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bloodredx · 1 year

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*A note stuffed tightly into the back to this old and battered copy, its penmanship shaky, but still clean. The paper itself aged and marred with time, but clearly stroke with passion.*

Foolish and without foresight, old friend. That you couldn’t get what you wanted and so you left things all like this. And with grace! You tried to create the means in which to correct all we did wrong, but still you have no idea what and where the flaws lie! A pity, a disgrace. But I can’t bring myself to throw the book away, lead it all to the garbage where it should rot as is appropriate. But… perhaps there is enough truth inside to let me remember. Or at least have to correct what was wrong, feel something about the whole ordeal.

Oh, were the gods to smile at me once more, let me know the cruel and pressing ordeal of exile and living alone. To know their grace? Inconceivable. But to have them so far away? Crushing. Oh, dear friend, you and I have done so much wrong, total opposites through and through, never really understanding the role of the other. And perhaps when the chance was ripe it was all too late. Problems often viewed backwards become clear, the see the mud vanish from the stream and wash away to know what should have been done. To take a stab at what could have been. But without that just action, we were all led asunder.

And though I may harbor all sorts of anger within me at your misrepresentation at all the details played in for the right of mankind, the Precious Living, and myself, I cannot blame you. For there will always be Order needed. That Order to live and let live, give others the structure for the gifts they cannot know but must always feel. To know love without touching the sender. It is sad, but needed. And so it shall be spent all lone, left to the right and crossing of all who will come after to know that we are not with love in the same space. For we were too blinded by hatred. If only had done more, to be able to see more. But it was not my nature. And I cannot question the might of your goddess, old friend.

No, if it is to be left to right course, should you or someone else manage to set their hands upon this grimy old page and see it through to the days where it was needed, I can only say that I will do what I have done again and again. For there is no reason to distrust the End how you speak of him. He is not the malicious thing painted here. He is not waiting to sweep us all dawn the long canals of history. No, he is the only true friend to the Precious Living left, for The First One has left us alone to deal with their own consequences. And should the blood be marred by that own hubris, so be it. We cannot change this, it is well and done. All that should be has been, so let it go.

Though, in truth, there is some notion within me that would like to see my old friend again. I have not since he left, since all the gods left us. Since what was done to the rest of all those over conniving fools. For he gave me his trust, showed me the worth of what it meant to be human, to be real, and loved in such a way that goes beyond the mere chasing of hearts. Death did not want to harm us, and no he never did. He did what would save us in the ways that his Divine parent could never be capable of. But now without his opposite sister, I fear for him.

No, the god will be fine in existence, for he knows better the suffering of all. Never admitting it, but it would not surprise that he feels for each of us in time. For unspoken here are the domains of those Twin Gods, for one is the harbinger of logic and detachment, the other of emotion and attachment. Oh, to know that logic was not even there for the choice given, it had yet to be given freely from the goddess. To know emotion still flows free in this world, to know that there is attempts made to keep things going.

Perhaps it is the grace and eternal majesty of the Goddess of the Beginning, her eternal might keeping us going. But knowing the gods in the way I do, I have my doubts. No, the God of the End is taking his turn to fill their sibling’s role, and doing what he can. For each is the same as the other, merely resting on their opposite. The struggle must be tearing him apart. Though I have not seen him since that dreadful night, there has been enough felt that it would not shock me to see the ever sweet smile wiped from his face. A harsh attempt to take over what was never his. Should gods get exhaustion, I would never know the touch of such things, but I should stake what remains of me that already he is exerting far too much of himself to do this. Perhaps we are due the ultimate loss you keep teasing, old friend. To start over, bring this world all about and anew. But the End, dear Adamsa Frisay, loves us too much to let such a thing go.

So for shame, that you represent him thusly. Call me tainted, call me misguided all you want. I can take it. Put your pretty bards up and above to guide the rest, they will need it. But stop this slander. You who praise balance and equal measure in time will absolutely be the one that tears it apart. It cannot be that you praise all the others, our delightful First One and all the Elemental Four, just to go demonize the one that frightens you. It shows well enough that one can be placed below, and therefore others can be placed above.

Mark these words, you gave them an inch, so a mile will be taken. You showed them this, so all that can be expected is the long drift of worship. The north will place Water above all, the west, Fire, and so forth. Each will pay ties of lip service to the others, but none will truly feel it within the heart of hearts. No, it will be slow and gradual, and not felt until long after our souls have been reclaimed by the End. And for that I pity you still. With best intentions, we still find ourselves dragged deeper down the spiral of destruction you so fear.

But I am but a woman, getting older and wiser now. I don’t believe I will see you ever again, nor do I feel that these wasted words will be placed before your eyes, even if I could find the will to send them your way. Ultimately, this is a well-known exercise in futility. But I could not stop myself. For my heart still knows the truth, and it will sing the song of it, even if the louder tones of your own beliefs will drown it out. The Song will be what it is, regardless of how you try to interpret the notes. For it was not a musical number made for us, no, only the effervescent rhythm for the greatest of those who the universe demands to know and interpret. I do not find you amongst those sacred, distant, stars.

I hope each and every one of you get what you deserve. I had no more bearing to the stains of your curses than you do on the reception of them. I hold blame for the softer side of it, that which is tangible and trapped on the physical plane. But all the corruption you so fear, that will linger eternally. Nothing here will save you. Even if begging, holding to the same violence you once so eagerly extended. I will not be your savior, and neither will the gods. No, our redemption alone lies in someone that will not want it, much in the same way I did not want to be here. Because we are not selected for destiny, no the gods cared not for such trivial matters. Instead, we are sent to do duties as they arrive, because we are to enact the most sacred notes of stucci in accordance to paths we would have never imagined for own selves. And for that, I will leave all that was set to you in place. For we will never be the same ever again. And it is better that way, for we are made differently. Once friends, now forever left to rot in the filth and distrust so cultivated. And if you ever learned and realized, and gave in to the repentance you so richly claim to crave, I will be forever waiting, watching. And I hope the gods give you everything you deserve, so that you might come running back to the only place that might garner any notion of safety. And so it was, so it shall be. But I’m just a foolish woman, getting older now. No one should ever know of me. And perhaps, that’s just how it should be. For us to exist beyond that, why, we know what the result shall be.

Stucci.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2022 #i'm a winner baby #we made it #writers on tumblr #Bloodredx writes #cosmology #stucci #the Song #gods #goddesses #Aelita #the priestess #necromancy #addendum #redemption #judgement #the end

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matthewstiles · 3 years

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That which you ridicule, you shall become.

A while back I wrote and deleted a post claiming, “That which you ridicule, you shall become,” and a smart individual asked me if they could become a billionaire by that logic.

Fair play, but no, that’s not what I was trying to say.

What kind of billionaire do we hate? A greedy one. That would seem to describe quite a few of them. But some of us become so consumed by hate, with rhetoric like “eat the rich,” that it spurs the question: why hate so bitterly? Are we oppressed? Certainly. Disenfranchised? Of course. And maybe - just maybe - a little envious? That’s worth considering. And the tragic outcome of envy is this: when we’re given the chance to dethrone the thing we hate, usurp it, and become it, we do so with self-righteous glee.

We hate the billionaire, but we should hate the greed. When we hate the player rather than the game (the game being greed), greed is the thing we begin to embody. Or if not greed, something just as foul. A false frugality imposed on everyone. Envy taken to a different but equally disastrous end: the elimination of outliers, the shattering of all precious gems.

But I wasn’t thinking of billionaires when I wrote that.

I was thinking of illness and misfortune. I’ve found that when I put myself above a person in bad circumstances and think to myself, “That could never happen to me—I’m too careful and wise,” before too long it takes me by surprise.

A recent bout of migraines and neck pain spurred me to write this. I once thought that my good hydration habits and impeccable posture made me immune. I chided friends and family for neglecting their bodies. And all the way to thirty-one, I rarely had a headache. But when chronic pain hit at twenty-nine, I couldn’t live the same. I sat differently. My focus suffered. Then came covid. As depression got the better of me, I slouched longer and longer at the computer. Slowly but surely, the vertebrae in my neck and back began to slip. And here I am.

I told myself that my art, my joy, and my listening ear would keep my friends around. Even if I took flight like the wind, they’d wait for me. They were my roots, my launch pad, and my landing. “Begging for affection?” I thought - “That could never be me” - as they begged for mine.

Most of them are gone now. If not in presence, in spirit.

I thought jealousy was below me. When push came to shove, I couldn’t handle the idea of sharing and I had no idea why. I took so much pride in using Apple products. They lasted. They endured just like I did. In the past month I’ve had two costly malfunctions.

My prediction is that if I can’t curb my hubris, something will happen to my legs. They might be my finest assets. I can leap like a gazelle. I have strong hobbit feet which can traverse all manner of texture and temperature. I’ve looked down my nose at people with bad joint health and told them to exercise more. Well, guess what. My right knee is going.

And I thought I could be productive as long as I put my mind to it. My identity was “creator.” The ones who did nothing but laze about, game, and complain “just weren’t trying hard enough.” Well, shit happened. Life got overwhelming and bleak and wracked with pain and my body and mind became a prison, and now I’m hanging on to what I have, praying it’s enough. Oh, and I thought that I, a functioning adult who had overcome his pathetic teenage gaming addiction, would never backslide. Wrong.

I thought I would always know what I wanted and what I was was capable of. I pitied the wanderers, the dabblers, the doubters, and those who gave up on their dreams. And now... Well, let’s see where I am after a few more failures.

In ridiculing Christians, I became like the Christians I ridiculed.

That which you ridicule, you shall become. Not a hard and fast rule – hell, maybe it’s just my own karma – but certainly worth some reflection.

#life tips #life advice #writing exercise #karma is real #ableism

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revasnaslan · 3 years

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I'll be honest about Annilis, I love him and his sympathetic background AS well as his awful approach to keeping Hec-tor safe, because he's probably in some legitimate danger but he took it too far. I love HP, but I also wanna beat his ass too. Just grab him by the ears and yell, "What are you doing you idiot sandwich?!" I just wanna ask him "Are you even happy? And no getting pegged by a Shade isn't happiness." Don't want him to die though, only because it's a cop-out for actual punishment.1/2

2/2 That's what kinda bummed me on HP in-show, he did so much horrible shit, was an arrogant living "God", and he was just killed? That easy? HP's hubris was grotesque and he deserved a worse punishment than just a lightshow to the face. HP was also a non character in the end and whatever characterization he did have was lost quickly, gonna admit. But, an arrogant jerk dying that quickly is too easy a punishment, he has to suffer the consequences of his actions and experience his loss in detail.

sorry I'm sending you so many asks about HP. But dear God did the show drop the ball on Horde "supposedly endgame villain who was woefully underutilized until the last minute and even then was handed the villain ball to make sure what credibility he did have was lost" Prime. Could have been great, his story was there, but Crew-ra wasted time on frivolous characters(star siblings might have been cool but s5 needed to work on its existing characters, not introduce new ones)and wasted plot points.

I actually have done a ton of analysis on why prime just doesn’t work as a villain for pretty much six months now. Like I started doing this pretty much the day that the finale dropped cause I never liked S5 at all. There’s just much wrong with it, strictly from a narrative prospective than I cannot get over it, which I why I’ve kind of retreated into doing Fuck Canon aus. And I don’t think the major problems plaguing prime is that he’s a bad person or a cult leader or whatever, that would be fine. This is a matter of set up and pay off. This is a matter of narrative structure. Those are my major problems with everything about this.

Anyway, I guess we’ll try a flaccid attempt at positivity, just to make it clear that I am not coming strictly from a point of view of hate… the one thing I remember liking about prime is that creepy dinner scene. Loved that scene, I was so giddy when they dropped it as a teaser clip, and I got to enjoy it in peace for like a day and a half before my love for the show went crumbling. Prime is absolutely on his game in that scene, I can very clearly see his mind working, because my interpretation of the scene is that he’s trying to bait glimmer into giving him information. Did he actually intend to harm adora? Who knows! Does it matter? Not really, considering he got the information he wanted, which was what was needed to work the heart. I can feel the tension in that scene, that is how he should have been for the rest of the season.

So what the fuck happened? *cracks knuckles* well let’s see shall we.

Foreshadowing It’s Fun Cause It’s A Thing I’ve Heard Of

So I think we all remember just how shocking it was when prime actually showed up, and he wasn’t anything like we’d all come to assume he’d be based on what had been said about him up until that point. What we had been fed was essentially that he was cold, calculating, and didn’t look upon “defects” well. He saw the clones as disposable. And they set up that aspect of his character just fine, and I don’t have a problem with how that was set up.

What they utterly failed to properly set up (and even contradicted themselves on) was the cult thing, and how prime is essentially this messiah figure to the clones. I highly suspect this occurred because they were writing the show as they went along, and hadn’t fully fleshed out prime’s whole deal until he actually appeared at the end of S4, but that’s just my own speculation given some of the things that had been said in interviews regarding other aspects of the writing (namely that micah was apparently not supposed to be alive in the first place and that happened because of a miscommunication between noelle and one of the other writers).

Regardless, there are a number of things that should probably have been done differently in order to properly foreshadow prime’s cult leader status, that actually would have heightened hordak’s characterization as well. For one thing, there’s a reason we all assumed that the galactic horde was merely a military program and it’s because of how hordak acts throughout the first four seasons. We can talk in circles about headcanons until we’re blue in the face (i.e., he might have memory problems), but the fact of the matter is that those are headcanons and that hordak’s entire narrative changes from one of an ableist family to one of a religious trauma seemingly on a dime come the very end of S4 when prime shows up.

imagine how satisfying the foreshadowing would have been if hordak had actually been spouting dogma the entire show (i.e., “cast out the shadows” and “all beings must suffer to become pure”) only for it peter off once he’s befriended entrapta, if he had been calling those who he respected brother/sister instead of force captains (which is a far more militarized word to use, and judging by the galactic horde isn’t even a term they use), if he had still been dressed in his uniform and only actually started dressing differently after entrapta had helped him? Hell, he never even so much as implies that entrapta is leading him astray before he’s back with prime, he doesn’t even seem particularly distressed about being around her most of the time, and the only reason he even gets persnickety with her is because of his medical condition.

One point I’m going to expand on for a moment is the whole “brother” thing, because that is actually a very good way of explaining what I mean. Now, hordak doesn’t actually mention any other clones at all from what I remember. This is contrary to all of the clones in S5 referring to each other as “brother” pretty openly and it being seen as a term of respect. However, the only person that hordak actually calls “brother” up until S5 is prime, and this inadvertently ended up making the word seem far more neutral than it should have been considering the context of S5. The word “brother” is actually a control tool, and if they had wanted to establish that sooner, hordak should have been calling anybody he respected that.

So, either the writers hadn’t actually thought of that part of the narrative yet, or they’re just that bad at foreshadowing.

There are also three instances of the narrative contradicting itself with regards to prime, one in S3, one in S4, and one in S5. The first is that hordak wanted to make a new body for himself. While one could argue that this was meant to be foreshadowing that prime takes new bodies whenever his old one failed (which is fine, that works as foreshadowing), the act of hordak admitting that he was intending to do that is what actually creates the snag. With the context of S5, we learn that becoming a vessel is meant to be a place of honor, but this comes with the caveat that it seems like only prime is allowed to take new bodies. So why the ever living fuck would someone as “pious” and “unworthy” as hordak think that was something he could ever be allowed to do, much less that prime would welcome him back with open arms if he did it. But there’s zero hesitation on hordak’s part, he doesn’t even mention that this is something usually only reserved for prime.

The second is that prime literally looked at the heart of etheria and said it was “unlike anything [he had] ever seen” despite canonically fighting the first ones, so he’d presumably have recognized the energy signature that first one’s tech gives off and be like Oh Shit. This one in particular drives me absolutely nuts because if I was writing a villain who had lived long enough to fight the people this mystical weapon was created by I would never write them saying that what the actual fuck. My gripe here is not that prime is ancient, that’s fine, I could’ve vibed with that. But the fact that he not only fought the first ones but also recognized mara is really egregious in a way that borders on parody for me. Like what a flimsy excuse for him to be connected to adora (and we’ll get to that!)

The third and final one is that hordak was allegedly thrown out for his defects. That’s what we were told, that’s what a major facet of hordak’s trauma is centered around. However, at the same times, prime seems like… oddly fixated on hordak in a way that usually implies something deeper is going on here. That was why I was so convinced that hordak wasn’t remembering something clearly, because why would prime spare him instead of killing him immediately after returning if he was defective enough to warrant being thrown out? Come S5, prime seems to have forgotten about the pesky little plot detail that is hordak’s defects, since they never come up again! Nope! Hordak is not only completely healed of his ailments (which Can I Get A Yikes?) but he’s also been welcomed back to his original position as prime’s right hand by the mid-point of the season, and he stays there until the finale unless the plot demands he be elsewhere to interact with entrapta cause hordak was added in post. You can’t even argue that he was keeping hordak alive because eThErIaN kNoWlEdGe because he has those fucking mind chips. Literally every single person he’s chipped is connected to the hivemind because of that. He’d have every single bit of knowledge that he could possibly want right there at his fingertips. He doesn’t need hordak alive at all.

Which brings us to…

It’s Almost Like He Wasn’t A Villain To The Proper People

The thing about villains is that, in order for them to not feel out of place, in order for their defeat to actually give a true feeling of satisfaction, you kind of have to put them up against the right people. The reason that prime ultimately fails in this respect is that he is not adora and catra’s villain, despite the narrative pushing him as that…

I actually once joked on twitter that if the rise of skywalker had come out when S5 was being written, then prime would have likely ended up being revealed as adora’s long lost grandfather in some attempt to make his fixation on her seem warranted. That’s the level we’re at in terms of how connected the two of them appear to be for the villain and hero thing. They just are not connected, and prime has absolutely no reason to be this fixated on her. They tried to explain it with she ra and prime being old enemies, but that’s equally as confusing because a) mara hadn’t mentioned him up until that point, b) this inclusion actually makes the first ones creating a superweapon look justified since prime is such a huge threat, and c) she ra is explicitly stated to have been on etheria long before the first ones even colonized it, so why the fuck is she just gallivanting around the cosmos fighting cult leaders?

And to be clear, if this whole prime versus she ra had actually been hinted at, I would not be taking so much issue with this. But as there was absolutely zero mention of him, it just comes off as egregious and very, very sloppy on their parts.

Prime also should not be as fixated on catra as he is, that doesn’t make sense at all. I know why this happened in particular, though, and it’s because the writing team was so in love with her that they just had to give her this arc. That just makes its inclusion all the worse to be honest. Why does he go to such great lengths to use catra to torture adora, why does he go into a total breakdown after catra escapes? He isn’t connected to either of them…

… because he is hordak and entrapta’s villain.

that prime didn’t immediately want entrapta dead continues to confuse me to this day, nearly seven months after the fact. Like you mean to tell me that this cult leader, who is presumably used to complete obedience from his followers, finds one of the wayward members of his proverbial flock lost on some backwater, who didn’t want to be found, and he knows exactly who is responsible for sewing those seeds of discord in this poor lamb’s head. And he doesn’t immediately want entrapta dead?

Not only does prime never mention her, despite it being very easy to push a plotline about how it’s necessary because she’s perceived as a danger to the rest, and especially to the poor lost soul who was ultimately returned to him. Instead, prime just doesn’t seem to realize entrapta exists. He doesn’t know who she is despite literally reading hordak’s mind. He doesn’t even seem to interpret her as threat considering he wasn’t worried about putting her and hordak right next to each other in the finale. He should have been using hordak to torture entrapta, and he should have had his break because hordak escaped him. That whole scene where catra is under mind control and adora was trying to snap her out of it was textbook entrapdak. Hordak should have been the one to delve into the hivemind to help adora. It was his story and it was taken from him when he was sacrificed on catra’s narrative arc altar.

And this is ultimately completely fixable. Because they had a villain they could have been using for adora and catra the whole time. Shadow Weaver. Y’know, their mutual abuser who was the main cause of strife between the two of them, and the person who kind of set the plot in motion since she’s the reason catra is the way that she is?

He Blew It. Super Hard. Complete Buffoonery.

Ultimately one of the biggest writing fumbles with prime is that he is just really fucking dumb as the plot demands, and it doesn’t make any kind of narrative sense for him to be that way, it is literally just him being at the mercy of the writers who need him to do something stupid so they can push the plot forward since they made him too overpowered for it to happen any other way.

There’s numerous instances of this across the season, including him bringing entrapta aboard the velvet glove when the very person he would have had very good reason to not let her near is standing right there, and him deciding to give catra pretty much free reign of the velvet glove and seeming to decide to trust her despite him knowing damn well that she’s likely to betray him the second he does something she doesn’t like, and the time he literally left adora to be beaten by catra instead of just killing her outright when she couldn’t even activate she ra. And in all these cases he had the fucking nerve to seem surprised when it happened?

However, there is one plot point that I feel illustrates how goddamn stupid he is to move the plot forward, and it’s the mind chips.

I mean one of the reasons I dislike it is going back to how little foreshadowing the writers actually seem capable of committing to. There is nothing to indicate in the narrative that prime actually employs mind control on anybody besides the clones, and this becomes especially egregious when we later meet the star siblings, and we find out that there are large swathes of the universe that are seemingly not chipped? It just screams like they needed some type of angst plot point for catra, so they had to find a way to make it work.

But the very inclusion of the mind chips as a plot point makes prime look so ridiculously dumb, because we are told those chips connect people to the hivemind, we are explicitly shown this for catra angst. So a) why does he need hordak around at all, because the excuse he needs to know about etheria doesn’t work since he literally chips like half of the etherian population later on anyway, b) if he needed information on the heart of etheria, why didn’t he just chip glimmer outright, it would have saved him a lot of time and hassle, and c) if he knew damn well that catra had betrayed hordak numerous times and was likely to do the same to him, why didn’t he just immediately chip her so he could mitigate two problems. If he had chipped catra immediately, he wouldn’t have lost glimmer, and it would have been next to impossible for adora and bow to storm the velvet glove through the means that they did.

When your main villain is that fucking stupid, the tension is completely sapped out of your narrative, and prime doesn’t have enough character unto himself to continue holding up his own arc. He is a sexy lamp cardboard cutout that just happens to be brought onto the scene when they were in need of someone to throw the idiot ball at. Prime is supposed to be this thousand year old body hopper who has the wisdom of the ages, and yet he was defeat by a group of teenagers driving a clown card held together by nothing but duct tape and prayers.

Anyway!

Guess Who Just Got Murdered!

Anon, I completely agree that the way prime got taken out was just… hm. Well, it was a choice, given how they had written the rest of the season.

I’ve said this before, but I really wish I could actually enjoy hordak yeeting him, but I just don’t feel anything. That scene is a culmination of an arc that never happened because hordak was barely on screen for S5. It feels like we’re missing this whole season-long arc about how hordak managed to break free of prime and was actively working against him, and that scene is the lowest point, right before the greater scope villain is ultimately defeated by the protagonist. Which just furthers my point that prime is really hordak’s villain, because hordak reads more like a protagonist than I think the writers actually intended for him to.

Since you mentioned anillis, I feel the need to comment on him as well, because I do know exactly what happens to him at the end of my au, because I actually planned for his ending from the beginning and built his arc towards that point. The very bare bones spoilers is that he isn’t going to die, because a) he needs to live with the consequences of his actions and b) him dying would affect hec-tor horribly, especially since if anybody had to deal the killing blow it would be hec-tor. And hec-tor doesn’t deserve to be forced to do that. He wants freedom, he doesn’t want his brother dead by his own hand.

So, I completely agree that just killing prime off feels a little… like a cop out? I’m not going to get into a discussion of how he was defeated by the power of (romantic) love because my issue there is not with the trope itself, but ultimately how it was handled, and that also has to do more with my grievances with how catradora was ultimately handled than my grievances with prime. However, him being like… exorcised…

Well it sure does clean up some loose ends that we don’t want to discuss huh?

#rev's rambling again #i ain't putting this in any tags #i really don't want to get into fights with people about this #but anyway here's 3000 words on why prime sucks from a narrative perspective #i've been bottling up these feelings for seven months #i deserve the chance to go feral #as a treat #Anonymous

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ticklish-touch · 3 years

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I’m With You in the Dark

Last year, I made a poll seeing who would be interested in reading a story about my tickle monster Rags meeting my favorite character in Deltarune, Jevil. Even though I got a very positive response overall, I... chickened out. :’D I've always felt very self-conscious about writing fanfics, especially ones involving my OCs with canon characters. I grew up with other weeb friends who thought fanfic in general was very cringey and taboo. But at the end of the day, as long as people aren't writing about shipping real-life people or kink shit with minors, they have the freedom to write what they want if it helps them express themselves. Ever since last year, Jevil has become a very important character to me. There are hundreds of wonderful creative interpretations of him and his possible backstory; and, as someone who has depersonalization spells, existential thoughts about reality & the universe, enjoys making other people laugh even at my own expense, and a chaotic inner voice that constantly tells me "AREN'T YOU TIRED OF BEING NICE, DON'T YOU JUST WANNA GO APESHIT??" this little gremlin has become a comfort character; one that I also highly enjoy cosplaying. And, frankly, what better year to post a story about nihilism than 2020? 👍 So, this is just a "what-if" scenario, if someone else besides Gaster with some degree of omniscience was able to show the poor jester that there's more to life than just waiting for the Void to take over. And if anyone takes anything away from this, I just want it to be the hope that things will get better. You are allowed to be hopeful, and happy, and make positive connections with people even if you've had harmful experiences with people over past mistakes from either side. We're in this together; you aren't always going to be alone, your suffering won't be in vain. This, too, shall pass. So please, stay determined. Happy Halloween, everyone!! 🎃 🦇 👻 🤡 Story below the cut!

The mischievous Nightmare felt a peculiar pull at his mind as he lurked through the foggy darkness in search of another playmate: A chaotic soul resonating with nearly as much feral playfulness and craving for laughter as his own. But there was something...Off. This mind, this essence, was splintered and broken, re-mended into something different... A shadow of its former self. Joy and mischief and enthusiasm for the world, replaced by existential dread and loneliness...

The silent cry for help brought Ragaeli to a reality he'd never been in: One of the many infinite parallel dimensions to Earth that existed in the endless void of spacetime. At a brief glance, he could see there was a race called Darkners. They seemed to be the joy of childlike imagination brought to life; living, breathing checker and chess pieces, puzzle pieces, stuffed toys and squeaky mallets and lego blocks.

And, within a card castle not unlike the story of Alice in Wonderland, deep within a huge cell locked by powerful magic, a rotund little jester with a black and purple wardrobe was bouncing about, creating myriads of dazzling diamonds, spades, hearts and clovers. He appeared to be an imp with a J-shaped tail, a round noseless face, pointy ears, deep black pits for eyes and serrated, lemon-yellow teeth stretched into a smile as he laughed gleefully to himself.

The Nightmare split open a doorway of crackling energy, leaping through, landing on the indigo striped ground with a THUD. The floor was very plush and unsteady, like the inflated floor of a bouncy castle. "Weellll now, it sure seems like a party in here~ But what kind of party only has one guest, hmm?"

Immediately, the small jester jumped, his head launching out on a spring coil like a Jack-in-the-box. "AIYEEE-!! What, what?! Who are you? Did...Did you escape too??" He glided over to the tall figure, eyeing him over. At first, his lips twitched and seemed as if they were going to form into a frown. But instead he responded with a forced grin. "Uee-hee hee, I see, I see... It seems they've finally replaced little old me~!" He bounced up on his tail to flick playfully at Ragaeli's chest bells, spiraling around him to tug at his flaps, hair and spandex. "Hmmm, not bad~ And you can't go wrong with being a stripey lad; I guess the Kings have some taste after all! But where is your hat?? A jester with no hat is like a witch without their cat!" He glided around behind Ragaeli and his eyes widened. "A hand on your tail?? Now that's just excessive!!" "I must say your rhyme scheme is really quite impressive~" Ragaeli giggled, his head turned 180 degrees to look down at the jester. Jevil couldn't help but giggle too. "Uee hee hee, why thank you, thank you~!" He hovered upside-down in front of the larger monster, summoning a deck of cards, shuffling them up. "The tales must be true, that each suit has two. A black and a red...I always assumed the other must just be dead!!" He snickered, making the cards disappear up his sleeve, then turned back upright, folding his arms, his purple tail lashing about behind him like an agitated cat, his tone twinged with jealousy. "Well since they've decided that red suits their court more, you'd better not be a bore! To replace me is to replace the wittiest of all the players in this castle full of nay-sayers!"

"Hehehe, now, don't get your tail in a twist, I'm no replacement," Ragaeli playfully flicked one of Jevil's bells. "Name's Ragaeli, but you can call me Rags, Ragdoll, Ragtime, Rag-Tag, just don't call me boring, heheh~ I'm not even from this world, you see. Would you believe me when I say there are other worlds out there? Other dimensions?" Jevil giggled at all the nicknames, then his face lit up, his annoyance quickly shifting to curiosity. "Oh yes, yes, I know it to be true!! He chuckled. "Your world, it is a game too? Or is it more "real" than what we can perceive?" Ragaeli raised an eyebrow. "A game, hmm? I suppose you can say that," He smirked. "My world is, in a sense, "Not real" as well. Not to the people of Earth anyways. It's thanks to their thoughts and emotions, their hopeful desires in the depths of their darkest thoughts, that I exist at all. And because of that," His grin turned devilish and he rapped his fingers together in a comically villainous fashion. "I can appear to any of them that I want. I can play all kinds of games with them~ I have no limits to what I can do in my realm, and Earth itself is my playground, a game that will never end~"

The jester listened with fascination, then cackled again, seeming elated as he bounced around in midair. "Oh I'm SO happy!! Someone else finally sees!! There is another who's been set free!!" Then his giddy tone turned to a snarl. "THEY didn't believe me!! THEY were all blind, blind!!" Magic energy crackled around him. "I ONLY wanted to HELP them!! I only wanted them to be privy to the danger, danger they would face if they didn't try to free themselves of this pointless rat race!!" Ragaeli's brow furrowed. "Who's them? Who put you in here? A jolly little hellion like you shouldn't be locked away like this, 'specially if you think your castle's in danger." Jevil quickly shook his head, puffing his chest out indignantly. "It is not I that has been locked away! They chose their own prison, they dug their own graves! The court wouldn't listen, they didn't want to play, and now for their bullheadedness THEY'RE the ones having to pay!!"

The Nightmare latched onto the images flashing through Jevil's mind, learning bits and pieces about the royal court that ruled the dark castle. It definitely appeared that things were in disarray, and the court jester's loneliness bubbled into a well of resentment... The continued rush of memories manifested into the image of a strange entity that came to the jester before his imprisonment: A ghostly creature, cloaked in inky blackness, with large round holes in his skeletal hands and a twisted grin frozen on his skull-like head, a single white pupil glowing out from the cracked eyesockets with a sickly light. Even the Nightmare, who had seen every hellish iteration of fear and hatred, knew that this...thing, was bad news. He existed, yet was nonexistant. He was fractured across all of time and space, yet remained trapped unmoving inside the Void. He was filled with hopelessness, bitterness, egoism, an unyielding ambition to drag anything and everything down into the same all-consuming darkness. An unfortunate victim of his own hubris, now a sociopath with cold disregard for individual worth except the desire to dissect everything and everyone he could latch onto. And it happened that Jevil, who craved mischief and adventure and purpose in his seemingly small role in the kingdom, was the latest test subject. Ragaeli's hair stood up on end and a low, near demonic growl rumbled in his throat. "And what, exactly, did this thing show you?" The growl made Jevil gasp, stopping him in his tracks, looking up at the large entity with trepidation. "H-He showed me everything, everything!! He showed me the beginning, the end of all things, he showed me the truth of this world and all worlds in the cosmos, that nothing is as it seems, nothing means anything, but because anything can be nothing, nothing can be everything--" "Alright, enough, I'm stopping you right there, Lovecraft," In a swift movement, he tugged the rim of Jevil's hat over his face. "YEEE- H-HEY!!" The frazzled jester fixed his hat, puffing his cheeks out at Ragaeli, his tail whipping about even more wildly. "Whoever this Wing-dinged handy-man is sure isn't very handy if all he can do is fill your head with nihilistic nonsense," Ragaeli stuck out his tongue. "Sounds like someone who had a rotten time of it is now trying to ruin everyone else's fun." "No, no, not at all!!" Jevil leapt on top of Ragaeli's head and perched like a cat. "Because of him, I can have more fun than I ever thought possible!! You'll see, you'll see!! They're bringing back the key!!" He giggled madly. "Three visitors, all questing in vain to bring an end to a game that doesn't matter, and once I am back inside their world of lies I will spread my truth everywhere and everyone will thank me!!" He cackled. "But first I should thank you for keeping me company~" He leapt off and glided in front of the Nightmare. From the center of his dark eyes, yellow irises began to glow brightly. "It's been so long since someone has lent an ear, so I'll show you my favorite game~" In a flash, he launched a glowing diamond, sharp as a sword, at the speed of a flying bullet into Ragaeli's stomach.

But the diamond disappeared on contact. Instead of yelping in pain, Ragaeli shrieked and doubled over as the energy shot a ticklish burst through him. "GYEEEE-HEEHEE!!" Jevil looked baffled. "...What, what?? Laughter?" He tilted his head, summoning a spinning barrage of clubs that shot at Ragaeli's legs, chest and sides like machine gun ammunition. And again, the Nightmare was bombarded with a barrage of ticklish electricity, causing him to crumple on the plush floor with cackling laughter. "AIYEEE-HAHAHAHA!!" After the sensation wore off, he continued to let out giddy laughter as he saw Jevil's incredulous expression. "WHOOO-WEE, now that was a good one!!" Jevil couldn't help but snort back his own laughter at the Nightmare's comical reactions, but he seemed even more puzzled. "Is someone ticklish, ticklish? That isn't how I'm trying to play, but it makes things interesting, needless to say~" He giggled a bit. "But then...How am I supposed to play my game if you've got no numbers to claim??" Ragaeli shook his head, jumping up into the air to recline as if laying back on a sofa. "You silly little imp, do you really think that's the only way to play with others? Taking this "HP" until they're gone for good? What would you do then when there's no-one left to have fun with?" He gave a pout. Jevil shook his head quickly. "No no, they're not really gone!! Weren't you listening, listening?? It's all a game!! They can come back!! Losing is just a minor setback~!"

The Nightmare raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?" "Because the Stranger showed me!! He can mess with the code, he can change--" "How do YOU know that?" Ragaeli barked. "Forget about him, can YOU bring them back??" Jevil shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps not, but if they lose then that's just how it goes~ Such is the way of this game we all play!" The Nightmare rolled his eyes. "So... you wanna play by the game's rules, huh? How boring."

The jester's malicious snickering immediately stopped, and he stiffened up. Ragaeli narrowed his gaze, prying at the jester's mind a bit more. "What is it you've said? You can do anything? So why not shake it up and take this game into your own hands? If you're really free, then PROVE it!"

For once, the manic jester took pause.

"Think about what it is YOU want in this game we all call life!"

Jevil lifted a gloved finger, unable to answer at first. Then his bright yellow irises faded again. "What I want...?" He lowered his head. "What I want..." A quiet giggle bubbled up from inside him. "I just want them to be free, free with me..." He hovered higher, seeming to vibrate with an intense magical aura, and raised his arms. The room began to spin around the central pole, as if it were revolving around the world's axis. "To break their cage and create a NEW stage, where everyone can play, play to their heart's content!! Free from this kingdom of rules and lies!!" He snarled. "I want them to PAY for making me play in my freedom all alone, every night and every day!!" He bellowed. Carnival music began to emanate from all around them, starting quiet then gaining in tempo. "I want them to say, "To HELL with rules, I will break these chains and embrace the chaos, CHAOS!!" He laughed maniacally, and from every curve of the rounded ceiling, more of his symbols appeared; Hearts, diamonds, spades and clubs, all aimed at Ragaeli, launching toward him like speeding bullets. The Nightmare answered with his own giddy laugh. "Ohhh, how interesting! Well then, let's play for a while and I might just help you make your wish come true~!" He nonchalantly bounded away from the trajectory of the magic, dodging, swooping, teleporting and even dancing and pirouetting away. Occasionally they would hit, and once again he would shriek in surprise and burst into laughter. "GYAAAH-HAHAHAHA!!" Jevil giggled, no longer bothered that his attacks weren't causing any 'HP' damage. "I wonder; How long will it take before you finally break~?" The Nightmare smirked dangerously. "I could ask you the same thing!" His hair suddenly jumped to life, tendrils leaping forward and bombarding the jester's chubby belly, sending electric pulses of ticklishness through him.

"UEEEE-HEE-HEEEE!!" Jevil shrieked with laughter and flailed for a moment before poofing himself to the other side of the room. A bright purple blush filled his cheeks and he clutched his belly, gawking at Ragaeli. "N...NO FAIR, NO FAIR!! IT WASN'T YOUR TURN YET!!" Ragaeli giggled. "You really think a tickle monster is gonna play fair? Now what's the fun in that~?" Jevil huffed and his pout shifted to a malicious grin. "Uee hee hee; Fine, fine, I also won't play fair!! Let's see you laugh about THIS!" With a flash, he summoned a large ornate striped sickle, teleporting close and taking a swift swing at Ragaeli, catching him in the middle of the striped pattern on his leotard. The Nightmare's torso came clean off his legs, not with any blood or guts but with a cartoonish POP. "WHOA!! Caught me off guard with that one, took my top clean off ya did!!" His tone went cockney, and he grabbed his legs and re-attached them as if he'd been de-pantsed.

Jevil balked, then doubled over backwards with laughter. "HYEE-HEEHEE HAHAHAH Oh my stahahars, you're a fun one, you are!!" His scythe disappeared with a flash, a new wave of glee bubbling up in him. "You really are like me!! Your body cannot be killed!! That means you can stay here and play as long as we want!! I'm so THRILLED!!" He laughed with jubilation and raised his arms, and from the walls emerged a bizarre set of carousel horses, with the bodies of rubber ducks, all of which began to circle rapidly around the room. "Go ahead, hop on~! But better watch out, these horsies have a mean bite~"

The Nightmare snickered and dove into a cartwheel, throwing himself onto the back of one of the figures, which tried to toss him off like a bucking bronco. "Piece of cake, I've wrangled a few horsies in my d-AAGH!!" He was swiftly knocked off by a flying duck ramming him at full force, sending him careening into the spinning walls of the room. He bounced off of the squishy surface and lay crumpled in a heap, cracking up with hyena-like hysterics. Jevil, too, giggled hysterically at his opponent's prat-fall. It felt so grand to finally have someone to play with again!!

And so, their antics continued. Jevil came at Ragaeli with everything he had, and the Nightmare almost effortlessly parried it away with his meaty hands or flexible limbs. As Jevil revealed more and more tricks up his sleeve, from his ability to shapeshift into his own scythe, to a downright unfair barrage of clover-shaped bullets, Ragaeli revealed that his tail could multiply into three, which crackled with red sparks; They lunged forward and managed to ensnare the manic jester, slithering against his round belly and backs of his knees, even slipping one of his shoes off to entwine their prongs between his clawed toes. "AIYEEE-HEEHEEEE UEE-HEEHEE NOOOHOHOHOOO-HEEHEE!!" The ticklish shock to his system surprised the jester enough that his head launched out on its spring coil, before retreating back for him to grab the ends of his hat and hide his flushed face and goofy smile.

The Nightmare snickered fiendishly at his reactions. "What's wrong~? Surely the court-appointed master of laughter can handle a little tickling?" The playful taunting just flabbergasted the thrashing imp all the more. Not because he hated it; but because he, the clever jester with an unholy amount of magic energy had never been so easily bested by something that wasn't a physical fight... And on some level, it was thrilling. It felt so good to laugh with such passion; Real, true laughter, instead of a hollow imitation of happiness. Being unable to focus on anything but their game, on the consequences of each other's "attacks", took his mind off the dreadful, existential thoughts that plagued him, and made him think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to his and this world's existence after all...

But in the meantime, it was his turn, and he was ready for revenge. He poofed himself out of the nightmare's tendrils and re-appeared underneath him, turning his scythe into a rubber mallet to send Ragaeli flying up near the ceiling. He smiled wickedly, summoning a barrage of attacks that started to morph into vaguely hand and feather-like shapes. With a clap of his hands, they rocketed up to the Nightmare, burying into his belly, ribs and armpits, slithering down the wide collar of his leotard, trapping his ankles into cuffs so that they could saw between his toes and whirl against his soles like fuzzy sawblades. The onslaught caused the monster to howl and screech with hysteria, thrashing and swatting at the symbols in vain. "GYEEEE-HEHEHEHEHEH WHY Y-YOHOHOHOUUU-HAHAHAHA~!!" Jevil giggled devilishly. "Uee-heeheee, what's wrong, what's wrong~? You're the Tickle Monster, are you not? Or were you lying all along? Can't handle being at the wrong end of your own fiendish plot~?" Ragaeli snarled in his laughter, attempting to swat at the jester with his tails. "GRAAHH-HAHAHAH SH-SHUHUHUHUT UHUHUP YOU L-LIHIHITTLE-!!" And yet, despite his protests at the unbearable attack, the Nightmare's laughter, too, resonated with excitement and elation. It echoed through the vast cell, emanating with such unbridled joy and wild abandon that it stirred something inside of Jevil. Something...Warm, and oddly reassuring. And finally, from the depths of the jester's scrambled mind, memories started to return to him...

He once knew laughter as well, and more than that, making others laugh. The four Kings, laughing at his antics in the court; young Rudinns and Jigsawrys and a baby Clover, all laughing gleefully at his dazzling displays of card symbols, dancing ribbons and fireworks. The dancers in the halls laughing as the court jester pulled prank after prank on the uptight dolt Rouxls Kaard. The Spade King, telling him how eager he was for his son to be born, so that Jevil could teach him how to spread joy through the kingdom. And Seam, his dear friend, letting out a rare gem of laughter whenever he said a silly joke or snuck up on the wooly cat and tickled his sides...

Before long, Jevil's magic was no longer set to kill mode; a fact that wouldn't have affected the reality-bending Nightmare made of laughter either way, but others caught in the crossfire would no longer be in danger of a "game over". His will began to shift, and now his projectiles were imbued with the overwhelming urge to make their target crumble into a heap of elated laughter. Perfect. Ragaeli grinned gleefully, snapping his fingers and poofing himself out of the hold of the magic symbols, standing to face Jevil, folding his arms behind his head. "Well now, seems like something's getting through to that polyvinyl noggin of yours--" That brief moment was all Jevil needed to re-appear behind him, lunging to rapidly scribble his fingers and prod his tail along Ragaeli's belly, snickering to himself. "You so easily let your guard down!! I thought I was the clown!!" "GYAA-HAHAHAHA!! TH-THAT WAS ON PURPOHOHOSE!!" Ragaeli slithered his pronged tail up to scribble against Jevil's 'neck' and pointy ears, sending him flying back on his spring-coil with a yowl.

Jevil wasn't sure how long their game went on. Minutes, hours, days? Time never meant much of anything in his personal freedom; But now, he never wanted it to end. If those three adventurers did ever come back with the key, this would be quite the sight to walk in on... Before long, though, the jester's 'attacks' were weakening, and his large tongue hung out with panting breaths; it became harder for him to levitate, or to tap out from the tickle monster's ruthless attacks; Ragaeli could sense his growing fatigue and eventually stopped, letting Jevil collapse to the bouncy floor.

"H-Hee-hehehe...That was fun, fun!! But enough is enough, you tired me up!" He giggled, but his grin turned to a pout. "But I don't want to sleep yet, I still want to play with everyone, everyone..." "Ohh, I think that can be arranged~" Ragaeli's hand sparked and crackled with magic, making Jevil instinctively squeak and flinch. But he shook his head. "Hehe, don't be worried~ This will give your energy back." But he closed his fist and extinguished the magic. "But hear me out first. If you play to take away everyone's HP, they won't want to play with you. They'll just put you down here again." Jevil snorted and folded his arms. "Well at least I wouldn't be caged in their prison again, again..." Ragaeli could still sense negative thoughts plaguing his mind.

Not real. Meaningless. Trapped. Just a game. Not wanted, not needed. Afraid of me. They'll leave me again, again. Seam will leave me again.

At the very least, these thoughts weren't as loud as before, and were being dulled by the hope that perhaps he could be welcomed back by everyone... Ragaeli narrowed his gaze and snuck his hair tendrils over to prod along his round belly and sides again. "UEEE-HEEEHEEE!!" He rolled over to the other side, hiding his flushed face again. "Heheh, come on now, no need to hide that face every time I get a laugh outta you~" He managed to tug the jester's hat off, revealing short, dark curly hair and a small pair of horns. Jevil gasped, his eyes going wide and he reached over frantically trying to grab his hat back. "HEYY!! Just because you forgot yours doesn't mean mine's up for grabs!!" Ragaeli chuckled. "Relax, you'll get it back, if you listen to me first. There's no use letting those thoughts get in the way of your fun, now is there? Even if you live your life 'confined' with the others, at least you'd still have playmates, right? You still have the chance to make amends and show your friends you're not going to let your story end. ...See, now I've been hangin' around you too long. You're turning me into a natural poet~" The sulky jester couldn't help but snicker. "Even if I did, even if they want to be my friend, I can never see this world the same way again, again..." He trembled. "The vision, the prophecy... The skies will darken, the world will crack, the calamity will sweep away all in it's path...No matter how many broken bonds we try to mend; Whether we play or flee, everything will end!!" He choked back a wail, hiding his face in his palms, his pointy ears drooping back.

Ragaeli rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, scratching his head thoughtfully for a moment. "Look; Of course things aren't gonna be the same. Of course things end someday. That's the point of LIVING!" The Nightmare barked and jumped up, causing another loud THUD as he stooped over on his haunches like an agitated mountain lion. "You change and you grow and you LIVE, despite how tiny or messed up you think your existence is. You CHALLENGE anything or anyone who tries to tell you that you can't find your way outta that dark tunnel. Fake? Real? Who CARES?? You're HERE! Your life is only meaningless if YOU choose to live it without meaning!!" Jevil peeked out from under his hands as the deity ranted. He then scoffed, taking his tail and fiddling with it as he avoided Ragaeli's eye contact. "That's easy enough for you to say. Your existence, your world, isn't made to be a game for OTHERS to play."

Ragaeli calmed down a little, patting his hair sympathetically and tweaking one of his horns. "Listen, Jev-In-The-Box. You're right about one thing. You can't change the circumstances that brought you into being. And sometimes, that really sucks." He frowned. "It sucks for those little mortals who have such little control over the society that keeps 'em prisoner. And even for someone like me...I can't change the fact that I come from a world that wouldn't exist without mortals. Any Nightmare can disappear in the blink of an eye if they aren't remembered by enough people." "Really..??" Ragaeli nodded. "That's why some of 'em try so hard to be remembered, even if it means playing with humans like cats torturing mice before they eat 'em. And I can't make them value life. But I also can't let them freely roam the world that imagined us up, or reality as we know it would fall apart. I can't even stay in other timelines or realities too long or I risk fading away for good." Jevil listened curiously, a hint of a concerned frown crossing his face. The deity shrugged. "So I just make the best of it, y'know? I have fun showing other people that their world isn't as small and hopeless as they think." The thoughtful expression left the entity's face as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a devilish grin. "So YOU had better not let me catch you moping about in those gloomy thoughts of yours again," he poked Jevil's plush belly, making the jester squeal and bat his hand away. The Nightmare snickered. "And if I see you trying to end other people's game instead of finding ways to make laughter and excitement a part of your reality... Then I WILL be back, and I'll show you what it really means to be ticklish~" He narrowed his gaze and cracked his knuckles loudly, his body emanating with an aura of electric energy, his hair tendrils raising into the air like cobras poised to strike, wriggling their fingers and forming into bristles.

Jevil shrieked and quickly scrambled back. "YEEEP-!! ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALREADY, I GET IT I GET IT!!" The jester first pouted at being told what to do. But something about the strange monster's words...Felt to be true.

Ragaeli chuckled, his hair calming back down. "Of course, that doesn't mean there's no fun to be had in a bit of harmless chase," he flashed a devious grin. "You can make them pay, without making them go away, so that way you can all play again and again~ The eventual catch can be the best pay-off of all~" The implication of the tickle monster's words started to sink in. A Grinch-like smile started to spread across the imp's face as terrible schemes came to his mind. He could play a game of 'Surrender' with anyone, anytime, and they wouldn't have to lose their HP over it. It could be one big game of hide-and-tickle, or tickle tag, or a test of endurance, or another way for the King to interrogate outsiders about Lightners... Sensing that his thoughts had changed their tune, Nightmare gave him back his hat...And transferred a surplus of magic energy fueled by laughter, adrenaline and mischief to replenish his strength.

Jevil gasped as if surfacing for a breath of fresh air, then giggled and sprung to his feet. "Fine, you've won me over, I hope you're happy! But I think we'll have to wait until the Lightners return with that key. Once they do, I'll wreak havoc in that boring little prison of theirs and this Joker will be the one to have the last laugh~!" He giggled fiendishly and rubbed his hands together, bouncing impatiently in place.

Ragaeli smirked. "Hehe, no need to wait for a key. Prisoners break themselves out all the time, so why not just break in~?" He hopped over to the door, grasped his large hand around the bars, his hand emanating with crackling magic again... And the lock popped open with a click. Jevil went slack-jawed. "Wowee!! You really are strong! I can't even best Seam's magic enchantments at full strength!" he then cleared his throat. "That isn't to say I couldn't have broken in all along. I just didn't want to is all," he shrugged and stuck his tongue out. "So now it's time to say...SO LONG!!" He cackled maniacally and shot like a bullet out of the door.

When he flung himself from inside the cell, he saw the three travellers from earlier, now gawking up at him incredulously. "W-What the-?!" Susie and Ralsei's eyes went wide. Jevil instantly pounced them, rapidly bombarding them with scribbling fingers, rapid pokes and his tail slithering between their limbs. Shrieks of startled laughter answered him, even from the quiet, stoic one. They were too preoccupied with trying to flail away to notice the jester snatch the key out from under their noses. As soon as he had it, he stopped and hovered above them. Susie panted for a minute. "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!!" she snarled, brandishing her axe. "H-How did you get out?!" Ralsei questioned. "I thought you needed the key??" Jevil merely answered with a wild grin, focusing his power in his hands until the key sparkled and crackled with his magic...And shattered into hundreds of tiny shards. Without another word, he rocketed up the winding stone steps, laughing incomprehensibly. "WH...WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Susie shouted. "I don't...think that was supposed to happen..." Ralsei scratched his head through his hat. Kris just shrugged, and Susie grumbled. "We went through all that shit just to get the key and he didn't even NEED it!! I'm getting real damn sick of this stupid castle!!" She pounded the handle of her ax into the ground, huffing loudly. Ralsei frowned. "Well, don't worry about him. I think it's time we go find Lancer, yeah?" At this, Susie calmed down a little, sighing. "Yeah, you're right. We've kept him waiting long enough. Some mystery prisoner isn't any of our damn business."

It was already too late, regardless of whether the heroes tried to go after him. The jester's second reign of chaos was swift and sudden. He ricocheted through the castle, his manical laughter echoing through every hallway, his bursts of magic visible like fireworks in the distance, his devilsknife and his magic attacks shapeshifting into other "weapons" like giant featherdusters, scrubbing brushes and makeshift hands. At first the guards were horrified that the infamous prisoner had escaped. But once they were reduced to shrieks of laughter and pleading and apologies, and Jevil declared victory before bee-lining to his next target and eventually leaving the castle, the denizens of the Darkner world were left flabbergasted, nervous, and perhaps even amused and curious to see if this "dangerous criminal" would return for more...

Ragaeli watched the commotion smugly as he started to fade back to his realm. "Oh dear, it appears I've created a monster~"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You make your way back down the elevator and stairs. You double-check your items, use the save point, and.... What the hell? The dungeon door is gone! Is this an easter egg of some kind? Did the game glitch out? You check your items again... The key is gone too. Okay, something must be wrong. Before you make the decision to replay the whole game just for the hidden boss, you head back to Seam. Maybe talking to him again will re-trigger the events needed for fixing the key?

But when you go inside the "Seap", it isn't just Seam anymore. The secret boss, Jevil, now has a full sprite, grinning gleefully at the player.

[ * UEE HEE HEE, WELCOME, WELCOME LIGHTNERS! SO SORRY WE DIDN'T GET TO PLAY, PLAY. MAYBE ANOTHER DAY! ]

You talk to Seam first, triggering his usual dialogue about how Jevil ended up in the dungeon, and how the heroes would eventually have to face the Knight. And, interestingly, an additional bit of dialogue explaining how the heroes just missed Jevil's "escape", and how his reunion with his old friend was filled with a great deal of laughs... Talking to Jevil afterwards brings up more dialogue. You ask him how he got out of the dungeon.

[ *YES, YES, I SUPPOSE I SHOULD EXPLAIN THAT KEY. I HAD ANOTHER STRANGER COME TO ME! ]

[ *BUT THIS ONE DID NOT MAKE ME FEEL SO AIMLESS. IN FACT, HE SHOWED ME THAT I WOULD HAVE MADE QUITE A MESS! ]

[ * THIS MAY ALL JUST BE A GAME, AND YOU... YES, YOU OUT THERE...]

His sprite momentarily came closer, his yellow irises seeming to bore right into you through your screen...

[ * -MAY HAVE MORE SAY IN WHAT RIGHTS WE CAN OR CANNOT FLAUNT. BUT I THINK, EVEN IN THIS PRISON, WE CAN STILL BE HAPPY, HAPPY, AND PLAY AS MUCH AS WE WANT! ]

[ * WHO IS REAL, AND WHO IS NOT? I DON'T THINK THAT MATTERS ANYMORE, ANYMORE. ]

[ * THAT SILLY RED MONSTER, WHO LAUGHS AND LAUGHS AND REMINDED ME THAT THIS WORLD DOES NOT HAVE TO BE A BORE...]

[ * THE STRANGE WORDS HE SAID HAVE STUCK INSIDE MY SPRINGS. NOW MY VIEW ON THIS WORLD HAS BECOME JUST A LITTLE LIGHTER... ]

[ * AND I'M CURIOUSER, AND CURIOUSER, TO SEE WHAT THE FUTURE BRINGS~! ]

#tickle fic #jevil #fanfic #tickle monster #monster boy #jester #clown #tickle fanfic #tickling #male tickling #tickle story

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years

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Reverse Psychology

Apparently I’m not done writing fics about the queens + ducks?

I’m having a bad day anxiety-wise (undeserving of sympathy because it was fully brought on my the hubris of me telling someone that I was actually coping with the lockdown fine) so I decided to write some drabbley-plotless-stuff.

(Does anyone else get those days where you’re sort of in a bad mood but you’re not sure why and you kind of just want to fully indulge it, or is it just me and now Kitty?)

(Just to be absolutely clear about how this universe works- in this universe, Duckie, aka @the10amongstthese3s , is the duck. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. It’s just how things are.)

Sitting at the kitchen table, Kitty let her head fall forward and groaned.

There was no response. This, admittedly, wasn’t exactly unexpected, due to Kitty being the only queen in the kitchen, but she still felt a little jab of annoyance.

Why was no one there to witness her general fed-upness?

Sitting up a bit, she tried groaning slightly louder, this time dropping her head into her folded arms for better effect.

She stayed still, counting. One-andtwo-andthree-andfour-

She’d never usually gotten past six before someone was asking her what was wrong- whether it was Jane, all warm concern and offers to make her a cup of tea- or Anne, who currently favoured tugging on her ponytail as a way of getting her cousin’s attention. The other queens were usually just….around, if not all, then at least a few.

Today though, the house was empty, save for Cathy, who had yet to emerge from the writing-nest she’d constructed the night before (having taken up Anne’s suggested solution to the final wife’s terrible quandary of being tired of writing from her bed AND her desk chair AND the sofa AND the table. The construction of the nest had stripped the communal living room of cushions and demolished the once-orderly airing cupboard but the collective relief of the queens at seeing Cathy engage in anything that took her away from her laptop was enough to keep anyone from raising a single word of protest.)

The others had disappeared on various errands of their own, leaving Kitty feeling an odd mixture of restless and wearied, not quite sad, not quite annoyed but altogether out of sorts and at a loss of what to do.

And no one was even doing her the courtesy of being around to witness her suffering.

Kitty wondered whether it was worth turning to twitter to vent her frustration with life in general at the world. (The fans were always pleasantly eager to join her in support of whatever mood she was in, although she did have to admit that there was always the risk of things going a bit too far. Jane had had to take her aside for a Serious Talk about social responsibility after the last time, although Kitty maintained it wasn’t really her fault. She’d only been mostly joking about being curious about what weed was like, and she’d DEFINITELY not expected to wake up the morning after to an inbox flooded with teenagers over-eager to help satiate said curiosity. As far as she was concerned, the policewoman who’d gotten in touch with Jane was just being a snitch.)

‘The ducks back-’

Kitty was interrupted in her hunt for her phone by the entrance of a sleepy-looking slightly dishevelled Cathy, Aragon’s big cardigan dwarfing her and an empty coffee mug in hand.

‘What?’

Cathy deposited her mug in the sink and turned the kettle on and pointed out of the kitchen window into the back garden.

‘The duck. The duck is back.’

‘What- Oh!’

Following Cathy’s pointing sweater-paw, Kitty’s eyes lighted on the mallard from the previous week investigating the seed packets Jane had left out with its beak.

‘What are you doing anyway? I heard groaning.’

‘I hate everything today-’ Kitty tried another dramatic flop and Cathy giggled.

‘Fair enough. Any particular reason I can help with?’

‘No. And it’s not funny. I am SO bored and there is NOTHING I want to do.’

‘Sorry Kit.’ Cathy straightened her face. ‘Is the kitchen off limits or can I still get coffee?’

Kitty considered for a moment. ‘Coffee’s fine. But it’s not moping. It’s existential despair.’

‘Oh snap!’ Cathy held up a hand for a high five and Kitty automatically returned it, before considering that high fives were utterly inappropriate for despair. ‘Do you want coffee?’

‘No.’

‘Hot chocolate?’

‘No.’

‘Wow you really are in crisis.’ Cathy tilted her head. ‘You know, they say watching wildlife is meant to help with that. And fresh air. You could go have existential despair in the garden, it might make you feel better.’

Kitty shook her head. ‘No. You sound like Anna. SHE tried to make me go on a run with her….’

‘Ok. Sorry. I shall get my coffee and leave you to your existential crisis in peace. As long as I’m still allowed in the kitchen. I feel like I’m going to want to get a crumpet in about half an hour….’

‘Thank you. And getting a crumpet is fine as long as you promise not to try to cheer me up.’

Cathy held up her right hand, littlest finger crooked. ‘Promise.’

Kitty hooked it with her own and they shook on it. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’

Waiting for the kettle to boil, Cathy moved to lean against the sink and watch the progress of the duck, and Kitty found herself watching too.

‘No entourage-’

‘Oh they’ll be around’ Cathy shrugged ‘If they aren’t already. They’re never usually without some of their ducklings at least- Look, there’s one in the heely-’

A small cheeping brown and yellow ball of fluff poked its head out of one of Anne’s discarded mud-covered heelies (‘And you said I couldn’t skate in a rainstorm!’ ‘I never said you COULDN’T, Anne- I said you SHOULDN’T’ ‘....Oh.’)

‘Oh yeah…. What’s it doing?’

‘Duck stuff.’ Cathy started spooning instant coffee into her ‘EAT. SLEEP. READ. REPEAT. Mug- after four spoons, Kitty gave her a pointed look and Cathy huffed and tipped the fifth spoonful back into the jar. ‘Top secret, probably. Not for the likes of us.’

Kitty abandoned her phone hunt.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well-’ Cathy looked at her. ‘Just that no one actually really knows what ducks spend their days doing- no one really follows them, no one checks up on them- I know wildlife people would SAY we know but….’ She gave Kitty a Look. ‘Do they really? Has anyone ever actually watched to see how a duck spends it’s time?’

‘I mean….’

‘No.’ Cathy answered herself. ‘They haven’t. Or probably not. I haven’t googled it or anything. Just- I think it means that we’re not meant to know. Forbidden knowledge. Too much for our tiny human minds to comprehend.’

‘Right, that’s it-’ Kitty pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘You can stop.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t what me, Lady Parr, I know your tricks. You’ve reverse-psychologied me into really wanting to find out- even though I KNOW the answer is probably just walk around and peck at stuff…. And now I’m going to have to go sit outside in the sun and fresh air and watch this duck rather than wallow here like I wanted-’ Kitty pulled on her shoes morosely. ‘And it probably WILL cheer me up because you know how I feel about ducklings- and I specifically SAID I didn’t want to be cheered up!’ She wrenched open the back door and glowered at Cathy one last time before yanking it shut.

Cathy smiled serenely and helped herself to a crumpet.

#six #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #sixfic #six fanfiction

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swanqueeneverafter · 4 years

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The Once & Future Queen Pt.21

Forest. Continued. (Merida releases her arrow and the deer disappears through the trees.) Merida: "Gold sovereign says she’s hit." Anastasia: "We have to go after her!” (Anastasia runs into the woods.) Merida: (Calling after Anastasia:) "Squeamish about letting the poor thing suffer are we? (Cocks another arrow:) Aye, we'll put her out of her misery." (Anastasia searches for the injured animal.) Anastasia: “Guinevere! Guinevere!” Merida: “Guinevere? You know it’s not wise to name your food, especially after fellow royalty, Your Highness.” (Ignoring this, Anastasia spots a trail of blood on the forest floor.) Anastasia: “Come on, she’s this way.” (Following the trail, they find the animal lying unconscious, shaking from cold and shock, an arrow in her leg.) Merida: (Drawing back her bow:) “It’ll all be over in a second.” Anastasia: (Falling to her knees beside the deer:) “Stop!” Merida: (Lowers her bow:) “I told you not to name it. Now out of the way so I can end Bambi’s suffering. (Anastasia waves her hand over the animal, using her magic to return Guinevere to her true form. Dropping the bow:) Oh no, not again.” (Anastasia pulls out the arrow and places her hand over the wound.) Anastasia: “What do you mean ‘again’? You’ve seen this kind of thing before?” Merida: (Grimaces:) “Once or twice, yeah. Is she-” Anastasia: “I think she’ll be okay, but we need to get her out of here, now!” Camelot. Castle Corridor. (Agravaine leads Caerleon’s soldiers down the corridors when he is intercepted by Elyan.) Sir Elyan: “This is your doing, isn’t it? Arthur’s return, his defeat. All to put Morgana back on Camelot’s throne.” Agravaine: “Oh, stand aside. There’s nothing you can do about it now.” (Elyan draws his sword.) Sir Elyan: “I can kill you for the traitor that you are.” (Agravaine draws his sword.) Agravaine: “Brave words, Elyan. And they shall be your last.” (Elyan is thrown backwards and falls to the floor unconscious. Caerleon’s soldiers step aside revealing Morgana behind them with a hand raised.) Morgana: “We don’t have time to play soldiers, Agravaine.” (Morgana marches past them and they follow.)

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Entering through the front door on a mission, Emma neglects to close it behind her in her haste to climb the stairs.) Regina: (Calling out:) "Oh, Emma? (Emma pauses at the foot of the stairs, confused by where Regina could be. Glancing at the top of the stairs, she sees that Regina is no longer in the window:) I'm in here. (Walking past the staircase and into the other room, Emma leans against the door frame for support when she sees Regina laid out before her. Reclined on the sofa with her underwear swaying tantalisingly back and forth between her toes, Regina gives her wife a satisfied smile:) I thought you'd be too tired to climb all those stairs." Emma: "And you'd be right. (Stands and approaches:) But for some reason, I feel a surge of energy coming on. (Regina chuckles and with a quick flick of her leg, sends her panties flying towards Emma, who catches them neatly and stuffs them into the back pocket of her jeans:) I'll keep those for later." (Raising her legs and pointing her toes to the ceiling, Regina stretches languidly before bringing her legs down to wrap around Emma's waist. Bending over the arm of the sofa to lower herself gently down onto Regina, Emma kisses her way up the brunette's body before being pulled into a searing kiss.) Snow White: (Entering the house:) "Did you know there are garden tools strewn across the path? (Regina stiffens and wraps her legs tightly around Emma at the sound of Snow's voice. Hearing her mother's loud gasp, Emma winces and slowly turns to look over her shoulder at her:) Y-your door was..." Emma: "Open, yeah. My bad." Snow White: (Dropping her gaze to her binder:) "Hello, Regina." Regina: (Gives an amused wave:) "Hello, Snow." Snow White: (Muttering to herself:) "Why does this keep happening to me?" Emma: "Er, Mom, could you give us a minute?" Snow White: (Looks up and then straight back down, averting her eyes:) "Y-yes. I'll... wait in the kitchen." (Snow leaves and Emma slumps down onto Regina.) Regina: "I think I'll be needing my underwear back now." Storybrooke. Rollin’ Bayou. (After showing Ella how things are done, Tiana reacts to Ella’s bombshell.) Tiana: “Ella, what the hell?” Ella: “I know, but Henry said that Merlin told him about a place that will guide us towards our next great adventure.” Tiana: “First you ditch me to work at Robin’s bar and now you’re quitting that job so you can go swash-buckle your way across the realms?” Ella: “Well firstly I don’t swash-buckle and second, you told me I’m nowhere near ready to run my own food truck yet.” Tiana: “No, no, no. I said you needed more training.” Ella: “That’s just because you’re a-” Tiana: “Perfectionist.” Ella: “Control freak.” Tiana: “Whoa, hey! Whoa.” Ella: (Laughs:) “It's true.” Tiana: “Look, okay, it's not that I do not trust you.” Ella: “Hmm.” Tiana: “I just I know how I like things. And anyway, you and Henry, you have all this time to make up for, right? You should be spending it together. Maybe curled up on a couch, playing some board games? Couldn't you both use a nice, quiet day at home?” Ella: “There’ll be plenty of those days when we’re married. Look around you, Tiana, the opportunities for adventure are drying up. Come on, what do you say?” Tiana: “Let me think about it.” Ella: “That means yes!” (Laughs.) Tiana: “All right, but I’m only taking you as far as the starting line. After that, you and Henry are on your own.” Ella: “You are the best! And, (Leans out of the truck, yelling:) the Food Truck Queen of the United Realms!” Tiana: “You may bow.” (Tiana laughs when Ella performs the most elaborate and over the top bow she’s ever seen.)

Camelot. Throne Room. (Queen Annis approaches Morgana who lounges on the throne.) Queen Annis: “The city has fallen. Camelot is ours.” Morgana: “Ah. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that.” (Annis gives her a look before being attacked from behind by Agravaine who stabs her in the back, smiling as she falls to the floor, dead.) Agravaine: (Wiping off his blade on Annis’ robes:) “Camelot is yours, Morgana.” Morgana: (Unimpressed:) “And? (She rises from the throne:) Taking Camelot was the easy part, Agravaine. I want Merlin. Where is he?” Agravaine: “I don’t know, my lady. But wherever he is, he’s nowhere left to run.” (Morgana smiles.) Morgana: “In the meantime, I have a good idea where our dear Lancelot is. Prepare the horses! We’re going on a hunt.” (Agravaine smiles and laughs as Morgana stalks past him.) Storybrooke. Granny's Diner. (Rumplestiltskin finally sits down to talk with Merlin.) Rumplestiltskin: "So you're the father of magic." Merlin: (Smiles:) "Well, we both know that's not true." Rumplestiltskin: "Indeed. Morgana's brand of magic goes back thousands of years." Merlin: (Nods:) "I'm very aware of the Old Religion." Rumplestiltskin: "As am I. Even as the Dark One, I knew there were some things that you just don't trifle with." Merlin: "Yes, you preferred to store magic that was too dark and unpredictable in your vault. Are you suggesting I do the same with Morgana?" Rumplestiltskin: "I would never presume to offer advice to someone as powerful as yourself, but it might not be a bad idea."

Merlin: "As someone who knows a lot about being locked away, I can tell you it rarely solves anything." Rumplestiltskin: "So you mean to face her head on then. Need I remind you of your track record when it comes to dealing with powerful sorceresses?" Merlin: "I've learned from my mistakes. I underestimated Emma Swan, and I mishandled Nimue. With Morgana I shall endeavour to show her there is another path." Rumplestiltskin: "So you wish to mentor her?" Merlin: "No, I believe we can learn from each other. Something I failed to consider with either Nimue or Emma. It was my hubris that allowed the Darkness to roam freely for centuries. I shall not make the same mistake again." Rumplestiltskin: (Smiles:) "Third time's the charm as they say. I hope you succeed and manage to help Morgana, but once you've been immersed in the power that she possesses, that's not something you can easily walk away from." Merlin: "You would know that better than anyone." Rumplestiltskin: (Nods and leans forward:) "Dark One or not, I still have the capacity to utilise magic." Merlin: "But you have not practiced magic since the Jabberwocky had Henry write your powers out of existence?" Rumplestiltskin: "It was the push I needed to be able to put magic behind me. I've since found other ways to protect the ones I love." Merlin: (Nods:) "Everything we do in this world is a choice, and I intend to offer Morgana the opportunity to choose the right path." (Their conversation is interrupted by Regina and Emma who enter the diner looking for answers.) Regina: "There you are you arrogant son of a bitch!" Merlin: (Stands, calmly:) "Ladies." Regina: "What the hell did you say to our son?" Merlin: "I merely-" Emma: "Maybe you thought you'd send him on one of your special missions? One that he won't come back from?!" Merlin: "It's not like that, I promise you." Emma: "You promised you could help rid me of the Darkness too and we all know how that turned out!" Merlin: "Listen to me, please. (Takes a breath while both women continue to glare at him:) Henry was looking for answers and I told him of a place where he and Ella might find them. I must say I'm a little disappointed as I made Henry give me his word that he wouldn't share this information." Regina: "Don't you dare doubt Henry's word. You just happened to make the mistake of trying to keep a secret in the presence of the world's biggest tattletale." Emma: (When Merlin looks to her in confusion:) "Snow." Merlin: "Ah, of course." (At that moment, further reprimands are cut short as the town's second biggest blabbermouth enters the diner.) Leroy: "Terrible news!" Emma: (Turns to face him, annoyed:) "What is it, Leroy?" Leroy: "Morgana's retaken Camelot and Guinevere's just been brought into the hospital." Emma: (Sighs:) "Great." Regina: (Poking Merlin in the chest:) "Don't think for one moment this is over. (Takes a breath:) Now you heard the man, Morgana's out of control so go do your job!" (Merlin stands shell shocked as he watches Regina and Emma leave the diner with Leroy.) Rumplestiltskin: (Smiling:) "Just be glad it's not Regina you have to deal with. I trained her myself." Merlin: (Flatly:) "I'm well aware of that."

Camelot. Forest. (Lancelot, having reunited with Bedivere, travels quickly through the woods.) Sir Bedivere: (Hearing footsteps approach:) "Shh! (The others stop and Bedivere grabs someone:) Elyan.” Sir Elyan: “Don’t hold back on my account.” (They smile.) Sir Bedivere: “Is the way out of Camelot clear?” Sir Elyn: “As far as I can tell.” (They continue through the forest.) Sir Bedivere: “They’ll come after us." Sir Elyan: “Then we have to make it across the border, find sanctuary anywhere we can.” Lancelot: “Wait! (They stop and Lancelot turns back to listen. He hears hoof beats:) Listen.” Sir Bedivere: “Run!” (They run as Morgana, Agravaine, and Annis’ former soldiers ride straight for them. Morgana casts a spell, her eyes glowing and Lancelot and his knights are all thrown forward. Elyan helps Lancelot to his feet and they keep running. Soldiers pursue on foot.) Lancelot: “Where’s Bedivere?” Sir Elyan: “We have to go! (They reach a rock trench and Elyan stops:) Go!” Lancelot: “What about you?” Sir Elyan: “Don’t worry about me. Go!” (Reluctantly, Lancelot keeps running while Elyan steps into the trench opening and fights off the soldiers as they attack one at a time.) Storybrooke. Storybrooke General Hospital. (Dr. Whale leaves Guinevere’s room to find Anastasia and Merida waiting.) Anastasia: “How is she, Doctor?” Dr. Whale: “The arrow missed the femoral artery so she should be fine. I’ve got her on fluids and she’ll need to be kept under observation over night.” Merida: “Has she said anything?” Dr. Whale: “She was asking for Morgana.” Anastasia: “Morgana?” Dr. Whale: “Yes. Apparently she was the one who enchanted Guinevere. Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have rounds to make.” Anastasia: “Thank you, Doctor.” (Dr. Whale leaves.)

Merida: “Why the hell would she be asking for Morgana?” Anastasia: (Shrugs:) “Maybe Guinevere was worried that Morgana might come back to finish the job?” Emma: (Entering with Regina:) “Sounds to me like Morgana isn’t the one Guinevere should be worrying about. (To Merida:) You’re the one who shot her, right?” Merida: “Aye, but only because I thought she was dinner.” Anastasia: “It’s true. I sensed something was odd about the deer, but by the time I figured it out, Merida had already fired.” Emma: “Relax, I’m not here to arrest anyone for what was clearly an accident. (To Regina:) Why would Morgana turn Guinevere into a deer?” Regina: “I don’t know, to make her easy prey?” Emma: “Well that doesn’t make any sense. If Morgana wanted Guinevere out of the way, why not just kill her?” Regina: (Shakes her head:) “Whatever her reasoning, this is just yet another reason Guinevere’s faith in Morgana is misplaced.” Emma: “You can say that again.” Zelena: (Walking towards them:) “Oh I don’t know, maybe all that’s needed is a change of heart.” Regina: (Turning to her:) “Zelena. Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be back three days ago!” Zelena: “Well I’m sorry, but Robin and I ran into a little trouble. Turns out that creepy knight who attacked me was following us on our way to Oz.” Emma: “Mordred was following you?” Zelena: “Yeah, we managed to lose him by leading him into the poppy fields. He went out like a light. We took the long way home just to make sure we weren’t followed.” Regina: “What was so important that you had to go to Oz in the first place?” Zelena: “To retrieve something that can help stop Morgana of course.” Emma: “Like what, a weapon?” Zelena: “No, just the opposite.” Regina: “I don’t understand, what are you talking about?” (Zelena puts her arms around both Emma and Regina and leads them back down the hallway.) Zelena: “Well, after I kicked Morgana’s arse and left her laying in the forest, it reminded me a little of myself. She believes that Camelot is her birthright, much like I believed that everything Regina had should’ve been mine.” Regina: “So you’re both deluded. What’s that got to do with your trip to Oz?” Zelena: “All will become clear soon enough, and if this works, you won’t have to release Merlin from his tree.” Emma: “Yeah, about that...”

Wonderland. Forest. (Tiana and Ella walk together following a map given to them by Merlin. Henry and Will lag behind as they try to clear the air.) Will: "Listen, mate, I'm sorry about what I said and did back at Granny's." Henry: "Will, it's fine. I know you weren't in your right mind and that you had been tasked by Morgana to procure one of my tears. As things turned out, it was just a means to an end anyway." Will: "Yeah and I know Merlin's free, but is that a good thing?" Henry: "Well, Merlin's destined to be Morgana's downfall and he's the reason Ella and I are out here looking for our next great adventure. I'd say that things are definitely changing for the better so far." Will: "If you say so. Just as long as you and me are all right." Henry: "We're good. Besides, there's no point in dwelling on it now. It's all in the past. Come on, let's pick up the pace." (Up ahead, Tiana and Ella are reading the map.) Ella: “According to this map, the place we’re looking for should just be straight ahead.” (Looking up, Ella gasps. Standing in front of them are two large red doors. Between them stands a stoic looking guard.) Tiana: “What in the world? This place just gets weirder and weirder.” Ella: “Excuse me, Sir. We need-” White Knight: “Two doors appear along a stony path, and travelers always wonder; which door will lead them to their fate and which will tear asunder. Choose poorly and meet certain doom. There is no room for blunder.”

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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brushes-of-sage · 4 years

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To Thyself (Be Enough) Excerpt

HAPPY BIRTHDAY VARIAN! I AM WAY SORRY!

Anyways, here the excerpt for my alternate ending story that I am currently working on (still a long ways to go but whoowee here we are). I’ve been wanting to share a bit for our boi’s birthday, even though he’s not directly in this part. And this kinda takes place in the middle of the story so there’s that context. Hope you all enjoy.

Everything was going to plan. The Sundrop and Moonstone were carefully locked away, secure and weakened until the moment she would have need of them, under the watch of one of the Brotherhood members. The others in their group were being guarded by the spindly one. Of course, as resourceful as they’d proven to be time and time again, she had left behind a small failsafe to deter them should they ever overpower the Brother and chance an escape. She could only be grateful that all the while she spent in the physical world, biding her time, her powers had slowly begun to replenish. Draining the girl from her connection to the opal had taken effort, but oh, it sorely paid off.

No matter. As soon as the mortals tried anything, the spell would have reached its peak and her upheaval of Corona would be unstoppable.

However…

She turned from her gaze out of the tower’s open window with a frown, feeling the waning ebb and flow of the Mind Trap’s grasp on the Brother before her. A small grimace crossed his blank face before disappearing and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, how the mighty Brotherhood have fallen,” she crooned, stepping away from the opening to circle him. “Fighting so hard to protect a legend that children believed. Only to leave behind a broken king to rule over a dead kingdom. Oh, I’ve seen it all.” Her grin widened as the grimace returned. “The rise and fall of a great country, ruined by the hubris of her king and the inability of her knights. Of course, you didn’t waste time escaping that life, didn’t you? So much for loyalty.” She summoned the Mind Stone into her grasp, tossing it from one hand to the other.

“Such a tenacious thing, loyalty. But one’s greatest strength is also his greatest weakness. Tell me this, knight. If you tried so hard to flee that life, how is it that you’re here, now, unable to move or leave?” She crept closer, using some of the stones to elevate her view. “I’ll tell you. This?” She lifted the stone up for him to see, the pale moonlight reflecting off its smooth surface, “This had been passed down your king’s line for generations, long before the official formation of the Brotherhood, not that the fool had been aware of this. It was an assurance for your first rulers to provide unity for their people, a joining, if you will, in hopes to dissuade dissension.” She smirked. “A gift that I oversaw.”

The stone was tossed again and she brushed nonexistent dust off the top, tracing along the etched sigil. “I won’t bore you with the details but I do wish you to know that everything you ever thought you knew, everything you’ve built your life around, has been nothing but an extension of my influence. You were all merely pawns to play until I could make my final move.” Another frown crossed her face as the Brother’s hands shook, fingers curling in, but she shook it off and stood on another stone, leaning over. Grandstanding felt justified, but despite the fulfilling feeling it brought, it would do nothing but worsen the loosening hold on the man. Time to finish cinching the noose.

“You are a man of duty. Leaving behind your past changes none of that. You simply cannot abandon it; your nature doesn’t allow for it. Which is why, even now, you are under the stone’s thrall.” Zhan Tiri brought her hand up to her chin in mock thought. “And yet, you seem to be torn between two duties. One fighting for dominance within. Your first king, that bumbling fool who inadvertently allowed for my release.” Here, the mockery dropped to reveal a chuckle and a too-wide grin. “And your son.”

Whatever struggle the Brother had been putting up against the spell was cut short as his entire body went still. If he could have expressed himself, Zhan Tiri could imagine a look of horror crossing his face and satisfaction suddenly trailed down her spine.

With a hand steadied on a rock, she made sure he was looking directly into her eyes.

“Ah yes. The boy who’s proved himself to be quite a cooperative obstacle when persuaded to do so.” She chuckled. “The boy who’d do anything, even commit regicide, to preserve what normalcy he had left.” A hand stroked the Stone, sending a shudder through the Brother as its power washed over him. Her eyebrows were raised indifferently as she continued. “I’m sure he’ll do anything should the need arise. A child’s loyalty to their parent transcends all other ties. I wonder how long it would take for them to sever, one by one? There are numerous rocks here. Should we care to test it out?”

“No.”

Zhan Tiri stilled. His resistance was stronger than she’d thought possible of the mortal. Any further taunting and anger might free him from her hold. On the other hand, nursing his fear had the Brother exactly where she wanted him.

The righteous fury of a father protecting his own, but the immaculate fear of knowing that one is so useless in preventing a darkness to swallow up a son, she mused with dark humor. Predictable but so utterly human.

And thus exploitable.

She covered up her slip with a hiss. “And why shouldn’t I? After all, you claim to love him but how does a parent allow a child to fall so far from grace?” Indifference filled her voice as she continued. “I’ve seen many a tragedy from my place in the beyond, but none so satisfying as this. The nightmares that plague him, the guilt that consumes him, the demons that now follow the boy around. Forgiveness is all but words. There is a darkness at the door, knight, and you have led it right towards him. Well done.”

She gripped his chin, long nails digging into the flesh. Tears glistened at the edges of the Brother’s eyes and pleasure surged within her. However, as fun as the game was, she needed her warriors to be fully under her control.

“The only thing standing between me and the boy’s life is your next choice. The time for your noble intentions have passed. Stop this foolish notion of resisting me. Do as you’re told and no harm shall befall him.”

A protesting growl rumbled from his throat and she tightened her grip, narrowing her eyes.

“Do as you’re told, knight, or I swear I’ll make him suffer his agonies he’s had tenfold. Desist.”

There was a flash from the Stone and almost all of a sudden, the tension in her grasp went slack. No pressure. No resistance. No waning hold.

The fight had left him.

Unable now to hide her glee, she chuckled, releasing her nails, letting them slide down his face.

‘Once the bird is led to the cage-

“Remember this, Quirin. From now on…”

-the wings shall be clipped and the demon’s power shall be without end.’

Beady eyes met the dark ones.

“...you are mine.”

You’re welcome :)

#my fanfic so far #tangled the series #zhan tiri #Quirin #mind trap #fanfiction #varian #lowkey #enjoy my beauties #angst #happy birthday to our boi #rapunzels tangled adventure #sorry not sorry

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sunburstbacchae · 3 years

Text

The Theater of Antiochus

Modern Hellenic Folktale written by Kourage Denisen

Sing to me beloved Mousai, my mind is wracked and I must speak

I call upon Kalliope, the matron of my sacred skill

I call upon oh Thalia, the matron of my healing heart

I call upon Melpomene, the matron of my cracking mind

Sing to me beloved Mousai, for I've been called to mark and speak

My patron, oh Dionysos, sends me visions in the dark night

To rile my heart, to pleasure a doting priestex in dreaming

But now I dig too far it seems, Mainoles calls and plagues my dreams

Soterios seems close in reach, if only I do his bidding

And here sing of Antiochus, sing of the second Pentheus

That Antiochus Epiphanes, the fourth to hold that kingly name

Called by his friends "the Epimanes" for masks and eccentricities

But what a mighty fall from grace, he earned the wrath of his King Zeus

He caught his eye, Palamnaios, and was soon after then undone

He fell to shame, to hubris and wove his fate to Tartaros

The devotees of Adonai, citizens of Jerusalem

As time so passed they split inside, debating being Hellenized

The gods step back, where uninvolved, remained neutral to see it through

For worship of want, here it seems, the only worship that rings true

Any school of philosophy could bear the wise and tell you this

But Antiochus Epiphanes, the enemy of Athena

Saw fit to let pride be his guide and kill out of entitlement

Shamed once he went off on a fit and massacred the young and old

Jerusalem was taken, stormed, Adonai made an enemy

The laws were set, his temple wrecked, and turned to a temple of Zeus

The gods looked down upon his mess, Antiochus had attention

He was king, now an oppressor, Zeus no longer stood behind him

Protection of the kingdom gone, it was then seized on every side

Antiochus the king was now Antiochus the fugitive

He couldn't bear to face his crimes and flung himself into the sea

He washed upon the shore of Styx, but was not welcomed by Kharon

Forty-Thousand shades he had sent, the young, the old, the innocent

All to the shores, to Hades door, Antiochus maleficent

No coins could pay, no cover made, could make up for all these lost souls

His destination was condemned to the belly of Tartaros

Antiochus in Tartaros was seated in a special hall

He sat enthroned inside a hole of his own seated silhouette

His head was static, gripped and posed so his view was ever forward

To his horror he soon found he had no eyelids or need to blink

And in this view he saw a stage, this hall, this place was a theater

Dionysos appeared to him before the horror show began

He had seen the fate of this sad, miserable excuse for king

And was summoned by his proud Chthonic mother, Persephone

So with a wicked grin, the god of the oppressed began to sing

The prologue of Antiochus and his new, eternal torment

"So you didn't live to see it, the true fate of your dead kingdom

The cost of your hubris was so great even Zeus turned his eyes

Did you think the host of many would absolve you of all your crimes?

You couldn't pay the ferryman for the shades you have created

Miasma stains your very soul, now marked the brand new Pentheus

"Are you pious to remember? Well it's late for that I suppose

For the fate of my dead cousin will here now be dwarfed by your own

So look forever forward now, until the end of time itself

Look through this portal on a stage at the torment you've made yourself

Pull the curtain, dim the torch lights, we here will now begin the show!"

In that theater Antiochus forever shall watch and remain

The audience to a portal that projects the Hellenic's pain

It is focused and documents every instance of prejudice

Brought upon the Hellenics who now have been relabeled Pagans

A spectacle of suffering that is now his burden to bear

Remember, Hellenic Pagans, when oppressors bring down their blow

Remember who is watching us in a theater far down below

Every hate crime, he has seen it, every comment he will hear it

When he sees you, set your standard, respect each god like they're your own

Make him wish he had done the same, make him wish that he'd only known

#fuck it im kicking the hornets nest #antisemites can cry about it #martian posts #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan

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unluckyadept · 4 years

Text

Character Journal Entry: Felix

{Friday, January 10th 2020T}

I have heard it been reported that in times of deadly peril, those who face death first bear witness to life. Not recall, mind—bear witness.

I do not doubt this to be true. However, I cannot say that I have ever experienced it, myself. Nay; I do not recall such a thing, at the very least. My memories, such as they are, have been different.

What stands out most to me is… not looking back on what had happened, but rather, the process of letting go.

-=-=-

[He pauses, frowning for a moment before continuing.]

-=-=-

To truly surrender, one lets go both of hysteria and hubris. This surrender is… comforting, in its own way. Strange as it may seem to say, but…

When I was dying, there was always an intense element of pain. That, coupled with crippling fear and the edge of despair—it is a bitter cup from which to drink, and a miserable experience indeed.

Man fears Death because it is the one point at which change becomes impossible. The weight of all that was done and all that would never be experienced envelopes the soul. It is that judgment—the inability to change, to reverse, to make amends—that is what is feared.

To be forced to carry the weight of the past, with no chance to make up for it—! To be subject to something so much more powerful that they are helpless to resist—! It is instinct to survive; of course such unmoving finality brings Man to fear!

It is easy to associate Death with suffering; all too frequently, we only know of Death through such a way.

((Art by @owutz))

Lives taken, lives lost—the sick and the wounded, those helpless and despaired.

We face the limitations on our own power, and the emptiness left in the wake of the toll.

And so, because Man fears pain, suffering, loneliness, and helplessness… so, too, does Man grow to fear Death.

Being helpless, subject to physical torment… overwhelmed by inadequacy, failure, guilt, and regret… these were indeed things that brought me to fear. Were I to face it even now, I know that the sting of regret and helplessness would disquiet my spirit. For unless one is completely at peace with both past and future—in what would have been, what cannot be, AND what shall happen next—! Unless that is so, there will be some chill for those who are greeted by mortality.

-=-=-

[He closed his eyes and sighed briefly.]

-=-=-

Which brings me to the surrender.

Hubris is what denies dignity and burdens the heart with a pining for perfection or vices. It casts shame upon shortcomings, and shackles the soul with a sense of despair. It chains it down with the weight of wrongdoing, and the loss of luxury and power.

For Pride is not merely arrogance and cruelty in considering others inferior… it is also the vicious evil that draws one to hate themselves.

When one surrenders Pride, they accept themselves for who they are… weaknesses, shortcomings, imperfections, and all. In accepting ourselves, we may come to forgive our own failures.

When one truly surrenders Pride, they surrender the very idea that they have and SHOULD have the power to determine what happens to them. In surrender of such a controlling mindset, one can come to accept that they are NOT in control. In such acceptance, the panic at being too weak may slowly fade.

And when both panic and resentment are gone, with one being at peace with themselves and their fate—

If true and complete, such peace is consoling, comforting, and hypnotic. It is, in a strange way, almost a form of trust.

For whatever may or may not happen after a life ends, Death is not pain; it is the end of pain. Any postmortem suffering, joy, or nothingness does not change the fact that Death is the transition which ends what had been suffering.

And that is, strictly speaking, not something to fear.

-=-=-

[He was hesitant to continue, but nonetheless pressed on—hoping that perhaps, in doing so, he might find respite from these things, if only for a little while.]

-=-=-

One need and should not rush into it, but I can tell you this much:

((Art by @super-tired-robot))

As the terrible chill and rushing waters, the weakness and lack of air consumed me in the river and the ocean—

As the searing burns and painful lacerations sapped away at my vitality, with my foe placing her scythe against my unprotected neck, helpless to resist the killing blow—

In those moments, as I stood at the threshold and opened the door—

In those times of peril that would have ended my life, coming to accept myself and surrender in full… granted me a dignity I would not have otherwise maintained.

-=-=-

[He looked up in thought, letting the calming touch of the past reach out to him.

Perhaps it was a morbid thing, indeed; but it was also the main thing that kept him from becoming frantic and wild in crazed fear over what seemed (some days more than others) to be inevitable, given his status—

His capture and subsequent oblivion.]

-=-=-

Having lived beyond those times, it becomes a challenge throughout the rest of life—’til such an hour come again—to face the world and myself with such a knowledge and such a scar. What I make of such a challenge is my own business. What others make of such a challenge is their business.

And certainly, I have known several others who live with such a haunting mystery to their name—for the most part, they choose to keep it to themselves. I can hardly blame them…

Such a thing is not something shared, for it can be easy to misinterpret. Granted, the weight of guilt and sorrow we carry probably has SOMETHING to do with that, but… verily, this is not despair, but surrender. There is a stark difference. The difference between acceptance and hopelessness.

-=-=-

[He was drawn back into other memories. To the time where he had faltered under pressure, and given in to the desire to force someone else to suffer the same haunting terror and surrender that he had endured.

He did not wish to be placed in such a situation ever again… because if he had been any weaker, he would surely have been monstrous.

He had allowed himself, ever so briefly, to completely stop caring about the humanity and dignity of another person. To actively seek to make them suffer—suffer in a way that—if he had truly, truly succeeded in what he wanted—would scar them for life, bringing them to the same madness.

Had he been justified? Could such a thing EVER be justified? At what point did human weakness become unacceptable action?]

-=-=-

It vexes me greatly that no matter what I do, what I have accomplished… I can never make this go away.

At less frequency than before, most surely, but nevertheless—it just will not die. …Pun not intended.

Oh, to be cursed with such a double-edged blessing as a vivid imagination! To picture most clearly suffering of the highest order! It’s haunting. Why must this plague me so?

If only it were so easy as placing it aside!

-=-=-

[He sighed, washed with a sense of relief as his mind finally began to shift, and his heart wander elsewhere.]

-=-=-

At least, for me, the torment is temporary. It moves on and fades away, like the night in face of the dawn.

Perhaps someday I truly shall find rest from this, and be at peace, plagued by it no longer.

-=-=-

[Yes…

This was, alas, just a part of who he was. To feel so intensely—great longing, great joy, great wonder, great sorrow, great fervor, great strength, great pain.]

-=-=-

It is a gift, I suppose. To be so intensely captivated and alive. For of such a thing is born noble deeds that come from the heart; from fires and wellsprings rooted deep into the soul, which feels—undaunted, unprompted, unflinching—the instinct of compassion… of mercy… of kindness, of self-sacrifice…

It is, indeed, that which can sustain Love.

-=-=-

[But of course, it struck him suddenly that indeed, Love would be moved with compassion to offer solace to someone suffering such pain, and bring them ease of heart.

He really did have no clear idea what others would think and feel in such a scenario… only the knowledge that allowing himself to be that vulnerable was something that required a great deal of trust.

For, if not mistreated, it created a deep bond.

A bond that only grew stronger if compounded, at which point…

…Betrayal was so unbelievably painful, such a deep violation that to even allow the seeds of such intense agony would be… so harshly against his instincts.

Not again. Not AGAIN, and again, and again, and again…

He felt tired. Tired at the memory, even as his thoughts drifted to those he trusted most.]

-=-=-

In the end…

…will I ever reach a point where I allow myself to truly trust?

Or is it all… simply not a burden they should have to bear?

—Felix

#cje #Golden Sun #GoldenSun #Golden Sun: The Lost Age #Golden Sun: The Broken Seal #Golden Sun: Dark Dawn #Golden Sun 4 #GS #GS: TLA #GS: TBS #GS: DD #GS4 #unluckyadept #owutz #overx #Felix

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dragonnan · 5 years

Text

Mega Multi-Fandom Rec List Part 2

DISCLAIMER!!!

I will miss certain people; probably a lot of people. It’s inevitable. 3 reasons. I haven’t read every fic in every fandom. 2, I haven’t managed to bookmark every fic out there. 3, I am not involved with every fandom. The fandoms in my list are the ones I personally and currently am involved in which have enough fics to rec that they are worth the time linking below.

So bear with me.

4-ish - I tend to cling pretty tight to both hurt/comfort (whump) as well as canon. I’m not hugely into romance save for maybe 1 or two couples and, again, I lean hard on whatever is either canon or VERY strongly implied OTP. I don’t rec porn (nothing against it I just avoid it when it comes to anything that might have an underage audience).

Finally, anything I rec that may contain triggering subject matter I will tag as well as I can so heed the warnings where appropriate!

Note: I have also included some of my work below. For a complete collection of my stories you can find them at the following links: dragonnan’s Psych fics dragonnan’s A03 fics

Sherlock (BBC)

Gen

Redemption by sgam76 The Knight Shift by dragonnan for tunes84 5 Times Sherlock wanted his big brother to carry him + 1 time he wouldn't admit it by SailorChibi Scenes From Recovery by maryagrawatson for Boton Cold Comfort by maryagrawatson An Act Of Rebellion by afteriwake for GlowingMechanicalHeart, Dreamin The Precipice by takethesky87 Road to Freedom by Ariane_DeVere English as a Foreign Language by standbygo Proportionate Response by babydrache Landscape With The Fall Of Icarus by CaitlinFairchild (Warning: Rape/non-con) Recorded by Morgan_Stuart (Warnings: Torture, Implied Character Deaths) I've Got You Now by ready_to_kick_some_ass No Flowers by GraceHolmes An Interesting Puzzle by awanderingbard When Your Belly's in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart Idle Gossip by Arnie Extraction by Basser Flinch by Salr323 Trust Thy Doctor by becausemycroft (Unfinished) Of Monsters by Basser Dangerous Mould by Benfan Never That Easy by Kerkerian No Incentive So Great by thisprettywren You Were Never Supposed To Leave by Ballykissangel (Character Death - Not Sherlock or John) No More Miracles by whitchry9 (Major Character Death) Appearances Can Be Deceiving by SailorChibi (Warning: Rape/non-con) The Most Awful Thing by whitchry9 Wrong by impulsereader Triage by Morgan_Stuart Lessons Learned by Morgan_Stuart Croatia-Water-Blue by hollyesque (Warning: Rape/non-con) Hopeless Wanderer by Cyane (orphan_account) The Triple Bluff by SarahKnight Something Broken by GhyllWyne Fractured by radculas Constantly by thesignsofserbia In Arduis Fidelis by Salr323 Rule of Law by thesignsofserbia Sound of Silence by SailorChibi Never Have I Ever by awanderingbard Lost for Words by awanderingbard Fallout by Salr323 Following On by Loopy456 Oubliette by CherryBlossomTide Unforgettable by tenderly_wicked A Cure for the Final Problem by Saasan (Major Character Death) He's Had This Nightmare Before by mirroredLife he Holiday by Scriblit (Warning: Rape/non-con) Paying Back by Dayja Harmless Things by J_Baillier It takes John Watson to save your life. by Sparkypip Comatose by Sparkypip Everything Will Be Okay by great_big_worm (Warning: Rape/non-con) Seek Out The Unworthy by squire The Shallow End by hollyesque War Crimes by mossologist (Warning: Rape/non-con) Illation by hollyesque Crushing Fears by Amaya_Ramiel Pressure by Tammany Unthinkable by Lindentreeisle (Captainblue) (Warning: Rape/non-con) A Smelly Affair by dioscureantwins for Yitzock Do Your Research by dioscureantwins for CherryBlossomTide (Child Abuse) Proxy by CherryBlossomTide (Child Abuse) Pipe Song by Mistress_Siana (Warning: Rape/non-con | Violence) It's Not The Violin by copperbadge The Tiger and the Shark by dragonnan (Warning: Rape/non-con)

Sherlolly

Down and Shaking When I Think I Lose by satin_doll for OhAine, GettingOverGreta A New Project by rachel614 (orphan_account) Sherlollipops - Til Death by MizJoely Everything and More by rachel614 (orphan_account) I've Learned to Lose You by Ukthxbye for Writingwife83 These Scars We Kiss by rachel614 (orphan_account) (Warning: Includes discussions of self-harm) A Vicious Motivator by darnedchild The Shadow of What Will Be by versarilaetus The Last Meal by theSapphireSky The Healing of Sherlock Holmes by honeycakes Insomnia by katiebuttercup Chasing Paradise by Chibiness87 It's My Party by Mouse9 The Adventure of the Left Shoe by Jolie_Black TMI (Too Much Information) by GarudaDreamsOfRain Handsome In Her Eyes by afteriwake Little Bird by Caffeine_faerie The Price of Sentiment by Mouse9 The Admirer by howterrifying Dial M for Molly by dragonnan

More Sherlolly recs can be found HERE

Series

Scheherezade ‘verse, A Felicitous Natal Celebration, and With a Little Help From My Friends Series’ by sgam76: Sherlock is home, he and John are returning to cases, and all’s right with the world–right? But a series of minor mishaps and injuries makes two things very clear to his friends and family: first, Sherlock’s time away wasn’t the grand adventure everyone has assumed it was; and second, that time has left Sherlock with a legacy that’s bleeding into his life today. Sherlock is Not Okay, and it’s not going away.

NOTE: These stories are not written in the order with which they occur. They are all part of the same universe and dovetail amongst one another. You can read them in whatever order you which - though I strongly advise beginning with Scheherezade as nothing else will quite make sense without that history.

A Felicitous Natal Celebration - Past fic

A Felicitous Natal Celebration Excursions and Alarums First Things First All Along the Watchtower TLS and the Sloane Ranger Happy Not Happy Christmas

Scheherezade ‘verse Scheherezade A Pox on All Your Houses Interlude in December - Note: Part 3 is a chapter taken from the org fic and posted as a one-shot. [PodFic] Scheherezade by DefinitelyNotPie, sgam76 A Long Walk Down a Dusty Road These Old Shades Larceny, Lawlessness and Opium - Note: These events take place sometime during the ORG story

With a Little Help From My Friends - future fic With a Little Help From My Friends Aftermath

Reset Universe Series by maryagrawatson: After dealing with the Moriarty threat, Sherlock was still sent on his mission... Eleven Months Reset (Warning: Rape/non-con referenced as well as Attempted Rape) Cracked

Sherlock Holmes (RDJ Movies)

Alive by Sharmain The Case Of The Drowning Evidence by StarkRogers Ability, Neutralized by PeaceHeather Buried Alive by drjohnhwatson Identifying the Ripper by WayWardWonderer (More of a Classic Doyle Style) Eloquence in Motion by donutsweeper Damage by ancalime8301 A Most Belligerent Patient by kayliemalinza Associations by ancalime8301 A Matter of Precaution by moogsthewriter

Psych

Never could get the hang of Tuesdays by Liviapenn Snail Mail Sucks - Next Time, Send Me a Text by SydneyWoo I See Your Hubris...and I'll Raise You Fifty by SydneyWoo And Then The World Blew Up by SydneyWoo (Minor Character Death) Shall We Play a Game? by JR88fan Testing, Testing, One, Two, Ouch! by PapayaK This is not the Karma You're Looking For by eideann The Ticket by Kirei Latent by InsaneTrollLogic (Major Character Death) Exposed by Syncop8ed Rhythm

A Very Risky Proposition by aakira Chest Pains by AmeliaReddy The Last Man At The End Of The World by watanuki_sama A Whisper to the Living by Xparrot (Major Character Death) Where There is Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth by dragonnan (Warnings for Blood/Gore and Horror) You Say My Brain's Bleeding Like It's a Bad Thing by Kansas42 Stuck in an Office with You by PeterPanic Hostage Taking 101 by Syncop8ed Rhythm The Shassiter Friendship Club by NoirCat Suffer the Night by dragonnan Giving Shelter to Midnight Ramblers by JR88fan Happy Halloween by NoirCat Fathers and Sons Felonious and Otherwise by Okapi Grace by Silence Statement Time by NoirCat I Don't Know How to Say Goodbye by Psychrulz (Major Character Death) Or Is It Trust? by windscryer (Crossover w/ SPN) Father Figures by Kirei You Give Me Fever by dragonnan Shawn and the Friendly Neighborhood Stalker by Nixa Jane I Would Do Anything for Love; Even That by dragonnan for mortma1984 Lingering Chill by s_c (Major Character Death) Metal So Strong Doesn't Last Very Long by Sky Pad An Almost World by Oldach Dreaming (Major Character Death) Obsession by dragonnan Through Moonbeams Softly by brightblue All Nighter by dragonnan The Seed of Doubt by Collegekid06 The Five Stages of Henry Spencer by Collegekid06 101. Dead Man's Float by MusicalLuna Fun in the Woods with Buzz McNabb by centipede Don't Eat the Crab by Raych Better Off Decapitated by dragonnan

More Psych recs can be found HERE

Series

Fractures Series by VampKira: (Warnings for Child Abuse, Rape/Incest, Violent Disturbing Imagery, and Horror) The fun filled saga of the Spencer men’s warped family dynamic and dragging their friends, co-workers, and acquaintances along for the ride. Fractures (Part 1) Corpses, Curses, and Cops, Oh My (Part 2) Scars (Part 3) (Incomplete)

What’s The Chance? Series by lapsus_calami: The bad guy from their recent case forces Shawn and Gus to play a game of Russian Roulette. It’s about as fun as it sounds. Which is to say not fun at all. There’s A Sixteen Percent Chance That At Least One Of Us Is Going To Die (Part 1) There's A Thirty Two Percent Chance That At Least One Of Us Will Need Therapy (Part 2)

A *Really* Dangerous Mind Series by Psychrulz: Everyone knows Shawn has a tendency to get distracted. When he misses a clue and a murderer almost gets away, Chief Vick has had enough. She orders Shawn to get help and fix the problem- or else. Naturally, nothing with Shawn is ever that simple. When the fix turns out to be worse than the problem, the lives of his entire team are put in danger. A Bitter Pill (Part 1) Pitch Black (Part 2)

Moonlighting Series by Redwolffclaw: Psych/Moonlight Crossover Series - Shawn meets vampire Private Eye Mick St. John in this series where Shawn has to learn to live unlife as a newly turned vampire. Who knew being a vampire, psychic, consultant, detective, boyfriend, and best friend would be so hard? No Such Thing As Psychics (Part 1) 12:04 Wake Up Call (Part 1.5) Out of the Past, and Into the Fire (Part 2) Love Lasts Forever, but Sanity Has a Shelf Life (Part 3) Click- To Catch A Vampire (Part 4) Hard To Believe It Will Be Okay Series by silverluna: Carlton Lassiter is having a horribly bad day, and it’s only going to get worse. Hard To Believe It Will Be Okay (Part 1) Where Do We Go From Here? (Part 2) The Spencers of Santa Barbara Series by JR88fan : When Uncle Jack comes to town, one thing is certain: life won’t be boring. This particular visit is no exception. Throw in some video games, a treasure hunt, a case of benitoite gemstones worth millions, and a pair of sinister brothers who will stop at nothing to acquire those gemstones, and the Spencer men quickly find themselves in over their heads. The Spencers of Santa Barbara: The Curse of Benitoite (Part 1) Jack and Jill Went Up the Hill (Part 2)

A Road Through Abbadon Series by Am_I_Zombie: (Warnings for Major Character Deaths, Violent Disturbing Imagery, and Horror) Shawn Spencer works out his place in a rapidly changing environment. It is apocalypse season after all. A Road Through Abbadon (Part 1) A Funny Thing Happened On the Way Into Hell (Part 2) A Rest Stop at the Edge of Madness (Part 3) (incomplete)

Choose It Or Lose It Series by Texasartchick: Lassiter’s dream comes true when he accidentally obtains indisputable evidence that Shawn is a fake. Fortunately for Shawn and Gus, Lassie doesn’t know what he has yet, sparking a desperate race against time. Can our dynamic duo sneak the evidence away from Lassiter before he discovers that he literally holds control over the future of Psych - and possibly Shawn’s freedom - in his hands? Choose It Or Lose It (Part 1) It Can Happen (Part 2) Stir Crazy (Part 3) This Stalker Thing Kind Of Sucks (Part 4) The Ties That Bind (Part 5) Helmets Not Included (Part 6) The Spencer Syndrome (Part 7) A Very BAMF! Lassie Fic (Part 8) Night of the Rodentia (Part 9) (Unfinished)

Doctor Who

Creature Fear by goodbye2pisces (Tenth Doctor) Xeno by Laurawrzz (Tenth Doctor) Then My Mind Went Dark by the_magpie (Tenth Doctor) (Warning: Rape/non-con) How to Live by misscam (Tenth Doctor) A Coward Dies A Thousand Times by sashet (Tenth Doctor) let the echo shake it all apart by sequence_fairy (Tenth Doctor) (Warning: Rape/non-con) Time With Mother by Laurawrzz (Tenth Doctor) A Step in the Right Direction by flutterflap (Tenth Doctor) Voiceless by Veldeia (Tenth Doctor) Beneath the Midnight Sky by HiddenTreasures for badwolfrun (Tenth Doctor) Novi et Veteris by IuvenesCor (Twelfth Doctor) Spinach Shock by Goldy, mrv3000 (Tenth Doctor) Were He Not Romeo Called by Butterfly (Tenth Doctor) The Devil You Know by rosa_acicularis (Duplicate Tenth Doctor) Canvassing the Limits of Domesticity by Queen of the Castle (queen_of_the_castle_77) (Duplicate Tenth Doctor) The Difference by themuslimbarbie (Duplicate Tenth Doctor) The Old Have Bad Dreams by kashinoha (Eleventh Doctor) Transfixion by tardisjournal (Eleventh Doctor) Family Emergency by sahiya (Eleventh Doctor) Vacation, Interrupted by shyday (Tenth Doctor) What Is Essential by eve11 (Eleventh Doctor) Let Her Under Your Skin, Into Your Heart by starlingnight (Eleventh Doctor) Balance of Power by eve11 (Eleventh Doctor)

Part 1: MCU - Iron Man, Spider-Man, Doctor Strange, Avengers

#fanfic recs #misc fanfic recs #Sherlock #Psych #Doctor Who

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ghostmartyr · 6 years

Text

Pokémon White Randomized Nuzlocke Run [Part 4]

We have an invitation to run off and battle one of our rival characters for free exp, so in the immediate wake of earning the third badge, that is where those still remaining shall march off.

Still breathing:

Frogger (Seismitoad)

Ptera (Archeops)

Palm (Breloom)

Batman (Escavalier)

But instead of running where game progression wants us to...

Back to the bridge. I wish I had my bike. As much as I love these monstrosities in this game, I’ve done a lot of back and forth in my grinding quest. This should hopefully cover it for a while. One last time for grins.

Or. Not.

My memory was that this guy left after you earned the Bug badge. I guess that was mistaken. So I guess I get to run all the way back across the bridge, since I just wasted my time.

I know I can’t catch whatever’s in the dark grass he’s blocking off, but I still really want to know what’s available. I guess I am doomed to wait until later.

Off to fight Bianca.

I haven’t given my Amulet Coin to anyone yet. I’ll give it to Frogger. Ptera’s still batting first because there’s no reason not to, but he has Acrobatics, so no items for him. He will have to play with other people and pokemon, not toys.

Frogger has seniority. He will care for our finances.

Heeeeey, Bianca.

Give me levels.

I love how these fights always reference the mess me and my friends made of my room in the first five seconds. We’ve learned so much. Now we ask before we have fights indoors, and keep in mind the expensive electronics nearby.

She has a level 18 Herdier. It doubtless knows Bite.

That no longer concerns us.

Frogger is permitted to duel with her bloodthirsty level 20 Patrat. A dangerous foe, to be sure. Arrogance has been no friend to us in past altercations with it.

I am ridiculously overleveled.

A level 18 Munna and Pansear will round out her team, and Frogger will slay them both with distinction, granting us no levels and money. We can settle for money.

Bianca always makes me so sad. Watching a character’s enthusiasm dwindle is never fun, no matter the game, and she’s such a sweetheart. It isn’t her fault the plot won’t let her win. She calls me her friend and remembers to ask permission to have pokemon battles indoors.

Then she says more stuff and me being sad about her sad feelings is less important because she’s talking about all of her happy feelings thanks to the journey.

Maybe I should stop talking about parts of the story I barely remember as they’re happening and just read.

See now, you, you I have no problems beating.

Opening move is a level 20 Pidove. I think we can safely switch that to past tense. Same for the level 20 Pansage, level 22 Meganium I keep forgetting he has, and level 20 Liepard.

Palm was given the Liepard to feast upon.

The rest were tribute for Ptera.

Hello what is up, are we doing a thing?

Oh. No, she just called to let us know she’ll be waiting for us at the next city. You know, in the old days, professors would just show up unannounced and throw eggs at whatever ten-year-old happened to be closest and tell them to run around so it’ll hatch.

I’m not sure I like this more modern approach of politeness.

Three cheers for being allowed to move forward again. Onward, to trainers who will not expect a level 32 Archeops!

Naturally, what all this time I spend being ridiculously overpowered is going to do is build a false sense of confidence, and at some point in the future I will, once again, suffer horrific losses that shine a light on my hubris.

Then I’ll go through another grind session, whining all the way, and the segment after that, I’ll be back to being superpowered.

Knowing this should theoretically protect me from letting it happen. Let’s watch.

It’s a new area!

Is it... could that possibly mean...?

...

Hey Randomizer what in the fuck.

Uh.

Um.

...Game, the dramatic legendary music is not helping much with thought. At all. Let me think... I know it’s at least partly Flying (in as much as I know anything, so without looking it up, I don’t actually have a clue). I don’t know a thing about its moveset in general, forget at this level.

I guess before I start asking complicated questions like what’s best suited to wound it and not die, I should try throwing a Quick Ball.

I have those.

I sometimes have luck to go with. Let’s hope now is one of those times.

I do not foresee enjoying this encounter.

Adding to the trouble, whatever this thing’s typing is, it is not resistant to sandstorms. It’s going to take damage every single turn, and has an abysmal catch rate to boot.

I think Palm can get a hit in without killing it. Mach Punch is weak against Flying.

So it knows Gust and Swagger. One Mach Punch without the aid of Swagger got it to almost mid health. I don’t think I get to attack it again. I should just let the sandstorm do its work. Frogger knows how to stand still.

Add Bite to the moveset list, but nothing on my team cares anymore! Insert sobs here.

You know. I’m looking at the Poke Balls I have available, and I can’t help but notice that my stock does not have legendaries in mind. I have ten of the standard model, but everything else is in the single digits. Single digits that don’t even fill up one hand.

...It’s going to die to Sandstorm before I can catch it, isn’t it?

My only Ultra Ball is now gone.

I don’t think I’ve gotten a single roll for it yet. I have maybe four more chances.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GLORY TO THE POWER OF THE DUSK BALL!

Pure Flying, you do not fill any gaps in my team at all except for conceivably the most crucial: The number gap. If I’d lost another route, I would have been very sad indeed.

What do I name you, though?

Gelding.

Because I can’t look at this set of legendaries without thinking about Wind Waker, so you get Zelda, then gusts and gales and all things blustery tend to start with G, and ‘ing’ is just a nice finisher.

(Looking up pokemon stuff is against my self-imposed rules, but dictionary stuff isn’t. I knew when I picked the name that it was an actual word, and something to do with animals, maybe to do with leggy ones, but did not remember what, just that it is a nice sounding word. I was banking on it being deer related.

Nope.

Sorry about your name, Gelding. It’s staying now.)

Gelding is Lax and proud of his power. I never like seeing either of the Defense stats in the blue, but I have zero memory of what this legendary is good for anyway. Presumably you’re going to be an overpowered monstrosity that I accidentally kill.

I think, rather than exploring the Resort area further (there’s some sort of underground section that it’s own area somewhere in there, so maybe, maybe teammate number six lurks beneath), I’m going to head to the next town and buy some more catching supplies.

That was far from a chill catch.

In lieu of thinking, I’m going to throw the Exp. Share on Gelding. He is twenty levels behind. As a responsible trainer who is absolutely not going to be his leading cause of death, I wish to correct that imbalance.

Oh yeah, you wanted me for something.

Free stuff! Free stuff I actually want! Thank you Professor Juniper, I will remember this the next time I complain about you interrupting my wanderings with things like story progression!

ffs guys, I just want to hit the PokeCenter. Could you stop stealing things for five scenes?

Could you also stop having things like Watchdogs? I do not enjoy fighting such creatures, as they make me needlessly paranoid and cast lingering glances at the empty spots in my roster.

Yo, I have a bike! I didn’t think you got that so early in this one. Thank you, random old person. My bridge-traversing ways are forever in your debt. Oh, wait, not so random. He runs a Day Care.

The store in this town does not sell Ultra Balls.

I’m not going to stock up too much, just in case healing items become as desirable as I think they might in the future, but I grab thirty Poke Balls and twenty Great Balls. I might not need them, but I don’t want to be thrown into a situation where the one thing I can catch on a route is a legendary, and I can’t catch it.

Having said that, there will be no more legendaries anywhere in the rest of the map.

But okay, healed up, time to head back to the Resort and maybe meet lucky number six.

[Pictured above: First of the things not caught in Desert Resort]

I need to make a note to enjoy myself properly with the Randomizer at some point. Part of me is a little sad that my first experience is being spent on a Nuzlocke run.

Then the rest of me considers my self control, and considers that having some clear boundaries the first time out isn’t such a bad thing.

-rubs hands together-

Show me something good, game.

Excuse me, what in the fuck.

Quick Ball?

Yeah, that’s a strong no.

Ptera will chomp right through it. I don’t know its moves. Fire would murder Batman and Palm, but Frogger doesn’t have anything that wouldn’t murder Entei. Risking Gelding feels wrong, but Gelding has the best Type for this.

Okay, buddy.

Try. Not to die.

Entei has Bite and Ember.

Gelding at 13 HP put Entei just into the orange. So.

I’m going to use up my Premier Balls, because if it comes down to it, I do have a couple of Timer Balls. I don’t think I can do anything to damage it further without risking death on one side. Besides, who knows, maybe one will work.

(No.)

Entei also has Leer.

That’s a much scarier move when it has all the time in the world to use it.

...And it has Roar.

Oh please no. Do not let this fool’s errand end that way.

I’ve watched a Ultra Ball roll three times twice now. This is torture.

I am really glad Roar keeps failing, but I don’t know enough about why it is to know if that will continue or not. Usually with things in the wild, Roar just ends the fight, and I don’t have any Ability that I know of to counter it.

I have one Ultra Ball left.

Aaaaaand it’s gone.

Sigh.

Thanks, Professor Juniper.

Holy fuck, casual Heal Ball of despair for the win.

What to call you, what to call you...

You have a cloud on your back... Cloud is a Final Fantasy character... F is for... Fido!

Good dog!

Do you know what that means?

I have six!

Time for healing and grinding and finding out what non-legendary things I could have gotten instead, not that I would have preferred less heart stress in rounding out my team!

Having a Fire type is also really, really useful. I tend to use Fire as my multipurpose enforcers, especially against things like Electric types, so Fido is a high quality boon.

Is this Randomizer accidentally set to Badass Mode?

There’s also Altaria here. The first non-heart eyes option is Lickitung. Look at all these things that aren’t legendaries. Of course, now I’ve been spoiled, and just want to run ahead to the next area where I can catch a thing again. I want to know what it will be. The curiosity. It drives progress.

I found a Fire Stone in the Resort. This is worth mentioning because out of the options, a Fire Stone is the evolutionary stone I already chose to have in my collection.

A lot of my choices don’t seem to result in anything nearly as helpful as I intended for them.

I forgot out big the Resort area is. Or maybe it just feels larger because all the sand kills visibility.

I have no memory of this place.

Wait. Something about... the Fire/Bug type Alder has? Champion’s name is Alder, right? I think at some point in the game you can come across that somewhere in here? Maybe?

I dunno, let’s explore.

Still Relic Castle, so nothing to catch here, sadly.

Is this the way out if you go down the quick sand portals on the other side? Probably.

Aw, there’s Kangaskhan down here. I’ve never played through a game with one of those. I think I always trade to get it. That would have been cool.

Not that I’m judging Fido’s place in the team or anything. I am just providing color commentary.

There’s also Vanillish.

I need an area where I can catch something again. All this cool stuff is tormenting me.

The problem with Ptera being so strong, and resisting the Sandstorm, is that I’m coming up short on a compelling reason to swap him out for someone else. He’s just so perfectly competent.

Resort also has Mareep. So many treasures.

I’m trying to hit all the trainers here, but I think I’m mostly making myself lost.

Would this randomized mode perhaps like to chill?

It’s another Relic Castle one, so I don’t get to try to catch it, but honestly, what in the fuck. I am going to run out of legendaries to catch by my sixth badge at this rate.

...Well. Probably not. I don’t care to do the math on that, but there are kind of a lot of legendaries at this point. But still, what the heck.

Oh hey, a Walrein! That’s not a legendary! What a twist.

I should consider switching Ptera’s spot more strongly. He is four levels higher than the next highest.

Hello, there.

So it hasn’t really come up, but I think the rules I’m choosing to use are that I can use gift pokemon, but only if they’re randomized. I’m not sure if the fossils will be their usual selves or not. I’m going to pick the Cover Fossil either way, since Ptera doesn’t need to have an insecurity added to life, but it would be neat if it turned out to be something new.

Ugh, but that would mean going all the way back to the fossil gym.

...When do I get Fly?

Eh, I have six at the moment anyway. There’s no rush.

...

I need to know.

No such luck. Dear turtle friend, were this a normal run, you would be a grand addition, and I would love you muchly, but as we are doing what we’re doing here, you must go unnamed and into a box. Fear not, you are not dead, merely forever frozen and unused.

Back to Resort grinding.

(Hooray for bicycles.)

Relic Castle continues to astound.

This is so awesome. I hope whoever programmed Randomizer is out living their best life.

Okay, Ptera’s 35. I need to give something else a chance. Palm, show me what you’re made of and train up our new legendary pals. Though as long as I’m doing this in a specific area... I mean, I won’t go out of my way to EV train, but Palm is already swimming upstream with his Nature. Maybe I’ll just give him a level and switch over to Frogger.

Not that I even remember what any of these things dish out. HP, maybe?

...Ptera really is the best thing on my team to manage this stuff. Maybe I should just go deal with the next gym.

Batman, how about you go ahead and murder a bunch of Cresselia for me. It’ll be our bonding experience. You like killing Psychic things, right? I seem to recall something about our first meeting...

No, okay, fine, I won’t hold that grudge. We’re partners now, and that’s all that matters.

On fourth thought, I’m just gonna stay upstairs and let Frogger take out Entei when Fido isn’t clearing out the Budew. Gelding’s almost 30, so I won’t feel obligated to keep the Exp. Share on for much longer.

Fido is at a level where this is actually annoying. My kingdom for a legendary that learns good moves early. Ember is just not all that great, and Budew’s Water Sport is annoying to work through.

Roar keeps not working for the wild Entei. I have no idea why that is, but it’s convenient. Having my free exp scare me away every other time would be frustrating as heck.

Eh, Fido learned Fire Spin. Yay. Its leading quality is being slightly more appealing to me than Roar.

Wait a moment. Fido. I didn’t take a look at what you’re like. I was so excited to have six that I completely forgot to check up on you.

Fido is Sassy and often dozes off. What that means is largely lost on me, but in general losing out on some Speed to up a Defense stat is okay in my book. The ability never had the option of being something else, I don’t think.

A belated welcome, doggo.

...Good grief you need better moves.

...It learned Stomp.

Okay, everyone’s 30 or higher, time to return to the plot.

Wow, I did not expect that. It’s so weird when random NPCs just hand out HMs.

I’d forgotten about the stadium trainers. I think every day they have different sports going on, and each set contains trainers. I have vague memories of grinding using them. ..I probably could have just hung around here instead of Relic Castle.

Oh well, more levels for me.

Is this where we have our Ferris Wheel thing?

(I remember so little of these games, yet N possibly having a thing for the protagonist has stuck in the consciousness of the internet for so long that it is what sticks.)

Yeah, this happens.

Tale as old as time.

I want N’s hat. Will Pokemon Go make his outfit available at some point? That would be neat. The protagonist gear always looks a bit dorky. Unlike turtlenecks and button-up shirts.

He has a nice hat.

Elesa, why does your gym look like this. It makes me want to go play laser tag.

Time for some exp I don’t really need.

Nimbasa has a lot going for it. I think this is the generation where I realized how you could breed things and EV train them, so I spent a lot of time messing around with the subway features. I wasn’t very good. I think I wanted my trainer card to reach a higher tier of color?

Yeah, that didn’t work. It was all confusing, and mostly I just wasn’t good enough at coming up with strategies. Or copying them efficiently.

...Are there really only two trainers here? And the other sport court has a game in progress. Dang it.

I don’t remember if I have to participate in the Pokemon Musical.

I know I don’t wanna.

Bianca is walking me inward. This does not bode well.

I have a Prop Case now.

What part of “I don’t wanna” is so hard to understand. ;-;

Gelding, you want to put on a show? You’re probably most likely to be swapped out if I see anything I like in future routes, so we should treasure our time together while we can.

By which I mean we will participate in mutual suffering.

It’s an expression of love, Gelding.

Bianca leaves before I’m asked to do anything else. Do I stay and check it off the list, or flee and hope that this is not necessary to progress?

...Maybe I will go back inside.

Dude, all I remember about this encounter is that Elesa is better than you. And most everyone else. It’s time for Bianca to lay proper claim to her independence, right?

...Wait, this ends well?

Right, I guess all the truly terrible parenting has to be saved up for N.

Congrats, Bianca!

I think I’ll actually go ahead and deal with the gym now.

...No, I won’t. I want to check and see if I have access to the other routes yet. Mayhaps it is time to catch things. Or meet Alder. That’s his name, I think. I think we see him for the first time on the route to the left. So I shall go right.

Huh. This is a fun thing.

The next badge probably makes Strength usable outside of battle. So if I go and do the gym, I’ll have the choice between two spots of grass. Darker grass doesn’t necessarily have better stuff, because it’s all random, but it will have things of higher levels, which means less grinding.

...I’m gonna check out the other side. Possibly get a badge.

Then will come the decision.

Which may or may not be dependent on how much I want to put off giving something on my team Strength.

Here, things do not appear to be nearly so complicated.

There is dark grass, but I think it’s impossible to get to without walking through the normal grass. Maybe I’ll find something in the normal grass on this side, then use Strength and deal in the dark grass on the other side.

Plan? Plan.

...Still largely dependent on what I have that can learn Strength.

I guess that’s one nice thing about these legendaries with the awkward movesets. Fido can probably handle not fainting our new teammate. Probably.

...Hey Gelding guess what you get to stay.

I’m gonna name you Bandit. If we’re both very lucky, we’ll never, ever use you.

Next thing to pop up in the grass is a Maractus, then a Bonsly. This is like. A sane route. Weird.

Meanwhile, over in the dark grass.

Chikorita, Munna... Samurott.

By the standards of this run, I’d still call it pretty sane. The Samurott is darn near level appropriate. I don’t know what I would have picked out of this set. Bandit has some proper charm. That’s hard to say no to in the midst of such chaos.

OH!

Bandit can learn Strength!

Awesome!

Who’s a good girl? You’re a good girl!

Gym time!

This makes me want to hit the arcade so bad.

I haven’t really decided what to use here. Fido was the assumption, but Fido’s moveset is terrible. I think half the things in here are likely to have Static, and its only decent moves are all physical attacks.

Gelding shouldn’t go anywhere near anything here.

Ptera would probably be fine, but his Defense is abysmal, so all it would take is one round of not being fine to ruin that.

Batman would be pretty okay all around, but not a great damage dealer. She does know Headbutt, though...

Palm I’m paranoid about letting loose against things he doesn’t have a Type advantage with, but I think he’d mostly be okay. I just don’t want to risk my precious Breloom coming to harm.

...Fido and Frogger will have to do, I think.

What even is the deal with this gym. Elesa has so much style that it would cause poisoning in a real world setting.

The trainers so far have dealt in mid-20s pokes. Elesa’s might hit 30, but my guess would be that 28 might be closer to the mark.

...Elesa’s gym is full of neon, rich kids, and roller coasters, and I just love it so very much. And Ember isn’t doing too shabbily. I would still prefer having something better to work with, but as long as Emolga are so popular, Frogger’s not the best choice, so it’s good that Fido can put in the proper work.

Can I say for the hundredth time how much I love the work they put into the gyms in this gen? Because it is one of my primary joys of the games. Pokemon are great and all, but the aesthetic.

Firs up is a level 25 Emolga. With Volt Switch, so that will leave the stage after one Ember to let loose a different level 25 Emolga. Who will also use Volt Switch, bringing the first Emolga back out. That Emolga faints, Fido grows to level 34, and time to find out if that’s enough to push the second Emolga into fainting with two Embers instead of three. Apparently there’s a Special Defense difference between the beasts.

Yep, that did it. Emolgas down, and I’ll switch to Frogger for the Zebstrika.

Dang, I was off. It’s level 27.

Frogger downs it, getting up to 34 as well, and we have another relatively painless gym experience!

Go team!

Elesa also promises to deal with the pesky bridge problem I didn’t bother screencapping. I think the next Leader is a Ground type. Cowboy dude who has to be pestered into letting pedestrians use the drawbridge.

But that will have to wait for next time!

#Pokemon #Nuzlocke Challenge

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neuxue · 6 years

Text

Wheel of Time live blogging: The Gathering Storm ch 24

In which I have less patience for Gawyn than I thought I did. Also I wrote this on a 12 hour flight and am posting now after 5 more hours or transit and no sleep so I have absolutley no idea how coherent it is. Enjoy?

Chapter 24: A New Commitment

Oh it’s Gawyn.

I don’t think I realised until just now how thin my patience for Gawyn has become.

You know that feeling, when you’re reading a book that has multiple viewpoints or plotlines and it changes from one to the next and your immediate response is ‘ugh, do we have to?’ Yeah.

To be fair, I suppose those last two chapters are a hard act for any change in viewpoint to follow. But still.

Gawyn yawned

Even he’s bored of his character.

Okay, sorry, give me a minute and I’ll see if I can dredge up some last few fucks to give about Gawyn Trakand.

Surprise surprise, he’s gone to Bryne’s camp. And by that I mean this is not the least bit surprising. Gawyn’s still seeking authority and command; he chafed under Elaida’s, but for all that he acted as a commander of his own forces, he was never truly autonomous. And now he’s left her, but he doesn’t know what to do and he’s still lost, so he goes to find a different authority. Someone he knows, someone he trusts – or at least, trusted. Someone who can give him answers, tell him what to do or – perhaps more importantly – tell him he’s doing the right thing.

What it comes down to, I think, is that Gawyn hasn’t grown up the way so many other characters have. He hasn’t, but he thinks he has. So he thinks he’s playing one role when really he’s playing another.

I think I’ve said this before but it’s as if he’s in the wrong story. Not narratively, but in the sense that he’s vastly out of his depth. This isn’t the story he was prepared for – he was raised to be First Prince of the Sword, to be a hero of sorts, but within a particular structure. And none of that applies here, when everything is chaos and nothing is as he expected, and the lines are blurred and there aren’t always clear-cut answers or easy ways to tell what the right thing to do is. And he doesn’t know how to cope with that. And instead of learning how, he runs away, he avoids making decisions, avoids truly acting, truly committing, even when he tells himself he is. It’s all very, very human and in that regard understandable, but the frustrating part is that Gawyn himself doesn’t see it, doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s as if he’s still trying to force the framework he thinks should apply onto reality instead of looking around and letting himself see the truth of the situation.

So for all that he is – or I suppose was – in a position of command, he’s ultimately still letting others call the shots. As if, subconsciously, he’s looking for a way to avoid making those decisions that threaten to overwhelm him because he doesn’t know what to choose or what to do. Following orders, even when he chafes at them, gives him…something of an out. Except now he has finally made a decision and acted on it – he’s left Elaida and the Tower, rather than simply ruminating on it and being frustrated. Still, though, his first instinct is to go to Gareth Bryne. A different figure of authority.

All things considered, though, Bryne is definitely a better choice than Elaida. And maybe Bryne can either slap some sense into him or help him find his feet and sort some of his shit out. Or both.

Not to mention the fact that it’s probably no bad thing Gawyn is seeking out someone like Bryne rather than just running off on his own. Because he is lost, and well out of his depth. He just needs to be made to actually recognise that and either do something about it or step back.

No, a single man approaching the army was not a danger. A single man riding away from it, however, was cause for alarm. A man coming to the camp could be friend, foe or neither. A man who inspected the camp then rode away was almost certainly a spy. So long as Gawyn didn’t leave before making his intentions known, Bryne’s outriders would be unlikely to bother him.

I’m not sure why this paragraph in particular made me think this but: Gawyn seems like a classic example of someone who is very skilled at tactics but has absolutely no aptitude whatsoever for strategy. Or perhaps no understanding of the fact that the two are not synonymous.

This paragraph also highlights what I was thinking earlier – Gawyn understand things within a certain framework, and when he’s operating within that framework he’s good at what he does. The problem is, that framework doesn’t always apply, and he doesn’t know what to do when it breaks down.

By now, the Younglings knew of their leader’s betrayal

Clearly I have Star Wars on the brain because all I can think of here is Anakin.

Yet leaving had been the right thing to do. For the first time in months, his actions matched his heart.

There’s a kind of irony in the fact that my patience with Gawyn has run out at precisely the time he’s finally showing some positive growth.

Maybe I just liked him more when he was suffering. That would be like me.

Saving Egwene. That was something he could believe in.

I just rolled my eyes so hard I think I severed the optic nerve. Seriously, Gawyn? It’s a good thing he and Mat haven’t spent much time together. But it fits right in with Gawyn’s whole…concept of who and what he’s supposed to be. It’s a simplistic concept, and one that doesn’t really work in practice, and he just has absolutely no idea. He sees this as a perfectly realistic and sensible thing to think. Go save Egwene, because clearly she needs him to save her.

But really. Not helping Egwene, or even ‘Egwene was someone he could believe in’, but straight to I Must Save Egwene. Maybe take ten minutes to get your own shit together, Gawyn, before you run off trying to save someone when you know precisely nothing about the situation. Maybe try not jumping to conclusions for once. Shall we give that a try?

They were the ones who had propped Egwene up as an Amyrlin, as a target. Egwene! A mere Accepted. A pawn. If they failed in their bid for the Tower, they themselves might be able to escape punishment. Egwene would be executed.

On the one hand, he’s not wrong. On the other hand, you’d think he would have enough confidence in Egwene to trust her to see the truth of the situation as well. It reminds me of when Mat tried to mansplain Egwene’s situation to her. SHE KNOWS, GUYS.

It’s easy to see why Egwene is consistenty underestimated by various characters. That’s not the issue so much as the fact that supposedly Gawyn loves her and you’d think that if he knew her, he’d at least think ‘okay Egwene’s not stupid, maybe I should find out more about what’s going on and see if she needs my help’ rather than MUST SAVE THE DAMSEL FROM HER DISTRESS.

I’ll save her somehow. Then I’ll talk some sense into her and bring her away from all of the Aes Sedai. Perhaps even talk sense into Bryne. We can all get back to Andor, to help Elayne.

What.

I just…what. I don’t even know where to start. Every single word of that was absurd. Every phoneme.

Let’s start with I’ll save her somehow. Who needs a plan? Not Gawyn Trakand! Because running into things with only a vague understanding of what’s going on always works out so well! Also just the brash arrogance of it – that he, with no thought and no plan, can just somehow do what he doesn’t even consider she could ever do for herself.

And then there’s I’ll talk some sense into her and even talk sense into Bryne and at this point I just give up.

And then they can all go back to Andor and help Elayne and everything will be all fine and dandy, just like a little storybook, nothing to worry about. PLANS, GAWYN. STRATEGY. BASIC KNOWLEDGE OF THE SITUATION. MAYBE EVEN A TOUCH LESS HUBRIS. You are not the only person alive capable of accomplishing things.

This next bit is a very Sanderson description.

A random Aes Sedai amongst the washwomen…I can’t think who this would be. Are we supposed to know? The rebels don’t have any spies from the Tower, do they, the way the Tower had Beonin and maybe others with the rebels? Or have Aes Sedai from the tower begun defecting from Elaida’s travesty of a regime?

“I’m not a recruit,” Gawyn said, turning Challenge to get a better look at the men. “My name is Gawyn Trakand. I need to speak with Gareth Bryne immediately about a matter of some urgency.”

The soldier raised an eyebrow. Then he chuckled to himself.

I can’t help but compare this to Rand walking alone into Ituralde’s camp, and the way Ituralde immediately took him seriously just because of his bearing, his look, the way he spoke. Gawyn…doesn’t have that, it would seem. Then again, I’m not sure how fair a comparison that is. Not to mention Rand isn’t exactly a role model at this point in time.

So Gawyn is entirely failing at gravitas, and while this seems entirely perfect for his character, there’s a small part of me that’s at least a little bit sympathetic; there really is very little more purely frustrating than not being taken seriously, or being taken for a liar or braggart when you’re actually telling the truth.

(Yes, I am a Slytherin, how could you tell?)

Gawyn met the man’s eyes. “Very well. We can do it this way. It will probably be faster anyway.”

The sergeant laid a hand on his sword.

Gawyn kicked his feet free of the stirrups and pushed himself out of the saddle.

And proceeds to win without killing, against several opponents. The fight scene also feels rather Sanderson – especially with the frequency of ‘fell into [stance]’ phrasing, which Sanderson has a slight tendency to overuse, and which I don’t recall Jordan using as often; he tended to go more with ‘Parting the Silk met Hummingbird Kisses the Honeyrose’ and constructions along those lines – but it’s well executed. (Ironically, that sentence I just wrote is a classically Jordan construction in terms of construction…)

“I am unarmed,” he said over the sounds of the wounded. “And none of these four will die this ay. Go and tell your general that a lone blademaster just felled a squad of his guards in under ten heartbeats. I’m an old student of his. He’ll want to see me.”

Gawyn is, by the rules of the title, a blademaster. He earned the title, and he is certainly skilled in a fight, and he knows it. And this takes me back to what I was toying with just a few pages ago, the sense that Gawyn is a good tactician but a terrible strategist, and doesn’t seem to recognise that there’s a difference.

He can plan a battle or a raid, and if you put an enemy or five in front of him he can win the fight. But he could never win a war.

He doesn’t think through cause and effect and consequence, doesn’t consider the entirety of the situation before focusing in on a single piece of it, doesn’t look at the bigger picture or the longer term. He gets lost in the middle, and there are parts of that middle in which he excels, and he sometimes mistakes that for a different ability altogether, and it just leads him further astray.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to fight the men, but he had already wasted too much time. Egwene could be dead by now!

She’s been Amyrlin for months and a prisoner for weeks. Five minutes one way or another probably isn’t going to make much difference now, Gawyn. I mean, maybe it will, but the fact that you only found out about this a few days ago doesn’t mean it didn’t exist before then, or that it’s suddenly become more immediate a problem just because you’re now aware of it. But again, that’s…not really how Gawyn looks at things. Or rather, that’s the kind of thing Gawyn doesn’t look at. He’s aware of it now, so it’s the centre of his focus, so it’s immediate and urgent and there’s no time to waste on things like…figuring out what the hell he’s actually going to do.

It’s like my never-ending frustration with people who run red lights, or the equivalent. Is that thirty seconds really so urgent? And is it worth the risk of being stopped for far longer than it would have taken you to just wait for the damn light to turn in the first place? Sometimes running headlong into a situation without stopping to consider the bigger picture or plan just means making a bigger mess of things. Sure, there are times when snap decisions are necessary and where there really is only a matter of seconds in which to act, but more often than not it just feels that way, when actually taking a few seconds to make sure what you’re doing isn’t going to fuck everything up is worth it.

Hi Bryne. Please slap Gawyn in the face. Just once.

“You, come with me.”

Gawyn clenched his jaw. He hadn’t received such an address from Gareth Bryne since before he’d started shaving. Still, he couldn’t really expect the man to be pleased.

No shit.

“Gareth,” Gawyn said, catching up, “I—”

“Hold your tongue, young man,” Bryne said, not turning towards him. “I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do with you.”

Gawyn snapped his mouth closed. That was uncalled for! Gawyn was still brother to the rightful Queen of Andor, and would be First Prince of the Sword should Elayne take and hold the throne!

Through no help from Gawyn, as it turns out. This is where Gawyn in many ways is still something of a sheltered boy, who hasn’t really grown past that. Hasn’t really learned that the world – or at least the apocalypse – isn’t so simple, while so many of the other characters have. It’s as if Gawyn has been left behind while the rest have developed as people – as leaders, as politicians, as heroes, as whatever else – which I think is part of the whole point.

Bryne should show him respect.

He should earn it. This is an interesting comparison to Bryne’s interactions with Egwene. The one Gawyn wants to run and save because she’s just an Accepted and a pawn. But in truth she is the Amyrlin, and while she’s still young she has earned Bryne’s respect. He doesn’t give it out based on rank or training or ‘should’. He respects those he has deemed worthy of his respect, those who have proven themselves. Egwene has. Gawyn hasn’t. Not yet, at least.

“All right. Explain what you’re doing here.”

Gawyn drew himself up. “General,” he said, “I think you mistake yourself. I’m no longer your student.”

Then, with respect, you’re an idiot. Because if you think that at the age of twenty-something, with a short time in command of a group of soldiers – yet still under the command of Elaida – you have nothing more to learn from Gareth Bryne, you’re kidding yourself.

Well, or you’re lost and uncertain and full of self-doubt and trying desperately to be the person you think you should be, and seeking someone who can help you do that while at the same time wanting to prove to yourself and those around you that you’re worthy, that you’re not just a pawn in the game.

So, okay. It’s not ego, precisely. Or it’s not just ego. It’s…a sheltered upbringing and a duty and an oath to give his life for queen and country, to be a leader and a hero and a sacrifice if necessary, it’s a great deal of skill combined with not a great deal of experience, it’s a need to be good enough combined with doubt that he is good enough combined with always feeling second-best to his brother yet unable to resent that and so instead pushing himself, it’s feeling lost and uncertain and so in desperation overcompensating and trying to do something, but not having the experience or information to match his ability.

“I know,” Bryne said curtly. “The boy I trained would never have pulled a childish stunt like that one to get my attention.”

I think that counts as a slap in the face. Gawyn needs this, though.

“Look,” Gawyn said, “perhaps I was hasty, but I have an important task. You need to listen to me.”

Why does he need to listen to you, Gawyn? Also, do you really think he’s leading the rebels’ armies and yet is somehow ignorant of Egwene’s situation? Do you not think, maybe, that he might actually know more about it than you do? There’s a time and a place for a ‘you need to listen to me’, but right now is more a situation for ‘I’ve heard some worrying things about Egwene; what do you know and can I help?’

It’s the sort of arrogance that isn’t conscious or even based in a sense of superiority but more is based in completely failing to take a second to think. Or to realise that you aren’t the centre of the universe. In other words, it’s the arrogance of immaturity.

Here’s the thing. Gawyn’s irritating me right now, and I’m obviously being critical of him here, but I still find him such an interesting narrative choice, and an interesting character and character arc to have included in this story full of people who grow into their roles as heroes of one kind or another. Because Gawyn provides something of a foil to that – a character who really should have been a hero, who was trained for it and positioned for it, and who tries so hard to do the right thing and save and protect those he loves, but so often makes the wrong choices. Sometimes through misinterpretation or failure to understand the situation, and sometimes through lack of information more than any fault of his own, but who nonetheless ends up adrift, while so many other characters are moving in the opposite direction. From confused and uncertain and young to more and more capable.

“If I instead throw you out of my camp for being a spoiled princeling with too much pride and not enough sense?”

More or less, yeah. Please sit him down and explain the concept of strategy to him, Bryne.

Gawyn frowned. “Be careful, Gareth. I’ve learned a great deal since we last met. I think you’ll find that your sword can no longer best mine as easily as it once did.”

And just like that, he proves Bryne’s point. And mine: that he thinks he has learned and grown, but he fails to see all the ways in which he hasn’t. He’s learned, but he’s learned the wrong lessons – or rather, there are so many more things he hasn’t learned. One of the greatest being that it isn’t about being able to stab his way through all of his problems.

It’s an issue of self-awareness, and of awareness of the rest of the world outside of himself. It’s being able to take honest stock of his abilities and his shortcomings. It’s recognising that he’s good at hitting things with a sharp stick but he has by no means learned everything there is to learn.

That’s kind of the tragedy of the Younglings (aside from their name); they’re…okay so the description that comes to mind is one of my favourite poems: “the lads that will die in their glory and never be old.” Those skilled enough and just experienced enough to think themselves wise and knowledgeable and ready, but too young and too caught up in the glory or the honour or even the sense of duty to see beyond that, to see that they are condemning themselves to being used by powers they aren’t truly equipped to contend with, to fighting to no purpose, to dying for nothing in the end. It’s a child’s sense of honour, and Gawyn can’t afford that anymore.

“I have no doubt of that,” Bryne said. “Light, boy! You always were a talented one. But you think that just because you’re skilled with the sword, your words hold more weight? I should listen because you’ll kill me if I don’t? I thought I taught you far better than that.”

Subtle as a hammer, but that’s what Gawyn needs right now. Especially since he killed his last Hammar.

Bryne held his gaze, calm. Solid. As a general should be. As Gawyn should be.

Gawyn looked away, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself.

The thing is, while Gawyn is in many ways still far too young and too immature, it’s…not all meant as a criticism of him. Some of it, sure. But it’s also an aspect of his character and his position – he did have a relatively sheltered upbringing, and while he was trained for some of these kinds of things, a) there’s not a whole lot of training you can do for an apocalypse you don’t know is coming and b) he was thrown pretty immediately into ‘reality’ before actually learning how to apply his training to it. The Tower coup was a baptism by fire when it comes to chaos and impossible choices. He wasn’t ready, and he got thrown into the middle of it, and because of his name and his title (and his skill) he ended up in a position of authority when he was in no way prepared for it.

And he had no guidance, from that point onwards. Even Rand had Moiraine and Lan and Verin in the early days, and then Rhuarc and Bashere and arguably Cadsuane. He was thrown into the deep end and it hasn’t exactly gone well for him, but he has had people along the way trying to teach him and guide him and occasionally serve as role models. Gawyn had that, when it was all still training. But from the moment it became reality, he’s been alone.

Which is, I think, another part of the reason he almost instinctively seeks out Gareth Bryne.

Bryne doesn’t like tea? Okay forget it, Gareth, you’re dead to me.

“Gareth. It’s Egwene. They have her.”

“The White Tower Aes Sedai?”

Gawyn nodded urgently.

“I know.” Bryne took another drink, then grimaced again.

Perfect.

I mean really, Gawyn, did you honestly think hadn’t noticed? What did you expect? “Oh, shit, you’re right, we’ve misplaced the Amyrlin! Thank the Light you’ve come to inform us of this! Hey, anyone seen Egwene in the last month or so? You know, dark-haired girl, wears a stole? Hall freezes in terror every time she walks past? No? Weird, could have sworn she was right there…”

“We have to go for her!” Gawyn said. “I came to ask you for help. I intend to mount a rescue.”

Bryne snorted softly. “A rescue? And how do you intend to get into the White Tower?”

“Oh, you came for help? Alright, let’s see the plan. You do have a plan, don’t you? No? Okay so maybe let’s start there.” Thank you Gareth Bryne. And to Gawyn’s credit, at least he went to the one person who probably stands a chance of getting something through his head.

“But tell me this, lad. How are you going to get her to come out with you?” Gawyn started. “Why, she’ll be happy to come. Why wouldn’t she?” “Because she’s forbidden us to rescue her,” Bryne said

Ah this is glorious. The value of information. Gawyn hasn’t the slightest clue what’s actually going on and he wants to run headlong into it with a half-baked plan and a whole lot of determination. Which is admirable and all, but it’s also probably the best way to turn a shit situation into an absolute catastrophe, so, you know, maybe let’s not.

And Bryne does this well; he doesn’t just refuse Gawyn outright and tell him he’s an idiot. He actually doesn’t tell Gawyn anything at the start. He leads with questions, and lets Gawyn see the extent of his own ignorance. “Okay, sure, so we do that. What next?” is a great way to get someone to poke holes in their own idea, rather than poking them yourself. This way, Gawyn’s more likely to actually learn something, and to understand what he’s learned, because he can see for himself that he’s already worked his way into a corner, and that’s only in the hypothetical.

“Bryne, she’s imprisoned! The Aes Sedai I heard talking said that she’s being beaten daily. They’ll execute her!”

“I don’t know,” Bryne said. “She’s been with them for weeks now and they haven’t killed her yet.”

“They’ll kill her,” Gawyn said urgently, “You know they will.”

I’m on a plane so it’s a little hard to hit my head against a hard surface but you can trust that I’m giving it my best effort.

It’s not that Gawyn doesn’t have a point in theory – there’s something to be said for his ‘eventually you mount your enemy’s head on a pike to make a point’ logic – but he still doesn’t have anything close to all the information. Even that isn’t an insurmountable obstacle, but he still doesn’t realise the pitfalls of not having the information. I’m reminded of what Lan said to Rand: “You can never know everything, and part of what you know is always wrong. Perhaps even the most important part. A portion of wisdom lies in knowing that. A portion of courage lies in going on anyway.”

Gawyn’s got the ‘going on anyway’ part down more or less, but it’s the rest of it that he’s lacking. He trusts too much in the little information he has, and doesn’t think about where the holes are, or what he might be missing, or what might have been altered in the telling. He doesn’t think about all the ways in which what he knows may not actually be correct in a particular situation, because it’s different from what he’s been taught or what he’s seen. He doesn’t think about the uncertainties, and the way they can compound into catastrophic errors.

Which is central to the series in so many ways, and Gawyn is yet another variation on the theme of information and the lack of information, on truth and rumour and supposition, on the way fact and story and rumour can all be warped by time and distance, on how it’s virtually impossible to know everything, but it’s important to work with what you have in the best way you can.

“I’ll try to get you an audience with some of the Aes Sedai I serve,” Bryne said. “Perhaps they can do something. If you persuade them that a rescue is needed, and that the Amuyrlin would want it, then we’ll see.”

I can’t decide if I’m annoyed at this or not. On the one hand, why should they take Gawyn’s word for what is in Egwene’s best interests, when Egwene herself says otherwise? On the other hand…it’s not a bad idea to have a Plan B if you need one. Also, this is perhaps a good way for Bryne to basically encourage Gawyn to actually think everything through, and consider more of the situation, and make a genuine plan – because there’s no way he’ll be able to persuade the Aes Sedai without more than he has right now. And even then, it’s a ‘we’ll see’. It’s a test, of sorts.

So the Aes Sedai with the washwomen was definitely not a random aside, and I still can’t think who she might be, except a defector from Elaida. I suppose it would be the right time in the arc for that – Egwene’s last chapter was, as she saw it, the end of her own war within the Tower, and now it’s up to the Tower to take up the…fight? Non-fight? Struggle? Anyway, she provided the impetus, so now it’s time to see if she’s managed to break through the inertia, if it will be enough to start a cascading effect.

Meanwhile Bryne is finally like okay so Gawyn what the fuck were you even here for in the first place. Pretty sure he knows, he just wants Gawyn to say it.

“Why aren’t you back in Caemlyn, helping your sister?”

GOOD DAMN QUESTION.

“Well, rumours are unreliable,” Bryne said.

You might need to make more of a point of that, Bryne. Though Gawyn’s issue isn’t precisely gullibility so much as something almost along the lines of confirmation bias.

“Your sister holds the Lion Throne. It seems that she’s undone much of the mess your mother left for her.”

With no help from you, Gawyn.

It serves to highlight how lost and adrift Gawyn has been, how futilely he’s been running around trying to help, trying to do the right thing, but ultimately getting nowhere. His sister has become Queen of Andor. His girlfriend has become the Amyrlin Seat. They’ve claimed two of the most powerful stations in the world, and Gawyn is with neither of them, has helped neither of them, though everything he’s done has been in an attempt to do right by both of them. Also he still thnks they need his help – that Egwene needs him to rescue her, that Elayne needs him to help her. But they’ve achieved this without him, and it puts the spotlight back on the question of what are you doing, Gawyn?

“Your place is at your sister’s side.”

“Egwene first.”

“You made an oath,” Bryne said sternly, “Before me. Have you forgotten?”

In fairness to Gawyn, he was what, four? There’s an argument to be made there about oaths made well before what anyone would reasonably call age of consent. And about what that does to the one who makes the oath before they’re truly old enough to understand.

“But if Elayne has the throne, then she’s safe for now. I’ll get Egwene and tow her back to Caemlyn where I can keep an eye on her. Where I can keep an eye on both of them.”

Now you sound like Mat again, and not in a good way. Tow her back? Keep an eye on her? Gawyn you can barely keep an eye on yourself. You mean well but…you have also never seen Egwene take on the Hall. Or Elayne take on Andor. Give them a little bit of credit; they’re doing better than you are right now.

Bryne snorted. “I think I’d like to watch you trying that first part,” he noted. “But regardless, why weren’t you there when Elayne was trying to take the throne? What have you been doing that is more important than that?”

Gareth Bryne, asking the real questions. This is what Gawyn has needed for about eight books now. Someone to sit him down and say, calmly and clearly, what the fuck.

Especially because Gawyn’s reasons – ‘I grew entangled’ – are going to sound so much more feeble when said aloud than during all those long hours agonising to himself over what to do, and how to choose, and what is right. Don’t get me wrong; I rather liked a lot of those moments. It’s just that this plays so well; we’re so good at lying to ourselves, at justifying things to ourselves, and it’s so easy to get caught up in something and it all makes sense at the time, and it doesn’t seem like there’s any other choice…and then when faced with a conversation like this that cuts to the heart of it, and you have to explain those choices, and really look closely at them, it all…falls apart.

“Blood and bloody ashes!” Bryne exclaimed. The general rarely cursed. “I knew that the person leading those raids against me was too well informed. And here I was, looking for a leak among my officers!”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

Um? Sorry, Gawyn, I believe the correct response is “I have toh.” Or just a simple “Yeah I fucked up.” But to dismiss it like that? Really?

I had so much patience for Gawyn, you guys. I was so interested in him as a character concept, in the notion of a character who doesn’t grow the same way as the rest, who tries to do the right thing and should be a hero and instead makes the wrong choices, through poor decisions or poor luck. I was so interested in seeing the effects of that on him, on those around him. Plus I liked him at the start.

And he’s really done as much as he can to THROW IT ALL AWAY. I WAS PATIENT WITH YOU, GAWYN, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME. *scowls*

“I’ll judge that,” Bryne said.

Gareth Bryne, singlehandedly ensuring that this chapter doesn’t actually drive me insane.

“But you still haven’t explained why you didn’t return to Caemlyn.”

Gareth Bryne, singlehandedly ensuring that this chapter doesn’t actually drive me insane.

“Regardless, once I get you a meeting with the Aes Sedai, I want your word that you’ll go back to Caemlyn. Leave Egwene to us. You need to help Elayne. It’s your place to be in Andor.”

“I could say the same of you.”

Touché. One point to Gawyn. Several hundred behind Bryne, still, but hey.

It’s hard to blame Bryne for being angry and upset and even disillusioned with Morgase after what she did and said to him. Because…well, back to information people have, and information they don’t. But…ouch.

“It must have been part of some scheme,” Gawyn said. “You know Mother. If she did hurt you, there was a reason.”

Bryne shook his head. “No reason other than foolish love for that fop Gaebril. She nearly let her clouded head ruin Andor.”

“She’d never!” Gawyn snapped. “Gareth, you of all people should know that!”

“I should,” Bryne said, lowering his voice. “And I wish I did.”

The interesting thing here is the reversal. Gawyn is still trusting to what he thinks he knows, what he believes, and Bryne is still trusting to observation and reason. But this time, Gawyn’s actually…well, he’s not completely right but he’s closer. But how on earth would anyone who saw Morgase, and saw Andor at that point in time, believe that? In this case, no one alive knows the full truth of what was happening. Not even Morgase. She herself would likely agree with Bryne. Which…yeah. That’s just so many kinds of horrific.

“Curse al’Thor! The day can’t come soon enough when I can run him through.” Bryne looked at Gawyn sharply. “Al’Thor saved Andor, son. Or as near to it as a man could.”

Well…at least Rand’s got Gareth Bryne on his side? (~It must be nice, it must be nice…)

This conversation is so well done in terms of showing how complicated the ‘who has what information and what does that mean for them’ game can get.

“How could you speak well of that monster? He killed my mother!”

Actually he was trying to avenge her, but why would you listen to literally anyone except that one rumour you hate and therefore cling to?

“I don’t know if I believe those rumours or not,” Bryne said, rubbing his chin. “But if I do, lad, then perhaps he did Andor a favour. You don’t know how bad it got, there at the end.”

Rahvin’s treatment of Morgase is one of the cruellest things done to an individual in WoT, possibly with the exception of…uh…Semirhage two chapters ago. It’s not just what he did to her directly in the form of physical and mental rape, but what he did to her as Queen, what he did through her to Andor, and what that did to an entire nation’s perception of her. To how those who loved and trusted her now see her. To her own perception of herself. And also to Andor as a whole; he nearly destroyed a country. And not only is she blamed for it, but she herself shoulders that responsibility, and she has no way of knowing that it’s not her fault. That’s…frighteningly thorough and perfect destruction of a person. Not just Morgase individually, but the very memory of her in the minds of thousands. The destruction of her, her memory, her legacy.

And you see it in moments like this, when someone like Gareth Bryne, who loved her and whom she loved, believes that maybe her death was the best thing for Andor. Believes the worst of her, because what else is he supposed to believe?

Anyway, Morgase’s story hurts, news at 11.

“I’ll always speak truth, Gawyn. No matter who challenges me on it. It’s hard to hear? Well, it was harder to live.”

Ow, stop it, this is NOT OKAY. Because he’s right. He’s right to speak the truth, despite how hard it may be to face. That’s so desperately needed…but in this case it isn’t truth. There’s just absolutely no reasonable way for him to believe that, because who looks at a situation like that and goes “ah. Of course. This must be a classic case of manipulation via a largely forgotten magical ability that no man should be able to wield anyway so he must have been one of the legendary monsters from millennia ago, disguised as the lover of the Queen of Andor. Also the earth is flat.” Occam’s Razor would be crying in a corner, shortly accompanied by all principles of logic and reason.

“In the end, Gawyn, your mother turned against Andor by embracing Gaebril. She needed to be removed. If al’Thor did that for us, then we have need to thank him.”

And every word of that is wrong. It was her loyalty to Andor that saved Morgase in the end, and it was out of loyalty to Andor that Morgase fled. It was out of loyalty to Andor that Queen Morgase, for all intents and purposes, died.

“Yes, Morgase the woman I can forgive. But Morgase the Queen? She gave the kingdom to that snake. She sent her allies to be beaten and imprisoned. She wasn’t right in her mind.”

No, she wasn’t, and it’s so much worse than you can imagine and this is FINE, everything is FINE. She herself was imprisoned, and now she has to live with the memories of doing all of this.

All that aside, I of course love the separation between Morgase the person and Morgase the Queen. It’s something we see and are seeing with so many characters, this conflict between who they are and what they are. How that plays out in their own mind and sense of self, but also how it combines with the way they are seen and treated by others. Who can still separate the person from the title, and who conflates them. Whether an individual can take on some of those roles and still hold onto themselves.

“But you have to bury that hatred of al’Thor.”

And Gawyn’s response, of course, is ‘nah’. HOW MANY TIMES DO YOU NEED TO BE TOLD THIS, GAWYN. BY HOW MANY PEOPLE YOU SUPPOSEDLY TRUST? He even saw Rand, at and before Dumai’s Wells. And yet, he holds to the thing first believed.

And in an abrupt change of subject…hi, Shemerin.

Interesting. So…kind of a defector from the Tower. And, actually, an altogether fitting one, to be the first one we see. The beginning, perhaps.

(Side note: the woman sitting next to me on the plane just asked if I’m writing my thesis).

Next (TGS ch 25) Previous (TGS ch 23)

#grow up Gawyn #Lia liveblogs on airplanes: the saga #Wheel of Time #The Gathering Storm #neuxue liveblogs WoT

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samwpmarleau · 7 years

Note

If you are still taking requests, Elia & Rhaegar meeting after Elia cuts a deal with the rebels for baby Aegon to be king offering up the 'lovers'. Rhaegar gets to go to Wall while Lyanna wherever.

He’s brought to her in chains, which she feels is appropriate. She had never had shackles around her wrists, but had nonetheless felt like a prisoner these many years, and to see Rhaegar supplicant before her is vindictively satisfying. As the father of her children, she had still had a speck of goodwill for him, but that soon vanishes when she sees he has the audacity to look betrayed.

“Thank you, Ser Brynden, Ser Barristan,” she tells the pair of Kingsguard.

Rebel and loyalist together, such was her edict. Barristan had not been pleased, but then, he wasn’t pleased by her deal either despite the fact that it made her son king and salvaged what Rhaegar and Aerys had ruined. The Kingsguard step back and Elia peers down at her husband from her perch on the throne. It was to be his, once. Not anymore.

“I did not expect this from you,” Rhaegar says. His voice is hoarse, his hair is lank, his clothes covered in dirt, and it vaguely occurs to her she’d never seen him disheveled before. “I never expected you would act against us.”

“Us?” she replies. “You mean you and the crown? I have no loyalties to your father, or to you. My only loyalty is to my family. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken, those are my words, whether you forgot them or not. I was hardly about to let the people I love be endangered because of your actions. The rebels’ cause was just, they gave us shelter, and, now, the throne. You threatened the downfall of your house, of me, of our children. I don’t regret my choice, not for one second.”

“What is it you intend to do with me?” His mask is flawless, even if his appearance is not; she wonders if he’s angry, or sad, or anything at all. She’s never been able to read him, and this day is no exception.

“I should execute you. No one would begrudge me for it.” It would be a show of strength, a declaration that she would not tolerate threats. “But for Rhaenys’s sake, and hers alone, I will not. I want my daughter to come to terms with you in her own time, and she won’t be able to do that if you’re dead. She’s too young to realize what all has happened, but she won’t always be. Exile is too good for you, however, and so I have decided to send you to the Wall. You shall have a friend there in Maester Aemon, but considering the Lord Commander is a man of my lands, and several of your new brothers will be men confined there because of you…I suspect your time there will not be enjoyable.”

“The Wall,” he repeats. “You would deprive me of my own children?”

Elia’s hands tighten on the arms of the throne. “You dare put blame on me?” she growls. “Look to yourself if you want a villain, or your father. You don’t deserve Rhaenys and Aegon. You abandoned them.” She nods to the Kingsguard. “Sers, if you will? We’re done here.”

Ser Brynden and Ser Barristan oblige, forcing Rhaegar to his feet. “Wait,” he objects. “What about Lyanna?”

The name once made her blind with rage. Now, after speaking with the girl and with Arthur, such is no longer the case. “She will return to Winterfell,” she says. “It was fortunate we beat back the loyalists so quickly, or else it might have been too late.”

“Too late?”

“For the moon tea, of course,” she says. “What, did you think the fifteen-year-old child whom you trapped in a tower would want to be a mother? Of your bastard, no less? You may have been foolish enough to get her with child, but she was perfectly glad to take up my offer, especially since I agreed to dissolve her betrothal on top of it. That was why she left with you in the first place, is it not? Because you promised her that? I have done what you did not, though Robert Baratheon is not happy about it.”

“You…she is no longer pregnant?” For the first time, his veneer slips. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I saved a girl from something she did not want and, perhaps, her life,” Elia replies. “Your obsession with prophecy is a madness in you, Rhaegar. I was not about to let you drag the Stark girl down with you.”

“The prophecy is true.”

“Oh? You know that, do you? I did not realize you could see the future.”

“The scrolls–”

“Are thousands of years old, written in a language that was translated centuries ago, from a prophet that may never have existed in the first place. It is hubris to think you have read them correctly, and I won’t allow my family, or Lady Lyanna, to suffer for it. No, I’ve heard enough from you.” She leans forward in her seat, taking one final look at him. “I do hope you enjoy the cold.”

#elia martell #rhaegar targaryen #asoiaf #gotfic #my fic #verse: wall #compliance: canon au #anonymous

94 notes · View notes

unassumingvenusaur · 7 years

Text

Mitama x Ophelia C-S

It just occurred to me that I don’t think I actually submitted this to you via Tumblr, just linked you to it and got your (or rather, your girlfriend’s) approval for it. Here it is, properly submitted:

Mitama x Ophelia

PLEASE NOTE: I don’t quite remember the capitalization for “chosen one” when Ophelia speaks of herself. I seem to remember that “chosen” is capitalized while “one” is not, but that certainly may not be the case. Please feel free to correct any technical consistency mistake I may have made in regards to this matter.

C Support

(Mitama Onscreen)

Mitama (Normal Smile): …Zzz…

Ophelia (Offscreen): …let the sanguine miasma be purified, by the will of the cosmic flames dancing in my blood!

Ophelia (Offscreen): And furthermore…

Mitama (Distressed): Zzz–huh? What? Who causes this racket? People are trying to sleep!

Mitama (Angry): Cacophonous churl! / Your etiquette has left you. / My nap goes with it!

(Exit Mitama. Ophelia Onscreen)

Ophelia (Normal Smile): …and so I take this storied sapphire of antiquity into my grasp–

Ophelia (Angry): And yet! My hand trembles to clutch such potence!

(Mitama Onscreen)

Ophelia (Distressed): Do I have the mystic fortitude to unlock its secrets? Is it hubris to even try?

Ophelia (Relieved Smile): …Ah, Mitama! Have you come to assist the Chosen in her hour of need?

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Your aura overflows with ferocity! The stars in your eyes rage with power!

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Together, we can surely–

Mitama (Angry): A storm approaches. / Dark clouds of malice brought forth / by a fool’s clamor.

Ophelia (Distressed): *Gasp*

Mitama (Angry Smile): I am glad to see that you’re properly terrified. Now take your loud nonsense elsewhere!

Mitama (Angry Smile): Bellows of thunder! / Roiling skies frighten the fool. / Lightning shall foll–

Ophelia (Distressed): Another curse! Oh no!

Mitama (Distressed): What? Curse?

Ophelia (Angry): Oh wicked tongue that can work such fell magicks so quickly in succession!

Ophelia (Angry): Strengthened by the fury of your soul’s starfire…

Ophelia (Distressed): …these surely are greater arcane hexes than even a Chosen can weather! I must flee!

(Exit Ophelia)

Mitama (Distressed): What? Those were haiku, not curses!

Mitama (Angry): I just wanted you to take your shenanigans out of earshot!

Mitama (Distressed): …Drat!

Mitama (Distressed): Adieu, sweet slumber! / Poetry, misunderstood? / Mitama shan’t rest!

Mitama (Angry Smile): Ophelia! Come back here!

B Support

(Mitama + Ophelia Onscreen)

Mitama (Normal Smile): …And those are the basics of a haiku.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): So it was poetry you spoke, not a hex! How silly of me to overreact so.

Mitama (Angry Smile): Silly indeed. I could not allow such an ignorance of the matter to persist.

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Certainly not! One should never suffer an affront to one’s passions to stand.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): I am curious, though. What is the appeal of these haikus?

Ophelia (Frown): It seems a woeful loss to be limited to a mere 17 syllables!

Ophelia: (Winking Smile): The more the world hears of a Chosen’s storied exploits, the better!

Mitama (Distressed): Yes, there is little appeal in haiku to those enamoured with the flapping of their own lips.

Mitama (Angry Smile): Any fool can express themselves fully given limitless time and words.

Mitama (Normal Smile): But through limiting us so sharply, haikus force us be masters of our language.

Mitama (Enthusiastic) Bared soul of our thoughts / In its brevity, beauty… / Say much with little.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Ah, I see…what an intriguing concept!

Ophelia (Frown): I have often felt that no matter how many and grand words I utilize…

Ophelia (Frown): Perfectly capturing the spectacular enterprises of a Chosen One in vocabulary is a futile endeavor.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Perhaps I shall pursue a new approach of sentiments fleeting, rather than extravagant.

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Fine by me, if it reduces the noise you produce. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a nap to–

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Oh master of the unspoken word, eyes brimming with starry wisdom, I beseech you!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Teach me your artful restraint, Mitama!

Mitama (Distressed): What?

Ophelia (Winking Smile): I would learn to temper my too talkative tongue from you!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Please, help me to translate the sprawling epic verse of a Chosen into precise haiku.

Mitama (Distressed): I…but…well…

Mitama (Angry): Plea for haiku help… / My bed must yet stay empty. / Poet’s duty calls!

Mitama (Angry Smile): Very well, I shall assist you in adapting your fanciful nonsense to haiku form.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Huzzah! You have the gratitude of Ophelia Dusk, Mitama! How shall we proceed?

Mitama (Normal Smile): Let’s begin with you fabricating one of your typical elaborate outbursts, and we’ll go from there.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): By your command, my astral-eyed sensei! Ahem…

Ophelia (Angry): Behold, by the bushes! What eldritch monstrosity is this, that so offends the trained eyes of a Chosen?

Ophelia (Angry): Destiny shrieks within my mortal form, eager to leap forth to combat this forsaken beast!

Ophelia (Distressed): But can even the power of the Chosen stand against it?

Ophelia (Distressed): It stands, hulking as a tower given life and malice! It shrieks, a voice cast from sharpest–

Mitama (Distressed): Yes, yes, enough! Large, completely imaginary monster by the bushes, shrieking blood, I get it!

Mitama (Normal Smile): Now, let’s try to trim that down a few syllables, and see if we can make a haiku from it.

(Fade to Dark. Come back to Scene)

Mitama (Angry): No, no, no! I keep telling you, there is no line in a haiku that will fit “indefatigability!”

Ophelia (Normal Smile): The power in my heart cries out! / Ophelia Dusk, / heroine of the star-flecked seas of time arises!

Mitama (Angry): You’re still way off! I tell you, it has to be lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables! Not 8-5-13!

Ophelia (Distressed): This is much more difficult than I had expected.

Ophelia (Distressed): I keep trying to restrict myself, but then another magnificent description pops into my head to add in.

Mitama (Distressed): Perhaps jumping straight to haiku was too hasty. Let’s try a simpler exercise.

Mitama (Normal Smile): Forget the specific syllable lines. Let’s just try to condense your speech a little.

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Imagine that everything you say must fit into a box sitting right below you.

Mitama (Angry Smile): But the box only has space for so many words!

Mitama (Normal Smile): Try to get what you wish to say across in as few words possible, or your box will be overfull!

Ophelia (Angry): *Gasp* You say a textual prison lays beneath us? Our words, the utterances of our very souls, fall into its hungry maw, and we must be cautious to limit the speech which we feed it!

(This line is intentionally far too long for a text box–fit all that you can into a single dialogue box, and cut the rest off, OR, if the game handles text overflow by simply pushing the text outside of the dialogue box’s confines but still putting it all on the same screen, do that).

Mitama (Distressed): Oh, dear…I didn’t mean to trigger that overactive imagination. You’re just getting worse.

Ophelia (Distressed): Apologies. There’s simply so much within the head of a Chosen, desperate to escape!

Mitama (Angry Smile): Small wonder. I’d want to flee the delusional chaos in your head, too.

Mitama (Normal Smile): At any rate, we don’t seem to be getting anywhere with this, so let’s stop for now.

Ophelia (Angry): What? No! A Chosen One does not give up so easily!

Mitama (Angry Smile): Leap to conclusions… / This, Ophelia does well. / Haikus, not so much.

Mitama (Normal Smile): I’m not giving up on teaching you. I just need a break to think of a new approach.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Ah, of course! Forgive me for doubting you. We shall adjourn for now, and cross paths again at a later time!

Ophelia: (Winking Smile): Farewell for now, Mitama the Astral-Eyed!

(Exit Ophelia)

Mitama (Normal Smile): …What is it about this army that attracts such oddballs, anyway?

A Support

(Mitama + Ophelia Onscreen)

Mitama (Normal Smile): Ah, Ophelia, there you are.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Mitama! Thank the stars, for they have sent you to Ophelia Dusk in her time of need!

Ophelia (Normal Smile): We must make haste; an otherworldly blight seeks to descend upon our lands!

Ophelia (Normal Smile): I see you, too, have come to to seal the unseen portal to the realm of cosmic horrors!

Mitama (Distressed): What? No. I just had an idea for a new approach to teaching you to craft a haiku.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Oh, truly? Excellent! Do tell me all about it!

Mitama (Normal Smile): What was all that about cosmic horrors, just now?

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Oh, pay no mind to that. The unspeakable galactic monstrosities will keep for a bit.

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Now, impart your grand insight upon me, that I might learn artful restraint!

Mitama (Normal Smile): …Right. Anyway…

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): I realized that I have forgotten one of the most important parts of instruction:

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Modeling!

Mitama (Normal Smile): I can hardly expect you to get the hang of crafting a haiku through explanation alone.

Mitama (Normal Smile): I also need to give you examples to learn from!

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Sensible…but you already do, don’t you?

Ophelia (Winking Smile): I have seen you many times compose on the spot, in the midst of conversation.

Mitama (Normal Smile): True! But that is not a perfect model. Such poems express my thoughts.

Mitama (Normal Smile): But my thoughts are vastly different from yours. They’re sane, for one thing.

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): You need a model which is built around YOUR thoughts!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): What marvelous insight! In you, Mitama, the stars selected their Chosen well!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Tell me, what mystifying means shall we employ to create this model?

Ophelia (Winking Smile): A forgotten technique to meld our thoughts?

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Will you read my mind with some forbidden spell, gleaned from a tome of antiquity?

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Shall you scry the depths of my soul, and your tongue weave a tapestry–

Mitama (Angry Smile): I was thinking I would just have you speak, and make a haiku of that.

Ophelia (Annoyed): …Oh. Well, I suppose that will do.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): How would you like to start?

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Hm…you were troubled by some cosmic horrors or some such when I arrived.

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Let’s hear more about them, perhaps?

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Excellent idea! The fate of this world does hang in the balance, after all.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): You see, at this spot is a weakening of the fabric of the physical world.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Through this rift, hostile beasts from a dark realm of non-reality may enter our own!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): It is the responsibility of a Chosen to mend this fault, before our world is besieged!

Mitama (Normal Smile): Mmhm. Very dire. Now, observe how the situation may be condensed to haiku:

Mitama (Distressed): Invasion impends! / Darkness seeks to enfold us… / Chosen, be our light!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Marvelous! How do you do it? So much, said with so little!

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Although you didn’t really get into the dimensional tear.

Mitama (Normal Smile): Patience, I haven’t forgotten it. Now, what form do these otherworldly beasts take?

Ophelia (Normal Smile): They come from their lightless lands into our own, shapeless and inscrutable!

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Our world trembles as their black presence invades unseen!

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Their sinister presence lurks all around us, hiding amongst the shadow…waiting!

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Yup, got it.

Mitama (Distressed): Seeping through realms’ rift / Oily black shapes stalk us all / Trust not your shadow!

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Ah, there’s the rift! Splendid!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): And your description of these beasts as something liquid, black…how insightful!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): I had not thought – er, NOTICED them as such, but now I clearly see you are right!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Oily, liquid shadows…you, too, are beginning to see with the eyes of Chosen!

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): I’m glad you enjoy the embellishment.

Mitama (Angry Smile): But one can save us! / She who strides the light and dark: / Ophelia Dusk!

Ophelia (Tender Smile): Why, thank you! I so love a good heroic introduction.

Ophelia (Tender Smile): And I didn’t even have to prompt this one!

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Yes, this is…rather more fun than I had expected.

Mitama (Angry Smile): Now, how will you send these shadowy whatsits back from whence they came?

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Ah, well, within my heart is embedded a starry sapphire, and with its resonations…

(Fade to Dark. Come back to Scene)

Ophelia (Angry): …It is too much! Oh, that my strength had not been wasted upon the shade legions!

Ophelia (Distressed): Ophelia Dusk falls to her knees, helpless before the sinister king of the dark!

Mitama (Distressed): The fell sovereign laughs! / He delights, our world despairs… / None can save us now!

Ophelia (Distressed): Is this truly the end…?

Mitama (Angry Smile): Her blood boils…power! / Ophelia, beaten? No! / With our faith, never!

Ophelia (Angry): Of course! The strength of the day, the grace of the night…Ophelia Dusk draws upon both!

Ophelia (Angry): With the hopes and dreams of all the world in my heart, I may make one final strike…!

Mitama (Angry Smile): Arm snakes forth, trembles! / She twirls, sparkling with power! / Her final attack:

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Scarlet Astrolabe of Divinity!

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Carmine sphere flies true! / Shattered king, unearthly howl…! / Then…a stark silence.

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Shadows defeated, / Rift mended, dark king vanquished… / Dusk has saved us all!

Ophelia (Normal Smile): …

Mitama (Normal Smile): …

Ophelia (Tender Smile): …Hee hee! That was so much fun! I’ve never had anyone narrate my adventures so!

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): It truly was!

Mitama (Normal Smile): I am accustomed to writing haiku based on what I myself perceive and feel…

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): It is actually quite exhilarating to adapt myself to the imagination of another.

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Particularly an imagination so lively as yours!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Do not be so modest! Your eyes saw the unseen just as well as mine, by the end!

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Imagination / Yours ran away, mine followed / Elopement of minds.

Mitama (Normal Smile): At any rate, with all those haiku models, do you think you’ve gotten the hang of it?

Ophelia (Distressed): Oh…I apologize, Mitama. I got so carried away…

Ophelia (Distressed): I wasn’t really concentrating on learning from all your wonderful haiku…

Mitama (Angry): What!? After all that, you still haven’t gotten the hang of the form?

Ophelia (Distressed): I’m sor–

Mitama (Angry Smile): Well, we’ll just have to give you some more models to learn from, then!

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Do you think you’ll need to save the world again any time soon?

Ophelia (Tender Smile): Mitama…

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Er, why, yes, as a matter of fact! I AM a Chosen one, after all.

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Adventures are a daily occurrence! The world needs ever so much saving.

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Then it seems we shall resume our lesson for tomorrow’s disaster.

Mitama (Normal Smile): And now, I must catch up on my napping.

Mitama (Angry Smile): I’m unaccustomed to experiencing so many consecutive hours conscious.

Ophelia (Winking Smile): But of course! The chronicler of a Chosen one must be well rested!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): Until tomorrow, my celestial-gazed friend!

S Support

(Mitama + Ophelia Onscreen)

Ophelia (Normal Smile): And so falls the last! / Assassin shades lay all ‘round, / Brought low by blade of Dusk.

Mitama (Normal Smile): You had an extra syllable at the end there, but otherwise good.

Ophelia (Angry): All is now silent… / Yet booming questions resound: / Who sent them? And why?

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Spot on that time! Keep going.

Ophelia (Angry): I whisper a prayer / To consult the stars themselves! / Who sought ambush me?

Mitama (Distressed): Good…I think. Wait, how many syllables is “prayer,” anyway?

Ophelia (Distressed): The heavens respond, / My blood chills. Twas the orc lord: / Galdrasteminos!

Ophelia (Winking Smile): The Chosen’s new foe! / Can she survive his fury? / Only time will tell!

Mitama (Distressed): Hm? Oh…I suppose it is growing a bit late.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Indeed. Even menacing orc lords must have a good night’s sleep.

Ophelia (Winking Smile): One cannot properly enact a foul reign of terror while exhausted, after all.

Mitama (Angry Smile): Right, of course. Fortunate that both your schedules happen to line up so conveniently.

Mitama (Normal Smile): …

Mitama (Distressed): You’ve…become quite proficient in haiku.

Ophelia (Tender Smile): Quite so! You have turned out to be a most adept teacher.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): In fact, I think I shan’t need your assistance much longer.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): You’ll soon be able to cease our sessions, and return to daily napping.

Mitama (Distressed): Yes…I had thought as much.

Mitama (Distressed): It will be…good, I suppose, to settle back into my solitary routine.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Indeed! And I don’t care to have a teacher along with me on every adventure…

Mitama (Angry): Oh? Well, if that’s how you feel, then–

Ophelia (Winking Smile): What I could really use is a partner, instead!

Mitama (Normal Smile): I…oh. So you mean…?

Ophelia (Winking Smile): It is ever so tiresome and lonely to be the sole defender of the world, you know.

Ophelia (Tender Smile): Sharp, clever-tongued Mitama, in whose eyes swim the cosmos…

Ophelia (Tender Smile): Will you take up the mantle of Chosen as well, and join me in my crusades?

Mitama (Enthusiastic Smile): Gladly!

Mitama (Normal Smile): My worries dispelled / Our friendship’s base is more than / Just teaching haiku.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): Well…it is true that our friendship was formed from your tutelage.

Ophelia (Blushing Normal Smile): But it was my hope that being Chosen partners might be based on…

Ophelia (Blushing Tender Smile): Well, something a little…more.

Ophelia (Blushing Winking Smile): Perhaps you might harbor similar hopes?

Mitama (Blushing Enthusiastic Smile): Bold as ever.

Ophelia (Winking Smile): One should expect no less of a Chosen.

Mitama (Normal Smile): Well, you’re not wrong. At first, I simply found your mad adventures unexpectedly fun…

Mitama (Blushing Normal Smile): But I’ve come to enjoy our time together more for you than entertainment.

Mitama (Normal Smile): You have such a vivid, if sometimes extraneous, command of language!

Mitama (Normal Smile): And spending so much time as your narrator, seeing through your creative eyes…

Mitama (Normal Smile): I feel I’ve come to know you well through the adventures we’ve woven together..

Mitama (Blushing Enthusiastic Smile): And I like what I’ve discovered.

Ophelia (Blushing Tender Smile): And I quite like you, too.

Ophelia (Normal Smile): For even as you gently chuckle at my flourishes and fancies…

Ophelia (Tender Smile): You transform them to poetry with care and respect.

Ophelia (Blushing Tender Smile): It means much to me. And so do you.

Mitama (Blushing Enthusiastic Smile): A new haiku, then, / we’ll write tomorrow, as we…

Ophelia (Blushing Winking Smile): / …Adventure anew.

#submission #parry answers #gay fates #ophelia #mitama #omg this is so great #your characterisation is perfectly on point!#thank you for submitting this for everyone to see!

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mina-goroshi-blog · 7 years

Text

Worst of the worst (of the worst): Battlefield Earth

As anyone who knows me can attest, I have a deep and abiding love for unpleasant experiences. I’ve been known to pull all-nighters when none are necessary, just because I don’t want to sleep. I seldom exercise, but when the mood strikes I’ll go on 40 km walks and return home with knees locking up and feet blistered. When I cook for myself, I make my food spicy to the point of pain. All of this is, of course, is insane. So why do I do this? Because pain provides context for pleasure. Because pain, on some level, is exciting. Because pain reminds you that you’re still alive.

Battlefield Earth is pain. In rough terms, it is the box that that one Bene Gesserit put Paul Atreides’ hand in. Battlefield Earth is the mind-killer. Battlefield Earth is the little-death that leads to total obliteration.

And I love it. It is wonderful, in its excruciation. Never before or since has a film aimed so high and fallen so low. It is a tale of ambition, hubris, greed, and failure. Battlefield Earth is a Calvinist meditation on the human condition. To watch the film is to experience the pain of Christ as he tread the Via Dolorosa, as John Travolta and Barry Pepper qua the Romans mock you and scourge you. The full weight of every cinematic sin which has ever been committed or will be committed weighs heavily on your shoulders.

And, like the suffering of Christ, Battlefield Earth has a redemptive purpose. There have been bad movies before, and there will be bad movies again; all are dwarfed by the enormity of suck that is Battlefield Earth. One feels oddly at peace, as the experience ends and the tension headache ebbs away. “The sun will rise in the morning,” you think. “There will come another day.” You might even learn a thing or two by watching it.

Join me, then, in finishing the Litany of Fear:

I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where Battlefield Earth has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Shall we begin?

Battlefield Earth opens in the year 3000. For a thousand years, Earth has been under the brutal domination of the Psychlos, a cruel race of dreadlocked alien Nazis kitted out in early-2000s mall goth apparel. The majority of humanity has been enslaved by these raver Klingons. Only a few pockets survive in the wild, where they have been reduced to a stone-age existence. One such specimen of humanity is Jonnie Goodboy Tyler (Barry Pepper), our protagonist. As the film opens, Jonnie is leaving his home on a journey of exploration. The audience doesn’t know or care what he’s after; neither does the plot. In short order he is captured by the Psychlos and enslaved.

Terl (John Travolta) is a Psychlo with a problem. As the chief of security for the Earth, he looks forward to the end of his tour of duty, only for the board of directors to extend his deployment another fifty cycles, with endless options for renewal.

Terl hatches a scheme: he will force his enslaved humans to mine gold for him, so that he can buy his way back home. They seem to spend most of their time sitting around in cages and hitting rocks against other rocks, so honestly his plan seems pretty unimpeachable. Conveniently for the plot, Terl chooses Jonnie to carry out his scheme. He puts him through an advanced learning program, taught by a hologram of an alien with very low self-esteem. In a matter of minutes, Jonnie knows all that there is to know. It’s kind of like if the cast and crew of The Matrix spent a long night huffing gasoline before shooting the “I know kung fu” scene.

The training program, of course, also teaches Jonnie how to pilot spaceships, as well as the history of all the earth, the cosmos and the Psychlo race. Having been given a shuttle, the shiftless and workshy Jonnie decides to bring Terl gold from Fort Knox’s stash rather than going to the effort of mining it himself. Since the writers have basically given up at this point, Jonnie also happens to discover a subterranean US army base fully stocked with inexplicably functional and still-fueled warplanes. Within a week, he has trained all the remaining humans to be combat pilots. Terl suspects something is amiss, and to prove his point he shoots a few cows as the horrified humans look on - planting the seed of rebellion that will be his own undoing.

The humans put their plan into effect by launching a full-scale attack on the Psychlo base. In the course of the battle, the massive dome the Psychlos have built over Denver is destroyed, and the Psychlos inside suffocate, unable to breathe the Earth’s atmosphere. Since the plot has entirely stopped trying by now, Jonnie finds a teleportation device and transports an atom bomb to the Psychlo homeworld, Psychlo. It detonates in spectacular fashion, exterminating all life. The humans celebrate this act of genocidal planetary annihilation, Terl is locked in the vault of Fort Knox, and at long last the credits roll.

There is so much wrong with this garbage film that one hardly knows where to begin. Though it sounds like the fevered ramblings of a lunatic, I assure you that the plot summary above is 100% accurate. Narrative elements are introduced and then forgotten about in the space of a single scene. Part of this, I assume, was a perceived need to cram in details from the equally nonsensical 1000-page L. Ron Hubbard book the film was adapted from; this was very much a vanity project for the Church of Scientology (on which more later.) But the film is already vastly too long, while (paradoxically) far too short to deal with all the elements it tries to introduce. The dialogue and characters are no better - Jonnie could have been played to satisfaction by an upturned mop with a cutout of Barry Pepper’s face glued on. John Travolta’s performance is at least memorable in its insanity; every scene he’s in crackles with enthusiasm and Very Big Acting. Travolta was having the time of his life, bless his heart.

The film is notorious also for its horrible design. The lighting for most scenes has a queasy quality reminiscent of a laser tag arena after far too much greasy pizza, while virtually every shot is from an extreme Dutch angle. It’s supposed to make the audience feel uncomfortable and disoriented, I would guess, in which case it congratulations are in order because one does indeed feel rather sick after a while. The net effect reminds one of an uninspired nu-metal video. The special effects are mostly executed competently, for the time, and are of the late 90s school of CG where everything looks vaguely like it’s made of Plasticine. Presumably, some talented artists were involved, which is a real shame because the concept art they were tasked with interpreting puts one in mind of nothing so much as the cover art for a Mexican bootleg VHS of Alien. Even the scene transitions are overdesigned and dumb: there are no less than a dozen of those stupid barn door wipes, which were jarring and weird in Star Wars, when handled by a competent editor, and which are physically painful here. I’d recommend accompanying them with the sound of a slide whistle if you have one to hand.

The people to blame for this unspeakable blasphemy of a film are, of course, the Church of Scientology. L. Ron Hubbard considered the book from which the film was adapted as somewhat of a masterpiece, in clear distinction to the portion of humanity who are allowed to handle sharp objects without supervision, and Scientologists were reportedly ordered to buy multiple copies of it when it was released to help it reach the top of the sales charts. Hubbard apparently had Travolta in mind for the role of Terl from the beginning, and after Travolta’s career was revitalized after Pulp Fiction he threatened, cajoled and pleaded until he was able to secure funding for the film:

Battlefield Earth is the pinnacle of using my power for something. I told my manager, "If we can't do the things now that we want to do, what good is the power? Let's test it and try to get the things done that we believe in."

The Church of Scientology got in on the action, too, its members pestering 20th Century Fox to make the film until the studio heads got fed up and sold the rights to Franchise Pictures, a production studio specializing in untouchable vanity projects. With production costs spiraling to a reported $50 million, hype reached such a high that the Church of Scientology sent a giant inflatable Terl on a nationwide tour.

The success of this film rested on one crucial factor: that it didn’t turn out to be worse than an unanesthetized root canal. Oh, well.

There are reasons to watch this film. That a film like Plan 9 from Outer Space or Troll 2 should have been dreadful was a given: they were shot on a zero-dollar budget, with cardboard sets and props bought from the dollar store, “starring” actors who had never acted before and “directed” by people who had never directed before (and indeed still hadn’t by the end of production.) Battlefield Earth doesn’t have this excuse. A fleet of caterers arrived every morning on set to feed the production. Highly-skilled makeup artists, riggers and lighting technicians toiled away behind the scenes, while some of the biggest stars in Hollywood were in front of the camera. An army of tech artists produced CG assets for this picture, toiling away in obscurity for months in devotion to their art. The film shot was taken to a lab where it was treated by some of the best specialists on earth, meticulously assembled and given form and direction by a small cadre of editors. 50 million dollars were spent, and at the end of it all, Battlefield Earth was the result: a shining monument to failure. This film, which is everything that film shouldn’t be. It is failure. It is ugliness. It is pain.

And without pain, what is pleasure? You can’t afford to miss Battlefield Earth.

#battlefield earth #scientology #film review #bad movies #john travolta #pain

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