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damienthepious · 4 years

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INTERNALLY I AM SCREAMING EXTERNALLY I AM ALSO SCREAMING,,, BUT LET’S HAVE SOME BOUQUET WHILE I SCREAM INTO A PILLOW.

Even With Missteps (chapter 3)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ao3] [ch 4] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Lord Arum/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, (other characters mentioned)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Dancing, Costume Parties & Masquerades

Summary: There is a masquerade ball in the Citadel tonight. Every knight and citizen has turned out, and all of them bear disguises of monstrosity. What better time could there be, for a monster who needs to find a way inside?

Chapter Summary We are attempting to be fair. There is still at least one dance that is owed.

Chapter Notes: i'm so fucking gay y'all. can i mention again this was supposed to just be a one shot? how LONG is this now? oh my god. anyway now there HAS to be a fourth chapter, because i completely changed how this chapter was supposed to end and things have gone entirely off the rails again. this is a mess. hit me up on tumblr if you wanna know how this was SUPPOSED to end. also please go listen to the new episode i'm DYING.

Arum descends, his mind still roiling and disbelieving, and his claws click lightly on the stone when he reaches the balcony level again, but there is no one close enough by to hear, or to see. No sharp-eyed attendees attend his presence, this time.

As such… Arum indulges one more moment. He glances towards the window above, and through the darkness and the curtains he can see nothing in truth. He imagines shadows in the room, at least. Imagines the shape of his honeysuckle, awkwardly explaining his absence to a colleague, explaining that he had, of course, found nothing of interest in the Queen’s chambers.

... Arum still does not understand.

Many things, if he is being honest with himself, as he so rarely is. He does not understand Sir Damien, does not understand this sharp-fanged little basilisk with his lilting voice and his gentle eyes, his sharp arrows and his bright laugh. He does not understand why a knight would ever, ever suffer a monster to live. Not under any circumstances, let alone such ridiculous ones as these.

Humans. Baffling creatures… though, not quite in the way Arum expected them to be. He turns his attention towards a sharp noise back inside, looking through the sheer curtains into the party, and he watches a pair of human hatchlings - children, he thinks - laughing uncontrollably beneath their chickenfeather-harpy costumes as they swing each other's hands back and forth. Arum shakes his head quickly, turning away, and then he gives the window above one more glance.

Arum does not understand his own reactions, either. The knight failed to perform his duty- but Arum has done much the same. The knight should be dead.

Two dances, and Arum is made a fool. He scoffs at himself, digging the claws of his hidden lower hands into his midsection to try to suppress the way his stomach jumps in discomfort, and… he is still staring at the window above. He does not have time for this. He does not. He should already be on his way home in the understanding that this evening has been a failure, or better yet he should be looking for some way to salvage this, some other alternative focus he can select for his prototype. There is no cause for him to waste time in musing, he can worry over his own stupidity in the Keep, when he is safe-

“Hey there, stranger.”

Arum whirls on the voice, realizing quite a bit too late that there is a human closer than is comfortable. He manages, by a fraction, not to hiss instinctively. His cover may not be completely intact anymore, but that is no reason to toss it out while it may still serve him.

The human is small, though not as small as his basilisk- as Sir Damien, rather. Her mask is brassy, with a sharp pointed beak over her nose, beneath which she is grinning at Arum in a way that would put him instantly on edge, were he not already tense to begin with.

She is also, decidedly, in the way of his current escape route, back through the party.

“Er- greetings,” Arum awkwardly grates out, and the human’s grin, if anything, tilts wider. “If you will pardon-”

“Nah, I don’t think I’ll pardon. Care for a dance?”

Arum stares down at her, wondering if the sheer force of his confusion and irritation are properly conveyed through his mask. “No.”

She raises an eyebrow, shimmering red and gold dusting her dark skin in stylized flaming streaks. “No?”

“I am leaving, I do not have-”

“It’s Arum, right?”

Arum flinches, then freezes, and he is glad, at least, that the human cannot see his panicked face.

“Excuse me?” he barks. “Who- how-”

“You’re the one who stole a dance from my partner earlier tonight,” she says slyly, coming closer while he stands stock-still.

“You-” Arum swallows uncomfortably, glancing again towards the window above for a moment, but he still cannot see anyone looking down towards the balcony. “You are attached to h- Sir Damien, then?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” She shrugs. “So what I figure is, you technically stole a dance that should have been mine, right?”

“I- I don’t have time for-”

“So you owe me a dance, then.”

“What?”

She grins, the sharp white curve of her teeth intersected by the triangle of her mask’s beak, and she edges even closer, and despite Arum’s instincts he knows he cannot back away or else it will show too much weakness in front of this little creature. He cannot obey the traitorous instincts urging him to lean into her mammal heat, either. Obviously.

“I said you owe me a dance, Arum, and you look like you’re about to bolt out of here, so I know I gotta take what’s owed to me now or I might not get another chance.” Her smile shifts a little less predatory, a little more warm instead of hot, and she lifts her hand towards him in request. “Just one dance. One dance won’t kill you, will it?”

Arum does not look back up towards the window above, does not look over the human’s shoulder to see if any knights are coming their way, and thinks that perhaps, just maybe, it might kill him. There is something undeniable in her eyes, though. Something in the certainty of her posture and her smile. And-

Dancing with Damien had been… not unpleasant. It stands to reason that if this little creature is his usual partner, it is likely that she will be similarly skilled, will she not? And Arum may have already settled his debts, so to speak, with Damien, but this human cannot possibly know that, and- and Arum still needs to cross the room again, to make his escape. None would expect a thief to return to cavorting and revelry after he was nearly found out, would they?

He has waited too long in the consideration. The human leans just slightly closer, and one of her hands reaches, brushing her gloved fingers (still impossibly hot, a phoenix she is dressed as and she has equal fire, certainly-) against his own, and without thinking he spreads his fingers, allowing her to take his hand properly.

Well. The decision is made, though he is still not convinced that he is the one who made it.

Arum steps closer, breath leaving him in a sigh, and her eyes go bright and delighted above the curve of her beak.

“I suppose… if the fairness matters so much, if settling the score is so very important to you, little phoenix-”

Her other hand moves to the correct place upon him, but then slips a past that, just skirting the edge of propriety as she slots herself a little too close, very much too warm. Must all these creatures run hearth-hot?

“I’m not, really. Concerned with the fairness, I mean,” she says with a wicked little grin as they begin to sway together. “It is a really good excuse, though.”

Arum-

Laughs. A helpless little breath of it escapes between his teeth, and apparently that encourages her because her grin grows wider.

Arum's estimations of her dancing prowess were correct, in a way. She is not unpleasant to dance with, as Damien was not, but her style is markedly different. Damien dances with a certain elegance, a feeling of controlled grace. This little phoenix is skilled, but there is more joy here than elegance by a wide gulf. She knows precisely what she is doing, but she clearly intends to enjoy every step, regardless of propriety or decorum. An admirable attitude, so far as Arum is concerned.

"You are unconcerned with your former partner as well, then?" Arum asks, because it seems like something a human would care about. The little phoenix gives her own laugh, tossing her head back to do so, and the unselfconsciousness of the gesture makes Arum's frill shiver with the desire to flare beneath the constriction of his mask.

"I'm almost always concerned about Damien in one way or the other," she says with a shrug that shifts her skin against Arum's palm. "But considering that he's run off from a party to do work - again - I don't think he'll mind too much if I find someone else to entertain me for a little while."

"I am not entertainment," Arum grumbles, but his footwork does not falter with the complaint, and the way her eyes glint as she smirks up at him makes the claim feel rather flimsy.

"Besides," she continues, entirely ignoring his protest, "it'd be pretty hypocritical for him to complain about it, don't you think?"

"I- I suppose-"

"He knows how to pick a partner, though," she says, and there is no small degree of smugness in her tone as she guides their steps in a gentle sort of circle around the wide balcony. "You're kind of a natural at this."

"O-oh," Arum says. While they dance, he cannot exactly look away from her, cannot distract himself from the warmth of her body or her words. "Oh. Th-thank you." He pauses, attempting for a long moment to focus more on his surroundings, and then he processes the words the human spoke aside from her compliment. "Though- though, I picked him, not the other way around."

"Hm," she says. "Out of curiosity, why did you pick him, anyway? It's a big sort of party, lots of folks to choose from…"

"He-" Arum stutters, but there do not appear to be any further words ready to rise to his tongue.

You are the only monster here who has interested me in the least. Those were the words he whispered into Sir Damien's ear when first he gathered the knight into his arms, and- and Arum, at the time, had assumed himself a liar. He is unsure, now, if he had been, but that memory-

Elegant little basilisk with longing in his eyes, still amidst a sea of movement, drawing Arum's eyes as bright as the rising sun-

"He has… an air about him," Arum settles on, his voice stilted and soft, and the little phoenix give a much more gentle smile, then.

"He really does, doesn't he?" She sighs then, and when she glances back up at him from beneath her mask her expression is wry. "Alright, okay, I should stop teasing. It's not like I can blame you for being charmed- or for being charming."

Arum barks a laugh, too surprised to do anything else. "Charming-"

"You were gonna leave before I interrupted, right? Let me dance you across the ballroom, at least. Then you can just take off, if you'd like."

Arum blinks down at her, utterly baffled. "Are all-" he pauses, "people from this Citadel like the pair of you?" Arum asks incredulously, tilting his head as he looks down at the creature in his arms.

"Like what?"

Arum opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again quickly.

Compelling, he had nearly hissed. Enthralling. Fascinating and clever and warm and draped with a deceptive air of comfort, despite the fact that Arum knows that an ounce more of carelessness with either of these creatures would spell certain death.

She stares at him as he flounders. He snaps his teeth together again reflexively, then grasps for other words.

"Humans of the Northern Wilds have a reputation for- for a lack of hospitality. You and your basilisk have quite decidedly failed to live up to that reputation."

She looks delighted by this claim, her hands flexing against him in a way Arum attempts to ignore. "Hm, well, I can't say that reputation isn't absolutely well earned," she says, almost viciously. "Honestly I'm kind of surprised that you managed to get through to Damien, he can be a little intense at first."

Arum laughs again. "Intense," he echoes. "Yes… well, he was certainly that, though I do not think he was inhospitable." He pauses again, and he remembers the calmness of Damien's eyes, even over his raised bow, and the delicacy of the smile he gave when he lowered it at last, and let Arum take his hands again. "Despite the fact that, perhaps, I deserved a degree of inhospitality."

She laughs brightly, and Arum's mouth curls into an unbidden smile beneath his mask, and then she shakes her head and her hands upon him squeeze very slightly. A little warning, he realizes, before she shifts her footing and their trajectory, and then she begins to back away with him, leading him off of the balcony and back towards the rest of the party inside. "C'mon, stranger," she says warmly. "One more dance, and then you'll be free to escape all this ballroom drama. Saints know I wish I could join you- this is all a bit too formal for me to sink my teeth into."

"It has been… less tedious than I anticipated," Arum admits, rather than considering what this creature would prefer to do with her teeth.

"Yeah," she says, playful again, "it seems like you've managed to enjoy yourself, huh?"

Arum huffs, but he bites down on his retort so he may instead focus on maintaining his steps now that he needs to worry about other surrounding humans again. The ballroom is so much warmer than the balcony air, though his phoenix is hotter still in his arms, and the combination of heat seems to blur his vision at the edges.

"If you thought it was gonna be so awful," she says, "why come? If you were worried about our reputation around here, you must come from pretty far off."

"I-" Arum hesitates, considers his possible lies, but the sharpness of her eyes upon him makes him suspect he will have better odds with the truth. Or- part of it, at the very least. "A rather frustrating obligation," he settles on, after a moment. "A job in the city I must complete before I may return home and care for my-" he cuts himself off, digging for a way to explain that a human would understand. "To care for my family, as I am meant to."

"Attending the masquerade is part of your job?" she asks, her eyebrow raising, and Arum sighs because the absurdity of the situation is very much not lost on him.

"Unfortunately, yes. Or-" he pauses, then breathes a light, dizzy laugh as he and the little human spin in a tight circle. "Perhaps… perhaps the obligation has proven itself to be not entirely unfortunate."

She smiles again, and Arum's stomach jumps with a sensation like both pleasure and panic. He swallows uncomfortably, and when she moves with pointed confidence he acquiesces, spinning her out and then pulling her back against his chest.

They are already near to the other side of the ballroom again, the crowd thinning around them as they approach the exit, but Arum still feels as if he is sinking into the warmth of the air, the warmth of his thick cape and those confident hands-

Her hands- not only are they so shockingly warm upon him, but they will not stay still. He is distracted, trying to keep his mind on his steps while her touch and her sly smirk pull his attention elsewhere, and he does not realize quite quickly enough where she is touching until he feels her fingers, curling around the back of his neck. Her touch runs down his spine, brushing the bony ridge at the base of his neck, and he can’t quite suppress the way that makes him shiver and hiss.

Her lips part, her eyebrow raising again as her head tilts in a thoughtful sort of way, and Arum’s feet stumble to a halt.

They both attempt the first syllables of words at the same time, then, hers a baffled question and his a sharp deflection, but they are both interrupted.

"Rilla!"

The little phoenix turns, just slightly, not pulling away from Arum's grasp upon her. She's smiling again, even, as she watches Sir Damien half-leap down the stairs from near the Queen's dais, bolting through the crowd towards the exit, towards them.

"Hm," she says, her eyes sparking with distinct amusement as Arum attempts (and fails) not to feel panic welling again, without the lance of strange pleasure this time. "I didn't think he'd actually get jealous, not after we-"

"Unhand my Amaryllis- unhand my fiancée, villain!"

Arum would do precisely as Sir Damien commands, if his limbs did not feel as immobile as a copse of dead trees. Damien's clarion-call voice draws the attention of nearly the entire ballroom, citizen and soldier alike. It looks, from Arum's horrified vantage, as if every single human face, however disguised, now turns towards Arum and his current partner, who is evidently named Amaryllis. Even the music has slackened, the instruments pattering off into pathetic whining before they cease entirely.

Arum's thoughts wind down in a similar fashion, to a blank nothing that almost screams.

It seems our time has run out before our dance is finished, he thinks again as Damien swims through the stilled dancers, an echo of a lament. Amaryllis pulls slightly towards Damien as he draws close. She pulls against Arum's stiff arms, and he-

There is a moment. He considers the possibility.

He is well within leaping distance to the doors, to the exit, and there is little chance the knight would aim his bow at his own partner, if Arum simply- grabbed her and did not let go when he leapt.

But Amaryllis glances back towards him when she feels how wooden his grip has gone, glancing up at his face with- sympathy of all things as she squeezes one of his hands, and Arum feels like a monster, in the most human of possible senses. He feels like a beast for even considering it.

He forces his grip on the little phoenix to slacken, and he takes a half step back.

Amaryllis gives him one last look of confusion and concern before she slips entirely out of his grasp, moving to place herself between Arum and the knight, her hands raised, placating.

"It was just a dance, Damien, I didn't think that you'd-"

"You," Damien hisses, not pushing past Amaryllis but certainly not hearing her as he glares at Arum. "You-" he snarls, and his hands twitch against his bow, the muscles of his arms tensing, and Arum-

Arum stares at the knight, stands perfectly still, completely stiff, and he is utterly certain that he is about to die.

"I asked him to dance, Damien, not the other way around. Just-"

"With this beast," Damien snarls, and Arum's heart clenches almost painfully, although the citizenry staring at the three of them do not seem to recognize Damien's words as only honest, rather than hyperbolic.

Arum could still attempt to leap, to escape, but without a hostage he is far less certain that he will not be shot in the spine. If he is going to die, he would rather face it directly. He would rather see the arrow as it comes.

Damien clenches his teeth, his tawny eyes gone ferocious and sharp, and it is only Amaryllis' hands upon his wrists that prevent him from lifting the bow in that precise moment.

"How dare you?" Damien's hands shake under Amaryllis' palms. "After- after I- monster-"

"Honeysuckle-"

Damien blanches at the word, at Arum's voice, so very quiet beneath the din of concerned murmurs at the knight's back. Damien hesitates, only for a moment, the fury in his eyes softened with confusion, and Arum forces himself to continue.

"I-" Arum pauses, inhales sharply, tries again. "I was enjoying… playing the monster too much, I think." He pauses again, inhales more slowly, ignores the tightness in his throat. "F-forgive me."

Arum drops his eyes, then, but no arrow comes and the pause draws long enough to be worrying in and of itself. Arum hazards a glance up at Sir Damien again, and he-

The conflict is so clear upon him as to be nearly palpable. Arum thinks that perhaps he would be able to taste it, if the copper of his mask were not stifling his tongue.

Damien still grips his bow in one hand, but the other he lifts, his fingers brushing almost absently over his own lips before he seems to realize what he is doing, and then he presses his palm over his mouth entirely. Amaryllis frowns hard when Damien glances towards her, and then when the poet shoots another look towards Arum, the monster only stands, and waits, and does not allow himself to hope.

"You-" Damien cuts himself off, clenching his jaw hard, his brow furrowing in obvious distress, and then Arum can see the precise moment the poet decides his course of action. The wild determination that bleeds across his features is precisely as blatant as his former conflict. "You have slighted me this night, my fellow beast," Damien says, and his voice is loud and clear again, though Arum can clearly make out the falsity overlaying it now. Amaryllis can quite obviously sense his performance, too, and the bafflement in her expression makes for a good companion to Arum's own stunned shock. "My Rilla's honor must be defended!"

Arum blinks, and the murmurs behind the knight take on a tittering, conspiratorial quality. "A-ah-"

"I demand you duel me!"

"Damien," Amaryllis attempts to interrupt, her tone entirely incredulous, but Damien grips her wrist and shakes his head sharply.

"For my Rilla's honor!"

Damien's tone is insistent, his expression pointed and firm, his eyes framed between the fangs of his mask and still so… compelling. He is prompting, and Arum must push past his shock if he wants to- to take the hand that Sir Damien is offering.

"If- if that is what must be done to put this conflict to rights… so be it."

"It is," Damien snarls. "Obviously, we must- discuss the terms of this duel privately. Let us take the matter outside," he says, his voice managing to be both pointed and toneless, and then nearly as an afterthought he adds, "you cur," and it is all that Arum can do to bury his urge to snort a laugh.

The fact that he feels near-hysterical with the sheer absurdity of this entire evening certainly does not help with that urge, either.

Arum pauses as if considering, flicks his tongue without meaning to beneath his mask (the scent of copper stuffs his snout), and then he nods. "If you… insist."

"I do," Damien says with clear relish, and then he gestures towards the door. "Outside. Now."

Arum stares at Sir Damien for another wondering moment as his frown deepens, as his eyes widen and his gesturing hand flutters in the air again, and then Arum nods, and turns, and retreats, with his basilisk and his phoenix following in his wake.

#OFF! THE! RAILS!!!#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #sir damien #even with missteps

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ashleychristina73 · 5 years

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I really need for y'all to stop blaming Black Panther 4 being more successful than your own movie

How about we leave the vilification of Black Panther and black people's support of Black Panther in 2018. Black panther did so well because black people as a whole came together and supported it. No matter where we were from. whether we were afro-latinas, Africans, African Americans, afro-Irish, afro-cuban, afro-indian and etc. it didn't matter we all came together to support a movie featuring predominantly dark skin black people.

Not to mention the fact that some of the movies that you guys are flaming didn't do as well as they should have because black people didn't support them as much as black panther are actually doing quite well. For instance Aquaman is doing exceptionally well. As of January 2nd 2019 Aquaman has grossed 846.3 million worldwide. So these Aquaman deserves more support post are absolutely ridiculous. Aquaman is doing amazing right now. People seem to love the movie it seems to only get good reviews. Y'all are honestly just looking for a reason to blame black people for something.

Now as for movies like Coco and crazy Rich Asians that is still not black people's fault. Like I said in the beginning black panther did so well because black people supported it. I remember when Coco first came out I'm afro-latina and I barely heard any Hispanic people talking about that movie whether they were Mexican or not. I also remember when crazy Rich Asians came out and I remember that most of the posts that I saw talking about crazy Rich Asians we're coming from non asians. There were barely any Asian people talking about supporting this movie. I barely saw any post saying that everybody who identified as Spanish or Hispanic no matter where they're from should go and see Coco. Like I did for Black Panther. And that is not black people's fault.

Coco only made 154.4 million worldwide. Crazy Rich Asians only made 238 million. Maybe instead of blaming the lack of success of your own movies on black people and black panther you should ask yourselves why didn't Asian people come out and support crazy Rich Asians like black people did? Why didn't Hispanic people and people of Spanish descent and anyone who identifies as Spanish come out and support Coco like black people? Our movie did so well because we supported it. And from that support we have started a movement. now film companies are busting their asses to put black people in their movies because they now see that when black people have proper representation we will come out in droves to support.

I am a huge believer in supporting all people of color and I absolutely adore Constance Wu and Jason Momoa. And when Coco,Aquaman and crazy Rich Asians came out I had and still have every intention of seeing them but I'm tired of y'all trying to act like black people should feel bad for supporting our own movies. I'm tired of y'all trying to Guilt us supporting your movies just because your people won't. If you want something you have to fight for it. That's something that black people we have known since forever. I think some of y'all need to start realizing that too.

For example the movie Ghost in the Shell didn't really make that much but one thing I will always remember about that movie is the way in which so many Asian people supported the whitewashing of an Asian character. I also remember how so many people of color especially black people came together and complained and protested the white washing of the movie on the behalf of Asian people and we ended up looking stupid. We cannot fight your battles for you. We can be allies and help you fight but we cannot fight your battles for you. The first step to changing things like this is to fight. You have to show companies that you will not support ,financially, colorism anymore. Black people have been fighting for representation and fighting just to be able to live and not get killed for years and years and years. Y'all need to do the same thing. Why do you think that suddenly so many companies in the west and oversees all around the world are starting to include darker skin tones in their shade ranges? why do you think that so many movies are starting to include darker people? Because they now see that failing to do so can and WILL lose them money.

EDIT: and for the record I'm not looking for an amen corner. I don't give a f*** whether or not you agree with me or not. So if you start some sort of argument with me over my opinion be well aware that you will be arguing by yourself. I dont care. Also if you were not one of the people making those type of posts then this post is obviously not aimed at you. Reading is fundamental people. I

#blackpeople #black panther #crazy rich asians #asian #asian people #hispanic #spanish #afro #afro latina #colorism #rant #coco #aquaman #jason momoa #constance wu #polynesian #hawaiian #people of color #poc

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papersynth · 6 years

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The Feud breakdown theory

TLDR: Its basically one big Klance-centric episode, this whole theory’s probably a reach but its nice lol. Reposted from my twitter. More under the cut!

Lets start off this thread by pointing out one of the glaring things that immediately hit me once I started watching this episode when it aired: the title sequence. I'm not particularly old but my parents have always loved gameshows and reality television.

They would watch it in the living room and so one of the things that stuck out to me the most was how the logo for Garfle Warfle Snick is visually similar to "The Dating Game" which was a 60's TV show centered around a bachelorette picking out a guy to take out on a date.

Even the dang flowers.....

It was at this moment I thought "well, after being basically deprived of any Klance scenes for 3 seasons, you'd think S7 would bring you some of that and boy oh boy I've been fed so well. I think its strange for them to visually replicate a DATING GAMESHOW logo. We know for a fact that they were going for a family feud esque style, so why didn't they just replicate the Family feud logo instead? The vibe of the entire episode would change because it'll be a glaring reference.

Going back to Kaplan's tweet about how things aren't what they seem, the Feud really, like, obviously lets you know, that things really aren't what they seem. The story shifts in focus and tone and so do the characters.

My theory is that this episode foreshadows events to come that even the paladins never knew were even challenges themselves.

I believe this sort of aids the Klance fight theory (graciously written by Ca HERE) because that altean colony which they believe was a win for them to discover, could possibly be their next challenge (their garfle, becomes a warfle)

We also know that it isn't new for Voltron to use the "it was an altean all along!" as shock value for their enemies but at this point, I think Allura's starting to learn that her race is equally capable of evil.

This adds to the idea that during the 3 year gap, there's a possibility that the altean colony and Haggar/Galra have been working together to develop new technology (Hunk: I've never seen the Galra use weapons like these before) because clearly it isn’t the olkari helping them.

Time for my biggest reach yet, how the fuck is that a chopstick lance. You can recognise a mullet for a hundred feet away but you can't recognise a sword at point blank. Strange considering Keith drew out the sword pretty quickly, so there's no way Lance saw chopsticks.

NOTHING in this image screams chopsticks. I even went and printed out this god forsaken screencap and tilted it to see if it looked like chopsticks from a far angle and nope, still looks like a blade. This one's a reach but, chopsticks are insinuate a "yin-yang" dynamic.

Chopsticks is a strange pick because it doesn't LOOK anything like a chopstick. It would have made more sense to call it a shovel, paper fan, knife, surfboard etc. Go off. Chopsticks have always been used as a pair, one cannot exist without the other, which brings me to voltron's wings. I like the idea of Voltron being similar to Darling in the Franxx because of their mecha designs kinda taking reference from Evangelion. This is a reach definitely, but its cute whatever, eat this up. There's a mythical bird called "Jian" and it only has one wing.

The bird can only exist with another of its kind, where together, they can fly and soar. Wings and duality are symbols that have ALWAYS gone hand in hand, simply because there are two. Chopsticks being Lance's stupid fucking word choice is so damn specific its hurting me.

HERE'S ANOTHER REACH Y'ALL, the reason why chopsticks are thicker and circular at the top but thinner and squared at the bottom is because they represent the heaven and the earth. WHERE'D THEY COME FROM Y'ALL. WHERE DID THE PALADINS GO? UH? BACK TO EARTH YEA?

And once again, Keith draws this one very quickly so it does show that Lance can make a good guess immediately. I can see why he would say Dog here. SO WHY COULDN'T YOU SEE A BLADE AT FIRST LANCE? EXPLAIN YOURSELF. MOVING ON FROM THE DAMN DRAWING GAME.

I think these two screenshots speak for themselves. Earlier this morning I wrote a theory about how the Klance dynamic is all over the place because Lance has grown as a person in his absence and he's confused as to how he's supposed to behave towards "new keith".

He takes a jab at Keith throughout the start of this whole episode

"Not my fault keith can't draw!"

"I'm not a mind reader!"

So once again, its the usual bickering coming from Lance, but we see that shift later in the episode, I'll get to that later.

The next game with bii boh bi. Funny to me how the game's called "The Garflator" when we've already established that "Garfle" means to "win". The monster isn't the Garflator as they've misleaded, its the tank.

If you don't believe me, here's the subtitles literally calling the monster the "Warflator". Strange isn't it? You miss these things when you watch it the first time. Bob wasn't joking when Warfle and Garfle were interchangeable.

I don't really want to analyse how Bii Boh Bi acts throughout the whole segment mainly because I think that's reaching a little too far, and it was likely comedic the entire time, but I can't help but notice that his tone throughout suggests a "fill in the blanks" situation.

My theory is that this situation foreshadows the possibility that someone will help Lance fill in the blanks, and guess what the answer is in the GARFLator. He might even really be running out of time so again, stick it out till the last episode of S8.

Bonus: Seems like its pretty nice isn't it. Our crops are watered and his skin is cleared. Joking of course, but overall the whole Garflator/Warflator situation keeps getting mixed up together that's why I think this theory's reaching but I digress.

Time for the scene that made all of us Klancers scream into the depths of hell. We all already know that they didn't have to vote for each other if it was meaningless, but after seeing the recent surplus of Lance being hurt by Keith leaving, I've got a solid theory.

Lets look at the scene first, mainly at Hunk and Pidge's faces. We know Hunk is emotionally observant while Pidge behaves logically, so I think when we're speaking logically: Lance picking Keith seems HIGHLY illogical to pidge.

Lance "hates" Keith. Why pick him to survive? THE MATH DOESN'T ADD UP. On the other hand, Hunk's facial expression here seems more....worried? Not confused. There's been substantial evidence that Lance was hurt by Keith leaving, and if he spoke to anyone about it, it'd be hunk.

I think Pidge is surprised to hear these things come out of Lance's mouth and seeing Keith pick him. Remember when they all picked someone to help Lance? The braniest of the team? I think honestly Pidge might be the first to pick up on their possible affections towards each other.

This sort of parallels the earlier scene where Lance was the last one to figure out Pidge was a girl, but maybe that's reaching a little too hard (Curse these short arms!)

Earlier this morning I wrote a thread about how Lance picking Keith to leave here is probably the nail in the coffin that he deeply cares about Keith. Remember, this situation would probably be the third time that Keith has left Lance.

Read the linked thread, I won't reiterate it here but basically Lance grows in Keith's absence, stepping up when he needs to, but its not really what he wants. Losing Keith again might be devastating, but that only heightens why this scene is so affectionate. He makes this choice himself.

He calls Keith the future because he has faith in his skills (he's our leader) and him as a person (plus he's half galra). That Keith HAS a future. This is SIGNIFICANT because the only other person that has said that they have faith in Keith, was Shiro.

Shiro is VALUABLE to Keith, he's the most important person in his life. Having people believe in him has always been difficult and I think where Lance says (although cryptically) that he believes in Keith, is really where their new dynamic takes off.

THAT's why Keith behaves somewhat coldly in S7, because its never gonna be easy for him to suddenly accept a new person in his life. He’s not sure how he should react to another person caring for him. Both of them know their dynamic isn't what it used to be, they can't joke and jab anymore. We're back to square one, but its different this time.

One last thing about this episode (that isn't Klance related) is Luxia's kingdom, just a fun quick thought that maybe the Baku might be back, i mean he never really was defeated, just trapped. ;)

Uhhh that's it! Can't think of anything else haha. Thanks for the wild ride friends, I hope these feed your optimism for today~ Again, they're all just theories but I hope S8 is a good experience for everyone! Have a great day :)

One last thing: I would love it if Klance happens and the theories prove true, and if it doesn't its okay! Sure I'll be disappointed, but its fine if I'm wrong about a fictional TV show lol.

#klance #keith #lance #vld #vld theory #klance theory #i think this was a nice theory #i worked hard on it pals uwu

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damienthepious · 5 years

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i am running out of unique ways to say how Excite i am for Lizard Kiss Day, please understand that i am still SO EXCITE

Made A Garden (Chapter 2)

[Chapter 1] [ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Rilla’s Parents

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, (categorized as ‘other’ bc arum is nonbinary when i write him bye), Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, POV Alternating, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings

Fic Summary: Rilla’s parents take her out when they do field work. She’s a smart kid, and she knows how not to get in trouble when they’re caught up with their experiments and research. This time, they’ve taken her to an enormous, beautiful swamp, and their theory is that the monstrous presence in this place should be entirely dormant- which is why Rilla is so surprised, when she meets a monster for herself.

Chapter Summary: Little Lord Arum tries his best to keep his distance, despite his curiosity.

Notes:hehehehehehehe i am ENJOYING this fic IMMENSELY and i hope y'all are right there with me <3

Arum is absurdly careful to ensure that the human - Amaryllis - does not see him the next day, when she returns to the pond. He hides among the trees above, hoping that she will assume him more aquatic than he actually is. She seems… nervous, perhaps? Or at least expectant, for the first hour or so. She keeps scanning her eyes along the shore, among the foliage, and whenever there is a noise fairly close she perks up, her eyes lighting with… excitement?

Arum does not understand. Humans have not invaded his swamp before (not while he has been alive, at least) but he has read about them, in the coded journals and memoirs of his predecessors, and he has heard stories from his Keep. Humans are supposed to be… different from this. Different from her.

They are supposed to be weak, brittle, fallible, inflexible and slow-minded. Easily frightened. Easily drawn to violence by their fear, and even more vicious when frightened in a group.

Amaryllis appears neither fragile nor fearful.

She swims for hours, intermittently singing to herself (her song was what had drawn him towards her the day before, a strange, out-of-place warble among the frogsong and birdsong, a foreign sound in his wider home), and then when her strange, soft skin is over-soaked by the water she pulls herself out to sit on the bank. She finds a wide bed of moss and spreads out upon it, murmurs sphagnum girgensohnii in a pleased singsong as if she is greeting the flora. She carefully drifts her fingers across the softness before she sinks herself into the mound, and then she just- lays in the sun, for a while.

Arum is surprised to learn that humans enjoy basking, too.

Once she’s reasonably dry she pulls out a book from the little canvas bag she left on the shore and starts to write, starts to draw, and Arum creeps closer above so he can see the work of her hands. Her handwriting is clean and even, and too small to be read at a distance, but her sketches are curious. She scrawls out careful imitations of the curves of nearby ferns, then devotes some time to dragonfly wings, watching as the creatures dart along above the water, laughing her strange, high laughter when they come close to her.

When she grows tired of her book and returns to the water, Arum slinks down from the branches to the bushes, and pulls the book quietly from the bag during a long moment when Amaryllis is drifting in the water with her eyes closed.

Up close, her handwriting is full of interesting curls and curves, but it is still not quite parsable to his eye. He understands the language, certainly, but she seems to be employing a sort of shorthand he is unfamiliar with. He is still more interested in the sketches, anyway, and he nearly drops the book entirely when he sees-

Himself.

It’s a drawing of only half his face, really, from the snout up with his jaw and lower hidden beneath the surface of the water, and she captured the exact curve of his horns from memory somehow, and his eyes are glaring out from the page with wariness and- fear.

… she saw that? She saw that he was afraid?

No. He closes the book. No, of course she hadn’t seen- how could she have seen fear that was not there? Lord Arum has no reason to fear a single weak human, especially not some human child with an underdeveloped sense of self-preservation.

Arum tucks the book away again, back into the canvas bag, and while Rilla sings quietly to herself, he beats a tactical retreat.

The next day it rains, hard and relentless and cool, and Amaryllis does not return to the pond. Arum finds the large tent the humans are sheltering in after minimal searching, though.

Apparently humans are not so fond of rain. They remain inside the tent for most of the day, and he can see them in half-obscured silhouette through the cloth, through the flaps that ruffle in the wind, apparently sketching and writing in more books like the one Amaryllis keeps. They speak to each other in easy, fond tones about how certain ‘research’ should be ‘organized’, until apparently that begins to bore them.

One of the taller humans (Amaryllis’ parents? Was that what she said?) pulls out an instrument, a short-necked, pear-shaped thing with an abundance of strings, tunes it with skillful speed, and then he begins to play.

The song is adeptly performed. There are so many strings, and the human’s fingers move so nimbly Arum can barely keep tabs on them (they must have to, since he has so few digits with which to work), and then Arum is distracted from the effort of watching his playing when the three of them start to sing.

Amaryllis singing on her own was… pleasant. In a simple sort of way. A childish sort of way. And Arum is quite familiar with harmonies, of course. He hears the things the Keep is saying underneath its song, but he does still hear the song as well, and on occasion it will sing him a song he enjoys enough to sing along with. At night, typically, when he is close to sleep.

The harmony the three humans create is-

It feels familiar. It feels precisely how singing with the Keep feels.

It disquiets him, these humans and their strange-familiar song. He slips away in the rain, scrambling quick until he can no longer hear them, and then he calls for a way home.

The third day after he meets Amaryllis, he watches her as she picks her way around a patch of berry-laden bushes (not eating any of the berries, thankfully- they may look like an edible fruit, but magical flora can be quite tricky and not even Arum knows for sure if this happens to be a patch of something that would kill the human on ingestion or not), and as she wanders she becomes distracted by a grouping of overlarge purple-and-gold butterflies flouncing over her head.

She is too distracted. She does not see the danger.

Arum panics. He whips his tail down below the leaves, slips it around Amaryllis’ waist and jerks her back, just barely in time to keep her out of the way when the sickly gray-blue flower hanging from the branch ahead of her belches out a cloud of vicious, poisonous orange spores.

“Watch where you’re going,” he barks in alarm, “you stupid little human!”

He sees the moment when she recognizes his voice, and then- he panics again. He unwinds his tail from around her midsection (humans run unreasonably hot, he thinks) and clambers higher into the foliage, where she will hopefully be unable to see him.

Arum watches from his new perch as Amaryllis takes a large, careful step away from the still-hanging orange cloud, and then she aims her eyes upward, searching for him. He growls automatically, which- was the wrong thing to do, because her attention hones in close to his position and he feels compelled to scramble another branch or two away until he feels safe from her gaze.

“Ah… Arum?” she calls out, her eyes still scanning where the leaves are swaying in his wake.

Arum’s mouth curls into an unhappy frown, and he keeps deliberately quiet and still. Perhaps he can fool her into thinking that he has already gone away, and then he can leave in earnest when she runs back to her little family.

“Well…” she is still looking upward, still looking for him. “Uh… thank you for that, I think?”

“Don’t-” Arum snaps before he can stop himself, furious that she would do something so horrible as to- “Don’t thank me!”

He is still hidden from her, but obviously she knows generally where his voice is coming from, and she turns slowly on her heel as she continues to look for him, a slow half-smile curling her mouth. “I mean… I don’t know exactly what that plant is, but I figure it probably would have been pretty bad for me if I breathed any of that orange stuff in, right? And I definitely would have just walked right into it if you didn’t… kinda… you know… save me-”

“S-stop that!” Arum drops back down, just enough that he can stick his head through the leaves and scowl at her upside-down, his frill flaring with irritation and with gravity. “I did not save you, don’t be ridiculous-”

“What would you call it, then?” she asks, crossing her arms and looking up at him.

He opens his mouth to answer and- does not know. His jaw snaps shut. He tries again, with equal success, then settles for a glare as she raises an eyebrow at his lack of explanation.

“So…” she says, her voice musical, “I think you might deserve, y’know, just a little thank-you for-”

“No, I most certainly don’t.”

Amaryllis giggles, apparently unable to contain her mirth as she looks at him, and he glares automatically in response, his teeth snapping together, but then he feels his cheeks twitch and he- chokes out half a laugh of his own in response, completely unable to stop himself. He feels his his frill pull tight to his neck with mortification, and he pulls his head back up behind the leaves, where she cannot see him bury his face in his hands as he starts to scramble away.

Ridiculous ridiculous ridiculous- of course he laughed with- no, he was laughing at her, of course he was, because she’s just a silly little human, wandering and nearly getting her stupid self killed-

“Wait, don’t go!”

Scowling viciously, he pops his head back down, and Amaryllis has to turn to spy his new position. “Why not?” he snarls.

“Because-”

Arum waits. Amaryllis stares at him, and now it is her turn to work her jaw without giving an answer. After a moment, she clasps her hands together in front of herself and bites her lip.

“I… I don’t know. I just don’t want you to leave.”

Arum stares at her. He stares at her for what feels like a long time, but she does not say anything else. She does not look away from him either, her dark eyes catching the light drifting through the foliage and turning intermittently molten and deep amber, like buckwheat honey backlit by the sun.

“Don’t be foolish,” he says, his voice scratching low. “Run back to your family, little human. Clearly,” he growls, “clearly you do not belong here.”

Then, before the frown furrowing her brow can grow any further, before she can retort or respond, he bolts. He darts from branch to branch and away, his heart hammering with shame and confusion at his own actions and Amaryllis’ words, and this time she does not call after him.

He is confused by that, as well. Confused by his disappointment, when he does not hear her voice again.

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #lizard kissin' tuesday #bouquet childhood friends au #penumbra au zone #:D #i'm actually QUITE HAPPY with this chapter???? somehow #made a garden

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