in the distance, orange light becoming less obvious as the sun began to shine over the horizon.

Hearing grumbling behind him, he turned to face his shadow. Feral was squinting at the east, looking disgusted and uncomfortable. "What's up?" Link asked.

Feral grunted. "Bright," was all he said.

Link turned back to the breaking dawn. That made sense, he guessed. Feral was basically made of darkness. Of course he wouldn't like the big shining orb that was the sun. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Probably, other than being in a constant state of discomfort."

Thoughts swirled in his head for a moment. Then he pulled out his bag and began shuffling around in it. A moment later, looking triumphant, he pulled out what he was looking for. A black hooded cloak. He held it out to Feral. "Here."

Feral, in turn, looked mildly surprised. He accepted the cloak. "Thanks," he said, pulling the hood over his head. "I am now somewhat less uncomfortable."

Link shrugged, then turned back towards the tower in the distance. He pointed to it. "That's where I want to go next." Feral squinted, then nodded.

They started down towards the wetlands below. As they tromped ahead, Feral spoke up. "What even is your overall goal here? Don't you have some sort of like, heroic quest you're supposed to be doing?"

Link frowned slightly. "Uh... yeah? I mean, I'm supposed to be working on defeating Calamity Ganon. Something about the, uh, what do you call them... I don't remember, the big machines."

"So let me get this straight," Feral began. "You're supposed to be doing something to defeat a giant demon cloud... and you just haven't done anything yet?"

"Sure I've done something! I've been doing shrines, and I got the Master Sword."

"Alright, but what about the whole... big machine thing you just mentioned?"

Link shrugged. "I haven't gotten there yet. Actually..." He pulled out his Sheikah Slate, poking it a few times. "We're sort of headed in the general direction of one of them I think?"

Feral peered over his shoulder at the golden dot that marked a location. "If we're in the area we could go and check that out."

Link nodded. "First the tower though. I need to see where I'm going."

"Nah. Just launch yourself into the unknown."

"If there's a big robot I want to know where it is."

"What, don't want to get jumped by lasers?"

"Not if it's ten times as big as a Guardian."

They continued forwards as they quipped back at one another. Water sloshed around their feet, and the sun reflected off the ripples they created. Link hadn't been in an area quite like this yet, but he didn't mind it. Link didn't mind a lot of things, therefore neither did Feral. With the exception of the infernal source of light otherwise known as the sun. Feral definitely minded that.

In the middle of making a comment about how maps were overrated, Feral was interrupted by someone calling out. Surprised, the two looked up. A figure was waving to them from a pool of water. They exchanged a glance, then walked forward to the pool.

"Hello!" The person greeted. They weren't Hylian, that was for sure. They had fins and a long tail coming out of their head, and were red in coloration. Link didn't know what they were, but a prickle of familiarity echoed in the back of his mind. "Are you both Hylians?"

They looked at each other again. "Er... yes." Link wasn't entirely sure if Feral qualified as Hylian, but it was probably the best explanation since 'no he's a shadowy demon thing that looks like me' was likely not going to go over well.

"Wonderful! Our prince has been looking for a Hylian!" The person smiled, then pointed off to a spot near the tower where they were headed. "Won't you please go talk to him?"

Link nodded in response, then set off towards the tower once more, waving goodbye to the swimming person. Feral followed, sparing only a glance backwards before turning back forward. "Prince?"

Link shrugged. "Guess we'll find out what that's all about."

The tower ended up taking longer than they thought to reach. After punting around some bokoblins that were milling about the area, Link climbed up the large structure. Feral followed behind, making comments on how overly ridiculous the design was. After all, if only the Hero could activate them, why make them so ridiculously tall? Link said it may have something to do with the scanning aspect. Feral said it had something to do with trying to acheive an aesthetic.

After activating the tower, they examined the new portion of the map they had gained. "Looks like the dot wants us to go there." Link gestured in the general direction without looking up.

Feral, on the other hand, did look up. "Wow, you mean Rain Town?"

"Huh?" Link looked up to see what he was talking about. "Oh, wow." There was a dark cloud hovering over that area of land, sheets of rain pouring out of it. "Yeah, looks like that's where we're headed."

"Sweet, no sunlight."

Link stepped to the edge of the tower before pausing. "Hang on. Do you have a paraglider?"

"I... actually, I don't know." Feral frowned.

Link pulled his out of his bag. Feral examined it, then mimed a similar movement. A shadowy copy of the item was now in his hands. "I guess I do."

"Interesting." They pondered it for a moment before deciding there were much more interesting things to be doing. "Race you to that rock over there?"

"You're on."

With that, the two launched themselves off of the structure. After an eventful flight that consisted mostly of narrowly missing each other, they both landed at the afformentioned rock. This was immediately followed up with an argument as to who had gotten there first. As they walked they bickered over whether or not Link's toe had brushed the ground first.

"Hello!" The two were startled out of their debate. They hadn't been paying attention to where they'd been walking, and had come across a bridge. It was unlike the wooden bridges that were all across Hyrule, made of glimmering blue tiles and white stone. Two pillars towered above it at the entrance. They looked around for the source of the voice that had interrupted their very important conversation.

"Up here!" Looking up, they saw a figure waving from the top of one of the pillars. It jumped, flipped through the air, and landed directly in front of them. Standing, they towered over the two. "I am Sidon, the Zora prince!" He grinned at them. "Are you both Hylians?"

It took them a moment to recover from their shock. "Yes?" Link said, looking dazed.

"Wonderful! I have been looking for a Hylian! Two is even better! Although," he leaned down slightly, looking at Feral. "I waz unaware they came in such colors!"

"I'm special."

"Special! That's incredible! And would you say you're both great warriors among the Hylians?" Sidon, as he said he was called, seemed very excited.

"Er... yes?" Link glanced at Feral, who shrugged slightly.

"I knew it! After all, I am the Prince of the Zoras. I have an eye for these things. I've been watching you both, and you hold yourselves like no ordinary man. Please, I implore, will you lend your aid?"

"Aid? Aid in what?" Feral eyed the Zora with mild suspicion.

"The Divine Beast Vah Ruta," the prince explained. "It has been agitated of late, and poses a threat to our realm. I've been looking for a Hylian to help us appease it."

Link and Feral exchanged a look. "We can help."

"Wonderful!" He clapped his hands together. "Oh! I nearly forgot. What are your names?"

"I'm Link. This is Feral."

"Wonderful names! Although I feel like I've heard that first one somewhere before..." Sidon murmured to himself. "In any case! Please make your way to the Zora Domain. The rain from Vah Ruta makes the cliffs impossible to scale. You will have to make the journey by the road. Monsters patrol the way, many with electrical powers. However! I think you will be able to make it with your expertise! I believe in you!" His grin seemed to sparkle with absolute belief and joy. It was hard not to feel confident with that kind of support.

"Here, take these as tokens of my support." He handed them each a yellow vial. "It doesn't work on Zora's, but should be able to provide you with electrical resistance. I will follow your progress from the waters. Good luck." He waved, and dove into the river nearby. He was out of sight before long.

"Well, that was interesting." Feral turned to Link. "You okay there?"

Link still seemed rather dazed. "Really big." He muttered. "Very energetic. Big smile." He shook his head. "Divine Beast. Right. That's what they were called."

"Are you still in shock from Mr. Fish Prince there?"

"Aren't you? He's a big muscley shark dude who was extremely friendly."

"Yes. Definitely muscley." Feral hummed. "Anyway, this is part of your quest to save Hyrule from utter destruction?"

"Looks that way. Guess we head up this path?"

"Seems that way. At least there's no sun over here. I will be far more comfortable."

"Good for you. Can't wait to get sopping wet."

"Oh, shut it."

"You shut it first."

The two resumed bickering. This time, however, they were walking with a destination in mind. The dirt below their feet turned to mud as they trekked towards the Zora Domain.

"Bet you I'll get there first."

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

#legend of zelda #legend of zelda breath of the wild #link #wild #dark link #feral #feral and wild #the awful twins themselves #prince sidon #loz #fanfic #myth writes

113 notes · View notes

jackson-jemson · 4 years

Text

3/21/19

I am officially quarantined. And I am figuratively or hypothetically alone mentally. As mentioned earlier (I think) this virus has disrupted everything. To add to the list of things it’s disrupted my therapist got laid off and I’m probably not gonna get another one, because I don’t feel like re-explaining my whole life story. Re-explaining and discovering all the ways my parents messed me up, how I messed myself up, because while all of that is helpful and has helped me grow, I do feel that if I re-discuss all of that it’ll just make me get all in my head about it. Like with Angela we had gotten pretty far but the last time we spoke she implied I was being narcissistic because I could easily list positive things about myself and in her doing that I literally doubted every positive thing I had to say and now every time I make a decision that I feel would be best for me I think I’m being selfish, and me accepting that I’m not as sacrificial as my parents was like a week one issue that she helped me work through. She’s a good therapist though and I really hate she’s not gonna be mine anymore. She’ll be great to the kids that need her more. I was a bit too old to be seeing her. Maybe this means I need an adult therapist?

Speaking of my parents though, it is 6:30 am and I am at my boyfriends house who I have been at for the last 3 going 4 days. This relates to my parents because 1) my mom, rest her soul, is not here to make me feel safe and keep my anxiety at bay (slight aside: mom for all that you may have not done well, you did your best and you loved me. You made me feel safe and loved and spent time with me and even during the times when you made me anxious you were always there to make the feeling go away, so much to the point where I didn’t know it was an issue until you were gone. Thanks 💙) 2) My dad, bless his soul, has his hands full with two other family members that require his attention more. And let’s face it I’m 21. I need to deal with *gesters to self* this on my own. My mom was my primary caretaker and my dad was there when I needed him thereby disproving any idea or thought I had in my mind that he didn’t love me. I now know I can lean on him if need be. I had a point, and it was that.. because my parents are dead or over worked and I need to be in an environment where I gotta figure shit out on my own I am here at my boyfriends which is like ultimate survival mode. I am scavenging for food (delivery), literally living off the land in terms of clothing (I wear his shirts) I have to venture into the unknown for supplies (target is down the street and it’s cold). I’m so focused on surviving I don’t think about the fact that my dad’s house literally causes me to have mini panic attacks and the thought of returning also gives me mini panic attacks. Well being stuck there does. Like I recognize that neither Tyler or Isaiah leaves their homes, and I would happily stay at either of their places indefinitely (if they are there) and that’s because they are very comforting people whose smiles and auras bring me peace and make me feel that everything will be ok. Also they have windows and natural light. Like it’s mainly the windows. Like this is an apocalyptic situation. The entire world has shut down due too this crisis, and yes it is fun to think “let’s all just live in a bunker we will be safe” but no Chad it’s not fun and sure Cassidy we will be safe physically, but no living thing outside of maybe bats can survive mentally without sunlight. They will go insane. Literally warmth is a primal need for all life and you know what’s a reliable source of warmth. The sun. And you know who we exprience the sun as well as nature overall when we’re unable to go outside, a fucking window Cassandra! Now sure I could just ask hey open the curtains or hey turn up the heat past 68 so I can shake this cold hallow loneliness I feel, but that would be rearranging their entire way of living. Something that I’m just not ok with doing entirely especially considering doing so would just be for my benefit, and would start some petty thing that will blow out of proportion.

Though it would be for someone else’s benefit that of my brother. Lil Theo. Now Theo poses a bit of a moral conundrum for me, because just like I don’t wanna be in that house I don’t think he does either like his entire life I have made jokes and somewhat empty threats that I will remove this boy from his home given the opportunity. The threats are somewhat empty because I’m not equipped to take care of Theo. his life with though being filled with love and care would be less structured and chaotic and to remove him from a place just because I don’t like it wouldn’t be fair to him, that being said let me see one sign of abuse and I will not hesitate. I will take him in he will live with me and Isaiah will just have to figure something out. Though my dad got it if something ever goes down I can see it in his eyes. My dad will die for his kids shit he kinda already is. Point: he’s a moral conundrum because though I know ultimately Theo is safer where he is and our dad loves him an amount that exceeds the typical amount children feel who have both parents (his mom’s alive she’s just questionable in my eyes), I know theo would prefer if I was there forever. Which isn’t possible for a multitude of reasons that I am unable to explain to a child, and one of my character flaws is that if I can’t explain something to you odds are I’m not gonna try. Which is something I could work on during these trying times. I just want theo to know I love him.

#its 4am #coronavirus

1 note · View note

movedyourchair505 · 5 years

Text

Napule Nights - trentuno

A difficult one, thanks to my babe for helping. Also, tiny smut warning x

- chapter navigation -

The following day, Jade was determined to not only act as an outlet for his frustration, but also tackle the issue at its source best she could from her position. Even sharing the situation and how things stood had opened him up to at least the proposition of a change in action and with his confidence elevated even higher, she was content with not seeing him for the day – as long as it meant that he was working on improving the situation the business was in, the state that essentially stressed him.

It took another day for him to allow her in, a lot of coaxing until he gave her credit and admitted that she'd done a good job before and could benefit any operation her kind of work required. As much as she knew that Serena didn't care about her or what she wanted, it was her that then ultimately persuaded Alexander to send her on a job that was perfect to, was strictly professional when she explained and prepared Jade for it, but Jade was thankful that it was as much Serena as it was Alexander this time, most days she left the office with him to come with him to his place, was able to uplift him enough to start the day exactly like he had the previous one, the more perfected the jobs he was putting together were, the more confident he was that he would be able to make a change, despite the exterior threats increasing.

So despite the danger that the job posed, no matter how risky it was, she felt prepared, determined to not disappoint him and to actually improve it, trusting unconditionally in his decisions which had her nerves eased even several days later when she woke up the next day. It was the first time he'd sent her to stay at his place alone, but when he'd gotten word the night before – just as they'd been leaving the headquarters – that there'd been a fight at his club, the first fight in a while on his territory, he'd insisted that Cook take her to his loft until he'd follow and despite her efforts to stay up and wait for him, she'd fallen asleep, too exhausted to even notice him coming in and he hadn't woken her either, but when she awoke the next morning, felt his arm wrapped tightly around her, clinging to her to hold her as close as he could, his muscles tense even in his sleep, she was determined more than ever to do him proud, to give any contribution she could to ease his nerves.

The moment he felt her stir it didn't take much for him to wake up as well, the mellow warmth and irresistible scent of her hair fuelling his tired mind and he gripped her tighter, his hand on her side and wandering up to her breasts, kneading them slowly as he pressed his chest closer to her back, humming as his lips touched her shoulder and he moved her hair to the side, feeling her breath quickening, her body coming alive under his touch, the soft plea enough for him to encourage him and he parted her legs with ease, teased her with his fingers until he himself was too eager to hold out much longer, locking her arms behind her back and starting to take her slowly, yet hungrily from behind, pressing wet kisses to her shoulders and her back, his breath tickling her warm skin and it didn't take long for her to surrender, for the tension to leave her body and the pleasure ripped through her, dragging him with her and he emptied himself inside her, chanting her name into her hair.

She lay overwhelmed as they both calmed down, whimpering when he withdrew his hips but squeezed her needily in his arms and shuffled back into him as close as she could, reveling in the throbbing afterglow between her legs, the warmth and sense of safety in his strong arms offered. “Alexander...” She whispered. She had a view of his gold alarm clock on the bedside table, well-aware that he was already late for his meeting.

He hummed, mumbling against her hair tiredly as he spoke. “Yes, darlin'?” He sighed. He was in no mood for her to challenge him, there were mere minutes he had until he had to get out and leave the blissful place he wished he could permanently reside in day in, day out.

“You have to go.”

Alex swallowed. “I kno', Jade” he muttered. “I'm sorreh.”

Her heart skipped a beat and she pressed her lips together, slowly shifting to turn around in his arms to face him. “I told you me distracting those guards while Cook hands everything over will be the best and most subtle way to go about it, I...”

“No” he said, cutting her off slowly when he realised she'd misunderstood. “I joost … I'm joost sorreh I 'ave teh go. I wish I could stay 'ere. I 'ave full faith in yeh, doll.”

It scared her momentarily how raw his words were, unfiltered in the best possible way and while she was aware of their meaning, it was alarming nonetheless, causing her to slowly move from his arms and rise to sit up in bed, brushing her hair back from her face. She bit her lip when she felt him do the same, then he leaned over to press a lingering kiss to her cheek before he was out of bed, collecting his clothes and beginning to get dressed.

“Yeh can stay until yeh 'ave teh meet Serena” he drawled, the moment the cold air of the room washed over him, sent shivers up his bare skin, he sobered up from her, realised just how weak he'd allowed himself to be, nodding over to his suit jacket hung up on the wardrobe with a raise of his eyebrows.

She moved slowly out of his bed, wearing nothing but the indicative jewel around her neck as she strode to pick up the jacket and held it out for him to slip into once he was ready, then sat back down on the edge of the bed for a moment as she watched him disappear into the bathroom. She knew he was tense, had felt it in the way he fucked her, despite the sleep on his mind he'd been desperate, rougher than what she was used to and while she always welcomed it, she knew there was more to it than their pleasure, had sensed an anger spilling over. “Alexander?” She called, getting up slowly. “What happened with the fight?”

Alex strode back out of the bathroom, taking the smoke she held up for him the second she could sense him returning and pulling on it with a sigh of relief, his eyes shutting for a moment as he took a split second to relax. “Nofin'” he stated as he gathered everything he needed, fastening his watch around his wrist with his smoke trapped between his chapped lips. “I dunno 'ow those men got in but they were nobodehs. Serena were gunna look into it. Maffew sorted it.”

She nodded slowly, could sense that he didn't want to discuss more so she stayed silent until he stopped in front of her and drew her close by her hips, his hands locked on her body tighter than necessary and more eagerly than usual, yet serving their purpose as she only pressed herself closer to him when he kissed her, long and hard and with every fiber of him signaling that he would fuck her right back into the mattress if he had the time, pulling away only when his self-control crumbled too far down.

“I want teh see yeh before the job later” he ordered.

She nodded, licking her lips and trying to catch her breath after the kiss had taken most of it from her.

“I mean it” he emphasised before letting out a long breath, then the heels of his shiny shoes clicked on the floor as he made himself to the door without another word, it fell shut and made her jump.

She didn't linger for long, showered and dolled herself up for the job, slipping into the dress she had brought the day before, covering half her thighs just about, but backless and cut low at the front, the tight fabric structured and lavender. She wore the shoes with a pinch of emerald to match the necklace, then made her way out with everything she needed, going through the details of her job on the ride back to the headquarters where Serena already waited for her in her office to go through everything until there was a quick knock on the door, Miles striding in just moments later, his body clad in a baby blue suit, a black shirt underneath, paired with sparkly loafers.

“Which of these pretteh ladies is gunna escort meh teh lunch?”

Serena's lips curled into a smile but she shook her head at him slightly in disbelief. “Miles, we're working.”

“As far as I kno' you've been through evrehfin' a million times. Unless ya girls want meh teh bring sum food teh ruin all these papers, yeh'll talk through it over lunch.” He gave a wave, his grin displaying uncrushable determination, his eyebrows wiggling.

“You go” Serena stated to Jade, sighing and running her fingers over her hair, fixing her ponytail and leaning back in her chair. “I need to make some calls about that fight anyway. Miles, have you heard anything?”

Kane shook his head, licking his lips and extending his hand to Jade when she rose to her feet, gathering the most important things she needed. “Unfortunateleh not” he sighed. “When I go out tonight, I'll try and find out sum more though and you're gunna be the first teh kno'.”

Serena pressed her lips together. “Right. Right. Rivera, any more questions?”

Jade shook her head. “I've got it. I'll go through it with … Turner … if I see him” she said. “And then with Cook in the car.”

With a wave of her hand and a nod that signaled at least a hint of content, Serena dismissed them, Miles' arms linking with Jade's as two of the henchmen outside followed them to the restaurant and before she'd even properly sat down, he glared at her inquisitively.

“Soo, 'aven't seen ya mooch?” He smirked, licking his lips after his first bite.

She nodded slowly. “Any particular reason you wanted to now, Kane?”

“Ya know...” he said slowly. “I 'aven't forgotten our conversation 'bout Al. And I 'ope yeh 'aven't either.”

She tensed instantly, swallowing hard. “Si?”

His eyes widened. “Oh, no, no, bella, dun't ya worreh. I joost kno' tha' Alex clearleh dun't 'ave the intention teh let ya go anehtime soon and … yous are fallin' inteh this rhythm tha' I joost need teh kno' it's not gunna bore ya.”

“Bore me?” She asked, a smile of amusement playing around her lips. “I don't need you to keep watching me, Kane, I don't need a babysitter. How could I get bored of having everything that I have ever wanted?”

“Ya kno' the business is strugglin'. I kno' Al trusts ya but...” He shrugged. “I'm joost lookin' out for 'im.”

Jade nodded slowly. “Me too.”

He leaned back in his seat, taking a sip from his beer. “Reyht” he said, not having expected her response, nodding back at her. “Bene.”

She'd just finished eating, washing it down with a tall glass of water – any bit of alcohol would have tensed her nerves rather than eased them – when Cook entered the restaurant, stepping up to their table and waving for her to follow and as much as she hated obeying him, she stood up, kissed Kane on each cheek when he rose to tell her to be safe and she could feel several pairs of eyes following her as she exited the restaurant with Cook by her side.

She wasn't nervous about the job, on the contrary, she was eager to complete it, to be one step closer to improving the business' situation and if she could contribute, she was only too happy to oblige. The height of her motivation came from Alexander's trust in her, the fact that he knew that she would do a good job, entrusted her with something so important. Her high spirits didn't go unnoticed by the man beside her, Cook raising his eyebrows as they stopped in front of Turner's office.

“Yeh kno' tha' this is a delicate affair, dun't yeh?” He asked, his jaw tense. He himself seemed to be on edge, maybe not so much because of the job, but because she herself was not. “Weh're makin' a deal in enemeh territoreh.”

“I'm aware” she nodded, lifting her own hand to knock on the door as he stood on the other side of it, giving a nod to Helders. “He trusts me.”

Cook gritted his teeth. “Hurreh. Weh 'ave teh go soon.”

“Come in.”

Helders opened the door for her, held it and closed it behind her, her heels clicking on the floor as she entered the office, Turner rising instantly to his feet when he saw her, walking around his desk. “Did yeh talk evrehfin' through wif Serena?”

Jade nodded, stepping close to him and placing her hands on his chest, adjusting the collar of his light blue shirt, sighing as she felt the heat of his skin through the fabric, his hands coming down on her hip to ensure their closeness in case she moved away too soon.

“Yeh've talked about it wif Jameh?”

She smiled. “So far only with you there, baby, but I will again in the car.”

Alex swallowed hard, his self-control challenged by her words as much as her scent, the touch of her hands, the smile of indifference on her face. “Are yeh takin' this seriousleh enough?”

Jade sighed. “I am. I know how important it is, which is why I cannot wait to get the job done. I know it's been stressing you. You trust me and I-...” She was caught off when he dragged his hand slowly up her side, cupping her breast over the solid fabric of her dress, his other hand moving down her lower back, squeezing her ass. “Alexander...” she said, breathing out shakily. “T-There's no time for this. Why did you want to see me?”

He ignored her question, pursing his lips, his eyes wild as they locked on hers. “I'm the boss, I decide wha' weh 'ave time for” he stated, a tear on his heart when her lips curled into a smile.

“You've got a meeting” she said. “And I have a job to do. And as soon as I'm back, I'll be ready for you to do whatever you want.” She tried her hardest to ignore the rough grip of his hands, her fingers moving slowly to the back of his neck and into his hair, the tension in his fingers loosening instantly and breathed out with relief.

“Jade...” He swallowed hard, his neck straining, jaw tensing as he attempted to compose himself, to see reason. “Yeh're gunna listen teh Jameh, alreyht?”

She sighed. “Yes, of course” she stated with a nod.

He nodded back at her. “Fings get dangerous, yehr first instinct is teh run. Dun't shoot. Get out of there. And if yeh sense danger, yeh tell Jameh. If-...”

She pulled lightly on his hair, angled his head to the side to get his attention. “Alexander” she said, hoping desperately to snap him out of it. “We've been over this. You and me, me and Serena, a dozen times. I know what to do. You don't need to explain.”

He furrowed his brows, discontent with her interrupting him and he exhaled sharply. “I'm joost makin' sure.”

The annoyance on her face then shifted, making room for a smug smile. “Alexander Turner, are you worried about me?”

He swallowed, his round eyes darkening, an intensity reflecting inside them that she hadn't seen in the shape of anything but defense. “Jade, I joost want yeh teh take this job seriousleh.”

She licked her lips, unaware of how badly he wanted to wipe that gorgeous smile of her face. “I have done several jobs for you, there's nothing different about this, so there's no need to act differently, right? It's sweet that you're worried but-...”

“Sweet?” He spat, his jaw locking. “I am joost makin' sure yeh kno' wha's at stake. Yehr fookin' life, Jade.” His voice was calm, but a familiar sense of anger was boiling underneath his tone, but the second he realised she noticed, he breathed out slowly, his features smoothing again as he tried to relax. There was a knock on the door and he huffed. “A moment.”

“I understand the situation and I can handle it” she said, shaking her head.

The smile on her face that usually had him desperate now unsettled him more than anything at that moment and he knew deep down that she was right, that despite the danger of the job, he was not acting like himself, he was too on edge, too tense, but something was different, he didn't usually ask to see her before her job, let alone had he ever been this doubtful about sending her out. Other times he wouldn't have so much as batted an eyelash before letting her go out on a job, at times had even punished her for fucking up and as much as he knew that she was ready, it was all no good if she didn't realise how careful she had to be, if she didn't understand and even teased him for trying to get through to her but he despised the thought of something happening to her, of her not coming back, and it frustrated him to no end, he hated that he even felt like he had to try, that she didn't do her job, that he had to snap her out of it but most of all, that he wanted to.

The tension on his face was slowly but surely becoming more and more confusing and she wondered if there was something she didn't know, swallowing hard. “Why are you so worried?” She laughed, shaking her head at him once again as she saw him grit her teeth at her question, his hands trembling on her. “What is this? What happened to the man that fucked me over this very desk for talking back to him? Who had to have me in his club just to mark his territory?”

His mind was at war, her questions fuelling his anger further and further and he couldn't bear another, she didn't understand, his fingers were shaking, his gaze meeting hers, his voice harsh. “'e fell in love wif yeh.”

Her heart stopped and they stood in complete silence, her eyes as wide as his, lips parted, the shock apparent on her own face as much as on his and before she could even think of speaking, the door clicked open.

“Rivera, weh 'ave teh go.”

Out of instinct, Jade stepped back slowly, saw Turner's face shift from anger to indifference within a split second and she breathed out shakily, turning over her shoulder to look at Cook, when she turned back to Turner he was walking around his desk and Cook grabbed her arm, leading her out of the office, her heart pounding, her throat dry, she had seldom been speechless and frozen the way she was now, absolutely unable to react and it seemed maybe he didn't want her to, she had not found it as difficult to figure him out as she did now and she hardly recalled walking down the halls with the three henchmen surrounding her once she was sat in the car, nodding along to all the familiar words Cook said, she had heard it all before, would have been able to chant the plan in her sleep, but Turner's words were fresh on her mind throughout the whole drive, when the car stopped and when one of the henchmen got out out first and opened the door, when Cook followed and gestured for Jade to do the same, and when she looked around for their meeting.

It was then that for the first time, she replayed a different statement Turner had said to her, to tell Cook if she sensed something as instead of a man approaching somewhere as expected, the slow movements of a car captured her attention, parking right beside them but the moment she turned around to Cook, her heart sank, she heard the thud before she saw the man that knocked Cook to the ground, the same thing happening to the other guard. There was a split second that allowed her to turn and look at the third climbing out of the car, unaware of the men approaching behind her from the unfamiliar black car and she could hardly squirm when she felt someone grip her from behind, a set of hands pulling her own behind her back, a third blocking her vision by holding a piece of cloth to her face that instantly dizzied her mind, her thoughts blurring, her focus slipping and her knees giving in, it sounded like heels dragging across the asphalt and when she realised it were her own she already felt an unfamiliar surface underneath her, the slamming of a car door, shouts and thuds in the distance and then it all turned black.

Alex watched the smoke rise from his lips, the familiar sensation not doing the usual anticipated trick of calming his nerves, the shock still sat deep within his bones, the words that had left him unexpected, but nothing had him quite as uneasy as the fact that they were nothing but the truth. Her lack of response had unsettled him, he was unsure how to interpret it, unable to process it, every time it crossed his mind it was impossible for him to delve deeper without a sinking feeling of comparison creeping up.

He welcomed the distraction of a knock on his office door instantly, crushed his cigarette and instantly lit a new one, raising his eyebrows at Helders stepping inside. The expression on his head of security's face did the impossible, it sank his already low mental state tenfold.

“Boss” he breathed, well-aware that Turner had most likely never heard him as alarmed as he was now.

Alex could hardly speak, his voice straining, his fingers almost crushing his cigarette. “Yes? Maffew?”

Helders pressed his lips together. “I can't reach Jameh.”

#alex turner #napule nights #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fanfiction #mafia!al #mafia au #alex/jade #alex turner/oc #chaptered fic #adt #arctic monkeys #The Last Shadow Puppets

54 notes · View notes