#when she dies; her magic is reclaimed by the lands & she becomes in an actual tree... like a Mother Tree | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maguro13-2 · 3 months

Text

Shattered Hero ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Episode : Maka Pt.19 (for real)

"After the second explosion that I caused in tokyo..."

"I had no choice but to ran away, my mother passed on and I didn't want to become tokyo as my home that I did not expect."

"After flying over from Tokyo on my magical broom, I finally came over to the western contients they call it North America...a continent founded by the norse, not the columbus guy."

"After traveling through Canada, I ended up at a special quaint place called Vermont where I finally first met Jacqueline."

[These Green Mountains play]

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Lost in the woods of these green mountains, I wish there is something that I could find a better place for me to eat. Huh? Who's there? (Sees a long hair Kimial standing there, patiently) Huh? A girl? I believe it's a witch I pressumed.

Kimial Diehl : You there. You were looking for me, were you?

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Um, that's what I was expecting to find another Shattered Meister that was located somewhere in this land. Do you know if there's a another meister that caused another explosion in Japan?

Kimial Diehl : Well, I am certainly glad. You finally found the right one. So will you carry me to the where the flowers are blooming?

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : My pleasures. (picks up Kimial to carry her)

"That's right that was the day that we first met and it was love at first sight.

Kimial Diehl : Would you give yourself to me and reclaim me as your bride. That is what I wished for.

"Three years later..."

Penny Crygor : So that chocolaty goodness sure hits the spot! Do ya, Jacqueline?

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Finally on what happened on Valentine's day, I'm sure that kiss Kimial gave me was pretty when I realized she put chocolate in my mouth. And it was really tasteful. Well, I finall made all the chocolates in every single heart-shaped box. Hmm? Is that...(sees Harvar from behind) Harvar? But didn't you died while in Kart Racing? How on earth did you get here? Harvar, what are you doing here?

Penny Crygor : Hey, guy who's last is eclair! If anything happens to Kimial unleashing Shattered Resonance. You're gonna be sorry, that you'll make her frustrated.

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : I know that I got this. (clears throat) Hey, Harvar! Get your butt back to work , man! Kimial does not want to see you in person. Hey, Frenchie! (Harvar turns) You heard me! I said "Get your butt back to work and--!" (Harvar takes off glasses to revealling glowing yellow eyes)

Penny Crygor : His eyes! Jacqueline! Your man! he's another heartless!

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : What!? (Harvar transcends into it's true form; a Neoshadow heartless)

[Night of Fate - Yoko Shimomura]

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : What the--The heartless!? I thought Sora got rid of them! How can they still appear!?

Penny Crygor : It must've been that Kart racing accident, Your man Harvar D Eclair wasn't killed by electricity, he was killed in an accident by a blue shell!

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : A blue shell!? You mean he died in an accident?

Penny Crygor : True, a Kart racing accident. It happened during the Double Dash Race. Both Ox Ford and Harvar were going into a racing tournament of kart racing with two people in it. But during the race when they were about to win, someone picked up a blue shell and resulted them in an accident. I realized that Ox Ford and Harvar D Eclair given a blue shell was no shell it all. It was actually a koopa with wings that was inside of the blue shell. Ox Ford and Harvar D Eclair weren't going to die in an accident, the Koopa Tribe wanted to kill them both! That's the cause of Kimial wondering that she was never really interested in boys in the country.

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : What? So that's why Kimial never into men, she was only into girls that are her type and it's me that she wants it. Was she bisexual, lesbian or what?

Penny Crygor : You tell me, but this ain't no pride month and that's next week! How to deal a monster like him! Watch and learn. (takes boots to go barefooted)

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : And how are planning on going to do that?

Penny Crygor : Easy! I won't go back down with out fight! I did martial arts like Young Cricket does! Taking shoes or boots feels good to be in Martial Arts combat! I've bee doing for a long time and I'm ready to do it! Come on, tough guy! Let's dance!

(Neoshadow roars)

*Dbz/One Piece : Fighting impacts*

Penny Crygor : Not so tough to fight a science girl with me! Can't handle a pure genius that has stirrups on my feet? *DBZ SFX : Strong Kick* I've been practicing martials arts with both my hands and feet! This is what I prepared to make a fight! (locks the covers the heartless' face with her toes) Guess who's face that I just cover you with my toes? So just I gonna have to make you lick em or worship them.

Neoshadow : Fat chance! I'm not into your kind's craze! You think that licking or whorshipping those are not those kind of idols. But that is a personal way to forget something. I'm just gonna cut them loose!

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : [To Penny] You just had bring stuff like to it, didn't you?

Penny Crygor : [To Jacqueline] What? I was only trying to make things fun for him!

Neoshadow : Enough of this! I will destroy you now and make your satisfying for my taste buds! (grabs Penny's legs)

Penny : Huh? Uwaaaah! *DBZ SFX : Wall Hit/Crash*

Neoshadow : Prepare for your heart get eaten!

Penny Crygor : No! Without my heart, I'm gonna be boned for sure. (Suddenly, the light shines from Penny's soles)

Neoshadow : Grrrrgh! The Light! It's coming from this girl's feet! That's impossible! There' gotta be an explanation for this kind of logic!

Penny Crygor : Where did that come from?

Ansem (?) : Hey, f**kface! You want eat something? Eat this! *DBZ Sfx : Energy shot*

Neoshadow : (yells in pain) Impossible! I have been blinded by light from the girl's soles! How can I loose to a puny earthling like this! NOOOOOOOOO!!! *DBZ : Explosion*

Penny Crygor : Huh? What the heck was that!? That beam of light, Hearless being destroyed, and the light that is coming out of my feet! What weird power that I have in store for.

Ansem (?) : Just what I am looking for. Female denizen that unleashes the Soles of Light and Darkness.

Penny : Did you say that I have the powers of light or darkness from my what?

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Ansem the Seeker of Darkness?

Ansem (?) : Wrong. (changes into his real form; Riku) It's Riku.

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Ah! Mr. Riku! You were Ansem the whole time!? How on earth did you pull disguise.

Riku : I found out that the Heartless have the ability to disguise their selves as any beings such as humans and witches for an example. These kind of heartless that shape into any form of any beings are called, Heartless Decoys. A rare of type of heartless that were created from a person's heart and uses the ability as one's appearance.

Penny : A rare type of heartless from either those who died or alive have been using these guys too fool with humans and witches. It's so damn sick, that they just wanted toy with other appearances.

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : After all this Soul Eater crap we've been through, these guys had never been friends to Maka Albarn for three years! How did she not see that? You can say that there's no such thing as madness! That's like someone got that the from movie 300. Or probably the greek goddesses that cursed them with the maniae spirits.

Riku : If it was it. Then look into this newspaper from Mamimi Daily News Letter in Atlanta. Tonight's the front page.

[Psycho Mantis's theme plays]

Penny Crygor : What's this?

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Oh no. I don't believe this!

[NEWSPAPER : BODY OF ASSASSIN MEISTER FOUND DEAD IN THE WOODS]

Penny Crygor : It's the Naruto wannabe Black Star! One of the main trio that Maka albarn never forged with! How...How on earth did he died?

Riku : I believe the "other" Ansem took the heart of him and became a heartless puppet. The "Other" ansem that is me was created by an old man named Xehanort.

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Master Xehanort. So he's the big daddy-o that is behind the Heartless intrusion. He wanted to take Black Star's heart away so that a hero could the reach the end of his or her tale. Can't believe he's been pulling the strings off the Kingdom Hearts universe. After Maka Albarn was mistaken for attacking America and Tokyo, things took a downhill and then darkness happened. What was the other person that is involved of Black Star's death.

Riku : This photo of him showing that this is also one of Black Star's killers. (they show a photo of Mephiles) This Iblis's brother and second son of the first pillar, Amaterasu.

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Second son of Amaterasu...Mephiles the Dark. It's a recolored Shadow? What the hell is going on?

~ Act 19 : The Second Son of Amaterasu ~

0 notes

tenebriiis-archived · 3 years

Text

blue-eyes-barbarian replied to your post “{ ⟡ } — In the soft darkness that calls for dawn;...” Is the curse of the black rose, blooming bright for 3 days and wither in the wind...

{ 🙗 } // Is this really a vision of a possible route/future? Emilia is actually capable of accomplishing her goals solely to wither at the 3er day in any way that can be placed

"The Black Rose blooms once more; yet a price must be paid for it to do so May the florae flourish & grow, Branches & roots reclaiming dried lands Yet only at expense of her own life May the Night Garden find the right path..."

#MIGUE #THIS GIVES ME FEELS NOW #it doesn't help me that in most of the future routes I picture for her #when she dies; her magic is reclaimed by the lands & she becomes in an actual tree... like a Mother Tree #her magic simply leaks into the soils & with all that was honed #kept & stolen; it does heal at least a considerable patch; like what she does in her rosariums #AND NOW I HAVE FEELS YOU KNOW #IT'S TOO EARLY FOR FEELS; MIGUELANGELO; YOU ADORABLE PORO #{ ｏｕｔ .ｏｆ. ｒｏｓｅｓ } — ooc

3 notes · View notes

the-ferocious-kittyrose · 3 years

Text

Rewriting Haggar/Honerva’s redemption arc

One of the many things that bothered me about VLD S8 is Honerva’s redemption arc. While I was never fully against the idea of Honerva getting a redemption arc, I just didn’t want VLD to do it because I knew that they would fuck it up if they tried. And low and behold, I was right!

But yeah, I wasn’t against the idea of her being redeemed. And I don’t mean “redeemed” as in “all is forgiven and she’s just a good guy now,” but more like a Darth Vader, “the things she did were inexcusable and she would never be able to right all her wrongs but she goes out on one good act to show that there was still good in her deep down and she at least had the potential to change.”

I know a lot of people don’t like the whole, “redemption=death” thing, which I understand, but I personally never had a problem with it.

Ok, so why didn’t Honerva’s redemption work? Well there are a few reasons but the one that baffles me the most is that, instead of trying to make her more sympathetic, season 8 seemed to go out of its way to show her being more evil and vile than ever.

And because I have nothing better to do, I’m gonna go through Honerva’s story in VLD and explain what I would change to make her redemption more believable.

(Keep in mind I am not a writer, this is just me ranting about my favorite character and how I personally would’ve written her.)

1. Realizing she’s Altean

I always thought it’s was weird that when Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” In the S2 finale, Haggar didn’t seem to react at all, she just kept attacking. It’s as if she didn’t care or already knew, which doesn’t make sense considering in the S3 finale and S8E2 it’s established that Haggar has no memory of who she was before she died. And in S4E3 she seems shocked by her Altean face (which also doesn’t make sense because her blue skin isn’t camouflage that’s just how she looks after the rift) so it seems like she didn’t know.

Wouldn’t it have made more sence if after Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” Honerva looked confused/shocked? If she became defensive and said Allura was lying/trying to insult her? There’s def anti-Altean propaganda in the empire so it would be considered an insult.

After that she starts questioning Zarkon. And when she looks into his mind, it’s out of genuine curiosity and desire to know the truth, not because, “the empire needs him” or whatever that meant.

And isn’t it a bit odd that she doesn’t seem betrayed at all when she finds out Zarkon has been keeping all this from her? She’s just like, “oh, you’re my husband? Cool.” Wtf???

2. Her past relationship with Zarkon

Okay, I love Zonerva, but if we’re being honest, Zarkon was not the best husband. He enabled the shit out of Honerva, even when it was obvious that the rift was doing serious damage to her physical and mental health. To me, it seems like Zarkon was so blinded by the power the rift gave him that he didn’t realize/ignored the negative effect it was having on Honerva. In the same way he downplayed the negative impact the rift had on the planet.

I think that should’ve been explored more. Maybe Honerva notices that she’s been acting differently and is worried somethings wrong (think S5 Kuron). And Honerva tries to tell Zarkon that she feels strange and Zarkon just brushes it off.

And later, when Alfor visits Diaibazaal years later. Things are pretty much the same except when we sees Honerva, she is very obviously pregnant and Alfor’s there when Honerva falls and goes into labor (instead of a random quintessence seizure). Alfor and many Galran doctors try their best to save her and the baby but she dies in childbirth.

Zarkon goes ballistic. He’s yelling, throwing doctors across the room, and Alfor turns to the doctor holding Lotor and tells them to get the baby to safely, fearing Zarkon will take his grief out on the baby.

Zarkon turns on Alfor, blaming him for Honerva’s death and accusing him of letting her die so that he could get his way and close the rift. He lunges Alfor and roars at him to leave.

He spends the rest of the night grieving at Honerva’s bedside, when Kova jumps on the bed and starts gnawing on her finger trying to wake her up. This is what gives him the idea to bring her back with quintessence.

3. Her current relationship with Zarkon

I think it’s pretty safe to say that they’re relationship didn’t get better after the war began. Zarkon hid her identity and her child from her for 10,000 years and essentially used her as a tool of war. It’s pretty fucked up.

I know it’s pretty well established that Zarkon treats Haggar with more respect than his other underlings, but I feel like it would be interesting to see that change overtime. We see that after Voltron comes back, Zarkon becomes very obsessed with Voltron/Black, and he and Haggar start disagreeing more and more.

Remember the moment where one of Haggar’s druids told Zarkon Haggar said he needed to rest and Zarkon hit them with his bayard and told them, “remember who your master is”? What if, instead of a random druid, it was Haggar who he hit?

I feel like that would be a good way to show Haggar and the audience just how much Zarkon’s obsession with Voltron is affecting him, and make the audience feel a tiny bit bad for her.

Then later in season 4, when Zarkon wakes up from his coma and finds out Haggar brought Lotor back to take his place he gets pissed. He puts a price on Lotor’s head and has Haggar arrested for treason. She steals a ship, escapes, and later on meets up with Lotor’s generals.

Her and Zarkon are officially broken up and her quest to reclaim her identity and get her son back begins.

4. Oriande

I never liked the concept of chosen/sacred Alteans. The idea that some Alteans are just born more powerful than others just feels iffy. My idea of Oriande is that it’s an Altean holly land, any Altean can enter it just depends on whether or not you can pass the White Lion’s trial. Passing the trial proves that your intentions are pure and and the White Lion will bless you with power.

I didn’t like how Honerva seemed to force her way into Oriande, I think it would be more effective if she had gone through normally because, at this point, her intentions were pure. She was going there to purge herself of the dark magic corrupting her and reclaim her memories so she could go get her son back.

I also like the idea that Oriande is a sorta link to the Altean after life, and you can speak with people you’ve lost. Allura gets to speak with Alfor, and Honerva speaks with her mother.

You could also have her be confronted by the spirits of the Alteans she helped destroy. Have the weight of her past actions bear down on her. An important part of any redemption arc is acknowledging the terrible shit you’ve done in the past, and that was severely lacking in Honerva’s arc.

Another interesting thing you could do is have Honerva talk to her younger self. The one that died 10,000 years ago. This kinda thing actually happened in 80s Voltron, young Haggar appearing in Haggar’s head trying to convince her to be good again.

5. Her relationship with Lotor

Now this is where the redemption arc really falls apart. I forget who, but one of the writers said after S5 that Haggar/Honerva was motivated purely by love for her son, but man did they do a bad job of showing that.

And it would’ve been so easy to fix that problem, just have her not be horrible to him. Have them have actual civil conversations, have her protect and defend him. Don’t have her reject him as a fucking baby!

Imagine if, after Zarkon destroys Lotor’s planet, instead of immediately deciding to

exile him, Zarkon says that this is the final straw and he’s going to have Lotor executed. But Haggar speaks up to defend Him. There’s actually a scene in DOTU where Zarkon tries to kill Lotor and Haggar gets on her knees and begs for him to be spared. (Though the scene was mostly played for laughs.)

she asks for mercy and justifies it by saying it would be unwise to kill his only heir. It’s a weak argument, Lotor’s a half breed and couldn’t realistically take the throne, but Zarkon does concede, he still loves her after all, and has Lotor exiled.

And Haggar isn’t spying on him because she doesn’t trust him, but because she’s concerned for him. When Lotor confronts Haggar about sending her cronies after him, she says she knows he’s hiding something. Lotor asks if she’s threatening him, thinking she’s going to rat him out, but she says no, she’s not threatening him, she’s just trying to warn him against doing anything stupid because, with Zarkon seemingly on his death bed, the empire needs Lotor’s leadership.

At this point in the story, Haggar is questioning her loyalty to Zarkon, so I feel like it would make sense for her to be silently supporting Lotor from the shadows.

Then at the Kral Zera in season 5, It was weird to me how she was helping Lotor through Kuron while also telling him he couldn’t be emperor and trying to put Sendak on the throne. I feel like it would’ve made more sense for Sendak to just show up on his own without Haggar.

Haggar wouldn’t even be at the Kral Zera, she would just watch through Kuron.

And then we get to S6 when she actually reveals to Lotor that she’s his mom. This scene was just so poorly done. She never actually apologizes to him, she’s just like “yeah I forgot you were my kid and I never loved you, but were cool now right?” I remember when I saw S8E2 and it shows her after Lotor rejects her and she looks like she’s about to cry, I was just thinking, “this would be very emotional and sad IF she had actually apologized and made it clear that she genuinely loved him.” But she didn’t and I don’t know why!

And then we get to season 8, and of course everything in S8 is bad but Honerva’s story is particularly bad. She’s supposed to be motivated by love for Lotor yet she doesn’t act like she actually cares about him at all.

She manipulates his corpse and when she sees his gross melted body, she doesn’t even react that much. When a mother sees her child’s mutilated corpse, how do you think she reacts? Screaming? Crying?? Hurling??? But no. She’s just like, “...”

And then when she goes to the alternate reality and meets baby Lotor and he rejects her, her reaction isn’t disappointment or sadness, it’s anger and entitlement. She immediately decides, “ok, fuck this kid. Let’s destroy this reality.”

It just doesn’t make sense! This is the season you’re trying to REDEEM her! Why are you going out of your way to make her so vile?

6. Her S7-S8 plan

(Keep in mind I haven’t watched S7/S8 since they came out and barely even watched S8 to begin with, so I don’t remember some things and I can’t be bothered to rewatch them.)

Okay, starting with S7, she’s not in this season at all but in “The Ruins” the druid dude says that her final order was to hunt and destroy the Blade of Marmora. I guess it makes a certain amount of sense because she saw that it was Keith who brought Lotor’s actions to light, but that whole plot was really pointless in my opinion. (Was anybody really hoping for a rematch between Keith and that one random druid?)

If you want us to forgive Honerva for her crimes, you really shouldn’t keep adding more unnecessary crimes. It’s established that there were a lot of Galra war lords vying for power and pirates looking for money, just have it be that Kolivan got kidnapped by one of them.

Then you have her season 8 plan and I’m gonna be real with y’all, I have no idea how to fix this mess.

I feel like the basics of her plan could work. She tries to get Lotor and Sincline out of the rift but when she gets him he’s a melted corpse so the plan then becomes to use sincline to go to another reality to find a living Lotor, but opening all these rifts causes problems and the paladins have to stop her.

But all the shit with manipulating the colony Alteans, killing the White Lion, desecrating Oriande, and destroying Olkarion and entire realities, it was all so unnecessary.

Personally I would cut the colony Alteans from the story all together, there are other ways for Lotor to betray the team. It was a lazy way of making Lotor 100% evil and having Honerva manipulate them is unnecessarily cruel, especially in the season you’re trying to redeem her.

Here’s a very basic outline of how I would do this plot.

If we’re going by season 8’s logic that she needs a sacrifice to bring back Sincline, I would’ve had the Galra she killed at the Kral Zera be the sacrifice, not the White Lion. She stands on the pyramid and talks about how the empire stole her life from her and she wants revenge as she absorbs their quintessence into herself and then uses that to bring back Sincline.

Then when she finds Lotor dead she takes Sincline and uses it to go to another reality where she can be with her family.

The danger comes when she opens rifts to the other realities and rift creatures start coming out and causing damage. The paladins fight them and follow her into the rift to stop whatever evil plan she may have. Because the paladins don’t know that Haggar is now Honerva and all this is just to get Lotor back. They think this is all some plan for multiverse domination or some shit.

Meanwhile Honerva has just been rejected by little Lotor and seeing Voltron show up pushes her over the edge and they fight.

But when they find out the real reason she’s doing all this they start trying to appeal to her and convince her to give up and close the rift peacefully. And similarly to how the paladins had to sacrifice the castle to close the rifts created by the fight with Lotor, Honerva has to sacrifice herself to close the rifts.

In the end, I feel like a Honerva redemption arc could’ve worked if the writers were actually competent and actually made an effort to have her be sympathetic, but In canon, her reasoning, “If I can’t indulge in the simple joys of life, why should anybody else?” just doesn’t cut it.

It’s disappointing. VLD had so much potential. I’m thinking of just rewriting the entire series from the beginning. Hopefully putting all my thoughts out into the universe will help me move on.

#voltron #voltron legendary discourse #haggar #honerva #Lotor #prince lotor #Allura #princess allura #vld #vld critical #Altean #voltron season 8 #zarkon #emperor Zarkon #zonerva #Galra #redemption arc

180 notes · View notes

ggukkieland · 3 years

Text

📕CURRENT READS (2020 November)

🌹 Almost done with the list except for a few and I am excited to curate fics that are fitting for merry December 🎅❄🎄🤶 woot woot!

I enjoyed this month’s reads - a mix of cyberpunk au, android au, werewolf aus, slice of life, exes and those on the verge of breaking up, and lots of beautifully-written drabbles which ended up in my list of favorites.

Please send these authors some love by reblogging their content =)

✅ - done reading | S (smut) F (fluff) A (angst)

🥕[Ongoing Series - to check weekly]

Still reading the ongoing series from October’s reading list, whenever there is an update 😊.

Onyx @springbean - JJK | ABO universe, omega!reader, rouge!Alpha!Jungkook, roommates, cyberpunk au | A, F (this is so fascinating)

[2/?] years after the war, Soketh has become a bustling electric city of life and death. a world now filled with mystery, danger, and rules, y/n finds herself rooming with her old friend while trying to find herself in the city of dangerous dreams. however, her world is turned upside down when a rouge alpha enters their life seeking refuge and help…

Vulgar and Divine @yeoldontknow - JHS | elf!hoseok au, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, fantasy au, horror, suspense | A, S

[1/?] The Elf King buys your hand in marriage as an act of political strategy - you, the Banshee Priestess and your ability to forewarn death in exchange for your people’s return to your original home in the River Lands. You hate him for the way his kind make a mockery of death. Even before you meet him, you decide you will not grieve his death - not even a little. But then, on the day of your wedding you begin to weep - and it is not out of love or rapture.

Kitchen Confidential @glitter-kookiedough - KSJ | chef au, slow burn, enemies to lovers | A, F, S

[3/?] After years of annoying the life out of you, your rival, Kim Seokjin, pushes you a step too far and he knows it. As angry and resentful as you are, you don’t realize that something has been brewing under the surface for years. This weekend, that will change. 🌟 new chapter🌟

enemiestolovers drabble series @sincerelyourfangirl - JJK | enemies to lovers, fwb, co-workers | S, A, F

[3/?] Maybe the line between love and hate is thin. Especially when you’re in bed with Jungkook.

Challenge Accepted | What Happens When You’re not Careful | Risky Business

The Lost Luna @hobisbeautifulass - KTH | werewolf au, soulmate au, rival clans | F, A

[2/?] One Luna is born per a hundred-year cycle or so and only appears after the previous one has passed away. This Luna was forced into hiding for seventeen years, but now she’s back, bloodthirsty, and ready to reclaim her throne.

Mutual Help @personasintro - JJK | bestfriend au, fwb au, fake dating | A, S, F

[24/?] in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it a mutual help

Bite Me @cheeky-kookie - PJM | vampire au | A, F, S

[1/?] Growing up, you always learned to look over your shoulder at night, hoping to never run into the catlike gleam of a vampires eyes. Yet, one night on your way home you find yourself staring into the very things you feared most. Dangerously beautiful and undeniably confident, Park Jimin was everything you knew you needed to stay away from, but he had other plans.

Nut Jobs @ironicarmy - OT7 | slice of life, crack, humor, friends au | S

[5/?] Eight friends. One terrible idea. A whole lot of trouble. Welcome to No Nut November.

Cherry Pickers @kimnjss - JJK | social media au, smau, gamer, fuckboi, vixen!reader, virgin!reader | F, S, A

[4/?] [updates daily] known for your body and surrounded by rumors about your sex life… rumors that he doesn’t think to doubt. until he’s meeting you… forced to realize there’s much more to you then the thonged shorts and lacy costumes.

(or, you’re a video vixen with an assumed identity and jungkook manages to see past it.)

Across the Board @out-of-jams - KTH | 20s, gambling, mafia au, enemies to lovers | S, A

[1/?] And now you’re indebted to the city’s most dangerous mob boss, forced to pay your dues in blood one way or another. With a gun pushed into your hands and your life at stake; once you’re in, you’re in. You’ll never get out.

🥕[Completed AUs/Series/Drabbles - to read]

Through Time and Space @taephilia - 10.6k | KSJ | F, A, sci-fi, time travel au, adventure, doctor who au

re: Untitled @to-star-lake - 18.8k | JJK | A, S, F, ceo au, arranged marriage, childhood acquaintance turned enemies (one of my favorites this month 🥰)

01 02 03 04 ✅

Moral of the Story @suhdays - 7.7k | JHS | A, F, S, strangers to loves, soulmate au, OC can tell if people are telling the truth (really interesting) ✅

In the Margins @bonvoyagenoona - 31k | MYG | F, S, A, writer au, humor, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, editor!reader, writer!yoongi [also on AO3]

01: Winter (5k words) ✅ 02: Spring (6k words) 03: Summer (7k words) 04: Fall (13k words)

Into my Bones @inkofyoongi - 15k | MYG | S, F, A, fwb to lovers, slice of life-ish, non-chronological (this is awesome 🌟) ✅

A Human Touch @snackhobi - 39.1k | KTH | F, S, robot au, android!taehyung

01 ✅ 1.5 02 (will finish the rest of the chapters; this is so good)

Supply and Demand @scribblemetae - 5.7k | MYG | S, A, supernatural au, telepathic!myg, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers ✅

More than Us @jeongi - 11.3k | KTH | F, S, college au, roommate au, best friend to lovers

Moirai @jimlingss - 46.9k | KTH | F, A, isekai au, fantasy au, reborn as a villain in a video game

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Taking Flight @rmnamjoons - 15.2k | KNJ | S, sci-fi, post-apocalypse, rivals to friends to lovers au

Lining’s Silver @sketchguk - 14.1k | MYG | S, F, College au, idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers

Even a Forest Fire Dies Out @9uk - 6.6k | JJK | A, F, exes au (a re-read) ✅

Southpaw @starshapedkookie - 30k | JJK | A, S, F, childhood friends, college au, boxer au, kinda e2l-ish (a re-read, that fight scene was just exhilarating) 🔥🥊 ✅

All That We Had @starlightauroras-writes - 13k | JJK | Heavy A, S, F, exes au, reunion, ex-husband!JK ✅ (author said there’ll be Pt2)

After the Honeymoon Fades @onherwings - 13k | MYG | A, S, F, established relationship (on the rocks), producer!yoongi, professor!OC ✅

Cozy Thief @bratkook - 5.1k | JJK | F, S, roommates au, mutual pining ✅

Quiet Baby by bratkook - 3.2k | JJK | S, established au, pwp, exhibitionism✅

Come Over by bratkook - 7.2k | JJK | S, pwp, neighbors au, voyeurism ✅

Tear You Apart by bratkook - 17.4k | KTH | S, pwp, slight horror, paranormal

01 ✅ 02 (to read)

Breathe @ephemeralkookie - 6.9k | JJK | A, S, F, exes au, multiple break-ups ✅

Shield @namgukgalore - 18.6k | JJK | F, S, slow burn, security guard!JJK, co-workers au ✅

Imitation of Art by namgukgalore - 9.6k | KTH | F, S, romance, friends to lovers

High School Reunion @btsarmy9593 - 6k | MYG | F, reunion, second chances ✅

One Night Ride by btsarmy9593 - 3.8k | JJK | F, hints of S, college!JK, noona, one night stand au ✅

Off the Table @fakeleaves - 11k | KNJ | A, F, exes to lovers ✅

By its Cover @crystaljins - 38.9k | JHS | F, A, enemies to lovers, demon au, magic/supernatural, witch!reader

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 ✅

Your Eyes Tell @njkbangtan - 40k | JJK | A, F, mild S, soulmate au, roommates au, enemies to lovers, slow burn, a bit sugar baby au, lawyer!reader, artist!jungkook

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 ✅

Popular-ish (drabble series) @hansolmates - 16.1k | JJK | F, S, A, popular!JJK, normie!reader, college au, fwb-ish

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 ✅ 🥰

One More Time (Finale) - 7.3k | reunion ✅

No One @dfdph - 21k | JJK | A, extreme sports, slice of life, epistolary (in form of letters), heavy angst (not kidding! with trigger warnings; written so beautifully but angst may not be for all) ✅

Repercussions: Suspenders, Satin and Stockings @pars-ley - 3.1k | MYG | S, pwp, established relationship ✅

Have Faith in Me @aroseforyoongi - 6.4k | KTH | S, F, werewolf au, soulmates au, bestfriends to lovers ✅

The Art of Boxing @seokiie - 3.1k | JJK | S, pwp, boxing au ✅

Beautiful Confession @btsracket - 6.3k | JJK | S, F, fake dating, friends to lovers ✅

Tongue Tied @btssavedmylifeblr - 12k | PJM | S, F, minor A, crack, demon au, idol verse, established relationship, pwp ✅

Infamous @sugaxjpg - 12.5k | KTH | S, A, secret relationship au, fuckboy au ✅

Familiar Stranger @army-author - 7.3k | KTH | F, friends to lovers, high school au, mixed-up identity ✅

Strangers Again @minniefilms - 11.4k | JJK | A, F, enemies to lovers, best friend’s boyfriend

01 02 03 04 drabble ✅

Ruin Him @kingsuckjin - 3.5k | JJK | S, pwp, virgin!JK, coworker au ✅

Sex Education @extravaguk - 12k | JJK | S, F, A, brother’s best friend, virgin!OC (actually came out fluffier than expected 🥰) ✅

In your Eyes @sweetaesuga - 10.6k | JJK | S, F, A, college au, fratboy au, ex-fuckboy jk, friends to lovers ✅

Drabble Series: In Your Heart [4/11] ✅

Lunar Violence @taetaesbaebaepsae - 7.4k | JJK | S, rock band au, werewolf au, ABO dynamics, strangers to lovers ✅

A Fallen Bookmark on a Thursday Afternoon @cutaepatootie - 19k | JJK | A, F, S, strangers to lovers, takes the same train every Thursday 😭 ✅

There You Are @joonkookiemonster - 13.4k | JJK | F, S, ABO dynamics, werewolf au ✅

Here I Come @jiminssthetic - 3k | JJK | S, pwp, college au, friends to lovers ✅

Morning Rush @atdawnsuga - 3.2k | JJK | S, college au, exhibitionism, strangers ✅

(in)Satiable @thatlongspringnight - 11.3k | JJK | S, F, incubus au, lucid dreams ✅

The Red Pool @ksmuttherapy - 3.1k | JJK | S, horror, vampire au, dusk til dawn vibes

inTOXICated @sugarjaee - JJK | A, S, toxic relationship, college au, fboi au

01 02 03 04 05 06 ✅

Inebriated [Jungkook’s POV] - 7.4k, read after chapter 4 ✅

You’re so Creepy (drabble series) @whatifyoulivelikethat - 2k per member | OT7 | F, crack, university au, creepy girl au, (actually cute)

There’s always at least one campus creepy girl. Or seven. Part 1 (1st kiss) Part 2 (2nd meeting)

kim namjoon - part i | part ii (fave) ✅

kim seokjin - part i | part ii (fave) ✅

min yoongi - part i | part ii ✅

jung hoseok - part i | part ii (fave) ✅

park jimin - part i | part ii (fave) ✅

kim taehyung - part i | part ii ✅

jeon jungkook - part i | part ii ✅

🥕[Drabbles]

Feeling @sometimeinjoon - 2.3k | JJK | demon JJK, established relationship, a bit slice-of-life | love this so much ✅🥰

Warmth @artaefact - 306 words | JJK | fluff, fantasy au, incandesce couple ✅

Too Close @taestybae - 1.4k words | JJK | expecting parents au, boxer au, angst ✅

“i’m yours, in every way you’ll have me” by taestybae - 0.8k | KTH | S, A, fwb au ✅

“Are you Sure?” by taestybae - 2k | KTH | S, F, brother’s best friend | love this! ✅ 🥰

“The strings are attached already” @taetaespeaches - 1.8k | KNJ | angst, fwb ✅

Deep End @latetaektalk - 2.2k | MYG | angst, fuckboy au, a bit of fluff ✅

Game Boy @suqakoo - 2.7k | JJK | S, gamer au, enemies to lovers, a bit of fluff ✅🔥

Reese’s It’s All for You @joonkookiemonster - 3.1k | JJK | F, demon au, roommate au, Driving me Wild Halloween Drabble ✅

Transparent @kingsuckin - 793 words | JJK | S, pwp, established relationship, see-through JJK shirt 😉 ✅🔥

Savage Love @whatifyoulivelikethat - | JJK | S, pwp, OC is yoongi’s ex 😬 ✅

🌹 Drabbles by @zephyoongist - I love the way these are written. Just beautiful. Truly fluffy (like butterflies in my stomach) and also gives off a deep/for keeps type of dynamics between the characters:

you and yoongi had an unusual friendship... - 665 words | MYG | fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers ✅🥰

kim taehyung had only met you a few times… - 1.2k | KTH | fluff, accidental pregnancy au ✅🥰 (a fave)

there wasn’t any particular reason as to why min yoongi chose you to be his mate - his luna… - 840 words | MYG | fluff, werewolf au, slice of life ✅🥰

jung hoseok found you when you were about to make the biggest mistake of your life… - 1.5k | JHS | fluff, runaway bride, slice of life | really cute ✅🥰

540 notes · View notes

thotinshield · 3 years

Text

Danny’s Bagginshield Fic Recs (2021)

I haven’t done a fic rec in literal years, and I keep meaning to, but then I... don’t. This is a massive list - so I will put it under a read more to save your dashes.

Modern AUs

A Remover of Obstacles by MistakenMagic

"Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

(Note: This fic deals with a lot of mental health stuff, panic attacks, etc, so please please mind the tags.)

By Request by HildyJ

As a musician, Thorin's life can be summed up in tempos. For instance, the concerto he's perfoming on Friday is Allegro - quick and bright, followed by Andantino - slightly slow, and then back to Allegro again.

On the other hand, his relationship with his cute neighbour? Larghissimo - very, very slow.

Stepping Stones by misplacedkisses

It feels like it's fate Thorin's trying to resist, his destiny, his bloodline.

Fresh out of inpatient, Thorin's struck with the urge and maybe it's fate (or therapy) that has him stumbling into a late-night cafe instead. It may be the start of a new life.

Write Me Down Easy by lucyraebrown

Bilbo Baggins, a simple man with a wish for something more than his life teaching high school English, is obsessed with a famous author by the pen-name Oakenshield. Although he knows the future is dim for his chances of finding out about the man behind his favorite book, it's reassuring to know someone has the same thoughts about the world.

Fix-its

I'll Die to Care for You by thehufflepuffhobbit

His gaze landed on Mahal's eyes once more. "You did your best, Thorin." It was tempting to look away; he wanted to deny that with everything he had. It certainly didn't feel as though falling into Gold Sickness and then dying was doing his best. Mahal smirked, as though he knew Thorin's desire to contradict him, and pinched his cheek before walking over to a table. "Aye, I didn't think you would believe me. I'm not lying, it certainly could have gone better. More according to my plan, but I know you really did try."

"Your plan?" He didn't know if he should ask, really. Knowing that his Maker had set a course for him, he didn't want to think about the ways he had done everything wrong. There were too many examples of mistakes in his long life, too many opportunities that he had missed that had probably been planned for him from the beginning.

Or:

Mahal feels like Thorin fucked up his legacy and gives him a do over.

Roses of Iron by Porphyrios

Two years after Bilbo returned from his adventures, he's made his peace with being back in the Shire. He still wonders what might have happened if things were different, but figures all that is behind him now. A mysterious visitor turns out to be someone he never thought he'd see again, and he's shocked by the news he hears.

Beside Myself by bliboboggins

"What are you doing? Just who do you think you are?" Startled, Bilbo turned around slowly. And there, in a familiar patchwork dressing gown, brandishing a fire poker wildly about, was... Bilbo.

i wouldn't have danced like that with any but you by Percyjacksonfan3

Thorin has survived the Battle of the Five Armies but his relationship with Bilbo is uncertain and precarious, especially in the newly reclaimed kingdom of Erebor. With Kíli set to marry Tauriel, and the Dwarves of Erebor still holding prejudice against outside races, Thorin must choose between his nephew's happiness or his own.

Though he believes sending Bilbo back to the Shire is for the good of everyone, he and the rest of Erebor are thrown into turmoil when 5 years later his nephews secretly plot to bring Bilbo back. Coming face-to-face with Bilbo again makes it impossible for Thorin to stay apart from him any longer- but is Bilbo still willing to be with Thorin once more after he broke both of their hearts?

A Matter of Payment by heartshapeddog

"And Thorin rose from the little table, keeping Bilbo’s fingers crushed gently in his own, and went down to his knee before him. Bilbo was struck with the likelihood that no creature greater than a farm-dog had lowered its head before a Hobbit since the birth of Eä until this very moment. He looked down, fascinated, at the crown of Thorin’s head, bare of royal circlet, and felt at once humbled and strong.

“I swear it,” Thorin said, and Bilbo thought of the vows from Elven history, of the type which followed the oathkeeper to the ends of Arda as a deep and binding magic. Then, he took Bilbo’s knuckles up to his lips. The rasp of his beard and his soft mouth were shocking in their immediacy and contrast. Bilbo could not help his racing heart."

Feet that Wander Have Gone by WednesdaysDaughter

“Run away with me.”

Bilbo turns to see who would say such a cowardly thing only to realize it was his own traitorous mouth which has run away with his heart: They’re already down the mountain and past Mirkwood by the time he realizes no one has objected.

“What a delightful solution my dear boy,” says Gandalf who looks to the east where the eagles are skimming the horizon.

Other AUs

between synapses and circuits by MistakenMagic

Different diagnostic results slowly trickled through and Thorin swiped them all to different corners of the screen depending on their relevance and evidence of abnormality. He paused when a particular chart appeared and smiled to himself.

“What?” Bilbo murmured, sounding genuinely worried.

“Your heterochromia,” Thorin explained, meeting Bilbo’s green and blue gaze. “The irregular algorithm that causes it has been running for almost half a century.”

“Most mechatronics offer to fix it for me,” Bilbo said, looking away, seeming suddenly self-conscious.

“Then they’re idiots.”

(Note: I just love MistakenMagic’s works. That’s all. This one is good and she writes angst so so well.)

past one hundred thousand miles (feeling very still) by childishinquiry

Commander Thorin Oakenshield is the leader of the first Mars mission, Project Golden Eagle, with twelve crewmen. Back on Earth, Specialist Bilbo Baggins is their communications specialist. Making history is easy; it's much harder to deal with falling in love with the person on the other end of the signal.

Hallowbit by batherik

As simple pawn shop owner in the human world, Bilbo isn’t all that thrilled to find himself lost in Thorin’s magical undead kingdom. Lured there by an old man dressed in grey, who turned out to be a wizard, Bilbo is charged with doing a job no one wants to do: fetch the King’s head from the corn maze. The King often loses his head when his temper boils over.

In the House of a Skinchanger by Bardic

Thorin and Company have finally reached a safe house after a few crazy weeks on the road. After three days of goblins, orcs, and a massive bear that's chased them into the home of one of Gandalf's acquaintances the Company is quite exhausted and quite tired of surprises. Unfortunately for them, or fortunately there is another staying there.

Master Baggins is not who the Company expected to find, especially when he claims to be one of the only outsiders Durin allowed a title and a rank to. Although that's the least surprising thing about him.

Thorin makes some discoveries and has some observations.

Basically an AU where Bilbo is a skinchanger and the Company meet him at Beorn's on accident.

It Runs In The Family by Imagined

At first, Bilbo is very glad to hear of the new alliance between Erebor and the Shire. He is even more excited when he learns that some of his family members are coming to the Lonely Mountain to discuss the details.

That is, until the dwarves (and Thorin, who is decidedly not and never shall be his) start getting along a little too well with one of his more adventurous cousins, and Bilbo starts doubting about his place.

#bagginshield #fic recs #fic rec list #okay these aren't all my favorite fics but to do that would take days so - take these

78 notes · View notes

geckosong · 3 years

Text

Anime Recommendations

Here lies even more shows that are worth watching

Demon Slayer (2019)

A family is attacked by demons and only two members survive - Tanjiro and his sister Nezuko, who is turning into a demon slowly. Tanjiro sets out to become a demon slayer to avenge his family and cure his sister.

My Rating: 8/10

Death Parade (2015)

After death, there is no heaven or hell, only a bar that stands between reincarnation and oblivion. There the attendant will, one after another, challenge pairs of the recently deceased to a random game in which their fate of either ascending into reincarnation or falling into the void will be wagered. Whether it's bowling, darts, air hockey, or anything in between, each person's true nature will be revealed in a ghastly parade of death and memories, dancing to the whims of the bar's master. Welcome to Quindecim, where Decim, arbiter of the afterlife, awaits! Death Parade expands upon the original one-shot intended to train young animators. It follows yet more people receiving judgment—until a strange, black-haired guest causes Decim to begin questioning his own rulings.

My Rating: 8/10

Noragami (2014)

In times of need, if you look in the right place, you just may see a strange telephone number scrawled in red. If you call this number, you will hear a young man introduce himself as the God Yato. Yato is a minor deity and a self-proclaimed "Delivery God," who dreams of having millions of worshippers. Without a single shrine dedicated to his name, however, his goals are far from being realized. He spends his days doing odd jobs for five yen apiece, until his weapon partner becomes fed up with her useless master and deserts him. Just as things seem to be looking grim for the god, his fortune changes when a middle school girl, Hiyori Iki, supposedly saves Yato from a car accident, taking the hit for him. Remarkably, she survives, but the event has caused her soul to become loose and hence able to leave her body. Hiyori demands that Yato return her to normal, but upon learning that he needs a new partner to do so, reluctantly agrees to help him find one. And with Hiyori's help, Yato's luck may finally be turning around.

My Rating: 9/10

Yona of the Dawn (2014-2015)

Princess Yona lives a life of luxury and ease, completely sheltered from the problems of the seemingly peaceful Kingdom of Kouka; however, the sudden murder of the king and betrayal of her beloved cousin Su-won places Yona's life in mortal peril. Forced to escape only with Son Hak, who is both her childhood friend and bodyguard, the naïve princess soon discovers that Kouka is not the idyllic place she envisioned it to be. Poverty, strife, and corruption run rampant, making reclaiming the throne nothing more than a wishful fantasy given the kingdom's current state. With only a mysterious legend to guide her, Yona must discover a way to restore Kouka to its former glory while being pursued relentlessly by the forces of the new King of Kouka.

My Rating: 8/10

Haikyu! (2014-Present)

Inspired after watching a volleyball ace nicknamed "Little Giant" in action, small-statured Shouyou Hinata revives the volleyball club at his middle school. The newly-formed team even makes it to a tournament; however, their first match turns out to be their last when they are brutally squashed by the "King of the Court," Tobio Kageyama. Hinata vows to surpass Kageyama, and so after graduating from middle school, he joins Karasuno High School's volleyball team—only to find that his sworn rival, Kageyama, is now his teammate. Thanks to his short height, Hinata struggles to find his role on the team, even with his superior jumping power. Surprisingly, Kageyama has his own problems that only Hinata can help with, and learning to work together appears to be the only way for the team to be successful.

My Rating: 9/10

The Devil is a Part-Timer (2013)

Striking fear into the hearts of mortals, the Demon Lord Satan begins to conquer the land of Ente Isla with his vast demon armies. However, while embarking on this brutal quest to take over the continent, his efforts are foiled by the hero Emilia, forcing Satan to make his swift retreat through a dimensional portal only to land in the human world. Along with his loyal general Alsiel, the demon finds himself stranded in modern-day Tokyo and vows to return and complete his subjugation of Ente Isla—that is, if they can find a way back! Powerless in a world without magic, Satan assumes the guise of a human named Sadao Maou and begins working at MgRonald's—a local fast-food restaurant—to make ends meet. He soon realizes that his goal of conquering Ente Isla is just not enough as he grows determined to climb the corporate ladder and become the ruler of Earth, one satisfied customer at a time!

My Rating: 9/10

The Promised Neverland (2019-Present)

Surrounded by a forest and a gated entrance, the Grace Field House is inhabited by orphans happily living together as one big family, looked after by their "Mama," Isabella. Although they are required to take tests daily, the children are free to spend their time as they see fit, usually playing outside, as long as they do not venture too far from the orphanage—a rule they are expected to follow no matter what. However, all good times must come to an end, as every few months, a child is adopted and sent to live with their new family... never to be heard from again. However, the three oldest siblings have their suspicions about what is actually happening at the orphanage, and they are about to discover the cruel fate that awaits the children living at Grace Field, including the twisted nature of their beloved Mama.

My Rating: 8/10

Toradora (2008-2009)

Ryuuji Takasu is a gentle high school student with a love for housework; but in contrast to his kind nature, he has an intimidating face that often gets him labeled as a delinquent. On the other hand is Taiga Aisaka, a small, doll-like student, who is anything but a cute and fragile girl. Equipped with a wooden katana and feisty personality, Taiga is known throughout the school as the "Palmtop Tiger." One day, an embarrassing mistake causes the two students to cross paths. Ryuuji discovers that Taiga actually has a sweet side: she has a crush on the popular vice president, Yuusaku Kitamura, who happens to be his best friend. But things only get crazier when Ryuuji reveals that he has a crush on Minori Kushieda—Taiga's best friend! Toradora! is a romantic comedy that follows this odd duo as they embark on a quest to help each other with their respective crushes, forming an unlikely alliance in the process.

My Rating: 9/10

Hypnosis Microphone: Division Rap Battle - Rhyme Anima (2020)

In a world overtaken by war and conflict, "Hypnosis Microphones"—devices through which a user channels lyrics that can affect the listener's brain and even cause physical damage—were introduced to the masses by the Party of Words. Revolutionizing warfare, Hypnosis Mics have transformed words and music into the sole weapons used by gangsters, terrorists, and the military, with physical weapons having been banned from use. As a result of swooping in during the chaos, the all-female Party of Words rules over the Japanese government. Women in Japan now live in Chuuouku, while men battle over surrounding territories outside the ward through rap battles. With intentions unknown, the Party of Words begins to gather the former members of the now-disbanded legendary rap crew The Dirty Dawg to fight not for territory or war, but for their respective crew's pride and honor in the greatest rap battle of all time. The first Division Rap Battle is about to commence, and practice isn't something these rappers are going to need.

My Rating: 6/10

Kamisama Kiss (2012)

High schooler Nanami Momozono has quite a few problems of late, beginning with her absentee father being in such extreme debt that they lose everything. Downtrodden and homeless, she runs into a man being harassed by a dog. After helping him, she explains her situation, and to her surprise, he offers her his home in gratitude. But when she discovers that said home is a rundown shrine, she tries to leave; however, she is caught by two shrine spirits and a fox familiar named Tomoe. They mistake her for the man Nanami rescued—the land god of the shrine, Mikage. Realizing that Mikage must have sent her there as a replacement god, Tomoe leaves abruptly, refusing to serve a human. Rather than going back to being homeless, Nanami immerses herself in her divine duties. But if she must keep things running smoothly, she will need the help of a certain hot-headed fox. In her fumbling attempt to seek out Tomoe, she lands in trouble and ends up sealing a contract with him. Now the two must traverse the path of godhood together as god and familiar; but it will not be easy, for new threats arise in the form of a youkai who wants to devour the girl, a snake that wants to marry her, and Nanami's own unexpected feelings for her new familiar.

My Rating: 7/10

My Roommate is a Cat (2019)

Subaru Mikazuki is a 23-year-old mystery novel author, major introvert, and an awkwardly shy person. He would much rather stay home to read a book than go outside and interact with others. Further exacerbating this life of solitude, his parents tragically died in an accident many years ago, leaving him alone in the world. One day, while giving offerings at his parents' grave, Subaru runs into a small black and white cat named Haru, which he ends up taking home with him. Subaru, however, has never taken care of anyone else in his life—can he even take care of a cat? Haru is grateful toward Subaru, as he gives her all the food she wants—a luxury for a cat who is used to a rough life on the streets. But she notices that Subaru can't even seem to take care of himself! Will she be okay with this dunce?

My Rating: 7/10

#anime #anime recommendation #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #death parade #noragami #yona of the dawn #akatsuki no yona #haikyuu!!#the devil is a part timer #hataraku maou-sama!#the promised neverland #toradora #kamisama hajimemashita #kamisama kiss #my roommate is a cat #hypmic #hypnosis microphone

56 notes · View notes

specterchasing-a · 3 years

Text

Down, boy! || Eddie & Bea

TIMING: Current-ish

PARTIES: @beatrice-blaze & @specterchasing

LOCATION: Illusions of Grandeur

SUMMARY: Eddie literally runs from his problems and Bea talks some sense into him.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Suicidal ideations tw, sibling death tw.

The shops and faces lining ‘Freak Alley’ flew by in colorful blurs as Eddie’s feet slapped against the sidewalk. An over-the-shoulder glance let him know that the hellhound he attracted at a nearby cemetery was gaining on him. Its size led him to believe he’d somehow lucked out and stumbled upon a runt, or perhaps a pup if hellhounds underwent adolescence. Eddie didn’t know and, in the moment, he frankly didn’t care; it could clearly still breathe fire.

Wicked heat kissed the soles of his shoes and Eddie’s next step became more of a leap. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck,” he chanted as he darted across the street. Panic set it, but it wasn’t the sole cause of Eddie’s heart beating at break-kneck speed. A laugh erupted from his chest. He liked the threat of imminent danger. No thrill on earth matched the anxious euphoria of knowing his next breath might be his last. A hellhound would make for an interesting obituary, at least, even if the local paper reduced it to an errant wolf.

Eddie skidded to a halt in front of a building, he didn’t bother to stop and read any signage that might tell him the name of his safe haven. His hand gripped the door and flung it open. Once inside, he pressed his back against the entrance to hopefully stop the hellhound from entering with force. Unfortunately, the dimwitted beast didn’t get the memo that it wasn’t welcome and launched its body against the door with considerable vigor once, twice…

Members of the crowd turned their heads toward the commotion. Apparently, Eddie was interrupting some kind of show. His eyes snapped to the stage, landing on an unexpectedly familiar face. “Nell’s sister? I thought she was in—”

Three times.

Eddie’s thoughts were interrupted when the impact of the hellhound's small, but dense, body threw the door open. The force sent him forward and into the crowd, albeit face-down on the floor. Eddie scrambled to his feet as a few of the crowd members shrieked at the sudden introduction of a wild beast. Chaos ensued as people scattered in search of an emergency exit. Eddie whipped around in time to see flames billowing from the dog’s mouth. A few seats, recently abandoned, caught fire.

In an attempt to rectify his mistake, Eddie bolted in the direction of a fire extinguisher. A moment later, the sprinkler system kicked on, drenching everyone in sight. Eddie marched closer to the hellhound and attacked it with a stream of white froth. “Fuck off!” he commanded as the beast caught a mouthful of foul chemicals. It reared back, whining as its head thrashed from side to side. But Eddie’s bright idea didn’t deter it for long. The hound stumbled forward and prepared for another attack.

Freedom was a nasty concept to Beatrice. As a child, picking flowers and stealing moments with Leah was freedom. Teenaged Bea had found parties she snuck out to were freedom. Before she died, freedom had been her secrets, she had held freedom in clenched hands, hidden from her coven and family. Now, she had died and come back, her secrets revealed and discovered. Her freedom was not her secrets any longer, so what was it?

She had thought the stage was freedom until death and rebirth. It became a cage, a spectacle that could be used to see how different she had become. Deciding to reclaim it, to allow everyone to see who she was now, that tasted like an early summer morning. It had the stillness before a busy day, it had a moment of peace in it. It tasted like the beginnings of freedom, a taste she had begun to remember and enjoy in New York.

It did not taste like smoke, a flavor that had snuck into her mouth as she performed. Smoke had no place in her show now, not now that she couldn’t control the flames. Her element was no longer fire and smoke was no longer a flavor she could feel safe tasting. She was off the stage and stalking forward to the Hellhound as people rushed out of the theater.

She recognized the man in front of the hellhound vaguely, though she had no idea how. He was trying to smother the beast with a fire extinguisher and Bea couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Of course this is how her first performance since Adam would be.

Her shadows leapt out, tightening around the beast mouth, clamping it shut as others worked around it’s paws. “What the hell were you thinking bringing this into my business?” She’d have to call Nell to help her with this.

Eddie watched in startled wonderment as shadows turned themselves into shackles around the hellhound’s paws. A muzzle of the same making wrapped around its jaws while it struggled against its newfound restraints. Smoke seeped out of the muzzle, but the fire was contained for the time being. Magic, he figured. Not cheap illusions, but actual magic.

He jumped at the sound of Beatrice’s voice demanding his attention. Eddie already felt guilty before she spoke, now the feeling consumed him. He turned to face her with an apologetic expression. As far as he could tell, they were the only two people remaining inside the venue. No one would be around to see him be reprimanded, at least.

“It chased me,” Eddie explained with a helpless shrug. “What was I supposed to do, die in the street?” For someone who wanted to say he was sorry, the words didn’t come to him. He hated that about himself, the way he instinctively took a defensive stance when he felt cornered.

The crashing realization that Nell might still be too ill to handle this hit Bea hard and fast. It was like a softball to the stomach as she remembered how grief could hurt a person’s magic, Nell could struggle to control this Hellhound and who was Bea to ask her sister to try to after everything happened? She would have to attempt to deal with herself and if it was too much, then she would call Nell.

The face of an apology with defense on their lips was something Bea was intimately familiar with. She had been that way, she occasionally was still that way, and while the familiarity softened her, a scowl had already found its way onto her face. “That is not at all what I said or implied.” Her arm swung out behind her, “This is the place you decided to run in. Did you see how many people were in here? What would the plan have been if I wasn’t here? Let the people here burn and hope for the best?” She didn’t know this man, but that didn’t stop her scolding tone. “How did you even get chased by a Hellhound?”

With each question Bea asked him, Eddie’s guilt worsened. He never meant to hurt anyone, but he seemed to be paving the road to hell with his good intentions as of late. Regardless of what he did, it usually turned out to be a wrong move. For the moment, he elected to put his pity party on the back-burner. Bea didn’t know him and she likely wouldn’t harbor much sympathy for a grown man who nearly cost dozens of innocent people their lives. For that, he couldn’t blame her.

“I was, uh, at the cemetery down the road apiece,” he answered her most recent question, pointing his thumb in the direction he came from. “It was just kinda hanging out and didn’t like that I was too.” Eddie failed to mention that he tried to film it, and that he whistled for its attention in an attempt to get a clear shot of its face. The camera he used wound up as a substitute chew toy after it slipped out of his hand mid-sprint.

“I tried to hold the doors shut,” he ventured. “If you weren’t here, I—” Eddie’s gaze fell to the fire extinguisher in his hand. What a joke. “Yeah, I probably would’ve been the reason someone died tonight.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he looked at Bea again. “Thanks for not letting that happen.”

A noise of frustration left Bea’s nose as she turned back to the Hellhound in front of her. Nell had a soft spot for them, it would be wrong if she just called Kaden here to kill it. It was a monster that could kill people, but her littlest sister liked them. It would hurt her to know Bea killed it without an attempt at some humane solution. She wasn’t particularly sure how to be humane to a monster, but she would figure it out.

“Are you new to this whole thing?” Bea asked tiredly. He had to be around Adam’s age, but he had none of the experience that had let Adam survive as long as he did from what she could see. Not that had done much in the end, had it? He was still gone. “Sometimes when you see something like this the best thing to do is give it space or call someone who is trained to take care of things like this.” The hunters she trusted in this town were struggling to survive or gone.

Bea leaned against the back of the seats nearest her, her exhaustion hitting her all at once. “There won’t always be someone like me there. What will you do then?” How will you survive?

Bea seemed to be at the end of her rope, and a sneaking suspicion told Eddie he wasn’t the sole cause of her weariness. He thought about Nell and the contagiousness of grief. All at once, he became less concerned with self-pity. Compared to the Vurals, he had it easy. Eddie wished he could share that with them instead of dragging Bea down with his inability to make good decisions. He kept saying he would start being better for the people around him, when did he plan on actually doing it?

“No, I’m not new to this,” he answered truthfully. Whatever he said to Bea had a chance to get back to Nell. Eddie couldn’t afford to lie to her even if the lie was easier to hear than the truth. “Tonight just sucked.”

He considered her next question carefully. “I used to know.” Again, Eddie chose honesty. Until recently, he didn’t care what happened to him in situations like what happened tonight. Live or die, it didn’t matter. Part of him, and it was a big part, still felt that way, but now people cared about him. That made things murkier. “I guess I’d die if that happened.” Despite his inner turmoil, he sounded shockingly nonchalant. “I’m trying not to be okay with that.”

For a moment, Bea almost laughed. Waves of optimism had carried her afloat that last few days, but now she felt the current shifting beneath her feet. There were only so many times she would claim that things would get better. She was exhausting herself carrying everyone else’s hope on her back, but she had tried it the other way before. She had seen what it made her and she refused to go back to that.

“You should know that you shouldn’t be doing stuff in this town alone, then.” Adam should have known, they should have forced him to take someone. Bea shook her head, trying to lose the ‘what if’ questions that did nothing but worsen her guilt.

Bea’s eyes snapped toward him, her exhaustion shoved away by the fire that entered her. She pushed herself away from the chairs, taking a step toward him. “Death doesn’t just affect you,” She whispered fervently. “When you die, you change something in everyone around you. They will never get back to who they were.”

Bea had a point, Eddie realized that. White Crest sunk its teeth into anyone who dared underestimate how brutal it could be. Anyone except him, it seemed. For all his recklessness, he couldn’t get the town to live up to its reputation. Death didn’t want him back. “Yeah,” he quietly replied as his gaze fell to the floor.

Nex thing he knew, Bea seemed more vibrant than before. As she moved closer, he couldn’t tell if that was a good thing. Eddie glanced at the hellhound’s shadow-made shackles before locking eyes with her. Bea’s warning shook him. The part about his death affecting more than just him sounded a lot like similar words of caution given to him by both Nell and Morgan. But the rest, no one had ever phrased it like that before.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Eddie said firmly. “But I don’t wanna hurt either.” He knew how selfish he sounded. For years, he relied on that selfishness when no one else bothered to prioritize him. “And no one can seem to tell me how to manage both.”

“Everyone thinks I’m perfectly content not caring whether I live or die, and I guess I can’t blame them. I even put on a good enough act to fool myself sometimes, but it’s bullshit.” His throat tightened as the truth poured out of him. “I hate feeling this way. All it does is make me miserable and piss everyone else off, which is kind of exhausting.” Eddie let out a mirthless laugh. “I’m bleeding out and everyone around me is yelling about how I’m staining the carpet.” He choked back the tears trying to form in his eyes.

“No one can tell you, because you can’t.” Bea’s voice shook as she said it. There was no reason for her to lay things out for this man, yet here she was, because someone had to. “We hurt people, they hurt us, and we hurt ourselves.” She had been hurt by countless people, she had hurt countless people, and she had hurt herself. “It doesn’t make us bad people if we can learn from it.” She swallowed, “It makes us better if we learn how to forgive ourselves for the things we do.”

Bea closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a breath. That feeling he was talking about was something she understood well. “Sometimes people don’t know how to fix your bleeding, so they find something else to focus on. Blaming you isn’t fair, but it’s how they cope.” How many people have felt like this around here? How many people did she not see or help? “I think you might want to go to therapy, if you aren’t already,” She said with a shrug. “It can help. I go sometimes.” She went a lot in New York. She still went at least once a week, when the flashbacks were bad, she went twice.

Nothing Bea said relieved Eddie of the ache in his chest, but he appreciated that she said it anyway. He was beginning to learn that, try as he might, he would never find a mystical cure for the pain of living. But, if he listened, he might learn how to cope with it. He forgave others easily, but turning that kindness inwards proved more difficult. “Does that… get easier with practice?” he asked.

For the past ten years, Eddie had been going to therapy. When Bea offered it as a suggestion, he nodded solemnly. “Yeah, it makes things a little easier.” But he couldn’t be completely honest with any of the professionals he’d seen, not about seeing ghosts or anything else related to the supernatural. It felt like wearing a muzzle. When they asked about his YouTube channel, he told them it was purely for entertainment. They were always impressed by the special effects.

“Anyway,” he said, forcing himself to shift gears. “Didn’t mean to, like, trauma dump or whatever” He never did, but it was becoming harder to keep it to himself. “Is there… anything I can do to help out around here? With the mess, I mean.”

“Yeah, it does.” Bea wished there was a way to prepare people for the life that White Crest was leading them down, but there wasn’t. All you could do was tell people the truth and pick them back up when they fell. “It’s like any skill though, we all mess up eventually and you’re going to kick yourself for it. Sometimes things are going to happen and you won’t even be able to remember how to do it, but it’ll come back. It always does.”

There was a part of Bea who knew she shouldn’t be allowing herself to take someone else on, but here she was pulling someone else’s hope onto her back. Someone had to keep it safe and until they were able to, she would nurture it and treat it as though it was her own. Maybe this was her fatal flaw, the thing that would put her in the ground permanently, but until it proved as dangerous as it felt, she would flirt with it.

“Yep,” Bea grinned at him, nodding at the storage closet. “Go grab a broom. I’m going to call my sister to figure out what to do with this beastie and then I’m going to call my crew to help.” She went to walk away before pausing and looking over her shoulder, “Some days there will be too much to keep in, find people who can handle you at your worst and learn to help them too. Those people will always be with you, as long as you love them as much as they love you.”

#c: bea #wickedswriting #down boy!#suicide tw #sibling death tw #// FIONA IS A TREASURE AND I LOVE BEA WITH MY WHOLE HEART

9 notes · View notes

ms-maj · 4 years

Text

For @bettycooper on the most fantastic day of her birth! [I maaaaay have been given a slight heads up since someone wouldn’t give up the goat ;)] Thank you for all the brilliant insights and beautiful gifs and for being one of the most considerate and chill people I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. You give and give and give and I am very, very lucky to call you friend. Happiest birthday, Cat! I hope you enjoy! <3

‘Tis All Hallows Eve and throughout this great house

Dark creatures are stirring, go and hide little mouse.

Bats line the hallway, there’s cobwebs on the stair;

The veil is now lifting, the other side is just there.

Reach out and touch it, magic flows from your hands,

Fingers burn with the powers passed by time, through the sands.

Make notes in your grimoire as witches fly through the sky

We must ready our spirit, for Halloween is nigh…

“Isn’t your cousin in Prague?”

Betty looks up from her computer, the glasses she only wears when she’s been staring at the screen for an extended time sit on the edge of her nose. “What? Cousin?”

He’s waving the square of black cardstock in her direction as he shakes his head. “Your one, single cousin. The slightly over-the-top, heiress extraordinaire who has spent the last five years gallivanting across the globe.”

“And what about her?”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jughead drops next to her on the couch. Reaching over, he kisses her cheek before slotting the paper between her and the screen. “It would appear Hill House is done.”

Betty can’t help the snort that escapes her as she runs her fingers around the aged edge of the parchment. “I should say I’m surprised but, honestly, I mean, it’s Cheryl. Why wouldn’t she hand-write invitations to a soiree on the...’Hallowed Blossom Grounds’?”

Jughead is not wrong per se when he says the house is done. Thornhill has been under construction since Cheryl and Toni broke up, and she absconded from her second year of college. She made her way to Italy, where she stayed for a year before delving deeper into Europe; the art, the fashion, the architecture all appealed to her at a cellular level. Or that’s what she’d told Betty when asked about when she’d come home. (When the manor is restored or that vile harpy dies. Her words.)

He leans over and takes the invite back from her hands to re-read it. “Like either house there isn’t large enough to have this shindig, she has to be sure we plebs all know it’s the entirety of the property that we shall be partying on.”

Betty slides her glasses up to the bridge of her nose as she watches her boyfriend’s eyes roll. He leans back against the cushions, the hem of his t-shirt inching up ever so slightly. “At least we have an excuse to get dressed up this year,” she closes her laptop, sets it on the table and straddles him before he has a moment to realize what’s happening.

“And we can finally scratch the main house off our list—” The invitation flies from his fingertips and lands in the middle of the coffee table as his hands come down around her ass. He stands, wobbly as she laughs against his lips, and she’s carried to their bedroom. The costumes can wait another day.

Keep reading below or head on over to AO3

Betty’s proud, and a little relieved, when he comes back with the Addams. Though he refuses to wear pinstripes, much to her chagrin, she's quick to realize that plum, crushed velvet looks better on him than it has any right to.

Unfortunately, there hasn't been time to confer on much else. It’s been a busy few weeks. Betty’s been working non-stop; crime doesn’t stop for Halloween parties apparently, and her particular skill set always seems to be more needed in the periods just before and just after Halloween. She’s spent hours recently in front of both screen and microscope, scraping particulates into vials rather than getting ready for the ostentatious event.

And as much as Jughead has bitched and moaned about the lack of foresight in sending a group of traumatized twenty-somethings invitations in the same manner as a psychopath, he’s channeled a lot of that anxious downtime between conventions into ensuring his Gomez is true and pays proper homage to both John Astin and Raul Julia.

It makes for an incessant fluttering in her chest whenever she thinks of him. She finds it funny, the way he insists that it’s their friends who are the extra ones, but as they finally turn toward the mansion she sees the seventeen-year-old boy in him, the one who almost lost himself as the Game Master, and the beautiful, complex, eccentric man he’s become.

“I think that’s Archie’s car,” Jughead pulls their small SUV next to the blue sedan. The governor’s drive is filled, cars of all makes and models line both sides of the freshly poured asphalt. “At least we won’t be alone in the cesspool Cheryl considers a social circle.”

Betty takes one last look in the mirror before tossing strands of her silky, black wig over her shoulder and exiting the car. “And it's a beautiful night.”

Jughead hums in response and then, “This place gives me the heebs,” shuddering as the car doors click closed, the lock tone sounding terribly loud in the eerie stillness.

“You and me both,” Betty adjusts the hem of her billowing sleeve, the sleek black dress not giving her much room to breathe, let alone walk the entirety of the Blossom estate. She squares her shoulders, channeling the power and grandeur of befitting Morticia and slides her hand into that of her waiting boyfriend.

The foyer’s black marble floors gleam, shadows dancing in the flickering candlelight. The tables, four round with two on either side of the room and a long six-foot buffet table between them, are dressed in crisp white linens, centerpieces of crimson and black, and not a soul in sight.

“Hello?” Betty calls into the void. She’s answered only by the reverberation of her own voice. She looks to Jughead, sweeping the black strands of her wig from her face, she moves toward the tables. The two tables on her right are full of cut crystal flutes filled to the brim with golden champagne, the left is full of hors d'oeuvres, and sat perfectly center of the large table is a silver tray. On it, a parchment envelope with a red wax seal.

“Jesus,” Jughead exhales while retying the belt of his costume. “I knew Cheryl had a penchant for the dramatic but even this seems a little extreme.” Suddenly looking a little green around the gills, he swallows before speaking again. “Her mom isn’t…”

Betty turns around quickly and lays her palm against his cheek. “No, it’s not Penelope. I talked to Cheryl yesterday and she’s assured me that the bitch is still under lock and key."

"Good, she can rot."

"Should we just—” she twists back, reaching for the envelope but Jughead swats her hand away before it makes contact.

" Really? You're just gonna grab that, no glove, no napkin, just bare-handed in the home of a known poisoner?" He questions, eyes wide, hands grabbing at her waist and twirling her away from the table. “You’re an actual crime scene investigator, Betty. What are you doing?!”

“Jug, Juggie, I’m gonna need you to breathe,” she frames his face in her hands, tilting his head so his eyes met hers. Under the chandelier, his hair reflects the incandescent glow in it’s slicked parting. “It’s just Cheryl being Cheryl. It’s just a party,” her fingers curl and slide down his face, thumbs stopping on his chin. “I think she’s trying to reclaim this place for happier times and this is part of it. Make the bad good or something. I don’t actually know but I know she is in therapy and I guess this is just her convoluted way of working past the demons and ghosts.”

His head drops to the side, expression nonplussed, and he sighs. “Just, use a napkin, or something. I can’t help that my paranoia is bound to run rampant when things like Blossom and Gothic Horror Hellhouse are dropped back into the vernacular.”

Her heart breaks just a little as she wraps her arms around his neck. “I promise I will be more careful as we go along. I don’t know what Cheryl has in store but I imagine this is how she’s making use of the grounds.”

His hands haven’t moved from her waist, he simply tightens his grip and pulls her closer. “I’ll try to keep an open mind, and remember that this is actually for fun and not a ploy to murder us and our closest friends.”

“Atta boy,” Betty closes the gap between them, pressing her lips against his reassuringly. “Now, let’s get this party started.” She waggles her eyebrows excitedly, tossing the long black locks of her wig over her shoulder as she turns back toward the table. Jughead slouches behind her, his head resting on her shoulder, as her napkin covered hand reaches the envelope.

Sliding it back across the table cloth, Betty snags a knife from the appetizer table and slips it under the crimson seal.

Carefully, Betty uses the napkin to remove the parchment from the envelope and lays it out on the table. Jughead slides off her, moving closer to the table without actually touching anything.

His eyes squint as he tries to read the intricate script from so far away. “I can pick it up if you—”

“Because I’m sure you brought your glasses to the Halloween party?”

“Oh, my dearest, Gomez, where on Earth would I conceal glasses in this dress?”

She hears him suck in a breath and feels it, hot, on the shell of her ear. “Are we ticking this off the list first? We are all alone, Tish, you can be as loud as you want.”

Betty can feel the knock in her knees, the way her chest heaves at his tone and heat of his words. Her breath leaves in pants, short bursts of unadulterated lust she swallows down and tamps out. “You are incorrigible, Jones,” her voice drops to an even quieter tone. “And if I thought Cheryl and any of her other guests who’ve already completed their quests weren’t possibly watching, I would absolutely take you up on that.”

“Fair point,” Jughead sighs, straightening up and turning his attention back to the task at hand. As his eyes scan the words his hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Did she write these? Or did she actually pay someone? Because if she did, as a professional writer I am offended.”

Betty snorts a laugh and reads the text herself. “Oh Juggie, you are not wrong.”

Fortunately, Betty doesn’t think it’ll be too long before they get themselves through Cheryl’s finely woven tapestry of what she deems fun.

Welcome fiends, on this most holy of days

You’ve entered the first chamber and now you must play.

From this greatest hall to the haunted gallows

The path you take shall leave you hallowed

Once, full oak barrels lined its walls

But it’s been an age since the empire did fall

It has been told of spirits who wander

But you must come closer to set them asunder.

“I can’t believe this,” Jughead flicks at the padlock that’s keeping the man door closed, and them from their next set of instructions.

Betty rolls her eyes, reaching up under her hair in the back and pulling out an extra bobby pin she had used to help secure the long wig. “What kind of party would it be if I couldn’t show off the fruits of my questionable morality?”

She can barely see the pin as it disappears into the lock. The night is dark, cool, the crisp vein of fall’s majesty. The moon is full but the sky is overcast; clouds cover like sticky cobwebs blotting the light from the stars. “Mmm, I do love every shade of your gray.”

Her lips pucker and the sound of her air kiss carries loud enough for him to hear. There’s a click, the tumblers drop and the lock falls into her hand. The door swings open, a flickering incandescent light moves back and forth across the dank space. It stills, and light slowly starts to fill the barn before it starts to strobe slowly. Betty and Jughead step through the door to find another set of tables and several cages of varying size, all filled with all different types of corvids.

“Please tell me those things aren’t going to be released and we have to reenact Hitchcock before we can get the next clue, because honestly Betts, your cousin can fuck herself.”

“She wouldn’t dare. Cheryl knows perfectly well that I couldn’t run in this dress if my life depended on it.”

“And how do we know this is Cheryl? I mean, I know you said you talked to her about the party but this all just seems…”

Betty laughs. “Even more extra than usual? Understood. But that’s because, between you and me, I think she’s been missing home, and everyone, a lot, and she just wants to make sure in her patented Cheryl way that no one forgets her while she’s gone.”

She swears his eye roll is audible, because she can’t see him but knows implicitly that his eyes do indeed roll. “Why couldn’t she just hire a gourmet chef to cater? That would certainly be more endearing, and remember worthy, than having to trip the night horrific down memory lane.”

It's at this point, the birds, she realizes, are mostly fake. No, not fake fake. Taxidermied. Of course. “She’s still a Blossom, Jug. We internalized our traumas and turned them into our motivations, our tools to perform. Cheryl ran away, and now, the only way she can deal is to face everything head on. Take back the bad…”

“Make it good, right, right…” Jughead is muttering as his hand sweeps across his brow.

It’s been hard, Betty knows, to try and disassociate yourself from your familial legacy. Especially when said path leads you back to a level of depravity that you can barely wrap your head around. While she, like Jughead, have embraced their darker sides, it doesn’t mean that all the bad just disappears when you wake. His demons become characters in his books, their battles scratched out on napkins and receipts and any piece of paper that crosses his path when the inspiration strikes. He has bouts of anxiety that have to be quelled with medications, but some that breathing exercises and soft conversation will help to pass.

Betty knows it’s mostly been the combination of therapy and lack of downtime that have really helped to keep him from slipping off the edge.

“But in all seriousness, please, why did she call the elementary school and ask for third graders to write these clues?”

The space between them fills with the smell of apples and cinnamon, the small cloud from the vape pen lingers in the air. She takes the small black tube from his outstretched hand and holds it to her lips. Inhaling slowly, Betty lets the sweet, sticky intoxication take hold and inherently knows that Jughead is going to be kite-like in order to get through the night.

And she is five hundred percent okay with this.

The pen is back in his hands and at his mouth before she can exhale. Her words come out with a cough. “I actually think it was fifth graders. But the education standards in this county are seriously slipping. You should consider changing profession, I imagine most children would love to learn from such an encouraging and engaging critic.”

He snorts. “No fucking thank you. At least not, you know…” The pen is back in his pocket, his hand now scratching at the back of his neck, the slicked down hairs starting to stand under his ministrations. She reaches out and lays her hand over his and he sighs. “Maybe someday.”

Jughead slides their hands from his neck and holds her fingers to his lips before they drop and swing between them. “Until then Mr. Jones, I believe this ‘clue’ is all yours.”

Betty squeezes his hand before she steps out of his grasp; she’s looking for something to grab the awaiting envelope with. He crouches, eyes level with the sleek, black paper, fingers folding and interlocking in front of his face.

The lights strobe, flashes of wings and glinting steel catch her eye while she feels out the table. Her fingers catch the rim of a small, cut-crystal glass. She grabs the vessel and sniffs—smoke and peat—and throws back the contents in a single swig. It burns most pleasantly. Almost instantly a live crow caws, drawing her attention back to the task at hand.

She finds napkins, pushes a few up her sleeve for later and hands Jughead one so he can start the reading and direct them to their next locale.

He grabs the edge and hits the seal against the table, disrupting all the living birds who respond in discordant chaos. The paper slides from the envelope, and somehow, through the strobing lights and cacophony, he's able to read.

What is it that makes the Blossoms bloom?

The very thing that sealed their doom.

Planted soldiers, row by row

Did we reap of all we sowed?

Follow the pieces dropped from my bough

Into the circle, cast a Samhain spell.

“Did she have to go full on nightmare Wizard of Oz? A path through the maple grove? Wholly unnecessary.”

“Something about a tree, and it looking like something busted it out of it?” Betty stumbles, her heel catching on a root. Though she curses under her breath, she realizes it’s one of the very few Cheryl’s team had missed fixing while covering the entire path with the fallen leaves. (The rest she had incinerated, of course. The maple grove couldn’t look picturesque with all those leaves just laying in hodgepodge piles, after all.) She’s happy to see the tables set only a few yards away. “I was only half listening, but I remember her saying it was the perfect kind of creepy.”

He scoffs. “This whole place is the perfect kind of creepy. And if you knew all this nonsense was happening,” he turns toward her, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of the purple velvet smoking jacket, crooked mustache above a crooked smile, and looks her up and down. “Why the fuck would you wear those shoes? I mean, I’m not complaining because you look INSANELY hot but if you knew we were going to be walking over the palatial levels of acreage, then maybe—”

“True. All true. But would Morticia trade fashion for practicality? I think not, " Betty steadies herself at the main table, only slightly larger this time though still round, once again flanked by a beverage table (with a keg of cider it would appear) and another covered with small, apple tarts.

The night glows around them in all it’s autumnal splendor. Fairy lights wrap around the bases of the maple trees and twirl up through their branches. Pumpkins, some meticulously carved and others whole, fill the spaces between the trees, the tables, and line the path away from the grove.

Jughead seems to be enjoying himself, he’s at least not as tense as he was to start. His steps are lighter, he’s quicker with a smile, and he’s laughing with an ease that she hasn’t seen in far too long. The vape pen slips back into view and she smiles, but declines when he offers it. The scotch from their last stop is starting to slink in and much more inebriation will not serve her well. She picks up a glass and flips the tap on the cider, filling one for her and one for Jug, who takes it without preamble. Betty lets out a small sigh of relief when he sips the contents and doesn’t start to question the intentions behind it. In fact, he looks like he quite likes it. She starts sipping on her own, gags a little, and quickly places the cup back on the table, wishing she’d have downed more of the Islay deliciousness instead.

“This one is all you, m’lady,” Jughead tips back his cup before grabbing her discarded one and doing the same.

Her head shakes in mock annoyance. “Can you please try and maintain a modicum of sobriety? I’d like to make it to this party in one piece.”

A raised eyebrow meets her, followed by the click of the tap and the glug of liquid spilling into his cup. “I thought this was the party.”

She can hear the cider sloshing as he lifts the glass but it’s overwhelmed by the sharp hiss of her black, stiletto nails as they slice through the seal wax. “Only in your dreams.”

Her eyes scan the scrawl, pinching close briefly as she gets to the end. When she turns around to show Jughead he’s right there. She sucks in a breath and clutches the clue to her chest with a muttered Jesus.

He smiles devilishly. “You’re right about that,” his hands circle her hips and he pulls her flush. “In my dreams it is most definitely only you and me. But we’re not doing any of this.”

“Oh, what are we doing?” she asks breathless.

His head dips and he leans toward her, stopping just shy of their lips meeting. She squeaks out his name, a petulant whine, but he does not acquiesce. “I think you know exactly what we’re doing in my dreams,” Jughead digs the tips of his fingers into the flesh of her waist, the palor from the makeup looking particularly ghoulish in the din. “But more than that, even though the thought, and promise if I’m not mistaken, are most tempting. It’s just that when it’s you and me I know everything is going to be okay. That no matter how dark or cold the night you’ve always got my back.”

Betty shivers almost as if on cue, tears burning at her eyes, she reaches out quickly and grabs his face. While the paper flutters to the ground, her thumbs run up the sharp cut of his cheekbones before her lips crash into his. They have more than enough time to spare, she thinks. Besides, she knows exactly where they’re going next.

Your next adventure you needn’t enter

But prepare to face a greater task

For the next clue will not be at the ready

And there shan’t be a soul around to ask.

Follow these pumpkins

Keep close the light

Only two more remain, dear friends,

To make it through the night.

Thistlehouse was the big bad. She knew it the way he reached for her hand as its impressive visage rose from behind the treeline.

He’d only been back a handful of times, and only because his Toni had threatened his personage, so when she and Cheryl had broken up he swore up and down that he wouldn’t go back if he could help it. Yet here they were. She had assured him it would be different, that they were different, that there was nothing they weren’t in control of.

And control was most assuredly something he liked.

So she relented: the color of their bedroom, their sheet thread count, his preferred costumes (not that she put up a fight about being Mortica Addams). Once agreed upon, he dove right into the original series, watched every film iteration, studied cosplays; she watched as he got carried away by the sheer drama of it all. Jughead, she was aware, couldn’t help but love himself some drama. She recognized, quite quickly, that he had the same vim for creating their narrative, the same kind of spark that emerged when he switched from writing novels to creating graphic novels.

Betty remembers watching as that switch flipped inside of him, the magnitude of feelings when he saw his words start being represented by an artist. Then the elation of being beholden to filling those intensely rendered scenes with the words that conveyed all the expressed feelings, and did them justice.

She sees the way his eyes light up every time he mentions a storyboard, hears the excitement in his voice when his characters come to life, when they transfer from paper to corporeal and feel real and tangible in his hands. She wants to be a part of that for the rest of her life.

She shivers, pulling at the tightest section of her sleeves and tries to cover more of her arms with the taut fabric. Wordlessly, his arm slips around her waist, pulling her close to his warm body.

Sometimes, on the nights when the heaviest thoughts pervade her mind, and she starts spiraling through all the things she should have done differently, he does the same thing. Gathers her in his arms, whispers all the things he loves about her into her hair.

It's the hours (days, months, lifetimes) of listening, of shared experiences, of perspective that propelled them together and held them there. After a brief, albeit necessary step back the summer following their graduation, they came back together stronger and more committed than before. And it's sustained them these last eight years.

"What are you thinking?" His lips ghost across her temple as the tables come into view.

She smiles, lacing her fingers through his and pulling them to her mouth. Betty kisses his knuckles and nuzzles closer. "Just how lucky I am to have you."

"The feeling is very, very mutual, " he leans down and is met with a sweet kiss. She feels a tug on the hand wrapped around his. The moment they separate she's spun away, the wide hem of her dress flaring around her. She lets out a laugh and Jughead starts twirling her, spinning them through a sloppy tango toward their objective.

It's been too long since they've been this carefree, that deadlines and court dates and conventions and lab work have become their normal. They try not to allow them to take precedence in their lives though, try to ensure the living, breathing, real people always, always come first but some days that’s harder work than others.

They dizzily bump into the drinks, glasses clinking off one another as they spill onto the tablecloth. This only makes the laughter come more freeky. They take the libations, toast one another and drink down what Jughead hopes is the last vestige of maple rum in existence.

While he ravages the snack table, Betty reaches for the last envelope with shaky hands.

One more trek awaits, before your final stop

Please take this chariot, you've done nothing but walk

Follow the lights, you'll be lead right to us

To cold to enjoy it, though to look is a must

You may not believe it, but heed these words true

Your life may very well change down by the pool.

The golf cart whirrs to a stop just before Thornhill’s swimming pool. Betty turns it off and steps out, the light emanating from the thousands of cream colored candles that line the far side reflects and dances on the still surface. Candelabras from three to ten feet tall, tea lights, chandeliers, votives, pillars; you name it, that candle had a place surrounding the dark water.

“Do you think Cheryl spent more on candles than we did on the down payment for our house?” Jughead muses coming to stand beside her, elbow jut out in invitation. Betty smiles softly when her arm slots through the space. She grips tightly, her cheek coming to rest on his bicep.

“I think Cheryl probably spends more than that on even stranger things, on a daily basis,” they laugh low, content to be close, aware that their blissful solitude will soon cease. It’s just ahead—the white canvas tent marks the end of their path.

Betty’s heels echo with each step. She can’t tell if it’s as loud as it sounds in her head but reverberation seems to stutter with her pulse. The table that seemed to loom so far in the distance is mere steps ahead. This time, a gold tray rests dead center atop the crisp, clean linen, the final black envelope lies just within its confines. There are two, blood-red flutes on either side, waiting for the final clue to be read.

Without pause, Jughead reaches for it. “It’s blank.” He waves the card in front of him. Betty watches his fingers slide over the parchment, flipping it between them and examining it before the flame.

She swallows, stepping back. “I’m afraid you won’t find your answer there.”

His head turns before his body, the expression inscrutable. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying there’s nothing there. No hidden message writ with heat sensitive ink. No impressions traceable with charcoal.”

Her hands shake but there’s nothing she can do to stop them. He’s facing her now, cardstock forgotten it falls to the ground. “Betty, you promised,” his voice thick with the kind of worry that constricts all the pieces of her heart.

“I promised you would be safe. That we would be safe. And we are! There is not one part of this night that I haven’t carefully cultivated to make this an enjoyable experience,” she worries her lip between her bottom teeth when he looks away from her.

“Why? What is all this about?”

“Trust me, I know. Why would I do this? Set all this up and make you relive one of the collective worst nights of our life?”

His head swings back to her, expression screaming DUH, with the severe angle of his brows and the depth of the creases that have formed there. His arms cross over his chest as he waits for her to continue.

“I know I can't fix all the bad. But this one thing I wanted back, for the both of us. I want you to be able to go to escape rooms, or watch murder mysteries, or get surprises without triggering your PTSD. I want you to be able to stop looking over your shoulder, every minute of every day. I know how hard you work to get through, but I don’t just want you to have to put on a brave face and breathe through all those fear responses. And believe me, I’m aware that this is not a cure or therapy or anything more than me trying to reclaim something awful with something beautiful.”

She steps in front of him, bright green eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. She explains that she knows how much he loves Clue but can’t play it because sometimes it takes him to a place where he’s Mr. Body and everyone around is trying to simultaneously kill him and solve his murder, and he’s the only person in history who can say that’s too much like real life. And she hates that. Hates that he has to channel so much of that pain and anger and anxiety into characters in fictions, even though she knows it’s one of his healthier coping mechanisms. Hates that even with all the therapy and medication and love in their lives that his pain underscores so, so much of him.

“I really do love Clue,” he sniffles, tears forming in his eyes.

Betty laughs, taking his hands in her own. “I know you do. And I just want you to be able to enjoy everything, and I know I can’t make everything right. That’s not possible nor is it my job. But what I can do, is be by your side, be with you on those days when the thoughts are too heavy and you need help carrying them,” she let’s go of a shaky breath, hoping the mermaid skirt doesn’t fail her as she carefully kneels on the blanket that’s laid out next to the sparkling water.

“Betty,” his voice trembles like she knows hers will.

She releases his hand for just a moment, sliding a final, velvet envelope from the sleeve of her gown. “Forsythe. Pendleton. Jones. The Third.” Betty peels back a fold with each of his names that pass her lips. On the square sits a ring, mahogany, with a braided birch inlay, lined with soft, gleaming willow. “Jughead. The person who knows me best. Who has seen all the bad, who knows exactly who I am and what I’m capable of, and doesn’t just love me in spite of it, but because of it. You have given so much of yourself to keep the people you love safe. The huge heart, and compassion and forgiveness know no bound. And when I was young and dumb I tested the bounds of your empathy and love and risked everything because I was afraid. Because loving you was so easy and so all-encompassing I thought something had to be wrong. But the only thing wrong was me and you somehow loved me still. Your love has always been a tether, this undeserved filament that's kept me from floating into the ether."

Betty pauses to breathe, laughing though her tears, and picks the shiny wood ring up between her dark, matte nails. Their eyes meet in the excessive candlelight and Betty is infinitely thankful for waterproof mascara. “I am grateful that you stood by me. Helped me

The hand she holds trembles as she slides the ring to his finger. "If I could form a coherent thought...I would." This time he laughs with her.

"Whaddya say, Jones? Make an honest woman of me?" The ring buttresses against his hand, the pale braid of birch almost silver in the moonlight. “Marry me, Jones.” She whispers into the night.

“For the record,” his arm slides down her forearm and grasps around her elbow. She’s on her feet, level with him before she knows she’s even standing. “Yes.” His lips crash into hers, bodies practically melding into one as her fingers twine through his hair, disrupting the slick without a single care.

The lights from the main house flash on, music erupting from hidden speakers and suddenly life is breathed back into their hushed, reverent silence.

"Does everyone in there know?" He practically pants once they break apart.

"You can't think I did any of this on my own right? You're the creative and I'm, " she sighs, her fingers twirl in the hair at the nape of his neck. "The luckiest human in the world."

He leans in again though this time they're both distracted by the sound of people moving toward them. He practically whines, "Now we're never going to check Thornhill off our list."

Betty smiles devilishly, her red painted lips twist and press ever so slightly against the shell of his ear. "Oh, did I not mention Cheryl has graciously offered an entire wing so that we may properly celebrate our engagement?" His eyes go wide while over his shoulder their friends all step into view. "Save the enthusiasm for later, you can show me just how happy you are as soon as we're congratulated by five hundred of our closest friends."

His eyes narrow and fix. "We stay for two hours, anyone who doesn't fit into that time frame clearly doesn't matter. And then you show me to our room, and I prove to you, over and over and over again that this is the best night of my life."

They don’t last an hour.

#bughead #bughead fanfic #bughead fanfiction #betty cooper x jughead jones #for cat

37 notes · View notes

not-bumbles-guthrie · 3 years

Text

When The Beasts Run Wild

A weird choice for a first tumblr post but alas! I must undermine expectation! If you’re unlucky enough to be interested in reading this, here’s a little description:

In a deserted environment, brutalized by nuclear fallout, we find Cherry. She’s a quiet, nihilistic young woman plagued by the knowledge that she has lived her entire life in the remains of a society that no longer exists. The story follows her as her fellow survivors celebrate the Summer Solstice. Unfortunately, more seems to be at hand as it dawns upon Cherry and her lover that the world might be ending soon.

When it came to the explosion, no one imagined it would lead to the downfall of humanity. It would lead us to a return to order, an acoustic version of the world the humans had created. They would no longer be a part of it. It was a strange concept to grow used to as the days passed, and people were eaten at by the radiation. Of course, there were people that ran to the nuclear hostels, the ones hidden deep in the underbelly of Mother Earth. Yet, they talk of those places being overrun. One person says they were there when the President was found, slumped over. She’d also been killed by the radiation from the second blast. The person who told me this would die too in the coming weeks. Her face was bloodied when she took her last breath, shaky and demure. Then, with a flourish, she sucked in one last time, as hard as she could, and breathed out, “Fin!” While she didn’t have the strength for that exclamation point, I like to imagine her enthusiasm behind it is deserving of the emphasis.

Dogs run free now. If I had to take a guess on who ruled the expanse of land Mother left us, it would be them. She seems to have made them impervious to the air, to the invisible killer. Then again, we believe that she made us impervious to the same air. Perhaps we are just lucky, though. The dogs are destined. Eventually, we will die out. I don’t think the same can be said about the puppies, with their floppy ears and jovial smiles that cut through the particles.

I toss a piece of my flatbread to the yappy pup at my ankle. Her name is Annika, after Queenie’s grandmother who survived the first blast only to die because of the second one. She isn’t my dog; unlike most of the people here, I don’t choose dogs. They find me, visit me, and then they drift away either to their human companions or back to the dust and decay. Mother Earth would’ve blessed me with one if She wanted me to tend to a dog. They are Her chosen successors, after all. I’m merely here to die and be eaten by one of them when the time comes for my body to return to Mother through a dog’s shit that will hopefully make this land fertile once more.

Or maybe it won’t. Who fucking cares? It’s not like there’s a 9 a.m. office job to attend or a peewee football game to cheer on my snot-nosed kids at. There’s the dogs, the open sores, the radiation, and Mother Earth. That’s all. Those are the last things a human will ever know.

I used to ponder what the limits of humanity would be. I thought I would see the end of it, and that ending would be magical. We would finally know what the finality of the human brain was, what its capacity was. However, it’s become quickly apparent that in my eighteen years, nothing will ever show me that capacity. This is the capacity. The height of human invention and creativity? Its own destruction. How poetic. And to think, I was a baby and I missed it all.

It’s weird, living in a sarcophagus of time. I know everything about a culture that is dead. A species that is dead. Soon, I will be dead too. I’ve been told, by a doctor who lives in the camp, that most of us will only make it another 15 years. Maybe I’ll make it longer, he said, because I miraculously survived the first two blasts before the age of five. If I didn’t die then, perhaps I’m meant to last long enough to outlive the cancers and the ARS. Personally, I don’t think he was a very smart doctor. Even I know that’s not how radiation works. Put simply, I will be dead. It’s only a matter of when Mother Earth decides to reclaim me.

Father sits in The Temple when I return with Annika. The growth of what few flowers and vegetables can be produced in this climate surround him, billowing at his feet. His toenails were kissed by the vines of the potatoes, which had grown gnarly like his bunions. Father was a sight for sore eyes, with the fallout aging him past his years. He deserved to have a big, great white beard, but alas. All he had to show for his near two decades of turmoil was a small patch of growth on his face. He no longer had a full head of hair, and the sores on his skull near his neck opened daily with each movement. That’s what filled my vision as I walked towards him, as his head was bowed in prayer.

“Father,” came out soft and trembling. I cleared my throat. No need for that.

“Any news? Has Her Graciousness spoken to you?”

He spoke about Mother with a reverence that no one in the group possessed. He worshipped her. My mouth became dry, and its taste made me nauseated. There was nothing to report. Mother Earth had never spoken to me. She never spoke to him, why would that change with me?

“Yes, Father. She has.”

His eyes widened, pupils dilating as he took in more light. Blue rhinestones. “What did She tell you?”

I glared at Annita, nudging my head to snap back and tell her to kindly fuck off. The stupid animal simply sat there and stared at me. I rolled my eyes. “Stupid girl,” I muttered before looking Father in his eyes. “Mother Earth tells me that we will be safe for the coming Solstice.”

We had no idea if the Summer Solstice was close or not, actually. We assumed, based on the markings Monsignor Karl had kept for the past nineteen years since the first blast knocked out the power grid in the eastern hemisphere. He was the original Keeper, passing on the reins to Ingrid after he passed. It was hard to watch him go, as the cancer overtook him. For the last weeks, he did nothing but bleed from his mouth. Thanks to him, we are able to honor Mother. Kind of.

“That’s a good girl. Thank you, Cherry.”

I nodded in response, bowing at Father, before walking away. Annita followed me, yipping as we made our way to Camp. Ingrid acknowledged me with a demure nod as I passed her. She wore an ornate necklace, one that was found through scavenging when the Monsignor was still alive, that held a long-stopped pocket watch as its pendant. It was the Monsignor. It ran for the first few weeks following the Chernobyl incident, before the battery finally died. It was what helped him keep the time in the first days. Now, Ingrid wore it to simply mark herself as a special one. She could study sun patterns and tell you the approximate time of day, which made her invaluable, especially when it came down to times like the Solstices. These days, though, she seemed to be slipping up more and more. It made sense, given she was always awake when I woke up for my nightly leak. She had to be tired after being up half the night.

“Hey,” I called out before plopping myself down in front of her sundial.

“Hey yourself. Your shadow is fucking up my clock.”

That was all I needed before I was brushing myself off and moving away from Gritty. It was no matter; she was routinely not in the mood to fuck around. “Talk to you later, precious. Perhaps I’ll visit you on your nightly ‘stare at the sky’ session?”

“Fuck you,” came from behind me as I walked away. “Go concoct more lies.”

The last part came out quietly, as a small tease. My body froze up at first, with my back to her, but I could hear her chuckling in the annoying way she would. I flipped her off before turning into the tent that held our food. Dinner, it appeared, was served.

The small feast consisted of grains, including sunflower seeds, and bits of wild strawberry. For the group of ten people, it would barely make us feel full, but it was enough to satisfy the Itch. When your stomach lining is eaten away for so long, even a smidge of food does away with the Itch for a few. It would at least let us sleep until the Sun came up, flooding us with the blessings of Mother. Ingrid sat across from me, kicking at my shins when she caught me staring at her plate, which was empty but for a bit of juice stain from the strawberries.

“Perv,” she said with as much menace as love. Her smirk told me everything.

I rolled my eyes, playing with my ponytail, wrapping it around the ends of my finger. Perv. It rang over and over in my mind. So what? Was how I wanted to respond. I didn’t, though. My throat stopped me. My heart stopped me.

“Thank you for this blessed bounty, Mother Earth,” Father’s voice rang out.

“Thank you, Mother,” we whispered in a low baritone. Our heads were bowed over our empty plates.

“We worship you for saving us, Lover. Thank you for blessing us with eternal servitude to you. We will cleanse your Home, Wife,” Father continued with our heads dipping further towards our empty plates. There was a small clang as my glasses hit the edge of the ceramic. Gritty kicked at me again. I almost giggled.

This was my moment. I knew this. I had practiced this countless times. I raised my head to see the crown of Ingrid’s head, and I stopped for a minute. Her dark hair caught the last rays of the sun, and I was blinded. My voice cracked as I started us all in, singing, “Danke- Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen.”

“Thank you for all the joy you bring,” everyone started in on the second line, holding their hands out to each other.

Miss Fieri grabbed my hand. Her painted red nails scratched at my palm, and the old hole in the corner of her lip caught my eye as I faced her. Her face sagged, and her eyeliner was smudged. It was a miracle she had any. To my right, Monsignor Karl’s son, Vlad, sat though I had to reach out to wrap my palm around his amputated wrist. He smiled as he sang the lines, “Save those lies, darling, don’t explain.” It was strange to think about the fact that Mother blessed him with the stupid mustache the twinkled with as we sat there, singing. Yet, he was too stupid to become the next Keeper. That’s why we have Gritty.

Across from me, Gritty winked at me. She nodded at my hand on Vlad’s stump, and I knew what she was doing. Who’s the perv now? I thought. I relinquished my smile, giving her a disappointed nod. “Get your head out of the gutter,” I mouthed while Queenie fucked up the “Auf wiedersehen” despite the fact that her mother is from Germany. Dumbass. Gritty caught my look towards Queenie, smiling. She flipped her hair, impersonating the prima donna. I held in my laughter, smiling at her. I shook my head again, but this time in appreciation.

Then, I saw Father’s gaze. His eyes narrowed, brows furrowed so that the long spindly hairs were more apparent. His scar across his face was terrifying enough without the expression. I avoided looking him in the eye for a reason. My mouth formed a thin line in response. I bowed my head, and we finished the hymnal for Mother. We let go of each other’s hands to our lips, kissing our hands, and shooting the kisses towards the ground. Oppa and Kyle gave small whoops and hollers as the old woman and the young man hugged each other. I watched them closely, noting the miracle of their friendship.

“Thinking about the time you fucked him?”

“Fuck you, Gritty. It was four years ago.”

“We all know how formative that was for you.”

“You fucked him too. Shut up.”

“You know we’re supposed to fuck him again.”

“Yeah,” I whispered as we walked further from the tent. Oppa and Kyle went their separate ways, with the kind old woman heading to her tent, wrapped in her shawl she swears Stevie gave her. Kyle appeared to be more preoccupied with the new girl we picked up. Her name was Cola. Like the soda. She was his new toy. She was only fifteen, but she told Father she hadn’t lost her virginity yet. We were supposed to give her unto Mother soon because of that. I don’t know why she bothered to stay. I suppose the food alone is worth it, maybe the dogs. She’s only been here a week and she already found a little dachshund to be her companion. She’s taken to calling him Nilla. Gritty and I passed them, and I gave Nilla a little pat on the head as he came up to my ankles and pushed his nose against me.

“Do you think they’ll force us to do it when we hold the Ceremony for her?” I asked once we were out of earshot.

“Probably. Father is known for liking convenience,” She responded quietly. Her tone was melancholic.

We found our way out of the light of the camp fires. I scooped her hand into mine. “That’s true. It’s been too long since the last time.”

“I don’t know why we’re supposed to wait until the Solstice.”

“It’s because it’s spring. Fertility and all that shit.”

“Isn’t sex supposed to be sacred? What does the time period have to do with that?”

“I don’t know, man. Stop asking such stupid questions.” I let go of her hand, picking up a stick instead.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Just because you don’t want Mother’s babies doesn’t mean you gotta be a dick because I’m asking questions.”

“It’s not that, and you know it, Grit.”

“Then what is it, Cher?”

I rolled my eyes, facing away from her. “It’s easier to just do this shit than think about why it makes no sense.” It was as close of an answer I could give.

“Yeah, but doesn’t it kill you that Mother Earth says it’s just a sacred act but instead we treat it like this fucking parade that happens once a year. Sometimes twice, if Kyle doesn’t get his jizz in us.” Her head was cocked to the side as she studied me. We stopped at the edge of the woods like we always did. We knew no one could see us all the way out here. They just assumed we were playing in the woods, as we had since kids. Not questioning the basis of our existence. I threw the stick into the woods, hearing a small yelp from some animal. Probably a cat, from the sound. “I just…” I plopped on the ground next to a rock, resting my elbow against it. “It’s easier to not think about it instead of what we can’t do.”

“What is it that you want to do?”

“You know what I want to do,” I fire back.

Her mouth snapped shut. She came and sat down next to me. “You’re the only one stopping that from happening.”

“Existentialism doesn’t work when you live in a nuclear wasteland,” I responded as she put her head on my shoulder. “You’re looking for trouble,” I whisper as her hair tickles my ear.

“Maybe I am.” She shifted so her bicep rubbed mine. “Though, I suppose, you’re looking for it too.”

I stared out ahead of me, looking at the stars that peaked up from the line of mountains. The sun was sinking fast, so only a small blue line spread across the sky, and it only served to continue to illuminate the stars. They were twinkling, like the look in Ingrid’s eye or the way the last rays bounced off her pendant. I wanted to sink into the folds of her essence, even if that was the exact trouble she was getting me into. Her cheekbones were highlighted in the rising moonlight, eyes curled up in a smile. I flicked her black hair behind her shoulder, holding it close to my nose for a brief moment. Beauty incarnate.

“You’re right.” I sighed as I sat back to look her in the eye. “I don’t understand why things got so twisted around here, but they did. Perhaps Mother wants it that way. I can’t tell. She doesn’t speak to me. But you knew that, didn’t you?” I joked, tugging on the braid in her hair.

She smiled, poking my shoulder. “Yes. Perhaps She doesn’t exist at all, have you thought of that?”

My eyes widened, and I almost looked behind me to make sure no one heard her. “That’s not true, and you know it. Why else are we here?”

“Pure chance. Luck. Destiny.” She moved closer to me; her breath fanned over my face. “Have you considered why we’re here?”

I sat back, sitting upright. “No.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Mother exists. Nietzche was right, but Mother isn’t God.”

“I think Father killed her, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“The words have been twisted. The principles have been twisted. Shit, we worship the Earth because of some age old religion that ruled the before times. Wake up, Cherry.”

We weren’t close to each other anymore. We both sat upright, rod straight. Her dark, arched brows captured my attention and I stared at them as she stared at the plains of my face. “It’s not like you and I can do anything to change that. Father rules over us, protects us. At least we have food. At least we’re living in the meantime.”

“I don’t think we’re going to be here for long.”

“I-” I stuttered, stopping. “Grit, what are you on?”

Her eyes were serious. Their brown expanse was narrowed for the first time in a long time. They were hard, determined to be taken for reality. She looked practically possessed. Her dark eyes were almost black. She didn’t speak for a moment. “Ingrid, please, tell me.”

The lost, yet determined, look in her eyes faded and she grabbed my chin, pointing my head towards the sky. “You see all those stars?” I made a noise to affirm yes. “Do you see that green one? Over to the left of the moon?” I made another noise. “That’s a new star. I don’t believe it to be a star, though.”

She let go of me, though her hand held my face still. “Oh,” is all I said. The world came together like a puzzle piece at that moment. That was why she was being so careless as of late. That’s why we were here now.

“You’re going to kiss me before the world ends, right?” I asked in a petite voice that almost broke. It was the only thing I thought of as it occurred to me that my prediction would be coming true sooner than I thought.

It was then that she tucked her hands into the base of my ponytail, anchoring herself to me as she pulled me forward to touch her lips to mine. They tasted of cherry chapstick, something she must have collected when she went out exploring to the local abandoned gas station a few days ago. My tongue instinctively reached out for a better taste, and she let me in. It was then that my hands were all over here, and she kissed me harder.

A week passed, and the Ceremony was upon us. Cola was going to be the star of the show. She was dressed in a red bridesmaid dress we found on one of the group explorations we went on. It fit her perfectly, and coupled with the dandelions in her curly red hair, she was fit to be the Solstice Queen. Kyle was also dressed in his suit that he’d worn for the past two years. Ingrid sat in front of her sun dial, dressed in her normal pair of jeans and a t shirt with holes. She couldn’t be convinced to dress up. I, however, was in a new dress Father had given me. It was a wedding dress like Princess Di’s. It was found in a thrift store, and he had held onto it for this Solstice celebration. It was poofy, and I was forced to wear the headpiece with it. I looked like a sullen bride, with my stained face and ratty hair. Queenie dyed my lips red with leftover strawberry juice. Gritty told me I looked like a pig to slaughter. She was probably right.

“Cherry,” Father called out in his quiet tone. “Come ‘ere.”

I shuffled towards him, passing Kyle and Cola, who stood whispering and touching each other. “Yes, Father?”

The sun was high in the sky, forcing Father to cover his eyes. “Will you get Ingrid in her dress? I know you two are close.” When he saw the light leave my eyes, he continued, “We have to prepare for our Solstice Queen’s first Outing.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I’m sure you can persuade her,” he said with a smirk.

My heart levitated, escaping my ribcage. I looked across the field, over Father’s shoulder, and made eye contact with Gritty. She was looking straight at me with a similar expression to the other night when she revealed to me the nature of the future.

“Yes, Father.”

I passed by Ingrid, nudging her shoulder with mine as I grabbed onto her and forced her to follow me. “Get your fucking dress on,” I mumbled as I led her to her tent.

“He knows, doesn’t he?”

“Probably. He’s acting funny.”

“How would he know?”

“You don’t exactly hide it.”

“Neither do you. You drool in my presence.”

I glared at her. “Bitch.”

“It’s just the truth.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just get dressed. It’s almost twelve. We have to get this show on the road.”

“Wow jeez can’t wait.” Her voice was saccharine.

I didn’t respond. I just waited for her to get into her flowy gown. It was peach colored, and it made her look washed out. Her hair stood out, at least. I played with the ends of it after I helped zip her into the dress. “You look great,” I said in an aimless attempt at flirting.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

It was a miracle she was here. Ingrid had the magical way of being everything all at once. She made me want to relive the artifacts of the past, to dive into that sarcophagus. It hurt knowing that the world was taking that away. It had taken away so much. Mother had taken away so much. I suppose someone has to pay for the sins of the humans past, but I didn’t imagine it would be me. The visceral part of me, in my heart, felt the pain of this realization. I was the penance for disrespecting Mother. This was my service. This was why we did the Solstice Outings. This was why Kyle, Father, and Vlad and the rest of them could fuck whoever whenever. It was why they called it fucking for them instead of an Outing for us. It felt wrong to call what me and Gritty did fucking. It wasn’t that. It was something sweeter, less one-sided. Then again, what we did is the sin that brought us to this aftermath in the first place.

“Is this the price we pay?” I asked as I braided her hair. “Forever damned to a lack of pleasure and to death?”

“I suppose.” She sighed, looking disjointed though connected to what I was saying. “It doesn’t have to be like this. We choose it to be.”

“There you go with existentialism again.”

“It’s not philosophy, my dear. It’s how things are.”

“I didn’t ask to be left to this world. To be forced into this stupid shit.”

“No, you didn’t. But you worship the people, the men, who made it this way.”

“So do you.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

I let go of her last braid, letting it come undone. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

“What does being free mean to you, Cherry?”

“What are you? A cheesy sitcom? Let’s go.”

I walked out of the tent without looking back. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

The Ceremony lacked the pomp and circumstance that many of past Ceremonies would have had. There weren’t many flowers we cultivated beyond weeds. We made a bed out of hay, grass, and these pesky flowers. Ingrid and I held onto Cola as we walked her into the circle of people, which consisted of our tribe. Father stood at the head of the pack, with Kyle standing next to him and Oppa on the other side. She was the eldest in our bunch, so she got to be on his right hand side while Kyle stood on the left. Everyone hummed the Hymnal, while sometimes people sang a few of the words.

Danke shoen, darling. Danke schoen...

I wore the veil in front of my face while Gritty and Cola bowed their heads. Cola was only fifteen, from the looks of her, and I felt a pang in my heart as I remembered that Kyle was two years older than me. He was twenty. The difference sat in the pit of my stomach, sickening me, as Cola smiled so sweetly at him. We were by the bed of flowers now. The humming had stopped. She was pure, still. She was worth worshipping. That would change once this was over. She’d be expected to work the fields, collect things. She’d become withered and worn like the rest of us. She was no stranger to hard work, I knew that. She had survived for this long on her own when her mother died a few months ago. Her innocence was simply so palatable in this moment. Though, perhaps that was the problem. I boiled her down to this ball of naivety when she probably had seen more shit in her lifetime than I had. She was nomadic, built with “street smarts” as they used to call it. She was human. That was why the disgust laid heavy on me.

Father put his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. He smiled in his robes, which were really just shawls we found and blessed him with. He stood with a glint in his eye as he spoke. “Thank you, everyone. Mother Earth has blessed us with a new addition, and may we bless her unto the Earth and manifest Her bounty.”

We nodded, some people making a few grunts in affirmation. Gritty stood stoic, unwilling to do anything more than bow her head. I saw out of the corner of my eye a droplet fall from her face to the floor.

“Cola, darling, step away from your sisters and lay yourself upon our Mother.”

The human stepped forward, kneeling before Father, reaching up to touch the top of his toes from a praying position, before she moved to lay on her chest. From there, Kyle stepped forward, bowing to Father, and then he bent down to unzip Cola’s dress. The red peeled back to reveal white. It was like reverse bleeding. Instead of finding the depth of a person, we were finding the outer shell. Perhaps that was how one got through this.

From there, she was stripped. The dress fell from her chest, revealing her budding breasts, before Kyle pulled it down and off of her, revealing her naked body to the rest of us. He touched her breasts, cupping them roughly, before biting at them. She laid there still, waiting for it to be over. Or at least that’s what I presumed. She didn’t act enthused. That wasn’t her job. Her job was to be there, to pleasure him. Everyone started humming, though not the Hymnal. A different song.

I made it through the wilderness,

Somehow I made it through.

Thankfully, we didn’t sing the lyrics. We hummed. We hummed louder when she started to groan in pain. We hummed even louder when he covered her mouth. We hummed louder still when he finished. We stopped when she sat up. She covered herself again, walking to join us again. She had given herself unto the Earth.

“She gave herself unto him,” Gritty whispered.

I didn’t respond. The sun shined in my eyes, blinding me, as we walked away. Kyle wouldn’t be ready again for another five hours or so, leaving us to tend to Cola before it was my turn. Then, we would turn in for the night before it was Ingrid’s turn in the morning.

It was strange, having an appointment for something like this. It made it better, I suppose, than being shocked by it. Cola wiped at her eyes as we went to Ingrid’s tent. I offered her a shoulder, wrapping an arm around her as we all piled onto Gritty’s cot.

When the sun started to set, we were woken from our nap. Father stood at the opening of the tent. His hands rested on his hips, making dual triangles. His face read of disappointment.

“You silly girls,” he said with a jovial smile, the disappointment fading. “You know it’s inappropriate to sleep together.”

“Sorry, Father,” I started as Cola started to wake up next to me.

“Shut up,” his voice came out hard. He softened as he said, “Just don’t do it again, okay?” though he looked to Cola, not me.

“Sorry, Father,” she said quietly.

“Good girl,” he said back before walking away.

Funny how easy it is to become a pet if you let yourself. Though that was what Gritty was talking about. I chose not to judge Cola because of this.

We got up, picking at each other to make each other primed for another Outing. Gritty fixed my hair, sneaking a small kiss on the cheek before the tent door opened and Oppa came in.

“Let’s go, girls. There’s a shooting comet we see coming our way across the sky. We want to watch it when the sun goes down.”

Gritty and I looked towards each other, and she smiled. My Outing was on a schedule. My life was on a schedule. We knew what this meant. I looked Oppa in the eye. “I’m coming!” It came out happy, bright. It was filled with the last squeeze of life from my lemon.

I left the tent in a flourish. This was it. This was the end. I felt the joy buried beneath me come undone. The string has been cut! I am free. I walk quickly, with Cola and Gritty on either side of me.

“You’ve never looked so excited to be fucked like a stuffed pig,” She teased me quietly.

I looked over to her as we walked to the tune of the Hymnal. “It doesn't have to be like this, remember?” I smiled wide, aware that I looked a little unhinged.

“Yes, you’re right,” she whispered before I stepped away and kneeled down. I didn’t bother to touch the toes of Father before I laid down. In fact, I reached behind me and started to work my zipper down. Kyle murmured, “I got it,” but I didn’t listen to him. His hand stood close to mine as the zipper was worked down. The fabric billowed around me, squishy as I worked my way out of it.

“Cherry, this isn’t how the Outing goes,” he whispered quietly as Father stared down at us.

I didn’t respond. I finished my way out of the dress. I stood up, stepped out of it, and looked Gritty in the eyes. I was naked. Exposed. The stars were looking upon me, as was everyone else. I chose this. It was then that a hand pushed me down, hard, onto my knees. I saw Gritty freeze up, and Cola held onto her harder.

“Cherry,” Father’s voice came out cold. “This is not how the Outing is done.” He pushed me back onto the bed of growth. “Have your way, Kyle,” he said as I laid there, spread out like a plate of hors de o’deauvrs. The circle began to sing.

My fear is fading fast

Been saving it all for you

He bit me, ate my skin, before he fucked me. It was a blip in time. I looked towards the green star, the thing that was coming to destroy us. It was beautiful. I saw life in it. I saw the beauty in all things. I forgot that there was a boy fucking me, brutalizing me, making me his meal. His object. I didn’t care. I wasn’t his. I was this star’s. I was death impending. I was free.

When he was done, I didn’t wait. I plopped upright and walked away naked, forgetting the stupid costume. I wrapped an arm around Gritty’s waist before taking her hand and running off into the night. My bare feet pounded across the wasteland’s floor. The star was coming closer. It would be here soon. I knew this chapter was coming to a close. I was going to end it with her.

We made our way to the edge of the forest.

“Can I unzip you?” I asked Ingrid.

She nodded, smiling, as she turned around and pulled her elegant hair towards her front. It twinkled and wrinkled down her breasts. She was elegance, the form of death that I least expected. I pulled her close and kissed her, enveloping myself in her the way I needed to a week ago. I heard the sounds from the camp as the sun disappeared but the star came closer and illuminated the expanse of earth. I paid them no mind as I danced with Ingrid. Eventually, we became dizzy and fell.

Her hand laid on my bicep, and mine on hers. We stared up to the sky as we had a week ago when we kissed for the first time. The green of the meteor shooting towards us blinded me, but I kept my eyes open. I started to sing quietly as Ingrid’s fingers played at my skin, touching me. “Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen. Thank you for walks down Lover's Lane.”

My voice was awkward, and I didn’t sing in tune. Ingrid rolled into me all the same, shielding herself from the green glow. I wrapped her hair around my finger. This was death. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. She was who I wanted to die with.

“This is what free means to me,” I whispered as she continued to hum the song, taking it for her own.

I could see the details of the rock now. The edges were curved, like the indents of her body. My heart left its cage. It floated above me, blocking out the death rock. This was what was coming to claim me. It sung the song of my soul, repeating back to me the song I had just been singing. It was mine. This was my choice.

The green became more intense. She wrapped herself closer to me. My heart sung louder. This was it. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

#lgbtq #gay #lgbtq romance #romance #apocalypse #chernobyl #end of the world #short story #my writing #creative writing

2 notes · View notes

selkiewife · 4 years

Text

Anonymous Asked:

What do you think Theon's role will be in TWOW? I have seen many say that he's going to get killed or that he's going to make the King's moot null and void but I can't help but feel he has a much bigger purpose. One thing that often gets ignored, maybe because it's pretty much in the background, is the magical/supernatural elements of his character, which i think is going to be important either in terms of defeating Euron or helping with the long night.

Anon I agree with you wholeheartedly! I don’t believe that he will be killed (by Stannis anyway.) Though I do definitely think he will have a role to play with Asha in nullifying the Kingsmoot like Torgon Greyiron, the Latecomer. There is just no way Tris would have dropped that tidbit of highly applicable historical info while trying to seduce Asha if it was going to come to nothing. Then again, stuff like that happened in the TV series all the time but I doubt that will be the case in the books. GRRM is much more likely, I think, to never publish them at all rather than leave loose ends.

I agree with theories that there will be two Kingsmoots in the books and that the show chose to combine them. I think Theon will support his sister or she will support him. I honestly think that perhaps after all they have been through, Theon and Asha can finally experience a close familial relationship (which Theon has always yearned for) but which was never possible since they were separated from each other as children- and then were both competing for their father’s approval and trust as young adults. Now that Balon is dead, I really feel like Theon has the potential to find a true family with Asha as his true self- especially given the emotional reaction Asha had to seeing him again and witnessing what Ramsay did to him.

Now one thing I have always loved about Theon is how incredibly HUMAN his story is. It is intimate and focused on identity. And in the asoiaf world where people are seeking power or raising dragons or trying to save the world, it is refreshing that Theon’s story is focused on trying to discover how to be a person. How to keep one’s humanity in spite of how horrific the world is or the horrific actions one has undertaken themselves. There are beautiful themes of identity, redemption, and survival in his arc, but most notably, it does not revolve around magic the way other character’s plots have up to this point.

However, I also think that it is undeniable that there is a magical element in Theon’s story as well. And I think the magical element surfaces when Theon is getting closer to his true self or facing the things he has done. When he is more entrenched in denial, the magical element of his story is suppressed. Yet during ACOK when feeling guilt over ordering the death of the boys, he has a green dream. And again, in ADWD, when he is reclaiming his name and his identity, Bran is able to make contact with him through the Heart Tree. And then again, when he is Stannis’ prisoner in the sample chapter of TWOW and he continually is speaking the truth and reclaiming his name- insisting that Stannis calls him Theon- Bran or Bloodraven are speaking on his behalf through the ravens, urging him to be brought to the heart tree.

Now some people argue that Theon did not actually have a green dream in ACOK but I definitely think it was. I have quoted the entire section from ACOK under the cut, so you can decide for yourself. In it, Theon basically has a vision of the Red Wedding a book before it actually happens- In the dream, Robb and Grey Wind walk into a banquet all, bleeding from “half a hundred savage wounds.” Some have said that Theon’s dream wasn’t prophetic but more tied to his guilt but I disagree because there are the other people in it that Theon would have no reason to know about such as Lyanna. “The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses and a white gown spattered with gore could only be Lyanna.” Theon would obviously have known about Lyanna but there is no way that he knew about her dying in a “bed of blood.” That is something that is only revealed in Ned’s memories. And Ned told everyone else that Lyanna died of a fever. So he is dreaming accurately about things that he wouldn’t know, which is why I believe this specific dream is a green dream as opposed to only guilt.

So to answer your question. I believe that Theon has to survive at least being a prisoner to Stannis because there is so much more that has been foreshadowed for him. There is the Ironborn plot and then there is also the fact that Bran is trying to contact Theon. I think that Bran is extremely important when it comes to the fight against the Others and the Long Night, so the fact that he is reaching out to Theon made me feel that Theon is also important to that aim in some way. That being said, the show made me doubt Bran (or Bloodraven’s) intentions with Theon- like is he just going to be offered as some sort of sacrifice? I sincerely hope not.

Luckily, what gives me hope is Asha’s plan for invalidating the Kingsmoot and the idea that he still needs to defeat Euron... Plus EURON himself, unlike in the show, is an incredible force of potential dark magic to be reckoned with. And there is also the really incredible symbolism of the sea-reek with Theon- which I talked about briefly on my other blog here and which I think shows that he still has much to do with the Ironborn narrative. Invalidating the Kingsmoot seems like it would have to occur after whatever happens once Bran or Bloodraven get Theon to the Heart Tree so hopefully, that means they do not have any nefarious plans for Theon. And perhaps it also points to the fact that he is, for some reason, important in the coming battle against the Others. Perhaps because of how very human his arc has been up to this point? Some Theon fans have said that they think the idea of him becoming a huge hero of the series would almost cheapen his very human journey. And I do get that. But I think that he has already become a hero honestly and that his very humanity that he has worked so hard to find within himself may be a key to help against the long night. Or at least, that is what I would like.

Here is Theon’s Dream from A Clash of Kings:

That night he dreamed of the feast Ned Stark had thrown when King Robert came to Winterfell. The hall rang with music and laughter, though the cold winds were rising outside. At first it was all wine and roast meat, and Theon was making japes and eyeing the serving girls and having himself a fine time... until he noticed that the room was growing darker. The music did not seem so jolly then; he heard discords and strange silences, and notes that hung in the air bleeding. Suddenly the wine turned bitter in his mouth, and when he looked up from his cup he saw that he was dining with the dead.

King Robert sat with his guts spilling out on the table from the great gash in his belly, and Lord Eddard was headless beside him. Corpses lined the benches below, grey-brown flesh sloughing off their bones as they raised their cups to toast, worms crawling in and out of the holes that were their eyes. He knew them, every one; Jory Cassel and Fat Tom, Porther and Cayn and Hullen the master of horse, and all the others who had ridden south to King’s Landing never to return. Mikken and Chayle sat together, one dripping blood and the other water. Benfred Tallhart and his Wild Hares filled most of a table. The miller’s wife was there as well, and Farlen, even the wildling Theon had killed in the wolfswood the day he had saved Bran’s life.

But there were others with faces he had never known in life, faces he had seen only in stone. The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses and a white gown spattered with gore could only be Lyanna. Her brother Brandon stood beside her, and their father Lord Rickard just behind. Along the walls figures halfseen moved through the shadows, pale shades with long grim faces. The sight of them sent fear shivering through Theon sharp as a knife. And then the tall doors opened with a crash, and a freezing gale blew down the hall, and Robb came walking out of the night. Grey Wind stalked beside, eyes burning, and man and wolf alike bled from half a hundred savage wounds.

Theon woke with a scream, startling Wex so badly that the boy ran naked from the room.

~ A Clash of Kings, George R. R. Martin

#theon greyjoy #asoiaf #the winds of winter #twow #twow speculation #green dreams #ask answered #take what I say with a grain of salt #ha #because I was DEAD WRONG #about the show #😭#anonymous

29 notes · View notes

irregularjohnnywiggins · 3 years

Text

Kay, so I found this old story idea I had a while back but never really did anything with, and I figured hey, I've got 300+ prisoners beloved followers who for some reason put up with my garbage, so might as well inflict this upon them.

That being said, welcome to what I call The Department for the Colonisation of Childhood Whimsey.

So our story starts with a little girl called Dee.

Dee lives in the UK, in a council estate. When she was a kid, there wasn't all that much space to play or do the things richer middle-class kids got to do. Her parents house didn't have a garden, the local streets were too dangerous for a child to go out and play in, and the house itself was cramped and crowded.

Despite this, Dee had what could charitably be called an overactive imagination, an imagination she channelled into two things: a plastic triceratops toy she called Sarah, and a book - a blank book of A4 paper that had coffee stains on it and papers falling out when she got it - that she claimed had a magical power: anything written in the book would come true.

Cut to a few years later. Dee is in high school, and like a typical teenager she's moved on from her childish dreams. That is, until one day when Sarah the triceratops approaches her after school and tells her she's in danger.

So, yeah, pretty basic beginning, you've probably seen fifty books that start out like this, and that's all I wrote back when I was actually trying to make this a thing. However, one thing I always do vis-a-vis my writing style is worldbuild, and it's the worldbuilding that I'm really keen on with this idea. So, let's talk about that:

The actual premise of the story is simple: at some point in the 1960s, the British government came to the conclusion that the British Empire was more or less doomed. Not only was the post-war economy not capable of sustaining an empire, not only was the Cold War between the Americans and the Russians ravaging them, but an increased awareness of the plight of one's fellow man was inspiring many people - not just in the colonies but in England too - to demand independence. No matter how hard they tried, Parliament could not forsee a solution that the people would accept where the British Empire continued.

So, a solution was posed. For the past hundred years or so, the government had been made aware of the existence of pockets of space-time created by people with active enough imaginations. From Neverland to Oz, from the Hundred Acre Wood to Wonderland, these places had resources beyond any place on Earth - magic, especially. If the public would not countenance colonisation where they could see it, then perhaps the solution would be to colonise somewhere they could not see?

Thus, the British Empire never really died. It simply... moved.

Cut to the present day, and the Department for the Colonisation of Childhood Whimsey is still going strong. Almost every parallel world is under their control, and the profits of these regions are beyond belief. However, rather naturally for stories like this there is a resistance movement, that seeks to free the imaginary lands from the Department. Although they are small and weak, they have had several worthwhile victories over the Department in the past few months, and the higher-ups in the Department, including the shadowy and little-seen Director, want all such resistance movements stamped out.

This, rather naturally, is where Dee steps in.

Every generation, one in a million people have the ability to shape the forces of Imagination itself, and the stories these people tell, and others tell after them, become reality in the Imaginarium. These people become known as Imagineers, and Dee is one such person. However, the lack of much real output for this power has led to most of it being placed inside The Book, which has led to a fascinating feedback loop - Dee's Book not only influences the Imaginarium, it influences physical reality itself to a certain extent. Thus, the Department need simply write in the book that the resistance movement does not exist, and it will be so. The resistance, naturally enough, are not down with this, and have sent Dee's childhood friend to bring her and the book back to them, to keep them safe.

There's also a ton of other small worldbuilding touches I came up with, chief among them being the thing the Department sends to collect Dee - a Stalker, the amalgamation of that seemingly universal childhood experience of that thing that followed your car on long journeys. But a couple of words on the characters:

The leader of the resistance is Peter Pan, because of course he is, why wouldn't he be? He's much more of the capricious, vaguely fae Pan of the book, not exactly evil but very much ammoral and childish. He's mainly invested in reclaiming Neverland, the Lost Boys, and Tinkerbell, although there is the subtext of him using the Department as an example of the inevitable consequences of growing up - although he's completely forgotten Hook, like he does in the book, he's still looking for that antagonistic relationship with a grown-up.

Peter's second-in-command and the one really running the resistance is Princess Ozma, who's much more... agreeable than Pan. Oz has been colonised too, but Ozma is still in nominal control of it, and she supplies the resistance with all the resources she can, although she can't openly work against the Department because the CIA branch of it has Dorothy imprisoned and are basically pulling a 'we have your wife' scenario on her.

The third key player in the resistance is Alice Liddel, who provides the resistance with shelter and safe passage - the Department has been having little success applying the logic of supply chains and regimented exterminations to a place as willfully chaotic as Wonderland.

The rest of the resistance are mainly heroic characters from other public domain stories, although some of the heroes are working for the Department, either willingly or because they're coerced, but one of the other main characters - and Dee's eventual love interest - is a character called many things, but most commonly Insert.

Insert is... complicated. Like the Stalker, they're an amalgamation of a certain new-fangled trend - namely, they're every self-insert character that's ever been written. Naturally, they have a habit of... changing, at random intervals. On any given day, they're any gender, of any ethnicity, of any sexual orientation, and with backstories ranging from an officer on a starship in the far future to a student at a school of magic in Scotland. Given literally everything about them is eternally mutable - including their allegiance to the resistance or the Department - the resistance members treat them with some distrust, a distrust that Dee generally doesn't share. Their relationship is pretty rocky at first - Dee thinks Insert is only interested in her because she can use The Book to give them a concrete identity, Insert is angrt when she reveals this because the constant shifting is just who they are, they don't want to be bound down, and later on there is a genuine dilemma of whether or not Insert is interested in Dee by their own choice or because she's clearly the protagonist and a key part of their identity in a lot of their lives is to be shipped with the protagonist. Also, obvious joke but at several points Insert turns into Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, because of course they do.

The Department's side isn't that interesting - it's a whole load of villains, some of the more... problematique heroes, and a few hundred grunts. The most interesting character is The Director. He's never seen, even by the highest ranking members of the Department, and no-one knows anything about him other than his gender. Everyone in the resistance has a different theory of who he is - Pan has a suspicion he may have faced him before, Ozma thinks its the Nome King, Alice the Jabberwocky, and Insert fluctuates, as is their nature, although the top two choices are Voldemort or Dumbledore.

It's Dee, however, who figures out the truth, when captured by the Department. The others couldn't possibly know him, but Dee's heard his voice before, in her history classes.

The Director of the Department is Winston Churchill, made immortal by the collective consensus of him as The War-Time Leader. Unfortunately for the whitewashers of history, the immortal they created isn't the brave fighter of tyranny, but the actual Churchill, warts and all, the man who starved over two million Indians out of spite and neglectfulness. Dee being a descendant of Indian immigrants, this meeting isn't perhaps the best one.

There are side effects to the Director's immortality, however. Since the perception of Churchill is tied so deeply to his speeches, to the voice on the radio, that's all he is now. He wants The Book to give him back a body again, and the Department is basically a means to that end.

That's about all I'd concretely plotted out, otherwise I just had random ideas for sequels:

The America Book, where the resistance goes to rescue Dorothy from the CIA version of the Department, which is located under a theme park that is as close to Disneyland as it is possible to be. Naturally, the head of the American Department is Walt Disney's cryogenically frozen head.

The India Book, because a book about British colonialism has got to touch on India at some point. I haven't gotten far in this one, but one idea was that there would be an ongoing war between the native myths and legends - Hindu mythology, the Mahabharata and such - and what is derisively referred to as the 'imports' - namely, the Jungle Book. Again, no idea how this resolves itself, and frankly as a Brit myself I am in no way equipped to tell a story about India, but food for thought.

That's basically it. This isn't a 'here's something to hype up this series' thing - this is an idea I had, I did some thinking about it, but other things happened and I'm kinda splurging this so anyone else who wants to do this idea can pick it up. If you write something like this, feel free to tell me and I'd love to hear about it.

#i write things #technically the point of this is I DON'T write things #but you get the point #peter pan #land of oz #alice in wonderland

4 notes · View notes

fantasyinvader · 4 years

Text

So, I decided to finally do it. A long post comparing Edelgard to one of my favorite literary characters, If you even just skim my usual writings, you’ll know who.

Elric of Melnibone is a fantasy character by Michael Moorcock. His saga is often touted as the birthplace of dark fantasy, and has been massively influencial on geek culture in general. It actually served as the basis for Law and Chaos in the first edition Dungeons and Dragons...where Elric was briefly canon before a legal dispute with a company wanting to make their own Elric game. Warhammer is another thing influenced by Elric, and it’s hard not to see where Shin Megami Tensei may be influenced by the saga as well.

I once talked about the influence Elric may have had on Dany from ASoIAF, and since Edelgard is often compared to Dany I figured I could do this as well. The following is just some points of comparison between the two, from me to you.

Empire

Edelgard is the Emperor of the Adrestian Empire, which has existed for over 1000 years. However, it has seen considerable decline over the centuries. While it’s rule once covered the entire continent of Fodlan, now it is one of three countries after people broke away from it. A book in the Shadow Library presents the Empire as very decadent in it’s past, and would use execution as a form of entertainment. This is a historical novel and possibly not factual, but it’s presence suggests this wasn’t an uncommon view of the old empire until recently considering it was Seteth who banned it. Part of it’s decline can be rooted in it upholding some traditions, such as the Crests, from antiquity. It’s rise to power stems from working with the Nabeteans, dragons in a human form. It’s royal lineage claims lineage from one of those dragons, Seiros, though her being a dragon is not something people know. Instead, she is seen more as a saint who helped found the Empire, though she instead runs the Central Church rather than lead the Empire..

Elric was the Emperor of Melnibone, and ancient Empire that ruled the known world for over 10000 years. However, it is a shell of what it was once was. Over the last thousand years it’s influence has waned due to it’s decadence and the hedonistic nature of it’s people. This has led to humans carving out their own kingdoms, the Young Kingdoms, with that time and as of Elric’s reign they have even chanced raiding it’s last city of Immyr. Melnibone is a very beautiful place but this only serves to contrast the cruelty of it’s people. They’re sadistic hedonists, to the point abusing slaves is a regular childhood passtime. Despite worshiping beings of chaos though, Melnibone is committed to a strict adherence to it’s hierachy and traditions. Part of it’s rise to power had to do with it’s relationship with dragons, who helped them conquer the world in such a manner that humans are instinctually afraid of dragons because of it. Another factor is their relationship with Arioch, a lord of chaos who acted as their patron though Aricoch hasn’t been present in Melnibone in a long time.

Views on the Empire

Edelgard sees the Empire as one that has declined, and she wants to restore it to prominence. A big part of this is doing away with the Church and the current system of nobility, instead implementing a system where power is instead gifted to those deemed of merit by her. She also aims to reclaim the lands of the Kingdom and the Alliance. Her whole gig is that she will make people follow her own beliefs. Depending on the route, she may be successful or lead the Empire to it’s destruction.

Elric saw the decline of his Empire, seeing it as a result of it’s decadence. Elric originally left Melnibone in order to venture into the Young Kingdoms, hoping to learn about justice (an alien concept to his people) from humans as Elric wished to rule Melnibone as it had never been before. According to Fortress of the Pearl, Elric intended to create an advisory council filled with people of different nations. This council would share their various perspectives with Elric, who would consider them before making his own decision (Elric does recognize he lacks common sense in some regards). He wanted to restore his empire, making it a beacon of goodness to the world while also caring for the weak.

The Childhoods that Shaped Them

This is one of the harder sections to do, since Edelgard's backstory is full of holes and the implication that she is lying. But the basic version is that as a child, Edelgard was taken from her father and (possibly fabricated) siblings to the Kingdom when a civil war broke out in the Empire due to her father's attempts to consolidate power. Edelgard was kept in isolation for two years, spent the third with Dimitri and then was taken back to the Empire. There, she was experimented on by TWSITD who made her stronger, and it also caused her hair to turn white. Edelgard blames the nobility and the Church for this, saying it's all because of the society she lives in and begins to plot conquest in order to change it.

Elric's mother died during childbirth, which made his father a distant figure in his life. Elric was also born a weak albino, incapable of even standing if not for sorcery and potions. As a result of this weakness, the young prince ended up spending more time studying in preparation for taking the throne. In his studies, Elric learned about concepts that had long been forgotten by his people. Stuff like justice, guilt, mercy, and how your actions can cause trouble for others. This caused Elric to become a more kind and gentle Melnibonean, but as a result of this he was alienated from most of his people for they could not alien and distant to them. Elric's training made him a masterful swordsman (but not to the same extent as his cousin Yrrkoon) and the most powerful sorcerer Melnibone had seen for generations. Through his dream quests, he relived the adventures of his ancestors. He doesn't remember these quests though (and they would have been big warnings to what was in store for him), instead only taking the magical knowledge they learned with him. As a result of successfully completing these quests, Elric was deemed his father's successor over Yrrkoon.

Allies

One of Edelgard's chief allies is the group known as Those Who Slither in the Dark. The same people who experimented on her, calling her their greatest creation. They provide her with aid in her war in the form of weapons and destabilizing her future targets. However, Edelgard does not like them for obvious reasons and plans to take them out. She is using them to further her own ends at the moment, providing them resources in order to reap the benefits. TWSITD are also implied to be aiding/manipulating many other groups in pursuit of their own goals.

Edelgard also has Hubert and Jeritza. The former is willing to kill anyone he feels is a threat regardless of Edelgard's orders, the latter is a mentally ill man she has weaponized. There are various other allies as well, but it's weird. In CF, she'll cry for two up and comers in her army in a show to gain sympathy. But she'll also toss her former classmates into danger and show no reaction to their resulting deaths. Even Hubert, who has been her longest serving ally. She also dismisses his contributions, saying she never had anyone to support her like Dimitri (in Azure Moon) had.

Elric has Arioch, the patron god of his people. Arioch is a lord of Chaos, also known as the Knight of the Swords. He lends Elric his aid at various points, but it's always a matter of when he chooses to do so. If Elric is doing something Arioch doesn't want him to do, then he will not answer his call. Aricoch calls Elric his favorite Melnibonean and his slave, Elric invoking his help give him more presence and power within the world as well. This is part of Arioch's plans, but during the final war Elric rejects the side of Chaos and slays Arioch's physical body, banishing Arioch (who exists in many bodies across the multiverse) from ever stepping foot in Elric's world ever again. Chaos is also shown to aide others in pursuit of their goals

Elric also has various friends, chief among them is Moonglum. Moonglum is a thief and mercenary, in addition to someone with less of a conscience than Elric himself! Moonglum does chase after riches, but has issue with Elric's methods. Moonglum will sell slaves for a profit and, in one instance, killed a giant Elric had worked out an agreement with because fate said that the giant would be slain. During the course of his adventures, Elric loses all those he holds dear. This helps fuel a deep sense of self-loathing within him.

Pride

Edelgard is a very prideful person, to the point many would call her arrogant. As such, she will not sway from the goals she sets for herself. Even if her army is defeated and she herself is facing her executioner, she will not back down. She is even willing to throw away her humanity in this regard.

Elric's (out of universe) nickname is the Proud Prince of Ruins. Despite his self-loathing, he will not kill himself due to his pride. It is also for this reason that Elric will not allow anyone to kill him. In addition, he's also fighting the influence of Stormbringer (his black runesword). To quote Blue Oyster Cult, Elric doesn't want to be a “red-eyed, screaming ghoul.” In addition, while he serves Chaos he makes it clear he does not want to be their plaything.

Goals

Edelgard claims that her goal is to dismantle the Church of Seiros and the Crest Nobility System, freeing mankind while also creating a system where people of merit are appointed to power. However, there are many hints that her real goal is the conquest of Fodlan, unifying it under her uncontested rule. After that, she intends to have her underlings take out TWSITD from the shadows.

Before the fall of Melnibone, Elric wanted to rule his Empire as it had never been ruled before. To this end, he left his throne to journey out into the young kingdoms. He intended to learn from humanity subjects such as justice. However, after Yrrkoon usurpted the throne and Elric lead human raiders in destorying his own empire, Elric wandered the world searching for answers.

See, as a being of Chaos Elric held a certain worldview. There was no master plan of the universe, there is no order but what we force upon the world. Bad things happen just because, so there isn't any reason for Elric not to do as he wishes. The fall of Melnibone is actually a pivotal moment to Elric, who had before believed in questioning his use of his own power and restraint. For instance, he allowed Yrrkoon to live before despite being a traitorous son of a bitch because Elric believed he was so much more powerful than his cousin, and allowing him to live showed that. Now Elric had taken up a more hedonistic lifestyle common with his people. Elric's travels see him seek out any form of proof though that there is a great will at play, for Elric is willing to accept that because it would mean his suffering had reason.

Towards the end, Elric tries to avoid his destiny. See, the Lords of Law had long since planned out Elric's life in pursuit of their goal. Believing there to be a greater power that willed this, they set up Elric to be their tool during the final war. The world, heavily influenced by Chaos, would be destroyed and Law would be able to rebuild it as a safer one for mankind (should mankind come into existence again). Elric tried to avert fate and win the war against Chaos, but in the end he failed. The world was warped and a reset was the only option.

The Ends Justify the Means

In pursuit of her goals, the game makes it out that there is very little Edelgard wouldn't do. Conscript an unwilling populice to fight for her? No big. Destablize other nations or attempt to assassinate heirs before the war starts? Yawn. Work with TWSITD? From before the game began. Using monsters that they made out of people? Sure, she says she doesn't like it and would stop it if she could, but she doesn't as there's mention of their usage in CF.

It's all wrapped up in her attempts at spreading misinformation. She is shown to lie and keep people in the dark in order to support her war. She makes herself look like the hero in this case, but the clues are blatantly there if you take even one step outside her narrative. She is viewed not as a liberator, but a conquerer. And it's hard to get a grasp of what she herself believes, since due to her manipulative nature every word out of her mouth is suspect.

While Elric will attempt to do the right and honorable thing at times, his nature as a Melnibonean (be it blood or being raised in such a culture) has made him a pragmatist. As such, there is very little Elric wouldn't do in order to obtain victory.

Burn a half-million not-Dothraki alive with napalm spitting dragons? Okay. Sustain himself on the souls of those slain by Stormbringer? He finds it distasteful, but it gives him power that he's addicted to. Summon demons who will rip out the souls of his enemies, flinging them to the wind so they may never know peace? Standard practice. Force a man to attempt to eat a giant pearl while pouring poison down his throat to wash it down? The dude deserved it. Single-handedly commit a massacre in such a manner survivors suffer PTSD? That was the price they payed for the Pearl.

Elric doesn't try to justify his actions though. He doesn't claim moral high ground, in his own words he may have slain dictators and sorcerers, but did so with means equal to that which was already there. Not to mention, he does recognize the sheer number of good people who die because of him since he often overlooks collateral damage. Elric fully realizes just how evil his actions are, he's haunted by what conscience he does have, and he world around him recognizes this as well. People fear him, hiring Elric as a mercenary is akin to inviting your own doom. Hell, when he was trying to lead humanity against the forces of Chaos his past acts caused the people of the Souther continent not to give their support (which may have turned the tide at that point of the war).

Despite this, Elric has been shown to free slaves, save children and stop rapes because he wishes to. This is in spite of his own culture, which used slaves, would use cannibalism as a punishment. In addition, while Elric can be cruel (boyhowdy can he be cruel), he is never cruel without cause. You have to piss him off pretty bad in order to get a nasty death. In addition, Elric is shown to repay kindness as best he can.

The reason why I did this was I compared Elric to Dany before, and how he might have influenced her. People compare Edelgard to Dany all the time, so I wanted to put her against Elric. Honestly, once I began writing I keep coming up with more and more stuff. Edelgard has a lot in common with Elric, I could go on. How they're both short-sighted and make dumb decisions, or how Edelgard is known for being unemotional while Elric, when he's performing his evilist of actions because otherwise he's either a dramaqueen or theatrical, can commit atrocities without emotion or hate. But I'm going to stop here for now. Let me know what you guys think.

youtube

21 notes · View notes

jnlnyaface · 4 years

Text

Duality

This story takes place during the party in 2x01. Let’s pretend, for this story, Macy didn’t tell Maggie about the move until after Mel called Harry to the attic. Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar mistakes

Can be found on AO3 here

Duality was apparently going to always be a tentpole in Macy’s life. Being a Charmed one with demon blood. The freedom and independence of being an only child versus the inclusivity and acceptance that came with having siblings. Her need to always be in control and reserved outweighing her want to be fun and spontaneous. That fact was made even more evident by her current situation. Stuck between her dream job 2 hours away and her new found family. Macy felt like a hypocrite. Wasn’t it just a few months ago she was trying to guilt Maggie into staying in Hilltowne over the summer so they could spend time together. And now here she was. Considering moving away. And not just for the summer. Indefinitely.

It wasn’t just the job that was enticing. The promise of a new start. A clean slate. She couldn’t deny the appeal. With all the good things moving to Hilltowne brought her, magic, her sisters, Harry, it brought bad in equal measure. Discovering why her mother couldn’t be in her life, becoming the source, galvin’s death.

See duality.

Her urge to run could stem from the fact she’s never been anywhere long enough to get really attached to it. Sure she has memories, good and bad, from the different places she’s lived but none as deep or personal as the ones she’s made here. She wasn’t sure she was emotionally equipped to process everything that’s happened to her in the short time she’s lived in Hilltowne. Especially when every hallway, coffee shop and street corner brought back every painful memory at once.

She needed space. She needed room to breathe and think. Unfortunately, space away from her pain also meant space away from her sisters. Maybe she could convince them to come with her. Macy wasn’t the only one in this house that had been through trauma in the last year. They all had. Maybe a new start would be good for all of them.

Macy Vaughn was many things. An optimist was rarely one of them. She knew what her sisters, Mel in particular, would say. They wouldn’t want to leave the house they grew up in. The only town they’ve ever lived in. Not for her.

A hand on the small of her back shook her from her silent musings. Maybe a gigantic and extremely loud birthday party wasn’t the best place for her quiet rumination. She smiled at the handsome owner of the hand as he passed on his way to the kitchen.

She decided to seek out a familiar face. Distraction from her growing anxiety spiral. As if by magic Harry appeared in her line of sight.

“Harry!” She tried to call his name loud enough so he could hear her over the music. His head popped up and he looked around until his eyes landed on her. Silently she wondered if he only heard her because she called his name with “purpose” her volume having nothing to do with it.

“Well, hello, Macy,” Harry started as he stepped in front of her. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Somewhat...I mean yes,” Macy stammered. She didn’t want to give her worry away but from the look on Harry’s face it was too late. He always knew exactly what she was feeling.

“Maggie asked me to grab more cups from the office. Care to join me?” He also always knew the right thing to say. He was perfect.

“An opportunity to get away from all these people I don’t know?” Macy laughed lightly as she pretended to mull it over. “Yes please.”

Harry extended his hand in a “after you” gesture. She took the offer and walked to the office with him close behind. They made sure to lock the door before the party started to prevent any sexual shenanigans.

Macy used her powers to undo the lock. There was a part of her that wanted to look around for the cups she knew weren’t there. If only to give herself something to do. The motion of Harry redoing the lock on the door brought her eyes to him. He had a red solo cup in one hand and a magenta party hat on his head. He was adorable. He motioned her toward the couch, walked over and took a seat as he set his cup on the side table next to the couch. He noticed her fidgeting and patted the seat next him. An invitation to join. Once she sat down she let the warmth of his thigh pressing against her own bleed into her body.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” He asked as he rested his hand on her knee almost unconsciously.

“Who said there was a problem?” He made the achingly familiar “come on” look and she dropped her pretense. “Ok, there may be a small problem.”

“Well go on then. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I was offered a job,” She started. “No. Not a job. I was offered the job. At a genetics lab doing bio-ethical research.”

“That’s your dream job.” He looked at her closer. Looked into her eyes. “But, your expression tells me there is more to this story.”

“The job is in Ann Arbor.”

“Which is 2 hours away,” he finished her thought. “I can see how that might be a problem.”

“Maybe they have an opening in the women’s studies department and you and I can commute via orb everyday.”

“While that is certainly an idea. I don’t think it’s the best one for this situation.” And he was right. Macy wasn’t the most social person but what if she made friends and they wanted to hang out. Should she lie and say they couldn’t come to her place. Would they believe she had a 2 hour commute from work to home and back everyday? Maybe she could get an apartment there and pretend like she lives there while she actually comes back to Hilltowne every night.

These were all options and only most of them were terrible.

“You’re right,” she lamented. “I don’t know what to do. I love my sisters. And I’m glad that we were brought into each other’s lives but I can’t ignore the fact that being here is painful for me now.”

“I understand.”

“It just feels like every time something good happens in my life something equally as bad happens too,” she continued as she rose from the couch to pace around the small room. “My dad died. I found a new family. I find out I have magical powers. I find out I have demon blood in me which is the reason my mother had to leave me when I was young. I lose my virginity and the guy I lose it to dies saving the world. It hasn’t been long since we defeated the source. What if something bad is just around the corner?”

Hysterical isn’t the nicest word to describe a person when they’re freaking out, especially a woman, but there was really no better term for Macy’s current state. Harry stood from the couch and grabbed her shoulders to still her increasingly frantic movements.

“Macy you need to breathe.” Harry exaggerated his breathing until hers replicated his rhythm. He waited patiently until her eyes met his own. “Come, let’s sit back down.” He led her back to the couch and sat her down before reclaiming his seat next to her. “Look, I understand this is stressful but you’re about to give yourself a panic attack.”

“That would be bad,” Her attempt at banter fell flat but Harry at least let out a sound resembling a laugh and that was enough to make her feel somewhat better.

“Now, you and I both know life is full of happiness and pain,” He began. “Whether you live in Hilltowne, Ann Arbor or Antarctica. There’s no way to escape that. And I think you know that already. What is this really about?” How did he always know what to say?

“I love my sisters,” She repeated. The waver in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you trying to convince me,” Harry asked. “Or yourself?”

“No I mean...no,” She huffed. “I’ve never had to think about sisters before. A year ago, the decisions I made were for me. They were made by me and for me without any input or regard for anybody else’s feelings but my own. A single child mentality like that doesn’t just turn off over night.”

“That’s true.”

“But,” She continued. “I’m not sure that loving them is enough for me to stay. I can love them from Ann Arbor. And I can be their sister from Ann Arbor too. I just…” She paused trying to organize her thoughts. “I don’t know if I can be a charmed one from Ann Arbor. And I am sure that that’s not enough to make me stay.” Harry stayed silent. Like he knew she wasn’t finished with her thoughts. She wasn’t. “I just...I don't know what to do. I don’t want them to think I don’t care about them. I don’t want them to think that some job is more important than them. Than us. But. There is this part of me. This small persistent fraction of that girl who has always been alone that just keeps whispering, maybe it is.”

“Macy,” Harry started but she continued having not heard his attempt to get her attention.

“That’s horrible right? That I’m feeling this way? That I would be willing to put a job over my relationship with my sisters. What do you think I should do?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. She was unsurprised by the answer. “I can only imagine how difficult it must be to go from only thinking about what’s good for you to having to take two other people’s feelings into consideration. And even without the pressure of being a charmed one leaving sisters you’ve just met is big. The fear that the physical distance will cause a rift is a legitimate one. I apologize I don’t think I have the answers you’re looking for.”

“If my sisters aren’t enough to keep me here and my duty as a charmed one isn’t enough. Can you think of anything else? Any other reason I should stay?”

Harry’s eyes snapped to hers but he remained silent. Macy’s head was a mess right now. So many thoughts swirling and colliding. She was confused about a lot. The one thing she was sure of was the age old saying. Time heals all wounds. And even though she hadn’t made it through her grief over Galvin yet she was sure she would one day. She was also sure who she wanted to be waiting for her on the other side. Part of her was afraid leaving would close a door with Harry she may never be able to open again.

She was sure she didn’t want that.

Macy kept her eyes locked on his as he took several deep breaths. He seemed to be in deep contemplation. So she let her eyes drift to the silly magenta party hat on the top of his head. Her thoughts, thankfully, clear for the first time in days. Harry’s mere presence was enough to calm her. His intake of breath that signaled he was about to speak brought her eyes back to his.

“I…” He began but stopped abruptly and squinted his eyes in concentration. She knew that face. Someone was calling him. She knew what was coming next. “I apologize. I have to go. Mel is calling me.”

“I understand,” Macy nodded. “Go, and find me later. You owe me a dance.”

Harry nodded in agreement and grabbed his cup. With a flash of light he orbed from the office. Macy wasn’t sure what he was going to say but she was going to drink a lot of alcohol to preemptively stop obsessing.

Later, when she was blissfully numb from the multiple tequila shots she drank, Harry tapped her shoulder in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. She smiled when she saw it was him and he motioned towards himself. He was asking her to dance and she was just tipsy enough to not overthink the implications of slow dancing with the whitelighter she was growing more and more attracted to.

As he pulled her into his arms her heartbeat kicked into overdrive. For now she would blame it on the heat. As much sense as that made. She didn’t want to be emotional and drunk. For now she would rest her cheek on his shoulder and it wouldn’t mean anything more than a comfortable place for her head to go while they danced.

“I think you should go,” He whispered into her ear. She lifted her head up to meet his eyes. She was, at first, confused about what was talking about but her sluggish brain caught up quickly. Her eyes widened but he spoke before she could. “All I want is for you three to be happy and I don’t think you’re happy here. So I think you should go. Mel will be upset but she will understand eventually and we’ll figure out the whole long distance charmed ones thing.”

He took a breath and smiled a little sadly before continuing. “Having sisters, family, you’re close to is all about craving out time to take care of yourself. And that sometimes takes you away from them physically but not emotionally. Go find your happiness Macy. You deserve it.”

Macy was speechless. She wasn’t sure she had the mental capacity to form anything resembling a coherent response in her current state. So, in lieu of a reply, she smiled and nodded. She then returned her cheek to his shoulder as they continued to dance to the song playing from the speakers. She let his scent envelop her. Let herself get lost in it. Let her mind wander to daydreams of happier times. Wishing she could live in this moment forever.

Find your happiness, he said. Finding happiness wasn’t Macy’s problem. Keeping it? Well, that was another story.

#charmed #charmed fanfic #hacy #macy vaughn #harry greenwood #hacy fanfic #hacy fanfiction #charmed fanfiction #cw charmed #charmed cw #charmed 2018

8 notes · View notes

nomnomzombies · 5 years

Text

8x06: Identity and Sigils, The Three Eyed Raven and King Bran

**this disappeared somehow in editing. idk what’s happening guys. i don’t really know how to use Tumblr. so if you saved this and it’s different for the third time I’m so sorry**

This is in response to @dr-doomsduck ‘s post

I noticed the Raven sigil and I’m honestly not sure exactly how I feel about it. On one hand, there’s all of the pride for Bran, and this feeling of coming into his own. However, when you look at the surviving Starklings, their journey has been a process of identity conflict and reclamation, but Bran adopting the Raven sigil breaks the trend of the other Stark children. Jon and Bran are the most similar in their mentor-apprentice relationships as both of them embraced their mentors’ teachings as opposed to Arya and Sansa, who modified the “curriculum” to adhere to Stark morals and teachings.

When you look at the whole brood, when they’re ultimately faced with the decision of cloaking or adopting another sigil (as a form of concealment or denial), every single one of them has picked Stark. The only exception would be Theon (who is an honorary Starkling), but even though he donned his Kraken and fought alongside his sister, he still died for the Wolves.

Jon, who was trained by a Bear (and adopted those teachings and integrated them into his Stark-ness), was put into the position of refuting the Wolf sigil only once (although his time with the Wildlings put him in crisis in terms of his Night’s Watch oath, it never required him to strip himself of his Stark identity). I’ve discussed before how the death of Rhaegal indicated his inability to adopt a Targaryen identity, but the other part of it is his process of being susceptible to Targ indoctrination via Dany. There was a brief opportunity for Jon to be vulnerable enough to be sucked into the “fire and blood” teachings, but ultimately it just wasn’t there. He refuted Dany as a potential “mentor” for fostering the Targaryen identity, and thus there was no hope of the Dragon developing within Jon.

When Sansa was in King’s Landing, her colour changed to mauve (the melding of Lannister crimson and the blue tones of the North) and the lion began to appear in her costume decisions. Although the lion overtook the wolf in terms of visible sigils, her Northern roots never disappeared, but rather integrated into her Southern influence for strategic cloaking. When she left King’s Landing, Sansa’s clothes began to mimic Littlefinger’s in terms of colouring and cut--her infamous “Dark Sansa” dress integrated feathers into the decor, as Littlefinger’s sigil is the mockingbird. When she escapes Ramsay’s captivity, her dress is grey, and her cloak is unassuming. It’s not until she rides south with Jon to rally the northern houses that she completely reclaims the Stark fashion, and we finally see her don the Direwolf for the first time in the series. (Season 6)

As Arya is in the Riverlands, after escaping King’s Landing in season 1, she’s completely stripped of her Stark and highborn identity. In Braavos, she’s forced to abandon all things Arya Stark, but she can’t part with Needle. She dons the clothing of the House of Black and white and begins her training. In the end, though, she refutes the teachings of her mentor. When given the opportunity to become “no one,” Arya tells Jaqen to fuck right off--”A girl is Arya Stark.” Bran, on the other hand, completely adopts all teachings from the Three Eyed Raven.

This whole thing may seem moot, because I’m ultimately arriving to the point which the character himself has been pushing onto us for the last two seasons and Meera confirmed in season 7–“You died in that cave.” Bran has been saying, “I’m not Bran Stark anymore.”

Some theorists say that Bran has become a vessel for Bloodraven—but book readers know that the “three eyed raven” (at face value) is much closer to a collective conscience. The parallel that I’ve drawn for people in the past is much like an AI, where the singular conscience becomes a node in the collective once it’s integrated into the “system” aka Weirwood net (or, weirwood.net). Bran Stark the individual disappeared once he uploaded to the collective.

This is why I’m having a very hard time being happy for “Bran”—and a very critical issue that I have with his kingship. Because... this isn’t Bran. This is the Three Eyed Raven. We don’t have any information to suggest that the Three Eyed Raven has been particularly ambitious in the past, but it’s now integrated into two high-profile and highly magical bloodlines (Stark and Targaryen.

The narrative also proposes that the Three Eyed Raven has been attuned to the possible timelines, and has been slowly adjusting course to eventually end up in a seat of power. **I’m asserting this based on our understanding from the show, not the books.

The Three Eyed Raven has been saying things to make itself as unassuming and non-threatening as possible, even going so far as to adopt the consciousness of Brandon Stark—who was already paralyzed when the Three Eyed Raven first started appearing to him. We know that the Three Eyed Raven has been appearing in childrens’ dreams for a long time, as it’s stated in the books that the Raven appeared to Euron Greyjoy as a child, but didn’t appear to Bran until after his fall. Was Bran’s disability a deciding factor to him being chosen as the successor?

In Bran’s first raven dream, he sees the corpses of all of the children that “couldn’t fly.” It’s hard to say if these corpses represent physically murdered children, or if they’re more likely to represent a death in the subconscious—the “death” that would leave those people susceptible to madness. Was Euron as a child one of the broken bodies in Bran’s Raven dreams? Moreover, the Raven dreams are very triggering for Bran--the Three Eyed Raven (Three Eyed Crow in the books) is a very sinister entity, and continues to make Bran relive his trauma every time. Bran refers to the Raven dreams as his “falling dreams.”

@sayruq wrote a post, citing book quotes, as to why Tyrion providing the moniker of “Bran the Broken” completely goes against Bran’s character and monumentalizes one of Bran’s greatest sources of internal pain in the books. He laments being “broken.”

My initial thought on the matter was that it was just shitty writing, and the point of it was supposed to illustrate that Bran has reclaimed his identity as a paraplegic—much like Sansa’s dialogue was likely meant to illustrate her reclaiming her identity as a trauma survivor. The more I thought about it,though, the more I pieced together that “Bran the Broken” was a moniker that doesn’t go against Bran’s character because it’s not Bran anymore. It’s the Three Eyed Raven, who doesn’t have the same relationship to the word that was very triggering to Bran Stark.

The Three Eyed Raven has gone to great lengths to make themself seem as innocuous as possible with statements like, “I don’t really want anymore” and “I can never be the Lord of anything,” and integrating with a paraplegic boy. Moreover, before the Battle for Winterfell, the Three Eyed Raven even said that he “didn’t know” if their plan would work, even though we have other reasons to believe that they can see the future. They tipped their hand with the line, “Why do you think I came all this way?” So, yes, in some way, the Three Eyed Raven understood that becoming King was a possible outcome of the Great War, and maneuvered in such a way that they were in the ultimate seat of power.

Allowing the North to secede was likely of little consequence to them because there’s bigger things at play--as demonstrated by the Three Eyed Raven’s preoccupation with finding Drogon.

Putting corrupted people in the seats of power only further drives home the point that the Three Eyed Raven in power bodes ill for the people.

Sam is poorly trained despite being one of the most morally “good” characters on the counsel, and even though he’s shown to have the drive to stand up for what’s right, Sam clearly respects the Three Eyed Raven.

Brienne is also a “morally good” character and she’s the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard—because she broke her oath to Sansa—so she has little say over actual matters of state. But the fact that the Three Eyed Raven was able to convince either Brienne or Sansa to break that oath makes me uncomfortable. Not only do we not know how it happened, but the end result is that Sansa is alone in the North—she doesn’t have a single loyal and true adviser at the beginning of her reign.

Tyrion is not a good person, and will likely be easy to control as Tyrion has also showed great respect for them—even so far as to personally nominate them for King.

Lastly, I’ll refer to the part that bothered me most about the Small Council scene. As Bran is leaving, every member stands at attention and after Tyrion proclaims, “We serve at the pleasure of Bran the Broken...” everyone attempts to synchronize “Long may he reign!” and Tyrion says, “That will improve.” Implying that this proclamation will happen every time the Three Eyed Raven leaves the room. Formality is expected for a monarch, but we didn’t even see that level of regime-quality salute in the presence of Dany as she emerged to be a dictator.

So, yeah, tl;dr I think that Bran adopting the Raven sigil for his kingsguard is way, way more deeply encoded than at first glance.

#game of thrones #got spoilers #asoiaf #got #house stark #starklings #three eyed raven #brynden rivers #bran stark #sansa stark #jon snow #anti daenerys #got meta #my meta #jonsa fam

151 notes · View notes