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lengthofropes · 3 years

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POVs series

Part 4: Dean

words: 2,2k; rating: teen and up

summary:

Dean’s POV, since Cas is gone, then got back from the Empty.

Intentionally written as scattered thoughts.

Slowly, from grief, to the ending that they both deserve.

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1. What shapes me? Lines of my bones, enveloped within my skin, so tensed and fragile. The tremble of my hands in the morning, as I try but can’t find you next to me. My old clothes, my new clothes. Corners of my house. My car’s seat upholstery. Soft recoil of my revolver. Food on my plate. Blood in my arteries. My “yes”s and my “no”s and cracks in my voice, as I say so. - I’d drive. - Far away. From here, but where to? I’d watch the sun goes up and down, up and down, throwing it’s rays into side mirror. Lightening the road or leaving it in darkness, disturbed only by the headlights. I’d listen to the sound that air makes, sliced in half by the windshield. I’d listen to the purring of the engine under the hood, gratefully fed with gasoline. Too bad, it’s not clamorous enough. I’d pay dearly. With money, with time, that’s left. With anything. For something so loud, that could muffle my inaudible screams into nowhere. - I’d drive. But where to? - I don’t know where to. -

keep reading under the cut - or - read on AO3

2. I can’t drive alone. I keep seeing your gaze on my right. I see it, when I look into the rear view mirror too. Like you’re still here, around, waiting to say something. Or just sitting silently, pervading the air with the appeasement of your presence. Looking at me. How long will it take me to forget how your eyes looked like? How long will it take me to forget what you saw in me? How can I? Now, that I believe in everything you’ve said. - How warm your touch was. - How good does it feel to be “finally free”, remind me? I don’t like the price. -

3. I’d like some certainty, you know? To come to terms. But I keep thinking “If only..” I keep asking “What if..?” So many of those. Like there are other paths, and it all could’ve work out differently. They throw me back days ago, then months ago, then years. All my life, since the day I’ve met you. I keep searching for the answer, for the exact point, the moment, when I could’ve say something, do something. And you’d still be here.

“If”s are draining me. They are the lump in my throat, big and barbed. Sometimes it grows so big, it blocks the air from getting into my lungs. And in times like these I wonder, maybe I should just stop breathing at all? Still easier, than to accept your absence. - What if. What if. What if. - And you’d still be here. Here. -

4. Prayers never got me any good. Except of those, that were for you. But you can’t hear me now. You can’t hear at all. I know, it’s no use, I know it’s not possible, I know… I know. But I keep doing this, I keep begging. Not for a solace, not because of compassion. For fairness. Because. You took yourself away from me. It’s not fair, it’s so not fair. How could you do this to me? It’s not fair, can you hear me? It’s not fair! It’s not… - Come back to me. - Bring him back to me. - I don’t know if it is a prayer, I just repeat it over and over. Maybe I’m hoping these words will lose their meaning, if I’ll bounce them against every wall? Every wall of every empty room. I wander around them at night. You stood here, you smiled there, we had an argument, sitting in these chairs. And here, here you touched my shoulder. - Come back to me. Please, come back to me. -

5. How come, it’s been months already? I counted the seconds; they aimlessly wandered around, and then, having nothing else to do, gathered into minutes. It took more courage for minutes to gather in hours, but they did anyway. Hours slowly built up the days, and every seven days made it into a week. - I know, how time works. I’m just not sure, it works for me. - It’s not a straight line, I think. It’s more like a quagmire, and I’m drowning. I looked at myself in the mirror again this morning, as I do every day. I look closely, I check, I perceive. Hey, you’d be proud of me, you know? Little by little, I merge my usual “I” with your vision of me. Because this is the best way to remember you - to live by your last words. - I’d like to tell you, how YOU changed me. [ X ] -

6. Light is blinding me. Heart grew so big, it filled all of my chest, not sure, if there’s a place left to breathe in. Please, let it be real. Please. Please… Not another happy dream, that turns into nightmare, when I’m waking up. Please. - I see you. - Same room, same spot. You. Alive. Your hands are cold. You’re so weak, you can’t stand by yourself, you can’t even speak. But before you passed out, you looked at me. You looked at me, and I saw my own eyes reflect in yours. And that was enough to believe this is real. - I don’t remember… I… - Someone’s shaking my shoulder and saying my name over and over again. I’m sitting on the floor, holding you in my arms. My fingers hurt. I must’ve clutched them into your trench coat too tight. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting like this. But yes… yes… Sam’s hand is on my shoulder and he’s right, his voice is very quiet, but he’s right. We should get you out of here. We should put you in bed. - I nod. I’m not sure I can speak. -

7. It’s so quiet. - You lay. You rest. You sleep. I’ll watch over you. It’s my turn now. The room is still. Only movement is your chest’s slow ups and downs, as you breathe. It’s just air, nothing more, right? How can the sound of air, filling the lungs, be the most soothing sound in the world? But it is. - It’s our air. We share it. - And I’m crying. I’m crying and I’m crying and I can’t stop. -

8. Sam came back from the store, I stand in the kitchen, taking out groceries and stuff out of the shopping bags. Among everything, I see he bought a super glue, I have no idea, what he needs this for. This is so stupid, this is so fucking stupid, it’s pathetic… but I can’t keep my eyes of it. “Use super glue to strongly bind 2 surfaces together”. I want to come into your room, I want to sit beside you, while you’re still sleeping. I want to smear that goddamn glue all over you, from head to toe, and put myself on top of you, as like I’m the other surface. “Assemble parts and hold together with pressure for 15 seconds or until set”, the directions say. Or, there’s gotta be sewing kit here somewhere? I want to thread a needle and sew you to me. With such large and strong stitches, I darned Sam’s pants like that when I was a kid, I know these stitches are reliable, believe me. Or use a duck tape. Or shove us both into the bottle and threw it away into the ocean. - It’s been two days and nine hours, since you’re back. Someday, I’ll be able to leave your room, leave you out of my sight, and don’t feel growing panic in my chest. - Someday, I’ll believe you’re back for good. For good. For ever. Not today. -

9. Your bare legs are sticking out of your robe. You are strong enough to walk around the bunker, and, of course, the first thing you did is get to the kitchen. Oh, you woke up hungry and just wanted to make yourself a sandwich, I see… You are not cold, but you are sitting on a chair, constantly adjusting this stupid robe, wrapping yourself in it tighter. You weirdo. You know who you remind me of? A cold little sparrow on a twig, who keeps on ruffling the feathers to keep warm. Those legs are sticking out… - I place a huge bowl of hot chicken soup in front of you. “Eat!” I say. “Or I’m gonna start feeding you with a spoon, I swear!” You mutter something dissatisfied about peanut butter and jelly under your nose, but I won’t even listen. "Eat!” I say. Seriously, you didn’t want to wake me up?? So nice of you! Next time consider my near heart attack, maybe? You look sorry and giving me those puppy eyes, and I swear I want to smile so bad. Not just smile, really. To laugh with my full chest, easy and warm. - You breathe. You sleep. Now you eat. Should I ask questions? You’re here. You’re okay. You’re getting better. - You’re getting better. -

10. Your hair smell of my shampoo. Your hair. Smell of my shampoo. Your clothes are my old ones, but they fit you so good. Soon, when you’re well enough, we’re gonna drive some place nice and buy you your own. It’s selfish, probably, but I want it to happen as late, as possible; not your recovery, of course, your new clothes, I mean. - You look mine in my clothes. - Your hair smell of my shampoo. I’ve realised it just now, when you fell asleep on my shoulder. I forgive you, we’ve seen this movie two times already, it’s okay. And I can pretend I’m still watching it, while shamelessly wander my eyes over you, curled in a ball, covered with soft plaid. - I dare to kiss the top of your head, I dare to cover your knuckles with my palm, carefully, not to wake you up. - You are so warm. -

11. Do I deserve you? - Do I? Your presence in my life. You. All of you. So pure, so perfect. So selfless. I’d say you are full of light, but it’s not quite so. Because you are the light. God, I’m so scared. It starts in my fingertips, they ache, like being pinned with needles. Needles get into my blood flow and make my whole body shiver. - It took me way too long to understand, but I see now… it’s not about you, it’s about me. I know, I know! I remember everything you’ve said. I remember how I tried to believe it, to understand, to accept, to let it all inside me and keep it there. Your simple truth, that I actually mean something. Mean so much. To you. Fucking everyday morning exercises. Look and repeat, look and repeat to self all over again, “you are loved, you are loved, you are loved…” until not scared of the meaning. But… is this enough? What you feel about me? What I feel about you? To deserve you? Do I deserve you, do I? Do I? I… - But you’re kissing me back. - And you shiver too. Are those my needles got into your veins or are those yours? Jesus, do you have the same idiotic thoughts in your head?? God, we are both so clumsy, so stupid, so fucking stupid! We were so dumb, we are both so dumb! We are… We… - WE. - And I’m kissing you. I’m kissing you. I deserve it. I deserve you. I do. -

12. To feel the pulse on your neck with my lips. To smile, when your stubble tickles my ribs. To hear your shuddered inhales right next to my temple. To hold you, closer than ever, and not be afraid to. - It’s something about the heat of your skin, that makes me feel belonged. Safe. -

13. - You told me, you want to grow old with me. -

14. It’s quite hot, but windy today. You rolled the window down, and fresh air immediately filled up the car. We’re driving back home from the grocery store. You’re texting to someone and smiling. Tell them “Hi” from me. We’re listening to the new mixtape you’ve made. It’s awful, by the way. 90’s? Seriously?? Oh, don’t hurt yourself rolling your eyes back. Ok…Okay! I’m shutting up! You’re taking two milkshakes out of the bag, one for you, one for me. We argue on who’s gonna cook today. We drive past the small tidy houses with green yards and gardens, talking over each one of those. Someday, soon, yeah, most likely. That one with blue shutters? Yeah, I like it too. - In between of shifting the gears, I hold your hand. I love you. - Days are like this. -

15. Hello, my name is Dean Winchester. White male, early forties’. I don’t try to recognize myself in a mirror anymore. I don’t ask questions. - I’m just here. - Yeah, there’s grey in my hair, quite a bit, but still. These are my arms, my shoulders, hands. I used to know my hands as lethal, strong and fast, and I’ve always thought, that’s enough for male hands. I mean… they are, yes. But now I’d add, they are full of care, also. Even gentle. They are good for so many things, I didn’t even realize they are so good. [ X ] - This is my face. Here are my freckles and there are my wrinkles. - This is my skin; I live in it.

- It finally fits me. -

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tag list:

@alivedean @achillestiel @acklesology @agentcastiels @burnhamandtilly @bluefirecas @bebecas @becauseofthebowties @ben-edlund @bestiarum @bipridedean @brokenyouth @casthyelle @captain-flint @celestialdean @celestialcastiel @chaoticdean @castheology @cosmiccas @deanwinchesteradjacent @donestiel @debriefingspn @dstiel @evermorecastiel @emptymeg @endverse @fromperdition @forthiswholeworld @galaxycastiel @heartattackles @honeystiel @highvoltagejackles @inacatastrophicmind @itsinjustbeing @icegifs @iheartcas @itsinjustbeing @joharvele @jacobglaser @jackthomson90-blog @lucymorans @mad-as-a-box-of-frogs @magnoliadean @maxguevra @misha-collins @mckkachins @marvells @mochadean @nesnej @nuntox @presidentbidean @rocksaltseraph @sarahblakes @starlightcastiel @starrynightdeancas @sobsicles @shelikestv @sinnabonka @sourpatchdean @spnsmile @smiledean @seraphcastiel @soleeryx @subbydean @tearsofgrace @teamfoundfamily @theedorksinlove @thatisahotsoup @ultravioletcas @valleydean @waywardism @winchester-reload @winchestergifs @xofemeraldstars @yelenasbelovaas @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @saltyghostsworld @plantdadcas @sammy-501 @dtadeancas @subtledean @kaz2y5baby @angelic-bee-enthusiast @gardenforcas @bimiserables @gabrielle-main @highkey-dysphoric @lila-tom @teddybluesclues

#sorry guys! original post got messed with the links and I can't fix them....so just decided to make another oner of archive purposes((#don't mind me))#destiel fanfic #spncreatorsdaily #destiel fanfiction #destiel fix it #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #destiel poetry #anz writes stuff and things #fic tag

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angsty-nerd · 3 years

Text

Meta: Echo’s Big Fight in 3x09

Let's talk about the Big Echo fight. Because wandering around in the fandom this past week, I’ve seen a lot of very specific conclusions as far as what they were or weren't arguing about, and I’m not sure my take on that scene really aligns with other folks. So let me try to break it down a bit and give y’all an alternative perspective on it.

To start with, the scene opens with Max on edge because they're breaking and entering. Liz is singularly focused on the mission, and he's kinda freaking out. Instead of responding to his concerns, Liz gets straight to business.

"Ooh, ooh, this is interesting. Heath left Genoryx two days after I did. Must have realized he didn't need to be working underneath their corporate thumb."

Liz is kinda projecting here. Heath never once displayed any discomfort with Genoryx as a company the way that she did. He wanted her to stay. He wanted the resources there. We know these things as an audience, and Liz would too if she was thinking through the big picture at this point in time.

Max, on the other hand, doesn't know any of that. Here's what Max hears from Liz: he hears surprise. He hears Liz acknowledge that this is unexpected news. And right as he’s processing this unexpected reveal...Max sees Heath's Wild Pony t-shirt.

Weird coincidence #1 from Max's POV was Heath (the guy who is currently so pissed at Liz that he won't take her calls) supposedly rescuing Liz's science out of the good of his heart so that Genoryx doesn’t get their hands on it? This doesn't add up.

Weird coincidence #2 was Heath quitting Genoryx - a decision Heath made that Liz wasn't expecting.

The Wild Pony t-shirt is now the 3rd thing that doesn't add up. And if the t-shirt clue isn't adding up for you, see my post about it here:

The T-shirt is strike 3 for Max. He can't really pretend that he's not suspicious of Heath anymore. So he broaches the subject with her.

"How much do you know about this guy, Heath? How close were you?"

Max is feeling uncomfortable and looking for more information. He's trying to make the clue make sense. Why would Heath have the T-shirt? Does he have a connection to Roswell that Liz doesn't know about? And Liz doesn’t listen.

"This isn't the time to be jealous about a boy I met."

For all that Liz is clinical and on mission, she jumps very quickly to assuming that Max is NOT on mission. Yes, Max is inherently more emotional than she is. But throughout the episode he's been asking questions about Heath and NOT JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS. That's one of the keys to me here. Max really is trying to give her the benefit of the doubt about him.

At Liz's house, he asked about "the boyfriend" but he wasn't doing it in a jealous or judgy way. If anything it could almost be interpreted as concern. He started with "were you happy" and only when Liz kind of metaphorically admitted that any happiness was a façade...that's when he brought Heath into it. And yeah, Liz says that he impacted her life and helped her grow, but she didn't exactly express romantic feelings that would make Max jealous. So when she basically jumped straight to the jealousy assumption instead of actually discussing this with him, he starts getting worked up. Because she is not hearing him. She is not acknowledging that the facts they have found during this investigation are not adding up. So he is honest and blunt about what he's thinking.

"I'm just saying it's possible that he took your one-of-a-kind alien spores and quit, so that, just like you, he could use the research himself, free of Genoryx."

Max is the one who brings the science into this conversation. Not Liz. And he's not criticizing or questioning HER application of the science. He's questioning the trustworthiness of Heath. Because the lies are starting to jump out at him like a friggin’ neon light.

BUT — now that he's specifically brought up the science, he has her attention. Because Max questioning her science is HER sore spot. So what does she say back to him? Something kinda judgy.

"That grand trust speech certainly had a short shelf life."

Side note: I really don't think there actually was a "grand trust speech" in this episode. I can think of a few scenes where there might have been an opportunity for one. In particular during the milkshake scene when he admits to saving her tapes. But they actually don't talk about trust in that scene. They talk about having hard conversations. They talk about moving forward instead of looking backwards. But they don't talk about trust. My guess is that there might have been content cut for time at some point in this episode, that may have included some grand declaration from Max, but that's really just speculation on my part.

Regardless…Liz's response to Max bringing up the science is to basically accuse him of not trusting her. Which is not what he was saying. He was not questioning her use of the science. He was questioning her trust in Heath through the context of her science. So he elaborates on what he IS saying, and as he does, he's getting more and more worked up...because this does relate directly to his personal fears, and, frankly, his buried trauma that he's never properly addressed.

"I trust you. Okay? But I don't trust some guy I have barely met with a secret that could endanger me, could endanger my family and break the frickin' Internet if it came out."

Max doesn't know Heath, and he doesn't trust Heath with a secret that could endanger Michael and Isobel. His emotions are escalating, because now he's thinking about the science that scares him in the hands of a guy that all signs points to being potentially untrustworthy, and he's triggered.

BUT he doesn't back up his argument. He doesn't point out the very specific evidence he's identified that Heath is probably lying to Liz.

And Liz is inherently reactive and sometimes overly defensive (see 1x09 list of Liz's flaws). So even though he's focused on Heath, she immediately reacts defensively and takes it as a criticism of HER.

"You think I would let myself be conned?"

"No, I think you came out here looking for a partner, and it could blind you."

*deep breath* and this is where it starts to get personal. And rough. Max isn't entirely wrong here. But he also kind of is. Liz didn't choose Genoryx for partnership. She was looking for resources, freedom to do the science she wanted to do, and to save her father from deportation.

But partnership? Yeah, Liz wanted that. But she wanted that from MAX. She was looking for partnership in life, not in science.

And now that Max has thrown that direct criticism out there, Liz is going to throw a bomb right back at him.

"Just because you sabotaged me when I thought you were mine does not mean that Heath would take the same path."

Ouch. This is the hardest line in this whole scene for me to work with. Because it is combative. And purposefully hurtful.

BUT…she is NOT TALKING ABOUT HER SCIENCE. She has not said a single word about her science in this argument. She moved past that. She had the epiphany that she was wrong and she apologized (3x03). That is in the past for her.

This argument, for Liz, is about betrayal. This is about her believing that they were going to be partners and move their lives forward together (2x12), and right when she believed in that future, Max made another massive decision that directly impacted her life (just like he did in 1x13) instead of working with her to make big decisions together.

"And just because you changed the wallpaper doesn't mean you've mended your blind spots."

I really hate this "change the wallpaper" line. It feels like they're mixing metaphors. Liz called her life a commercial. Max is saying that she's changed her decor. Like...pick one and stick with it.

That aside… I think this barb is about her arrogance. Earlier in the scene, she seemed baffled at the idea that Max believes she could have been conned by Heath, because Liz is used to always being the smartest person in the room. She thought she was smarter than Diego and he figured her out. She believed her lab was secure, but Diego (possibly) got in. Sometimes, like most scientists, Liz is so bogged down in the complicated, brilliant details she’s thinking through, that she misses simple things that contribute to the big picture. And I think that's what Max is getting at here. In her arrogance, she believes that she can control the Heath situation. But she's not acknowledging the human factor here - that Heath is a person who may have his own unspoken ulterior motives driving him. Just like Diego did. She's just not seeing what Max is seeing.

BUT - again I'll say. Max is also not communicating the scope of the evidence he is collecting. They're both wrong here.

"I have learned my lessons, but you... oh, my God, you sound an awful lot like the guy who blew up my lab. So forgive me, but you're making it perfectly clear why I felt like I had to go and change the wallpaper."

This is the only line where Liz even comes close to talking about her science, but again, she's talking about his betrayal. She's talking about him undermining their partnership. She's talking about her need for a change of scenery from HIM.

And that’s when Max blows out the safe and they put the fight on hold to finish their investigation.

But, to sum it up…the fight was all about trust and betrayal. It was necessary for them to work through it, though frankly? I wish they could have finished the discussion. Because instead of them coming to some sort of peace with their trust in each other, the truth came out about Heath, Liz realized that she was wrong, she apologized, and they moved forward together, on mission.

I can’t help pointing out though…after the fight and Liz's epiphany about Heath, Max and Liz spent at least 15 hours in a car together. And I'm sorry, I refuse to believe that they didn't talk about anything important for 15 hours. Fic writers assemble? 😆

Many thanks to @ober-affen-geil for doing a quick review and checking me on opinions vs facts. Very important.

And for my next trick… road trips, life choices, and Robert Frost! Coming soon to a Tumblr near you…

#rnm echo #rnm season 3 #roswell new mexico #max&liz #my meta #max evans #liz ortecho #rnm meta

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lesbianrobin · 3 years

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What do you think are the good and bad aspects of each season of ST?

ok 1. thank u for this question omg and 2. this answer may or may not be a mess, but either way it’s long (almost 7k words lmao) bc i’m insane, which is why it’s under a cut. it’s still by no means an exhaustive list but these are the things that just kinda came to mind.

also i realize you asked “good and bad” and i wrote this whole post as “strengths and weaknesses” which um. is not Exactly what you asked. but close enough <3 i also ended up including a lot of au ideas ksjdckmn bc like i personally hate when people say a certain plot or whatever was bad without suggesting anything that could have improved it yknow so whenever possible i tried to provide Some idea for fixing the issues i had with the show!!

season 1

strengths (this is probably gonna be the longest section but that’s because a lot of these strengths also apply to s2/s3 by default)

nostalgia and authenticity

this one’s pretty simple, but i think that season one did a good job of blending classic eighties media homages (such as the many many e.t./el parallels) with explicit pop culture references (such as mike’s yoda impression, mentions of the x-men, etc) to create a show that’s essentially dripping in early eighties nostalgia without it feeling too forced. before st, i think the most popular depiction of the eighties in mainstream media was that overly exaggerated neon scrunchie aesthetic from the mid to late eighties, and it was usually done in a comedic sense first and foremost. st took a different approach, instead focusing on the early eighties, a time that’s often ignored in favor of going either Full Seventies or Full Eighties, and i think that this choice likely resonated with adults who lived through the eighties and hadn’t yet seen something that felt quite so accurate to their own adolescence. a lot of young people who watched st were totally unfamiliar with this period of time, unfamiliar with books/movies like “stand by me” that st borrows from heavily, and i think st lent more seriousness to the eighties than most young people had experienced so far, and this was refreshing and interesting!

the use of dnd in the show is also quite genius in a way i’m not sure i can articulate?? it isn’t something Everyone would have played at the time, but it’s something that existed within a different context back in the eighties than it does today, and it really lent a sort of authenticity to the naming of the show’s sci-fi elements. like, of course these kids would name parallel dimensions and monsters and superpowers after these similar things in their favorite game! it just feels so real and it grounds st in our reality moreso than you might expect from the typical sci-fi or horror universe.

utilization of existing tropes

almost every single character in st clearly originates from some popular trope. the plot itself is riddled with classic eighties movie tropes. almost every single element of stranger things can be clearly traced back to some iconic eighties film or just to, like, overused horror/sci-fi/mystery/coming-of-age movie tropes in general. this might sound like a bad thing, but it really works in st’s favor! starting off with familiar tropes gives st the ability to easily create a lot of complexity and make a big impact by selectively deviating from those familiar, comfortable tropes!! while el’s whole plot, hopper’s character, etc, are all examples of this in action, i think the steve/nancy/jonathan plot is the greatest example. even from the start, the fact that good girl barb dies while nancy is off having sex with her asshole boyfriend is an incredibly thorough inversion of the most well-known horror movie trope in the book. how often do girls in horror movies have sex for the first time, walk home alone in the dark of night, and live to tell the tale? nancy and jonathan’s dynamic at first glance is a sort of classic “good girl meets boy from the wrong side of the tracks, discovers he’s actually got a heart of gold” thing, but instead of following this well-trodden path, st diverged. nancy is brash, impulsive, and at times downright insensitive. jonathan is angry, bitter, and actually a bit of a creep at first. while they have the capacity to emotionally connect and support one another, they can also bring out each other’s darker side, which is not what we’ve come to expect from that initial tropey dynamic.

in addition, steve, the popular rich asshole boyfriend, is actually... a human being! unlike the cartoonishly evil jocks that we’ve come to expect (especially from eighties movies), steve has complexity. despite his initial immaturity and selfishness, he’s also kind to barb, he backs off when nancy says no, he’s gentle and sweet when they sleep together, his first big Dick Move of the season is in defense of nancy, he realizes the error of his ways after the fight and does what he can to fix it, he’s worried about nancy when he sees that she’s hurt at jonathan’s house, and to top it all off, he ends up saving both nancy and jonathan’s lives when he could have just walked away, and the three of them all work together to fight the demogorgon. like... steve began as the most stereotypical character of all time, and by the end of the season, he had one of the most compelling and unique arcs among the whole cast!

finally, at the very end of the season, instead of dumping steve for jonathan as expected, nancy ends up getting back together with steve, and they’re both on friendly terms with jonathan. i realize that i just kinda. summarized s1. but my POINT is that i don’t think the dynamics between the monster hunting trio would be nearly as fun and interesting had the characters of nancy, steve, and jonathan not been set up to follow certain paths that we already had charted in our own heads. like, within the first couple episodes of s1, it’s pretty obvious that nancy and steve are gonna break up, nancy will get with jonathan, and steve will either die or go full evil or just never be seen again. like, duh! you’ve seen this story a million times! you know that’s how it’s gonna go! so, when the story DOESN’T go that way, the impact of each character’s arc and the relationship dynamics become stronger due to their unexpected complexity and authenticity.

distinct plotlines separated by age group

this one’s rather obvious, but the way that the adults in s1 were essentially in a conspiracy thriller while the teens were in a horror flick and the kids were in a sci fi power-of-friendship story and all three converged at the end... wow. brilliant showstopping etc. not only was it just really well done and unique, it also gave stranger things near-universal appeal. like, there’s genuinely something for pretty much everyone in season one!

casting

obviously this applies to every season sorta by default, but when i think about what made season one So successful, i always think about the cast, and not just winona ryder. yes, she’s absolutely amazing in the show and it’s very doubtful that st would be as big as it is today without her name being attached to it from the start!! however, i think the greatest determining factor in st’s success is the casting of the kids, particularly millie bobby brown. like... el is just absolutely incredible. she’s amazing. this has all been said many times before so i won’t harp on it, but millie and the other kids are all So talented and charismatic and i think their casting has been instrumental to the show’s success.

strong visuals

the way that multicolored christmas lights which have been around for decades are now kinda like. a Stranger Things thing. jesus christ. those lights are probably the biggest stroke of stylistic genius on the show.

atmosphere and setting

this is probably like. the least important one here for me sdjncdsc because i think s2 and s3 both had like Even Better atmospheres and shit but s1 was good too and it laid the groundwork!! i know a lot of people would have preferred st be set somewhere more Spooky with lots of fog or giant forests or whatnot, and while i do enjoy thinking about alternate st settings and how they might alter the vibe, i think hawkins indiana was a good choice. as the duffers have said, placing stranger things in a fictional town allows them more flexibility than if they’d gone with their original plan of using montauk, new york. besides that, i think the plainness and like... flatness... of small-town indiana just Works. like, the fact that hawkins is never really scary on the surface is a big part of the horror in the lab’s actions and their impact. hawkins isn’t somewhere that people just disappear all the time. it isn’t somewhere known for strange occurrences (prior to s1, that is). it isn’t somewhere shrouded in mist and secrecy. hawkins on its surface seems like the sort of place with no secrets and nothing to fear, and that’s the point! the lab is out in the open! it’s right there! everything is so close to the surface, yet so far out of the public eye, and i think that really works.

the byers family’s whole deal (specifically the joyce/jonathan dynamic)

this is going here bc i miss it so bad in s2 and s3. i’m not one of those people who believe The Byers Are The Whole Point of the show, because st is and always has been an ensemble, and el, hopper, and the wheelers are just as instrumental to the plot as the byers, but ANYWAY, i do think the byers were one of the most interesting aspects of s1. joyce’s difficulties with supporting her sons as a poor and (implied mentally ill) single mother, jonathan’s stress as a result of having to earn money, care for his brother, and keep the house in order when his mother is unable to do so, and the resulting tension between them when will’s disappearance and supposed “death” brings the situation to a tipping point? holy shit! it’s so good! that argument after they see will’s “body” is just incredible and gut-wrenching. their relationship feels so real and messy and i think it’s just... good. also winona ryder REALLY acted her heart out and she carried a lot of s1 which i think people often forget to mention so i’m saying it here.

weaknesses

pacing/timing

ok so pacing is probably going to go in each season’s weaknesses, to be honest, because i think they all had a blend of some good and some bad pacing. good pacing is invisible pacing, though, so i probably won’t be putting it in any of the strengths sections and will only be focusing on it in the weaknesses. i’m also probably not going to talk about weird day/night cycle things, just because i don’t want to get nitpicky on timelines because that would require going back and rewatching things to double check timing which i don’t wanna do at the moment lmao. anyway, when i think of bad pacing in season one, i primarily think of two things: nancy’s little trip into the upside down and subsequent sleepover with jonathan, and the sort of staggered nature of the climax in the final episode. the latter is simple so i’ll explain it first: while i understand that each group’s respective climax is like part of a chain reaction and that’s why each big moment happens separately and at different times, i think that st is strongest when the whole group is together, and i think that makes the stakes feel higher too, so i’m not In Love with the way s1 separated everyone and gave each group their own climax.

okay, now on to the nancy/upside down thing! idk if i’ve ever talked about it before, but i think the worst decision made in s1 by far is the inclusion of nancy’s brief trip into the upside down, wherein she dives headfirst into another dimension with absolutely no backup, watches the demogorgon chow down, freaks out and runs around for a minute, and then leaves. like... what the fuck? even putting aside what an idiotic decision this was (because i do think nancy’s tendency to rush into things headfirst is an intentional and consistent character trait), it just kind of destroys any remaining suspense surrounding the demogorgon and the upside down, and it accomplishes basically nothing besides scaring nancy enough to have jonathan sleep over, which is lame. i will break it down.

like, first of all, nancy just getting to waltz in and out of the upside down and get a good, long look at the demogorgon makes the entire thing far less mysterious, and by extension far less scary. like... before this scene, we the audience haven’t got a good look at the demogorgon. we’ve seen its silhouette briefly and we’ve seen a blurry picture of it, but nothing more, and i think that is far more effective at building fear than this jaunt nancy goes on which gives us a full view of the thing and makes it into less of a horrifying nightmare and into more of a humanoid animal. like, maybe this is just me, but i found the demogorgon far less intimidating after that scene than before. it also lets nancy and jonathan know For Sure that they’re right without providing any crucial information that they need to fight the demogorgon (aka it’s unnecessary to the plot), which removes a very compelling story element (the faith nancy and jonathan need to have in order to keep going against a vague and poorly understood enemy, the doubt they might have about each other and their own sanity, the possibility that they might be wrong, the trust they need to have in each other) a bit earlier in the plot than i believe is ideal. at the end of episode 5, nancy goes into the upside down and jonathan doesn’t know where she is and it’s intense!!! you’re thinking like, oh fuck, not only is nancy missing and fighting for her life now too, jonathan might be implicated in her disappearance!! some people already think he’s the one who killed will and people know that he took creepy pictures of barb and nancy before they both disappeared, maybe this is gonna cause some serious problems for him!! maybe nancy will find will in the upside down and she’ll help him survive!! fuck, maybe she’ll actually die!! this is huge!! and then episode 6 starts and they’re immediately like oh nevermind jonathan found the tree and got nancy out and she’s fine. my point with all of this is that nancy entering the upside down could have done A Lot in the grand scheme of the plot, but all it did was just... get jonathan to sleep over so he and nancy could have some awkward romance moments and steve could see them together and pick a fight. which could have honestly happened at Any point while nancy and jonathan were working together to hunt down the demogorgon, without ruining the demogorgon’s and the upside down’s mystique. so yeah <3

weird behavior and dumbass decisions that make no sense (aka the whole camera thing)

gonna go off about the teen plot again sorry but: why was nancy so unbothered and quick to forgive jonathan for taking those pictures? girl what the fuck are you doing? why wasn’t that a bigger deal? why was jonathan’s motivation for doing it so weak and why did they just kind of forget about the whole thing? why did nancy TRACK HIM DOWN AT THE FUNERAL HOME while he was PICKING OUT HIS BABY BROTHER’S CASKET to be like hey can you tell me what’s in this creepshot you took? it’s insane. it’s so insane. i mean i think the funeral home thing is hilarious and i don’t mind it being in the show necessarily but like my point here is that i think a lot of character decisions in s1 just kind of.. happened because they Needed to happen for the plot. like, they wrote this plot that required jonathan to be secretly taking pictures of the party and required him and nancy to work together after seeing something odd in the pictures, but they didn’t like... really consider what that event would mean for their characterization and relationship. the whole thing was sort of just dropped with minimal discussion and i think it did both nancy and jonathan’s characters a disservice and was really mishandled.

lighting and saturation/color grading

i am literally begging horror/sci-fi shows to let me see shit. i GET IT okay i understand that when you’re doing cgi effects it helps to keep the lights down and i’m not mad at any of the lighting in the demogorgon/upside down scenes!! i’m really not i think the demogorgon scenes in s1 all look sick!! but like... dude. the colors. where are they. why does everyone look like a vampire. i know blah blah this was probably an intentional stylistic choice intended to mimic film at the time blah blah but dude a lot of old movies are very colorful!! please just let people have color in their faces so everyone doesn’t look like a sheet of paper!!! also i’m white and not a professional lighting designer so yknow grain of salt but i think lucas was kinda poorly served by the lighting sometimes in s1. not Hugely so, not to the degree that i’ve seen poc be poorly served by lighting in other shows, but there were some times where it felt kinda like the lighting setup was just not designed with darker skin in mind.

horror

i just personally don’t find s1 very scary like... ever. i don’t think they were really Trying to be extremely scary yknow so i’m not counting this as a big deal, but i do think that each season has improved on the horror aspects. i think s1′s horror lies more in the mystery and the unknown than in what’s seen onscreen, and as i’ve said already, i think s1 kind of fumbled that suspense ball.

season 2

strengths

the possession plot

i’ll warn u rn this whole s2 strengths section is probably gonna be really short bc idk like. how much there is to really say i feel like it’s all so self-explanatory skjncmn. anyway yeah the possession plot!! eerie as fuck, and noah OWNED. so did winona tbh and finn and sean etc but like. noah. wow! i think the possession plot helped the show maintain a good amount of tension and suspense throughout the season, and a lot of scenes with possessed!will are flatout disturbing to watch. in a good way. i think the mindflayer and will’s possession were far more genuinely frightening than s1′s demogorgon, and it provided a new layer of depth and intrigue to the antagonist besides just “bad monster want eat people.”

tone and aesthetics

halloween season... literally halloween season. halloween season. that is all.

actually i will elaborate a bit and just say that i think s2 did a good job of having the sort of foreboding vibe that s1 was often going for, but without the annoying darkness and desaturation. so points for that.

also st2 is like one of the best Autumn pieces of media ever like it just. like steve and dustin on those train tracks with the fallen leaves all around them.... god. god the vibes are unparalleled. all of the halloween stuff also really contributes to the nostalgia st runs on yknow it makes you think about childhood and trick-or-treating and you kind of get transported like damn... i remember going to the rich neighborhoods to score the good candy..... idk i just think the whole thing is incredibly effective.

“babysitter” steve

by sending nancy and jonathan off together, the show created a problem: what to do with steve? this problem pushed them to create the unconventional and unexpected duo of steve and dustin, and the world is so much brighter for it. seriously though we all know steve and dustin are great i don’t need to argue that point. all i’ll add is that i think allowing steve to grow in this way, serving as a mentor figure and becoming genuine friends with someone so unexpected, really took the originality of his character to the next level. no longer content just to defy his archetype, in s2 steve begins branching out in ways that never would have been considered in s1, creating an incredibly complex and interesting person from the sort of character that most shows would have simply written out or killed off for convenience’s sake. and it works and steve and dustin are such a joy to watch and i love them. <3

the lucas/max plot

so first of all max mayfield is the most perfect baby girl on god’s green earth and idk what i would do without her but anyway. i think lumax is the best romantic relationship in the show and not just because they’re the only ones with like an age-appropriate approach to the whole thing. it’s also because their relationship accomplishes more than just putting the two of them in a relationship!! lucas and max spending time together motivates billy to do his evil shit, providing more conflict in the narrative, and it also helps establish max as part of the group in a relatively natural way while giving both her and lucas a great subplot. lucas (and dustin) has a crush on the new girl, they start spending some time together, and lucas ends up needing to decide whether he’ll keep the secret of the upside down and lose her, or risk both of their lives by telling her the truth. that’s a pretty big, character-defining decision that he gets to make!! max has to choose whether to trust this boy she barely knows and endanger herself, or to walk away and stay safe, yet another great character-defining choice that also contributes to the sense we get as an audience of max as somebody who’s incredibly lonely and desperate for love and connection. this post is way too long already and i have a ton more to say so i’ll stop now but yeah i think lumax really Works in the show without ever distracting or detracting from the overall plot and narrative in the way that some other ships (coughjancycough) often do.

balance between the normal and abnormal

s2 i think did a pretty solid job of melding daily life with more fantastical sci-fi horror elements. i enjoyed seeing so much of the kids at school in the first few episodes!! you really get a strong sense of where they’re at in life, what their daily lives are like, and you get a sort of gradual shift into madness that makes everything feel more grounded than i think it would if they had just leapt straight into the horror shit, yknow?

the el and hopper dynamic

go back and rewatch s2 and tell me that’s not one of the most moving portrayals of parenthood and trauma and growing up that you’ve ever seen. you can’t. or well you can but i won’t listen. i really can’t imagine stranger things without el and hopper’s relationship, and it’s my absolute favorite part of s2. their whole dynamic is so beautiful and complex, and gives them each amazing personal arcs in addition! the black hole scene is literally one of the show’s greatest moments of all time. any given scene between the two of them in s2 is just guaranteed to be heartwarming as well as heartbreaking, and i think that makes for an incredible show.

weaknesses

flashbacks

okay this applies to Every season they All have too many flashbacks but in s2 specifically... please stop showing me shit from season one. i watched it. i know what happened. you don’t need to spoon feed everything to me!! flashbacks can be a really helpful way of delivering information to an audience, but st has a bad habit of not only being kinda demeaning in how often they flash back to shit that the audience already knows, but they also have a bad habit of using flashbacks almost as a crutch to avoid having to deliver information subtly and naturally.

you know i gotta say it... the lost sister

this is so sad. the lost sister really is like a great concept for an st episode, and i’m not mad about the idea of st taking a break from the normal action to focus on one story for a full episode, but the execution of it was just dreadful. kali and her crew feel very over-the-top and stereotypical, and its placement in the season totally kills the tension and excitement that was built in “the spy.”

i think the lost sister honestly could have gone over far better, even with the stereotypical fake-feeling gang kali has, if they had just swapped it with “the spy” like... ok, the end of episode five has el setting off to find kali and will collapsing on the ground seizing. right? imagine if, instead of immediately following will to the lab, we’d followed el. we don’t know what’s happening with will, but it’s a very simple cliffhanger that leaves us on edge without making us feel cheated by the show cutting away. we follow el on her little journey, everything happens much the same as canon, and then at the end, el sees hopper in scrubs. she sees mike, screaming, sees that they’re both in danger. holy shit!!! what the fuck!!! what’s happened since we left will seizing on the ground??? we feel el’s fear and confusion. she decides to go home. and then... boom. “the lost sister” is over. now, we rewind, right back to will seizing on the ground, and “the spy” commences. we learn how they got into the danger that el saw in the end of “the lost sister,” and we sit on the edge of our seats all through “the spy” and “the mind flayer,” KNOWING that el is on her way back to save them but not knowing when she’ll arrive!! idk i don’t think that would have necessarily saved lost sister but i think it may have alleviated some of the issues that i and many others have with it, timing-wise.

the nancy/jonathan sidequest

once again, the idea of nancy going off on her own little mission to find justice for barb after s1 is like. amazing. genuinely i love that plot for her and i can’t imagine anything better for her to have focused on in s2. unfortunately though i think her and jonathan’s little trip to see murray was just kind of... lame. the whole thing just felt like an excuse to get the two of them alone together, yknow? which is fine i guess people contrive all sorts of situations to get characters alone together for romance reasons but in this case i think it just really doesn’t work for me because of what it’s juxtaposed with. like, will is POSSESSED, and jonathan is just off on a mini road trip and sleeping with his bestie, and jonathan never seems to communicate to joyce/will that he left town, and joyce never like... thinks to tell him that will is like sick and fucked up and they’re looking at him in the lab??? like it’s so weird i know joyce always forgets about jonathan when shit’s happening with will but jfc you’d think at some point in that like... 72-ish-hour period where jonathan was out of town she would have thought about him. like at least once. maybe i’m forgetting something and she mentioned him sometime and i missed it but even still, i hate the juxtaposition of nancy and jonathan just like cheers-ing at murray’s place and sleeping together and whatnot while everyone else is dealing with possession or trying to hunt down dart yknow? it feels really boring in comparison and i think it could have been done far better. like it was SO insanely easy for them to get into the lab and get an admission of guilt and escape with it!! i think it might have been a lot more engaging if maybe someone from the lab tailed them to murray’s place and they had to like lose the tail and race to get the recording out to as many news outlets as possible before they got caught, or something like that. the tension in their plotline is completely resolved in episode four!! episodes five and six are just them screwing around and addressing envelopes. while there were a lot of strong ideas in this plotline (i really enjoy nancy going out of her way to get justice, and the fact that they have to water down the story to make it believable), i just think the focus on nancy and jonathan getting together hindered it a lot without adding a ton to the plot or their individual characters.

season 3

strengths

starcourt mall as a setting

while i don’t think the mall was utilized quite to its full potential (something i could make a separate post about if anyone’s interested), i do think that starcourt was a genius addition to the series. i’ve said this before, but building a new mall is a literal Perfect in-universe justification for a significant leap forward in fashion and aesthetics, and it provides a great location for characters to just... be characters. idk how else to articulate this i just think that the mall is a great setting to let people interact with each other and to bring people together who may not have been otherwise (i.e. scoops troop). not to mention how sick it was to see the mall get wrecked toward the end kdjncdkm like they were able to do so much more with the mall in terms of like The Finale than they could with just the byers house or the cabin or the school or even the lab. i love all the back tunnels they run through it’s such a fun like acknowledgement of how this glitzy eighties mall is just a real place where employees get shipments and take out the trash and shit idk it’s all about the perfect facade and what’s hidden what’s underneath what’s hiding in plain sight etc etc i’m just saying words now. anyway.

willingness to experiment and go against expectations

gay robin. neon aesthetics. giant fucking meat monster. i know some people hate both the neon and the meat monster but i personally think they were kind of amazing and like. yknow regardless of personal tastes i think it’s impossible to deny that s3 had a lot of incredible visuals, and they’re all visuals that just wouldn’t have been possible if the show were too afraid to stray from its s1 aesthetic. robin being canonically gay (and her resulting friendship with steve) and the season’s striking visuals are two things that most everyone (besides like homophobes skjncdknm) can agree were great, right? and they were both departures from where the show began and what we all expected!! so yeah i think while some of the experimentation in s3 wasn’t ideal it was also that experimentation that allowed for some of the season’s strongest elements to come about.

the hospital sequence (and the season’s action/horror scenes in general)

this one is fairly self-explanatory. while they may have underutilized the “body snatching” element of the season, the hospital sequence with nancy and jonathan fighting off their possessed bosses did an amazing job of building tension and creating a genuine sense of really intense and personal danger.

in general i think that s3 melded action and horror rather well, particularly in the sauna test, the hospital, and when the mindflayer busts through the roof of hop’s cabin. horror can come from many things, and in this case, st elicited horror largely from the feeling of helplessness, and it was really effective for me personally. i think it worked better for me than s1′s brand of horror because it doesn’t rely so much on a lack of knowledge or a sense of suspense that inevitable disappears upon a second viewing.

the body horror we got in s3 was also really fun! that’s it i just think all the blood and guts and slime were fun and i would like more of them. once again, the impacts of body horror are less dependent upon the viewer being in the dark or unsure as to what’s happening, and as such i think it tends to be a little more effective at eliciting reaction in the long term.

timing and mechanics of the battle of starcourt/finale

i think the battle of starcourt is just fucking awesome, and beyond that personal opinion, i think it’s the most high-stakes and intense finale of all three seasons, and this is for two main reasons! 1. el is out of commission, and 2. (almost) everyone is in the same cental location. this means that (almost) everyone is in danger all at once, and they are all working together at the same time to fight the same threat. s1/s2 have their groups more fragmented for the finales, and while i understand why in each case and i wouldn’t call either season’s finale necessarily weak, i do think the centralized nature of the s3 finale just Works on another level. in s1 and s2, large segments of the cast are already perfectly safe by the time el dispatches the primary threat. in s3, however, everybody save for dustin and erica is still in danger up until the last moment, and el is seemingly (you can def debate how much power she still had in her when she peeked into billy’s mind and whether the memory broke the mindflayer’s hold on him or if she was actually controlling him to some degree) completely vulnerable. this increases the tension and raises the stakes, making the finale a real crescendo to fortissimo as opposed to a series of little mezzo forte moments. i hope everyone reading this knows music idk how else to phrase that my brain is stupid.

emphasis on friendship and adolescence (but in a different way than s1/2)

this is definitely a controversial one but i think that s3 really did like... show a side of friendship that had been more or less unexplored thus far in the show. el and max were amazing, and i think it’s really nice that we got an opportunity to see the kids have some growing pains as well as see them support each other through Normal Adolescent Stuff like boyfriends and breakups instead of just like. death and trauma. this is maybe just a personal preference, but i think it can be really enlightening and provide a lot of depth when you get to see how characters respond to normal everyday conflict and not just how they respond to giant world-ending conflict!! letting el use her powers for goofy teenage shit like spying on boys and messing with mean girls at the mall is not only fun for her and the audience, but it also really emphasizes just how much those powers are a part of el, making it that much more devastating when she loses them at the end of the season.

weaknesses

tonal dissonance

so this is like. obvious. but it must still be said! i won’t go on and on about it since we all know this so i’ll try to like talk about it from an angle people don’t usually? anyway. it seems to me like they were maybe a little worried about s3 being too dark. while the choice to really lean into humor was definitely driven by the sorts of eighties teen films from which s3 drew inspiration (like fast times at ridgemont high), i think it was also done in an attempt to alleviate the more troubling implications of some events in the season, particularly the russian bunker plot. like, yeah, st can be incredibly dark, but if they’d played the whole “children being stuck inside of a foreign military base, tied up, tortured, and drugged” thing completely straight without the humorous elements that exist in canon, it had the potential to be like... disturbing on a new level. steve and robin don’t have powers like el yknow their kidnapping/torture doesn’t have any sci-fi elements to sorta soften the blow. they’re just innocent teenagers being brutalized and traumatized by grown men. so anyway yeah i think maybe the writers were concerned about this storyline coming off as too dark and they wanted it to be a little more whimsical but they ended up pushing way too hard in that direction and creating extreme dissonance at times. this goes for joyce/hopper/murray/alexei too, but to a lesser extent. i think the ridiculousness in that group felt a lot more like... realistic. but still.

newspaper plot

once again i feel like i don’t even need to say this skjdncmn we all know it was insane how the show basically ended up delivering the message “while misogyny is a serious problem poverty and classism are not” and i’ve said it on this blog a million times so i don’t need to repeat myself. i’ll focus on another weak point of this plot: the fact that it completely separates nancy and jonathan from everyone else. once again, the show’s preoccupation with j/ancy held them back! like... can you imagine a version of s3 where nancy and jonathan both worked in the mall? i have a lot of ideas about this possible au and like how the plot could play out differently if they worked in the mall but first of all it’s just more realistic, second of all it further utilizes the mall as a central setting, and third of all, it would bring everyone together. as it is in canon, nancy and jonathan were unnecessarily isolated from the rest of the group, and this isolation was detrimental to both of their characters. like, they only ever get to interact with each other! if they’d gotten summer jobs in the mall, they could have had more interactions with the kids/steve/robin, and they absolutely still could have had a similar argument! maybe in this case, nancy notices the rat thing (or something else odd) herself when taking out the trash behind the mall, and she wants jonathan to ditch work with her to check it out bc she thinks it may be related to the lab. jonathan doesn’t want to ditch work because he needs his job, nancy argues that they’re working shitty mall jobs anyway and who cares if they get fired, and we get more or less the same thing as s3 without the cartoonishly over-the-top misogyny. i mean honestly i think the rat shit could have been cut entirely it didn’t rly... accomplish much of anything. in my opinion. like imagine s3 without the rat plot you literally would not be missing anything except it would be more surprising when the dudes melted into goo at the hospital. so yeah i think it would have been better if nancy and jonathan had jobs at the mall, weren’t isolated from everybody else, and were maybe absorbed into the party’s plot or the scoops troop’s plot from very early on, allowing them to interact with more characters and have a less... dumb.... plot. like god splitting up nancy and jonathan between the party/scoops troop would have been So Much better i just. sdkjcnksdmn anyway yeah.

briefness of group reunion/separation of groups

remember in s2 at the beginning of “the gate,” where mike and hopper had a confrontation and max and el met for the first time and el hugged everyone and steve and nancy had their sad little moment together outside... where’s that energy? obviously the s2 reunion wasn’t that long either, but it made space for some significant emotional moments to take place. s3′s reunion had some hopper/el/mike resolution, but besides that... there was nothing, really. i just think that the whole group getting together in s3 was SO exciting and powerful the way they did it (with both the scoops troop and the adults having their own Big Moment reconnecting with team griswold family), but the emotional potential was more or less squandered.

i also think in s3 at times they were really stretching to keep everybody separated even though it made no sense. and like... in s1 the separation worked bc nobody else knew that (x group) was experiencing weird shit too, and beyond that, each group (as i mentioned in the s1 section) was sort of operating within their own genre and bringing something unique to the season. they’ve stopped doing that though! now, the groups aren’t separate bc each plot is tonally/structurally different, the groups are just separate bc... they need to be, because it’s a big ensemble cast and you can’t just have them all be together for a whole season or it would be way too difficult to coordinate things and keep the show dynamic. all this is to say that i’m excited for s4 because the location differences make it so there’s a Reason for each plot to be separate at the beginning, and i think that’ll work better.

general ridiculousness

i dont mean like i think it’s bad that they made jokes this is just me lumping in all the dumb shit like hopper not worrying about el and not wanting to check on the kids, him and joyce bickering long after they both know they and their children are in danger, max seemingly forgetting that billy is a racist abuser, etc etc. i think many of these are just a symptom of the show 1. trying desperately to keep the groups split up a certain way even though it may not make any sense, and 2. trying to fit into a certain genre/trope mold when their actual characters are more complex than the tropes they’re imitating. this is so fucking long already i am not gonna elaborate further rn but i trust u all know what i mean.

soooo... yeah, that’s about all! i mean it’s not all there are definitely many more things i could talk about and i know i focused sorta disproportionately on the teens which is my bad :/ but i’m done for now. thank you for asking, and apologies for the delay in responding!! i’m sure some people reading (if anyone read this far) will disagree with some of what i’ve said and that’s alright like i’m not The Authority on st or anything i’m just trying to talk about like my own thoughts yknow? so yeah luv u all i hope someone enjoyed reading this!!

#asks #em talks #lesbianrobin.canon #stranger things #if u actually read all this i love u and im sorry #these r just my opinions!! and im sure i misremembered some shit my brain is swiss cheese #i did my best tho

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impossiblelibrary · 3 years

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Today's rant brought to you by: Queer Eye Japan, can we all just try to be as kind as they try to be?

After watching the Queer Eye Japan super short season, I wanted to google to see the overall reaction to the show, make sure that my western eyes were correct in seeing the care that was given to the culture. Were cultural taboos, other than being outwardly gay, crossed? So I find this article in the top results and other than the perspective, why tho? Tokyoesque.com had an article with a higher reading level, with surface level appreciation but at least better written.

I can't get over this hate article though. Unfounded, dumb, wrong and incorrect. Do not go forward unless you like that blistering kind of anger from me.

But the reasons just get weaker as the article extends: "Hurts the country it set out to save?" Looking for white savior much? They did not go to save Japan, they gave some free shit to like 4-5 people, think smaller.

Their culture guide wasn't gay enough.

You want to suggest any lgbt insta models or celebrities, use your platform to raises some up?

"There is a growing sexless culture in Japan for married and unmarried people, and it is perilous watching Queer Eye present this without any context behind what is driving this behavior."

Sexiness is what the fab 5 embrace, unfortunately and it was probably discussed behind the scenes of how much talking about sex was allowed or polite and the conversation of not having sex is closer to the tip of the tongue rather than the feeling of sexiness. The West is not the ones blasting that information. It is across multiple Japanese printed newspapers and online stories by now and the "context" is still being discussed and debated amongst Japanese. So I don't think any outsiders should be weighing in or "explaining" this phenomenon. We can repeat what we have been told but guessing at the reasons is not our place. The reasons illustrated by the author of the article seem lacking, a take but not the only one, but who am I to speak on that being in a sexual relationship with someone who pulls from that culture?

Kiko begins to lecture Yoko-san on how she “threw away her womanhood” (referring to a Japanese idiom, onna wo suteru) by going makeup-free and wearing drab, shapeless clothes.

The mistranslation by the subtitles fixed by this author was necessary information. But Kiko didn't lecture her on it, it was brought up by Yoko before any of them arrived, that was her theme, that was what she had decided to focus on. Meanwhile, if you watched Jonathan, he understood there was no time to spend on makeup and skincare so provided her a one instrument, 3 points of color on the skin to feel prettier. That and the entire episode being the 5 treating her like a woman on a date, not trying to hook her up, which is what they did in American eps.

"In teaching a Japanese woman, who already struggles to find time for herself, how to make an English recipe, Antoni is making great TV and nothing more."

So Antoni shouldn't have taught her apple pie because it's too exotic for a Japanese woman. (Can you smell the sexism?)

He didn't make an apple pie, altho Yoko did mention her mother made that for her when she was a kid. He made an apple tartine after going to a Japanese bakery who makes that all the time. Then highlighted the apples came from Fuji in true Japanese media fashion. Honey, American television doesn't usually highlight where the ingredients come from. A Japanese producer told him to do that. So all worries handled within the same ep. She got Japanese ingredients, had the recipe shown to her and then made it for her friends in her own house. Did the author actually watch this show or nah?

"beaten over the head with his western self-help logic. “You have to live for yourself,” he says."

The style of build up the 5 went for was confrontational but in a "I'm fighting for you" way. It's hard to describe, but the best I can say is, a person has multiple voices in their head, from parents, siblings, society, and maybe themselves. By being loud and obnoxious, American staples right there, they are adding one more voice. You deserve this, you are amazing, you are worth it. I know this is against most Japanese cultural modesty, but maybe it shouldn't be.

Sarcasm lies ahead:

Apparently: mispronunciation is microaggressions, not just someone who had a sucky school system. Yea okay, They're laughing at the language not at how stumbling these monolinguals are with visiting another country. Mmhm. Japanese don't say I love you and don't touch and that should stay that way instead of maybe, once in awhile, feeling like they can hug. Yeah, let's just ignore Yoko's break down that she had never hugged her lifelong friend after hugging strangers multiple times. Maid cafes are never sexualized in Japan ever, just don't go down that one street in Akihabara where the men are led off by the hand sheepishly blushing. Gag me. And Japanese men love to cry in front of their wives and would never break down once the wife leaves. I have never seen a Japanese movie showcase that move. Grr.

"I identify as many cultures."

So you're a Japanese man when it's convenient for you to get an article published? Are you nationally Japanese or just ethnically or culturally?

Homeland is an inherently racist word?

"After the Bush administration created the Department of Homeland Security after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Republican consultant and speechwriter Peggy Noonan urged, “the name Homeland Security grates on a lot of people, understandably. Homeland isn’t really an American word, it’s not something we used to say or say now.”

Yes, let's use a Washington Post article rather than a etymology professor. Yes, the google search results increased after 2001 Homeland Security was used but the word has been around since the 1660s and I've read multiple turn of the century lit on white people returning to their homeland, i.e. the town off the coast they were born in.

"But" is not disagreeing. I think the repeated offender for the author is the not acknowledging the makeover-ees feelings. But, that is how LGBT have decided to deal with the inner voices that invade from society. They are just that, not our own, they are the influence of society, and we can choose, we have to choose, to be influenced by someone, anyone else.

Karamo can't speak about being black when an Asian is speaking about being Asian, even though the Asian gay man was feeling alone. It's called relating bitches, and I'm done with people saying that is redirecting the conversation, it's extending the conversation. That's how we talk, the spotlight is shared, especially when someone's about to cry and doesn't want to be seen as crying, time to turn the spotlight.

The gay monk wasn't good enough, you should have invited the gay politician.

Yeah, causes I'm sure a politician has all the time in the world for a quick stint and cry. They picked a Japanese monk who travels to NY because they had a guest who travels to the West too. Did you want him to stop traveling back and forth? Did you want a pure, ethnic and cultural Japanese gay man who has no ties to the west to talk to this Western educated young man? Seriously?

This is just not how it works in Japan.

Being in a multi-cultural marriage between two rebels, discussions on facets of culture are plenty in my household. Culture should be respected enough to be considered but not held on a pedestal like we should never adjust or throw some things out. LGBT being quiet and private for instance. "Being seen" was Jonathan's advice, and a good one especially for a Japanese gay man that was called feminine since he was a kid. Some gay men can hide, but as Jonathan said, he couldn't hide what he was, he couldn't hide this. So fuck it. Don't hide. It's actually more dangerous for a feminine man to come off as anxious rather than gay and proud. It makes you more of a target if they think you won't fight back. Proud means, Imma throw hands too, bitch.

This is also from the civil rights playbook going back to Black America: never hold a protest or a fight without the cameras, without being seen. LGBT have found the more seen they are, in media, in the streets, the better off we are. When LGBT Americans were being "private" about our lifestyles, we died, a la 1980s. They won't care if you start dying off if they never saw you to begin with.

And hence why I think the author's real anger is from these 5 being seen dancing flamboyantly in Shibuya, in Harajuku, afforded the privilege of doing this safely because of their tourist status, cameras and very low violence rate in Tokyo, loud and obnoxiously. Honestly, they wouldn't have been invited or nominated if they didn't want that brash American-ness coming into their home, just for a taste, at least.

Here's my real anger, my own jealousy: Japan's queer community currently does not have marriage or adoption rights. US does, so we have progressed further. But we are also not that many years from being tied to cow fences with barbed wire, beaten with baseball bats and left for dead overnight. If things are so bad over there, maybe take a few pages from the civil right playbook we took so much time to perfect and produced by the Black Americans who fought first. But so far, I only hear loss of jobs and marriages, which we still have here too. Stop trying to divide us, we are one community, LGBT around the world and we are here to try to help. Take it or leave it, it's not like we're going to go organize your own Pride parade for you.

Rant over? I guess. Is this important enough to be put in the google results along with his. Hell no, anyone with half a mind can see he's reaching more than half the time. And any argument about: this wasn't covered! There are a shit ton of conversations that are not covered in the 45 min they have. They are not a civil rights show, it's a makeover show, doing their best in that direction anyway. Know what it is.

Next blog post, what research I would guess was happening behind the scenes for each of the 5? I'm pretty sure I saw Jonathan doing Japanese style makeup there...

#queer eye #Queer eye Japan #original #rant

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boldlyanxious · 3 years

Text

Remember When 20 Aftermath part 2

RW masterlist

Master masterlist

Tim managed to rest when he got home for a bit. He had set his phone to not have any disruptions unless it was from Marinette. He changed that to a sound he would be able to hear through anything. He didn't rest very long. He ended up immersing himself in a work project. Only by forcing his focus into the complicated project was her able to get his mind off her for a bit.

He could ignore is phone and email for eternity but he was pulled out of his work by banging on the door. By the level of noise they were generating they were either angry or had been trying for longer than he had noticed.

---

Marinette smiled at the sweet older man who only wanted tea and cookies. He stopped her to talk because he said she looked sad and tired. She assured him that she just had a rough night but she would be fine. Marinette filled his tea and sat with him when they closed the doors. They couldn't do most of the rest of the closing tasks until the cafe was empty. They chatted for a few minutes and she also had a cup of tea until he said he should leave.

"I should take some of these cookies to my friend Tim. He lost a new friendship yesterday but he isn't sure why."

Marinette froze at his words before plastering a fake smile on her face. She handed him his receipt and the cookies.

"Well I hope it helps him. You have a pleasant day."

She wasn't sure if it was her Tim he was referring to. It wasn't an uncommon name but the timing and him carefully watching her response made her fairly certain it was. He took her hand and spoke again without hiding his meaning.

"He needed to know nothing had happened to you but he didn't want to be pushy. This is a number to reach me if you need anything. I would be as discreet as you required."

Marinette squeezed his hand back and then took the card from him. She didn't expect she would ever use it because she had no way of knowing who else he knew. But she didn't want Tim to worry about her unnecessarily after having sent the man as a sort of emissary to make sure she was safe without ignoring completely her boundary.

---

When Alfred got back to the manor it was in an uproar. Bruce was standing helplessly by while Barb and Dick argued. There was an overnight bag next to Barb and she had her coat and purse as if she had been about to leave before the fight started. Jason was sitting on the back of the couch with his feet on the seats eating popcorn.

"You appear to be leaving, Barb. Do you require a ride somewhere?" Alfred asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"No," said Dick, "please don't leave. Or at least wait until I can get a bag and go with you."

"I don't want you with me if you are defending what he did," she said.

"I was just telling you he wasn't actually going to do it. You know he wouldn't actually do something like that."

"An empty threat is still a threat. She clearly didn't know he had no intention of following through because she wasn't supposed to. Intimidation doesn't work if the one you are intimidating doesn't buy it."

"I think you are missing the part where he is doing all of this to shut down a dangerous drug ring."

"Which she had helped with as much as she could. The only way she has ever been treated is like the enemy when she should have become an ally."

"I think--" Bruce tried to rejoin their heated argument.

"No one cares what you think," Barb said much more venomously than they had ever heard from her. "I need time away. Do not contact me. I will let you know when and if I'm ready to see either of you."

She went out the door with her bag. Alfred looked back and forth between trying to fill in the blanks before following her out. Jason disappeared before they could recover from what just happened and turn to find out whose side he was on. He called Steph on his way to Roy's. He did not want to be around for the fall out.

---

It was the time Marinette had originally planned to be out with Tim. She couldn't stand being in her apartment anymore. She had already completed all her online orders and had a decent supply of her regular items to sell. She usually stuck to accessories with headbands and bracelets being the most popular but also a steady amount of special orders, usually for wedding parties. She decided to head off to mail the last few orders.

She packed her sketchbook and some snacks along with a little blanket and thermos of hot cocoa. She hadn't done too much exploring around the area in the last few months but she was very interested in a park she had passed by that looked really nice. She set herself up and started sketching.

She had a few ideas for new accessories to try but mostly she was drawing clothes. She didn't sew much any more since she wasn't selling clothing designs. Mostly she just made her own clothes to be cute, comfortable and functional. But all the things she was drawing today were for Tim. Even one day later, she missed him. Possibly because of the finality of their interactions. She had given him no additional information and he hadn't tried to contact her again. After meeting his friend she was fairly certain that she would have make a move if she wanted to see him again. She did, more than anything, but she couldn't explain why she had ended things in the first place.

She gave up drawing and decided that she would make the sweater. If nothing else it would remind her of him. She stopped on her way home to buy the right yarn for it and started making it after dinner.

Taglist

#maribat #timinette #timari #boldlyanxious

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

Note

Having seen your thoughts on his deeply-unpleasant daddy, might I please ask if you have any thoughts on The Gladiator himself, Hugo Danner? (THE SUPERMAN WHO MIGHT HAVE BEEN, if you will).

What would you do if you were the strongest man in the world, the strongest thing in the world, mightier than the machine? He made himself guess answers for that rhetorical query. "I would—I would have won the war. But I did not. I would run the universe single-handed. Literally single-handed. I would scorn the universe and turn it to my own ends. I would be a criminal. I would rip open banks and gut them. I would kill and destroy. I would be a secret, invisible blight. I would set out to stamp crime off the earth; I would be a super-detective, following and summarily punishing every criminal until no one dared to commit a felony. What would I do? What will I do?"

The thing that strikes me about Gladiator is that it almost feels like the book is unfinished. The quality and pace of the book is all over the place, but you can boil it's general story down to "unlucky bastard is born Superman before it's time for Superman to exist, without the necessary support, mindset and structure to become Superman, in a world that neither supports nor accepts the existence Superman, and just as he's about to have the life-changing epiphany that could make him something, he gets struck by lightning and dies in the 2nd-to-last paragraph".

The whole book is like if in the first Spider-Man story Peter Parker just gave up after Uncle Ben died and we never saw him again. It's a superhero/supervillain origin story that gets cut short right as it's about to lead to the birth of the character proper. It's frustrating, yes, but to my scavenger goblin brain that likes to dig through pop culture's trash to find nice forgotten trinkets to polish and make into something new, it also invites a lot of promise, if we get into the question of what could have happened to Hugo Danner if he didn't die on the cusp of his origin story. It's an idea I plan to use for my own pulp writings.

It's not so much whether or not Hugo MIGHT have been Superman, so much as: COULD he be Superman? Maybe, maybe not. I'd argue not, because even with all his power, and even with his parents trying to raise him as best they could, even with Hugo genuinely trying his best to be good and heroic and turn his gifts to mankind, it wasn't gonna pan out. The right pieces weren't there, the family structure wasn't there, the necessary aspects of the origin story weren't there, and ultimately, Hugo Danner wasn't cut for it. He is a failure at everything he tries to be super at.

At college on the football field, he kills a man. As a soldier on the Great War, he slaughters thousands for years, but fails to end the war, despite having been able to do so from the moment he enlisted. He is fired from a steel mill for working too far beyond the abilities of his fellows, and then fired from a bank for freeing a man from a locked safe, because the bank president suspected that Danner planned to use his powers to rob the vault. He tries using his powers to enact social change and fails again and again. He can't even enjoy daily life, because he cannot compete fairly with ordinary people, and because of that he must constantly hold himself in check, never able to fully express himself. And when he's presented with the idea of creating a race of people like him to dominate the world and to “conquer and stamp out all these things to which men of intelligence object,” he finds it ultimately distasteful, because he knows better than to expect good things to come out of his life. And then he curses God and dies. The whole book is one long argument as to why Being Superman Sucks.

He's not the break from tradition that Superman represented, he's a sci-fi superman who met the same tragic ending his predecessors did. In that paragraph above, the very first thing he thinks about, after remarking over his failure to end the war, is thinking about becoming some galactic dictator murdering everyone who steps out of line, before he considers becoming a fascist super-detective. Kind of a damning perspective to present your hero, isn't it? If Gladiator was released today, exactly as is, people would be quick to assume it's an origin story for a Homelander/Plutonian/Omni-Man kind of character. Hugo Danner was a Superman deconstruction before that became a pop culture cliche.

My favorite sections of the book are those that describe Hugo in the war. By far the best-written and most evocative, almost bordering on horror story. And they may be the most damning sections of them all. He never forgives himself for not ending the war when he could, because he's spent all those years killing and toiling away when he was just about the one person who could conceivably leap all the way to Germany and force the war to end. I imagine a lot of pulp heroes who suffered in the war, or any war, and walked out of it with a resolve to protect and do good by others, would be pretty pissed when discovering that, all along, there was this living god among them who actually could have ended the war single-handedly, but was just too damn busy slaughtering his way through fields of people who couldn't possibly fight back, to think about it.

And for all that Hugo says that he hates war and murder and bloodshed, he sure seems like a total natural for it:

Hugo, out of his scarlet fury, had one glimpse of his antagonist's face and person. The glimpse was but a flash. He was a little man—a foot shorter than Hugo. His eyes looked out from under his helmet with a sort of pathetic earnestness. And he was worried, horribly worried, standing there with his rifle lifted and trying to remember the precise technique of what would follow even while he fought back the realization that it was hopeless.

In that split second Hugo felt a human, amazing urge to tell him that it was all right, and that he ought to hold his bayonet a little higher and come forward a bit faster. The image faded back to an enemy. Hugo acted mechanically from the rituals of drill. His own knife flashed. He saw the man's clothes part smoothly from his bowels, where the point had been inserted, up to the gray-green collar. The seam reddened, gushed blood, and a length of intestine slipped out of it.

Hugo stepped over him. He was trembling and nauseated. The bellow of battle returned to Hugo's ears. He pushed back the threatening rifle easily and caught the neck in one hand, crushing it to a wet, sticky handful. So he walked through the trench, a machine that killed quickly and remorselessly

Hugo was learning about war. He thought then that the task which he had set for himself was not altogether to his liking. There should be other and more important things for him to do. He did not like to slaughter individuals. The day passed like a cycle in hell. No change in the personnel except that made by an occasional death. No food. No water. They seemed to be exiled by their countrymen in a pool of fire and famine and destruction.

And then later, after they kill a friend of his

He leaped to the parapet, shaking his fists. "God damn you dirty sons of bitches. I'll make you pay for this. You got him, got him, you bastards! I'll shove your filthy hides down the devil's throat and through his guts". He did not feel the frantic tugging of his fellows. He ran into that bubbling, doom-ridden chaos, waving his arms and shouting maniacal profanities. A dozen times he was knocked down. He bled slowly where fragments had battered him. He crossed over and paused on the German parapet. He was like a being of steel. Barbed wire trailed behind him.

Bayonets rose. Hugo wrenched three knives from their wielders in one wild clutch. His hands went out, snatching and squeezing. That was all. No weapons, no defence. Just—hands. Whatever they caught they crushed flat, and heads fell into those dreadful fingers, sides, legs, arms, bellies. Bayonets slid from his tawny skin, taking his clothes. By and by, except for his shoes, he was naked. His fingers had made a hundred bunches of clotted pulp and then a thousand as he walked swiftly forward in that trench. Ahead of him was a file of green; behind, a clogged row of writhing men. Scarcely did the occupants of each new traverse see him before they were smitten. The wounds he inflicted were monstrous. On he walked, his voice now stilled, his breath sucking and whistling through his teeth, his hands flailing and pinching and spurting red with every contact. No more formidable engine of desolation had been seen by man, no more titanic fury, no swifter and surer death. For thirty minutes he raged through that line. The men thinned. He had crossed the attacking front.

A man dipped in scarlet, nude, dripping, panting. Slowly in that hiatus he wheeled. His lungs thundered to the French. "Come on, you black bastards. I've killed them all. Come on. We'll send them down to hell."

And years later, when he's thinking back to the misery that had been his life:

His deeds frightened men or made them jealous. When he conceived a fine thing, the masses, individually or collectively, transformed it into something cheap. His fort in the forest had been branded a hoax. His effort to send himself through college and to rescue Charlotte from an unpleasant life had ended in vulgar comedy. Even that had been her triumph, her hour, and an incongruous strain of greatness had filtered through her personality rather than his. Now his years in the war were reduced to no grandeur, to a mere outlet for his savage instinct to destroy. After such a life, he reflected, he could no longer visualize himself engaged in any search for a comprehension of real values.

If he could but have ended the war single-handed, it might have been different. But he was not great enough for that. He had been a thousand men, perhaps ten thousand, but he could not be millions. He could not wrap his arms around a continent and squeeze it into submission. There were too many people, and they were too stupid to do more than fear him and hate him. Sitting there, he realized that his naïve faith in himself and the universe had foundered. The war was only another war that future generations would find romantic to contemplate and dull to study. He was only a species of genius who had missed his mark by a cosmic margin.

Even when he's thinking about the places where he went wrong, that he blames himself for, even when's engaged in introspection, his thoughts still gravitate towards violence and hatred, of squeezing continents into submission and of how much the masses are stupid to not appreciate him (because really, all Hugo wants is to be loved and appreciated for what he is), and how unlucky he was to miss his mark.

There's just no place for Hugo Danner. Maybe it was actually rather merciful that he got to have his misery ended briefly by lightning strikes, before he could either turn into something worse, or have his life ruined more throughly.

#replies tag #pulp heroes #gladiator #hugo danner #superman

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raffinit · 4 years

Note

Sylvaina having a good time at the darkmoon faire? :D

I swear I’m still doing prompts I’m just awful and bad

It began as unexpectedly as the circumstances that landed them in their marriage. To wed the Lord Admiral had been a decision driven purely by politics; they needed a coalition of combined forces that had the heft and firepower to stand their ground if they wanted to even dream of breaking the ranks of the Old Gods.

She expected to barely tolerate Jaina and to be despised in return. She expected the marriage and everything it held together to shatter to pieces before the end of the week.

She had the foresight to anticipate every possible outcome of their doomed matrimony…

…all, except this.

Despite their tenuous beginnings and general dislike of one another, they functioned in a way that was far too complementary. They were the same pieces on opposite sides of the playing board — though of what game, she wasn’t entirely sure. War, certainly. They always played at war.

War was certainly a more familiar battlefield to her than marriage.

It had been a lifetime since she had last shared her bed. Since she had last taken a wife. It was not a memory she recalled often. She had mourned enough.

Jaina was not an unpleasant wife. Quick-tempered at times, severely lacking in her ability to share a bed, but not unpleasant overall. She was polite, thoughtful to a fault, and somehow inescapable. For all of their barbed arguments and cold glares, there was a pull between them.

A gravitational force that had Sylvanas drifting into Jaina’s orbit.

Sylvanas knew it was Jaina well before the study door opened. She knew when the Lord Admiral was several steps down the hall; knew from the particular cadence of footsteps against the stones and the approaching plume of arcane.

She looked up from her reports expectantly, setting aside her quill just as the Jaina paused outside her door. Raising her voice just enough to carry, she said, “Come in, Jaina. Don’t bother knocking.”

There was a moment before the door opened, and Jaina slipped into the room quietly, looking considerably baffled. A stir of affection formed in the pit of her stomach at the sight of her wife, and she allowed herself a smile.

Jaina leaned against the door briefly, eyeing her thoughtfully. “How do you always know?”

“I am a master of stealth,” she drawled, smirking at her wife. “That, and I have ears. Long ones.” She made a show of swiveling them. “Must be your boots.”

Jaina took a moment to peer down at her boots before looking back up at Sylvanas. “Have I interrupted you?”

“Not at all. I could do with a reprieve from this riveting expense report from Gallywix.” She waved it in the air pointedly before setting it aside in disgust. “He’s claiming expenses for toothpicks, of all things.”

“Toothpicks? As an expense??”

“He claims Pandarian game has tougher meat to digest. It was too distracting to the workers; they couldn’t work productively without them.”

“Of course.” Jaina rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose. “Always one to push his luck. I hope you’re not actually going to approve that.”

“I would sooner kiss Greymane on the mouth.”

That earned her a smile, which stirred something bewilderingly warm and soft in her belly. She banished it with a pointed clearing of her throat, arching a brow expectantly.

Jaina approached the desk slowly, twisting her hands in front of herself; fiddling with the edges of her wedding ring and the loose sleeves of her tunic. It was a nervous tic, something she did when deeply caught in her own thoughts.

Sylvanas wasn’t entirely sure when it became something worth noticing. There was a pause in Jaina’s step; a hesitation that came in the form of a bitten lip and a frown. Gently, she said, “Go on, wife. You have my ears.”

“I was just wondering if you were busy this weekend,” Jaina said.

She blinked, leaning back into her seat curiously. “The weekend?”

“We don’t have meetings planned, but I just wanted to be sure.”Jaina gave her a chiding, if fond look that came frequently in their days of marriage. “You’re always locked away in your study. If it weren’t for me, you’d be fused to that chair.”

Sheepishly, she could admit that her wife was right. It was rare for her to take days for herself. “I forget myself at times,” she conceded, pushing upright from her seat. “But you must admit, that even you have your back bent over your desk more than you should.” She wagged a finger mildly. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t eat. You wouldn’t sleep.”

She smiled when Jaina’s cheeks coloured, then smiled even wider at the indignant huff that followed.

“Well,” Jaina said. “Seeing that we’ve both been working so hard — I thought we might take some time and enjoy ourselves.”

Sylvanas’ brows lifted. “And how would you propose that?”

Once more, Jaina bit her lip, but now it seemed to be an attempt at hiding a smile. “The Darkmoon Faire.”

Sylvanas stared. “The Faire?”

Jaina nodded. Sylvanas could commend her for her composure, despite the bright gleam of excitement that lived behind her blue eyes. “Yes. It’s coming to town this weekend. I thought —” the colour returned to her cheeks once more. “I thought you and I could go for a bit. To unwind.”

Sylvanas frowned slightly, brows pulling together on her forehead as she stared into Jaina’s eager face. “I haven’t been to the Faire in some time,” she admitted.

“It’s one of the few times we get to see all of the races together and enjoy themselves without any expectations,” Jaina said, rocking back on her heels and clasping her hands in front of herself.

It was such an unexpected, childlike demeanour; Sylvanas could already feel her resolve cracking.

“It’s just games and food,” Jaina continued, peering at her hopefully. “You’re always telling me to relax.”

Dubious still, Sylvanas perched herself at the edge of it as Jaina paced the length of the room idly. “My presence usually inspires a combination of emotions from both factions.” She tilted her head almost apologetically. “We wouldn’t be able to walk without there being people falling at our feet or spitting at us.”

“I could hide us,” Jaina offered, far quicker than Sylvanas expected. “I can disguise us when we go. They won’t even recognise us.”

She sighed and folded her arms. To say that it wasn’t a great temptation would be a lie; some time away in anonymity would be a pleasant escape from the bureaucracy of their lives…

There was a knowing on Jaina’s face as she stepped closer. She clasped her hands in front of her again in a begging gesture, widening her blue eyes even further. Sweetly — very painfully sweetly, she said, “Please? For me?”

Sylvanas stared at her incredulously, then scowled. “I can’t believe you’re using your doe eyes on me.”

Jaina tilted her head and pouted even harder, leaning as far as she dared into Sylvanas’ space.

Sylvanas pressed herself back against the desk and made a flustered sound in her throat. “Jaina.”

Jaina’s plush lower lip wobbled.

Sylvanas’ cool facade crumbled with it. Shoulders sagging, sighing, she nodded. “Very well, wife. We can go.”

A wide smile spread across Jaina’s lips and her eyes sparkled. “You’re a gem,” she gasped, throwing her arms around Sylvanas and squeezing tight.

A strange flutter of sensation bloomed within her chest like the proud arch of a morning glory reaching out into the warmth of dawn. Banding an arm around Jaina’s waist tentatively, Sylvanas ducked her head into her wife’s hair and tried to convince herself it was simply the most practical thing to do.

“I’ll never be able to say no to you, will I?” she sighed. “I’ve spoilt you too much already.”

“I hope not,” Jaina said, and Sylvanas’ eyes widened when she felt a pair of warm lips press against the underside of her ear. “Because I plan on asking for every ridiculous food on a stick when we get there.”

———

The Faire grounds were bustling with people from all factions. Jaunty merriments in the form of music and laughter filled the air; crowds of people carrying brightly-coloured prizes and oversized confectioneries moved in waves around the stalls. The smell of ale and deep-fried food overlaid was overlaid with the cool evening breeze, an underlying sweetness lingering.

Sylvanas paused a short distance from the entrance and took a slow, considering breath. “Are you certain this will work?” She peered at Jaina dubiously.

Jaina nodded. “Of course it will. No one will even recognise us.”There was a bright gleam of excitement in her eyes; whether from the Faire or from the thought of anonymity, Sylvanas wasn’t sure. It was likely both. “Alright. Stand back. Relax. I’ll do me first, just so you can see how it works.”

Nodding, Sylvanas took a step back, watching as the mage drew in a steadying breath. The air around them began to prickle with arcane; dense and cloying as Jaina’s hands and eyes began to glow a vibrant blue. A plume of twilight-scented smoke engulfed her for an instant, then melted away to nothing.

Sylvanas blinked and stared.

The figure before her was still Jaina — there was no denying the shade of those blue eyes —, but much had changed otherwise. There was a taper to the face now; longer and elegant. A slight feline slant of eyes that was common for blood elves.

Not to mention the ears.

Sylvanas opened her mouth then shut it abruptly.

Jaina peered at her shyly, reaching to touch hair that was now a warm auburn shade. “Is it too much?”

“You’re — unrecognisable,” Sylvanas croaked. “I — beautiful still, but —”

“Unrecognisable?” Jaina offered, chuckling to herself. “That was the point.”

Boldly, Sylvanas stepped closer, pushing back Jaina’s hood until she could see her wife’s face in the moonlight. Frowning slightly, she dared to reach up and brush her thumb against a bare, unfreckled cheek. “I think I prefer you as you were before.”

A faint brand of colour rose into Jaina’s cheeks as she pulled away softly. “It’s only temporary anyway. I’ll be myself again by the end of the night. Let’s do you now.” She reached out her glowing hands again.

Sylvanas stiffened and braced herself. The flow of Jaina’s magic was something she had long grown accustomed to; whether by proximity or whenever some of her own wounds on the battlefield needed healing. Still, it was always an experience in itself, to feel such raw power encompassing her form.

The faint scent of sea breeze and twilight tickled her nose and she wrinkled it slightly.

Jaina chuckled quietly. “There we are.” She stepped back and waved her hand again. A mirror materalised before them, hovering on nothing.

Sylvanas peered into her own reflection. Gone was her unnatural skin, her fair hair. In their place was a soft living flesh and ebony hair. She blinked and found a pair of equally dark eyes staring back at her.

Hesitantly, she reached up a hand to her own face. “Remarkable,” she mumbled, leaning in closer into the mirror.

“Is it alright?” Jaina asked, clasping her hands in front of her. “I could hide your ears if you prefer. I just thought it’d be less conspicuous for two elves to be wandering the Faire than a blood elf and a human.”

“I trust your judgement.” She turned to Jaina then and reached out a hand. “Shall we head to the Faire then, wife?”

Jaina smiled and slipped her hand into Sylvanas’. “Let’s.”

#ask #anon #sylvaina #the darkmoon faire #they don't actually get to the faire here i'm sorry #i'll post it in full on ao3...one day #Anonymous

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brax-was-here · 3 years

Text

Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life chapter 6

Written by: Braxxus

Chapter 6: It’s Not Me You Should Be Afraid Of

Sometimes we must accept the hand dealt to us

“Mother…” Ceara heard a soft voice speak nearby. Slowly opening her eyes, she squinted as the leaves of the jungle canopy slowly came into focus. The air was humid, filled with the sounds of the jungle’s inhabitants filtering through the air, but there was a new sound that grabbed her attention. A slight hum in the air, mixed with a light resonating chime.

“Wonderful.” She sighed heavily. “What now?” She casually extended her arms up in front of her face. “Naked…again…” She groaned slightly as she slowly pulled herself from the ground.

“Mother…” she heard again. She whipped around quickly towards the direction of the meek voice, her attention becoming extremely focused. She realized she was in the place from her vision, but now the thorned vines making up the strange structure had a crystalline sheen to them, glistening in the sunlight, the apparent source of the resonance in the air. The small glowing object once again sat in an alcove in the middle of the vines.

“I remember last time.” She thought to herself. “What are you?” she asked out loud.

“Come closer…” a playful voice whispered through the air. Ceara paused a moment before cautiously taking a step forward.

“If I do…” she spoke. “That weapon…”

Once again, the ghostly image of the Avatar of the Pale Tree slowly appeared, again with the face of a child. Ceara stopped.

“What is the matter?” Ceara’s heart jumped, and her eyes widened as she heard a different voice on the wind, a familiar one that caused a chill to run up her spine. “Why hesitate?” it asked coyly.

“The last time…” Ceara spoke. The avatar opened its eyes slowly, smiling lightly at Ceara.

“It’s waiting for you…” the voice growled behind. Ceara slowly turned to look behind her. She saw nothing but the light breeze blowing through the jungle’s dense foliage. A hushed laughter echoed through the air.

“I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.” Ceara said loudly as she she focused on her breathing, calming herself down.

“It’s not me you should be afraid of.” It replied. Ceara turned and looked at the ghostly image. It slowly brought it hands up and clasped them together under its chin, still smiling warmly at her, its eyes bright. Ceara cautiously stepped towards it. As she neared, the image slowly reached out to her, slowly opening its tiny hand. Ceara paused in hesitation, looking at the face of the child. Slowly she reached out for its hand when without warning, a wave of black energy knocked her away. She quickly regained her composure to see the dark sword once again stuck in the ground where the child had been, a slight glow of light fading where the blade had embedded itself. She looked at the weapon, watching its vines writhe and twist around its form.

“It’s not Caladbolg…” she spoke. Ceara pondered on the dark weapon. “An item of great power…a relic of Mordremoth…the pale tree…a black blade.” She stared at the ground as she tried to put the pieces together. “A relic of Mordremoth…a young pale tree...” Her heart raced as she made a realization. “This…this is the relic …it’s…it’s a seed. And Nafiona…Oh no.” The wind picked up and a roar filled the air.

“What’s happening!?” she cried as a billowing black cloud rushed forth from the blade, quickly emcompassing the area. Ceara felt her breath drawn from her as the ice-cold fog quickly enveloped her body.

“Waahaha!!” her gasped muffled as she woke with a start. She quickly looked around at the upside-down world before her. The jungle was buzzing with activity as the morning sunlight streamed through the leaves of the canopy. She was gagged, her arms were bound behind her, her legs tied together, and she was hanging from a tree limb by her feet by thick interwoven vines without a stitch of clothing. Looking at the ground below her was a pile of animal carcasses flayed open just a few feet away. Struggling against her bindings she quickly remembering the discussion with Nafiona.

“That idea didn’t go as planned.” She thought to herself. “I guess I’ll hang around and wait to hopefully be found. I have a lot of thinking to do anyway.”

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“Do you think she is ok?” Liathlas asked as she packed some dried fruits into a small satchel.

“If the rumors I have heard about her are anywhere near true, I’m sure she has those courtiers wrapped around her fingers doing her bidding.” Malyck replied, as he checked the edge on his dagger.

"I hope so.” Liathlas sighed as she chewed on a piece of fruit while securing her satchel.

“Are you ready?” he asked, sheathing his blade.

“I am.” Liathlas turned to Mabli. “Thank you for your hospitality and thank you for your help.”

“The jungle provides. Safe journeys to you.” The itzel replied.

The morning sun was rising as the duo exited the hut and hurried down a nearby rope walkway to the jungle floor. Malyck pulled out the small tracking device and activated it. It projected a tiny holographic screen, showing a blip in the far distance.

“I hope I am interpreting this thing correctly.” Looking a little confused at the device. “If this is Scarlet’s location, it shows her deep in the jungle in that direction.” He looked at Liathlas who nodded back at him. They rushed off quickly.

“So, you’ve been wandering the jungle all this time?” Liathlas asked as they made their way through the brush.

“I have. Since the fall of the jungle dragon, I’ve been searching for others from my tree.”

“That’s why you never returned to the us then?”

“Correct. As long as the chance exists that others from my tree still survive, I cannot return to your Grove. I must find them and make sure they are safe. Then I will bring them to your Pale Tree.”

“Understandable.” She replied. “What are we going to do when we find Ceara?”

“Can she truly be trusted?”

“Ceara?”

“Yes, Scarlet Briar.”

“Ceara…”

“Whatever her name is now. Can we actually trust her?”

“Um…well. I know what she has done while under Mordremoth’s control. And I’ve heard some stories about her since and judging what I have seen of her these past few days, there is nothing that would make me think she would betray us now.”

“She left with the coutiers and did seem to be somewhat happy about it. And this tracker is leading us right to her…and them.”

“Afraid they’ll see you as their harbinger again?”

Malyck abruptly stopped, vexed at the term. He turned his ire towards Liathlas, glaring at her. “Don’t ever call me that.” he snapped at her, pointing at her sternly. “I am not their ‘harbinger of doom’ or whatever title they had for me. If

Liathlas was slightly taken aback by his outburst. “Well, sadly, you are correct.” She relented. “No argument there.”

Malyck glared at her a few moments before turning to continue through the jungle.

“If you don’t trust her, why are you going after her?” Liathlas asked, a slight inquisitive tone in her voice.

Malyck paused again, looking off into the jungle, sighing lightly. “In the hopes that you are telling the truth about her. Also, the group of courtiers number twenty or more. You will need as much help as you can get to stop them.” Again, they continued through the jungle.

Hours passed. “We’re getting close.” Malyck whispered as they made their way through the terrain. “Here.” They found the tree where Ceara had attached the tracker. They could see the remains of a camp nearby.

“They were definitely here.” Liathlas said as they entered the camp area.

“Hmm…if they are heading for the corpse grove, they would most likely be heading towards the west.” Malyck pointed and paused. “I think I found her.”

“Oh! Where…” Liathlas paused at the sight of Ceara hanging from the tree in the distance. Liathlas’ heart skipped a beat when they also noticed a giant creature nearby that was making its way to her. “No! We have to get to her!” The duo rushed through the vegetation.

Ceara was staring at the approaching beast trying to formulate a plan to somehow get out of her predicament. The creature was easily ten times her size with a very long barbed tail. It stopped, raising its nose in the air before letting out a low growl. It continued to lumber slowly towards her.

“Don’t move…don’t breathe…” she thought to herself. “I can’t end like this.” Her thoughts were interrupted by a pistol shot that struck the creature in the side of the head. It turned, roaring in pain. Various illusions appeared around it, attacking it fiercely.

“Liathlas!” Ceara thought as she squirmed in her bindings. More pistol rounds rang out, hitting the beast in various places along its body. The creature fought back against the illusions before letting out a roar and running off into the jungle.

Liathlas ran up to Ceara, Malyck not far behind. He pulled out a knife and started cutting through the vines that bound her. Liathlas removed her gag.

“Thank the pale tree you’re ok.” Liathlas gasped.

“I am, thank you, and don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” Ceara sneered. Malyck cut her hands free which Liathlas grabbed. Malyck wrapped an arm around her legs as they were cut free. They helped her stand. Ceara wobbled a moment as she regained her balance.

“The tracker worked.” Ceara noted. “That’s a relief.”

“Indeed. How long ago did the Court leave?” Malyck asked.

“I’m not sure. They didn’t take too lightly to me being in their presence as you can tell.”

“Hmm…The corpse grove is at least a day’s journey from here. We’ll need to hurry to catch up to them.” Malyck stated.

“Corpse grove?�� Ceara’s asked.

“A bad place.” Liathlas interjected.

“It is. It is a place where the mordrem create their troops from the remains of others” Malyck added.

“Like a factory?” Ceara’s brow furrowed. She remembered a vision she had months prior while trapped in the Mists with Ventari.

“Somewhat.” Malyck nodded.

“Ceara?” Liathlas asked, noticing Ceara’s far off stare.

“I’m ok.” She replied, snapping back to the present. “I just remembered something from a long time ago.” She turned to Malyck. “So, this corpse grove. It’s a tree like the Pale Tree?”

“In theory, it is but not as grand. It serves one purpose and one purpose only. We have to get moving.” Malyck explained.

“And that purpose is to create the mordrem.” Ceara pondered.

“Correct.” answered Malyck.

Ceara thoughts drifted to the vision of the young pale tree she saw. “A seed.” She thought to herself.

“Ceara? Um…your clothing?” Liathlas interrupted her thoughts.

Ceara looked down at her naked body. “Hmm…I’m sure one of the courtiers has my armor and I’m going to make their life very miserable when I take it back.” Ceara fumed at the loss of her prized possession.

“Yes, but…right now…” Liathlas started. “We could fashion something for you.”

Ceara looked at her dumbfounded. “From what?” she asked, holding her hands out as she looked around her surroundings. “There’s nothing here.”

“Of course, there is! You just wait here!” Liathlas exclaimed gleefully as she started running around the immediate area. It wasn’t long before she returned with lengths of vine and some giant leaves.

“Oh no…” Ceara’s shoulders drooped as she whimpered to herself.

Malyck casually glanced at her momentarily before chuckling to himself. It wasn’t long before Liathlas had created some makeshift clothing for Ceara to wear out of the leaves and vines.

“This just isn’t going to work.” Ceara complained, looking down at her makeshift outfit.

“It’s the best we could do given our current circumstances.” Liathlas replied to her. “It’s better than being completely naked.”

“What does that matter? We fell out of our pods into the world naked in front of everyone. No one cared then. Why should we care now?”

“Because there are other people in the world other than sylvari.” Liathlas barked at her.

“Feh.” Ceara spat, rolling her eyes at her.

“We need to hurry if you two are done bickering.” Malyck interrupted. “I’m sure the courtiers have reached the corpse grove by now and found what they are looking for.”

“What they are looking for…” Ceara muttered, sighing lightly as they started their trek through the jungle.

“Hmm?” Liathlas looked at Ceara curiously.

Ceara returned her gaze. “I think I know what they are looking for.”

Malyck stopped and turned abruptly. “Which is?”

“A seed. A seed like that of the which the Pale Tree sprouted.”

“How do you know?” Liathlas asked, her eyes widened at the thought.

“I…I’ve been having a vision. A vision showing me a small, rounded object set in a vine covered alcove. A young version of the pale mother appears above it.”

Liathlas and Malyck stared at her in silence.

“There’s more. Anytime I get close to it, a dark sword that resembles Caladbolg appears and cuts it down, causing it to disappear. The sword remains in place of the seed.” Ceara looked at Liathlas, whose mouth was agape.

“Another seed?” Liathlas gasped.

“We need to find it before the court does.” Malyck looked at the two. “Let us hurry.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier!?” Liathlas asked Ceara as they rushed through the jungle.

“Because I didn’t know what was happening. I just recently put it all together and that’s the best thing I could come up with.”

“If another seed exists that is amazing!” Liathlas said gleefully.

“And terrifying.” Malyck responded. “What kind of power does it hold that the Nightmare Court is searching after it?”

“I don’t know, but it must be immense.” Ceara replied to him.

“What do we do with it when we find it?” Liathlas asked.

“We secure it so that no one can take it.” Malyck answered.

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“And there it is.” Nafiona spoke as her group of courtiers crested the ridge. They had travelled most of the day to reach this area of the Maguuma jungle. She smiled as she looked over the valley below. Within it stood a tall, twisted form of a tree, its branches covered in dark pods. They could see various creatures moving within the small grove within its base.

“Behold, my courtiers. The corpse grove lies before us!” Nafiona gestured grandly.

“It is within your grasp, m’lady!” one of the courtiers spoke excitedly.

“Indeed, it is.” Nafiona smiled proudly, placing her hands on her hips. “Now, let us prepare to remove the vermin from within. Ready the cannisters!” she ordered as she turned to her courtiers.

“Yes, m’lady!” her entourage shouted in unison as they saluted her. Quickly the courtiers assembled two small cannons facing towards the grove below, each with a stockpile of ammunition next to them. Nafiona picked up one of the cannisters, smiling coyly.

“Madam Scarlet…I have to admit that your toxic spores are a wonderful creation. With this newly engineered version, even more potent than before, I’ll have the power I need to take control of the Nightmare Court, and then the Grove, and from there, all of Tyria.” She turned to one of her courtiers. “Are we ready?”

“Yes, m’lady.” The courtier Ordhran responded.

“Good.” She handed the cannister to him, in turn he quickly dropped it into the weapon. It automatically fired the metal cannister into the area of the twisted tree below. They watched it explode, a cloud of gas erupting into the air.

“Fire. Cover that whole area in spores!” Nafiona ordered her troops proudly. “Leave nothing standing!” Round after round the cannons fired into the grove below, until the entire area around the tree was covered in a fog of toxic gas. Nafiona laughed to herself as the last round was fired. The barely audible sounds of the mordrem inhabitants could be heard as they seemingly fought to stay alive in the toxic cloud. It wasn’t long before sounds of the dying gave away to silence.

Nafiona turned to her courtiers. “Now, the time has come to claim our prize.” Her entourage saluted her. “Caelan, you stay here with a small group and guard the cannisters.”

“Of course, m’lady.” He saluted her as she turned away. Nafiona and her group travelled down a narrow pathway along the ridge to a group of gigantic, thorned vines that formed a crude bridge over the chasm below. It led them to the corpse grove, where Nafiona hoped to find what she was looking for. The toxic gas had mostly cleared when they reached the area, swept away by the breeze. The bodies of the mordrem laid strewn across the ground, some still writhed as the courtiers approached.

“Kill them. Kill any that are still alive.” Nafiona ordered. Her followers searched through the area, slaying any mordrem that might still cling to life.

“It seems all of been taken care of, m’lady.” One of her followers announced.

“Good. Now, tear this place apart. Do not stop until we have found the prize I seek.” She paused a moment. “Ordhran?”

“Yes, m’lady?” He watched as she walked over to a large vine protruding from the ground, running her finger along one of the sharp thorns. “How is the sword coming along?”

“Perfectly.” He stated. “It will be ready soon.”

“Hmm… if the prize is here. We will need to hurry.”

“Yes, m’lady. I will double the efforts.”

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“I can’t believe you are wearing her armor.” Caelan said disbelievingly to Orla, as she fiddled with one of Ceara’s gauntlets.

“It almost fits! It is a little loose in the hips, but other than that it’s almost perfect!” she replied excitedly. “Besides, it’s not like she’s going to need it anymore.” Orla smiled at him.

Caelan shook his head as he looked over Ceara’s rifle. “I can’t seem to figure this thing out. All these little screens and switches, but I can’t get anything to work.” Orla paid his prattling no mind and she continued to fiddle with the buttons on one of the gauntlets.

“Or this thing.” He continued as he picked up a silver cylinder shaped object. He flipped a switch on back and forth, tapping it against his hand.

“Oh!” Orla gasped as she was enveloped in a stealth field. Caelan looked up and saw Orla gone.

“Orla!? Where are you!?”

“I’m right here!” she giggled, seemingly from nowhere. She crept around him, only he noticed her footsteps in the loose dirt.

“Stop playing. We don’t have time.”

She reappeared next to him, a disappointed look on her face. “You’re no fun, Caelan.” She returned to her place and sat on a downed tree. “Hmm…I wonder what this does.” She spoke softly pressing one of the buttons. A series of holographic screens and keypads projected from the gauntlet.

“Oh my! Caelan! Look!” he looked up from working on the rifle.

“Oh wow!” he exclaimed. “What is that!?” He leaned the rifle against the stack of cannisters and approached her.

“I’m not sure!” Orla slowly reached up and tried to touch the holograms. Some of the keys lit up as her hand passed through them. “Whoa!” She tried again, cautiously placing her fingers in the keys. They lit up as she touched them.

“Hahahaha! This is…this is so neat!” she laughed.

Caelan reached up and touched a screen, his hand passing through.

“I think they only work with the gloves.” Orla said as she playfully tapped at the various buttons. “Hmm..nothing seems to work here either.” She continued, slightly disappointed.

“I guess she has some kind of security or something.” Caelan replied to her, looking out over the corpse grove.

Orla pressed another small button in the hidden panel. A pair of holographic projections of Scarlet Briar appeared and leapt at the preoccupied Caelan.

“Caelan!” she screamed just as one ignited a holographic sword and swiped at him, hitting his arm.

“Orla! What are you doing!?” he screamed. Orla pressed the button again causing the holograms to disappear. She ran up to the injured sylvari.

“Are you ok!? I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I didn’t know that would happen!”

Caelan looked at the wound, golden sap ran down the sleeve of his armor.

Another courtier came running up “What was that!?”

“I don’t know! They just appeared and attacked! One of her weapon systems, I think.” She said as she helped Caelan remove the armor from his arm. “Do we have anything to bandage this wound?” she asked.

“Just a moment.” The courtier said as he rushed to a nearby pack. He returned with some medical supplies. Orla applied an oil to the wound before wrapping it in a bandage.

“There. Now stay off your feet and don’t do anything strenuous for at least two weeks.” She joked.

“Funny.” Caelan replied, strapping on the armored sleeve. “Orla, do you think all this will work? What Nafiona is planning?”

“Are you having doubts?” she asked him, looking at him in the eyes.

“It’s not that I’m having doubts. I would just hate to think that after all we have done here, that what she is looking for doesn’t exist here…or at all.”

“It does exist. This is the realm of the jungle dragon. There is one here. I’m sure of it.”

Caelan nodded his head and smiled at her. “It is. We’ll find it.”

“We will.” She smiled back at him.

Caelan reached for Ceara’s pistol that lay on a small pack next to him. “At least this works. Though it doesn’t seem to have much ammunition. Maybe…two shots by the looks of it.” He looked at Orla. “What about all those little gadgets?”

“Well…” Orla started as she moved to a small stack of gas cannisters. She reached up and grabbed a few of the things she had removed from the satchels of Ceara’s armor. “This is a food bar of some sort.” She said removing the wrapping, taking a bite from it. “And I don’t know what this is.” She held up a small device.

“And what about that little thing?” Caelan pointed at another device.

“Not sure. There is a switch and a little screen.” She activated the switch causing the screen to light up. “it shows a map of some sort with a bunch of little while dots.” She showed him the screen.

“What about that little button?” he asked.

She turned the screen back to her. “I don’t know.” She pressed it and disappeared in a flash of light. Caedan waited a few moments for Orla to reappear.

“Orla? Orla are you still here?” he asked. “Orla!?” He turned to one of the nearby courtiers, who shrugged dumbfoundedly back at him.

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Time passed as the sun moved to the west. The trio dashed as quickly through the jungle as they could. Malyck put his hand up, stopping them abruptly. “Get down.” He whispered, quickly dropping into the plants of the jungle. Ceara and Liathlas followed suit.

“What is it?” Ceara asked.

“Courtiers.” He said peering out. Three members of the Nightmare Court could be seen in the distance, standing near some equipment. “Looks like guards. We must be getting close.”

“I see them.” Ceara scanned the jungle. “What are they guarding?”

“I’m not sure. I believe the corpse grove is just beyond the ridge.” Malyck unholstered one of his pistols.

Ceara looked at him inquisitively. “Do your weapons actually have that kind of range?” she questioned.

Malyck glanced at her for a moment then back to the courtiers. “Sadly, no. We’ll have to move closer.”

“Others might be nearby. They’ll hear your shot.” Liathlas cautioned. “If we get close, I could stealth us to take them out fast.”

Malyck nodded. “That seems like the best way to take care of them.” Returning his pistol to its holster.

“Hopefully, none of our other friends are waiting for us in that brush.” Liathlas muttered as they started moving through the jungle again. Slowly they crept through the thick foliage, cautiously making their path. They paused again as they neared the courtiers.

“That’s my rifle…and my pistol…and my saber…and my other things.” Ceara hissed through her teeth, eyeing the courtier who was fidgeting with the futuristic looking weapon. Liathlas looked at her, placing her finger over her lips giving Ceara a signal to keep quiet.

“Well, it is!” Ceara whispered harshly to her. Liathlas gave Ceara a perturbed look. Ceara glared back at her a moment.

“Those weapons they have set up. They must have used them to launch those cannisters into the grove below.” Malyck stated. “Looks like three guards.”

“Charr mortars, by the looks of them.” Ceara added.

“And the one with your rifle looks somewhat worried.” Liathlas also added, noticing the courtier seemed to be fidgeting nervously.

“It doesn’t matter. He dies either way.” Ceara glared at him. “How do you want to do this?” she whispered to Malyck.

He thought for a moment. “I’ll walk towards them out of the jungle like I’ve been hurt, and try to pull them close, dropping their guard. Both of you stealth and try to position yourselves to take them down quickly when I give the signal.

“What will the signal be?” Liathlas asked.

“You will know. Now.” Malyck slowly stood, clutching his right shoulder. Hunching over, he hobbled slowly through the brush, his breathing labored. The duo watched him as he slowly entered the clearing. Liathlas waved her hand, casting her stealth field causing them to disappear.

“H-Help…” Malyck stammered as he clumsily shuffled across into the clearing. “Help me…”

The courtiers turned towards him. “Halt!” one of them ordered. “Come no further!”

“Help…” Malyck gasped as he dropped to the ground. One of the courtiers motioned to Caelan to stay put by the cannisters. They approached him; weapons drawn.

“Not one of us.” One of them sneered, shoving Malyck’s head with his foot.

“Put him out of his misery.” The coutier brought his sword up. Malyck rolled out of the way as the point of the blade came down, piercing into the dirt.

“Just as I thought!” the courtier snarled. Clones of Liathlas appeared near them and attacked. Malyck pulled his pistol and shot the courtier that attempted to stab him..

Caelan took aim at one of the clones when Ceara appeared in front of him.

“Ma…madam…” he stammered. She snatched the rifle from his hands, then proceeded to strike him in the jaw with the stock of the weapon, knocking him out. Powerup in the rifle, she turned to see her comrades finishing the other guard. She looked down at Caelan, who lay unconscious, his mouth open.

“Still catching flies with that maw of yours.” Ceara shook her head. She undid her holster from his waist, strapping it around herself. She saw some of her other gadgets sitting on top of the stack of cannisters, which bore some familiar writing. She grabbed one, staring at it.

“What is it?” Liathlas asked as she approached.

“Spores…toxic gas…from the Nightmare tower. The same used as in Lion’s Arch.”

“Are you…are you sure?” Liathlas asked very concerned. They looked out over the grove below as Ceara looked over the mortars.

“They bombarded that area to clear out the mordrem.”

“Then we can use this supply against them while they are searching for the seed.” Malyck suggested.

“I’m not sure that would work. I would imagine Nafiona and company would have some kind of antidote handy in the event of it being used against them.” She looked the cannister over, turning it upside down. “It explodes above the air, spreading the gas over an ar-“ A light lit up and the cannister beep.

“Thorns!” Ceara spat as she threw it as hard as she could over the ridge. It exploded in the air.

“Double thorns.” She gasped.

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“What is going on up on the ridge?” Nafiona turned to see the remnants of the exploded spore cloud dissipating in the air near the cliff wall. “Ordhran, check to see what those fools are doing up there.” She ordered.

“Yes, m’lady.” He bowed to her and marched towards the vine bridge.

“A lone soldier?” Liathlas asked as they watched Ordhran crossing the vine bridge.

“I could take him down from here.” Ceara brought the rifle up.

“No, that would only draw more of them. Wait until he reaches us.” Malyck backed away from the ridge. The others followed.

It wasn’t long before Ordhran reached the crest of the ridge. He stopped momentarily before reaching the end of the pathway, focusing his hearing.

“Silence. Doesn’t bode well.” He thought to himself. He brandished his sword and shield, moving cautiously up the path. Cresting the ridge, he projected a force shield just in time as he was bombarded by mesmer attacks. He turned and ran as fast as he could back towards the corpse grove.

“Briars!” Liathlas shouted.

“Stop him!” Malyck yelled. The trio rushed the ridge. Ceara fired her weapon at him, as did Malyck. The rounds bouncing off his force shield as Ordhran quickly rushed across the vine bridge. Ceara fired another round, hitting the ground at his feet.

“Thorns! Thorns! Thorns!” she cursed.

“Well, now they definitely know we’re here.” Liathlas muttered.

Ordhran ran into the grove to Nafiona. “M’lady! Scarlet Briar lives. And she has help.”

“Oh, really? That’s not surprising. How many?”

“I’m not sure. There were many. I was attacked immediately.”

“Well, then I guess we prepare for an assault. Get everyone at the ready.”

“Yes m’lady!” He bowed to her and turned. “Everyone to arms! Now!” he shouted. The command spread through the courtiers as they gathered quickly, bringing their weapons to bear.

“It seems our former acquaintance, Scarlet Briar, is up on the ridge, possibly with a small army. We’ll crush her, and her motley group with ease!” Nafiona announced. A raucous cheer rang through the air as the members of the Nightmare Court stood ready.

“M’lady, should we press the attack with a little surprise?” one courtier asked.

Nafiona looked at her and smiled. “Why yes, I believe we should. Mesmers place your portals now! We’re going to pay Madam Scarlet a visit!” The courtier, along with another opened ethereal portals of swirling energy in front of the group. “Attack!” Nafiona commanded. The group of sylvari rushed through the openings.

“Well, I guess we could use the mortars against them?” Ceara suggested to her compatriots. “I still don’t think it will do any good.”

“It’s our best bet right now.” Malyck rebuttaled.

“Um…we have a problem.” Liathlas spoke up, noticing two swirls of energy starting to form near them. “Mesmer portals.”

“Run! To the jungle!” Malyck shouted. Liathlas cast another stealth field about them, and the trio bolted for the dense foliage. The Nightmare Court poured out of the portals, taking up positions around the mortars and stack of cannisters. Nafiona followed them through.

“They have retreated, m’lady.” Ordhran announced. Nafiona’s eyes narrowed, and she scanned around the area.

“Judging by these tracks, it looks like they ran off into the jungle.” A courtier suggested as she knelt looking over footprints in the dirt.

“Get a scout party together and do a quick search of the area.” Nafiona ordered. The courtier bowed to her and pointed to two other sylvari to follow.

“Check on them.” Nafiona motioned towards two courtiers standing near their fallen comrades. Another checked on Caelan.

“These two are dead, m’lady.”

“And Caelan?”

“He’s alive.”

“Wake him.” She ordered. The courtier started trying to awaken the unconscious sylvari.

“Ordhran. It’s obvious the seed is not in the corpse grove.” She pondered a moment. “I dare say it is in the south. In the area where the jungle dragon fell.”

“M’lady?” he asked.

“The sun is starting to set so we’ll set up camp here for the night.” She said, turning to the large sylvari. “The mordrem will be active and we need to be prepared. Also…” she paused, a sly smile forming. “I believe there is a pact camp to the south. Send them a courier. Tell them…tell them that Scarlet Briar lives and is here in the jungle. It is believed that she is trying to resurrect Mordremoth.”

“With pleasure, m’lady.” He bowed to her. Nafiona chuckled to herself as she watched her followers start setting up the camp.

#Guild Wars 2 #GW2 #Scarlet Briar #AU Ceara #HoT #Heart of Thorns #sylvari

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theshy1sout · 3 years

Text

Inseparable - Chapter 2

Tags: Not rated, Broppy, Slow Burn Fluff, Trolls Mythology Au

Ao3 here

Summary: - Everything is better underneath, as Barb says - Riff shrugs his arms playfully, which makes her chuckle. Then he stands up, saying: - Come. I know exactly what will brighten up your Day.

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This night Poppy doesn't sleep at all. When it is the time, she jumps from the tree she's been sitting on and runs to the hill. She beams at Branch when he only shows up.

- Good morning! - Pink young lady says with all of her kindness, brightness, and sweetness.

- Good morning? - The god of the Night answers after a while of hesitation. He shows her the Staff of the Light to let her grab it and start the Day. But instead of that, Poppy asks:

- How was your Night?

That actually makes Branch really confused, cause he answers in a very unsurely tone:

- Good. As always.

- Oh, it's good! - Poppy beams with even more cheerfulness.

- Are you gonna grab it or will the Day never start? - Now he sounds pretty impatient.

- We have a bit of time to talk so why...

Poppy is interrupted by the loud noise of sticking the Staff into the ground, just a few centimeters from her face. She drops her smile and freezes.

- Have a nice Day - Branch says blankly and steps down the hill. Without his touch, the sphere changes from blue, slightly blurring, to gold, bright shining.

Poppy grabs the Staff, following the long gray capote with her eyes. She can run after him, but it would be a bit pushy. She gulps. It's gonna be much harder than she expected. But she's not gonna give up. Not yet.

So when the Day passed, the pink goddess climbs on the hill and greets the hoodie with another cheerful smile.

- Good evening - She says politely.

- Good evening - Branch throws emotionlessly.

- How was your Day?

- I was resting in a cave. I hate the Light.

- Oh - That answer makes Poppy a bit out of tune. - Why though?

- It's just not my cup of tea - He says and takes his dull hand out of his capote to grab the Staff. - I prefer Darkness. Is that a sufficient answer to your question?

- Um...

He takes the Staff from her hands, while she is looking at him confused. The sky slowly turns from gold light to empty darkness.

- Good Night.

And then he just walks away.

Now it is totally obvious that Branch doesn't want to talk with Poppy. And she finds it absolutely reasonable. She used to ignore him for the whole six months. Six months! And suddenly she wants to talk. Of course he's angry! Of course he doesn't want to talk with her. But the goddess of the Light still has a hope to befriend him. There has to be a way!

So she tries and tries, but the more she tries, the more annoyed Branch sounds, and the sooner he cuts their talks. If the simplest greetings can be called 'talks'. Till one Day he doesn't answer at all. He just grabs the Staff without a single word and the Darkness sharply falls on the world. He turns back and walks away. And this time it is Poppy who gets angry.

- Hey! - She cries at him. - That was a bit rude, don't you think?

He stops and the goddess hears a loud sigh.

- You know what? - His voice is so firm like he is trying to hold his emotions. - Let me tell you something. See, the Day is a time for working and the Night is the time for resting. You know that. And they are pretty different. The Night is quiet and dark. The Day is loud and bright. You know that. They are two parts of the cycle. Separated parts.

With those words, Branch turns to her, and the darkness in his grey hoodie instead of his face is now straightly directed to Poppy. She takes probably the deepest breath in her life and bites the bullet.

- So, as you can see, there's no single point where I could need you. And there's no single reason why you could need me. We don't work together. We have different duties on different shifts. Whatever you want from me, stop.

Poppy crosses her arms on her chest, looking away. She had no idea that the Silence can be that heavy and overwhelming. And there comes the sound of a few steps and the most painful words she's ever heard.

- Good Night.

It is the very first time Poppy wants to be alone.

She stands very still a few minutes, maybe an hour, till she starts walking. With an empty mind and hurt heart, she is staring blankly at the cold grass breaking below her feet. It is so weak, so helpless. It grows everywhere, but it can't escape from her pink, huge foot. Poppy stops and touches it slightly, then sits and whips some blades of grass. She looks at them, lying naively on her hand. Two droplets fall on them. She feels like a failure.

- Hey, what's wrong?

The goddess feels a warm hand on her shoulder. The voice is nice and a bit familiar. She gets her eyes up to see probably the most pleasant face among Immortals. Riff, the god of the Death.

Poppy dries her eyes and sniffs.

- Can I ask you... What do you think about my work?

Dull god sits down next to her and smiles.

- You made the Earth a better place. Just like you've always dreamed.

The goddess sniffs again and smiles widely.

- Thanks. I really needed to hear that.

They stay in the Silence for a while, but this time it is a nice kind of Silence.

- It's because of Branch, isn't it? - Riff asks calmly.

- How did you...

- He's well-known as hard to talk with. But you know... - He gets a bit closer to her like he's gonna tell her some secret. - Just a few know that underneath he's a really nice guy.

Poppy looks at him, surprised.

- Everything is better underneath, as Barb says - He shrugs his arms playfully, which makes her chuckle. Then he stands up, saying: - Come. I know exactly what will brighten up your Day.

Riff offers her a hand and when she grabs it, she suddenly is in a very different place. There is no sky and grass. The floor and ceiling are made from the ground or stones. She stands on a rise in a kind of unbelievably huge cage. Down the hill in front of her, a massive crowd of souls of trolls jumps, screams, and cheers wildly and happily, making the walls and the floor trembling. The loud music and colorful lights are everywhere.

Poppy looks around and can't find Riff. He just disappears. But instead of him, she hears another familiar voice.

- Poppy! - Barb pops out from nowhere. - You came!

- Yes, I guess I came - The pink goddess has to scream to hear her own words. - What is that?

- What? This? - Dull skin woman points at the crown. - This is a party in the Underworld, girl! The greatest fun ever!

- What is it about? - Poppy asks and for some reason it makes the Queen laugh.

- Oh, you're nothing but cute - Barb says and pushes her into the crowd. Pink-hair girl finds going through the souls of trolls a bit uncomfortable. But on the other hand, they all look really happy.

- And now dance and sing! - Barb screams at her.

- What?

- I SAID "DANCE AND SING" - Dull goddess yells even louder.

- I hear that, but how am I supposed to do it in this crowd!

- Just do it!

Well, Poppy can't fight with this argument. But after a while of awkwardly waving her hands and trying to not hit anyone, she notices that she can't touch the souls. They are permeable and don't mind if she hits them sometimes. So she starts dancing with much more confidence. The beat is so catchy, the music is so loud that she feels it with all of her body. The goddess barely notices when she starts screaming and jumping like others. She even tries to sing although the lyrics are unhearable. She forgets about Branch and the fight. She forgets about her job and the Earth. For a moment she forgets about everything. She has no idea how long she's been here. She's never had so much fun.

- Hey, Pinkie!

- Hum? - The loud voice of the Queen of the Underworld brings Poppy back to reality. She starts looking around and slowly realizing where she is.

- You can't be here forever! - Barb yells at her, still dancing and smiling. - You have a job!

- Oh, right - Poppy laughs. It's so loud here that she doesn't hear her laugh. So she screams at Barb louder this time. - I don't know how to go back on the Earth!

The dull-skin goddess facepalms.

- Sorry, my bad - She probably chuckles, Poppy isn't sure, cause still, all she can hear is the music. - Follow me!

They walk through the dancing crowd like it doesn't exist. The goddess of the Day glares at trolls' souls' faces; they look so happy here, freed from Earth's problems. She bets she could give a bit of this pure joy to living trolls. And then she thinks... that she can!

Barb guides her outside the big partying hall. They go through a massive wooden door and then through a long hall. It gets darker and darker till they step into an endless black hole. It makes Poppy a bit uncomfortable until she notices that she is already on the Earth's surface. It is still quiet Night, but not for long, she has to runs at the hill right now.

But the goddess of the Light can't leave a person without acknowledgment.

- Thank you, Barb - She says, turning around to her. - It was... - She takes a very big breath to find a word about how amazing was everything she has learned about the parties. - It was the greatest fun I've ever had! I am so grateful that you showed me what the party is. I miss it already!

- You can come to our parties whenever you want - The Queen chuckles, giving her another friendly hit on the arm. - You are always welcome in the Underworld!

- Thank you so much! - Poppy beams at her sunshiny like only she can do.

- No problem, girl! - Barb throws, slowly disappearing into the Darkness. - Run to start the Day!

Poppy giggles happily and grins widely. She starts running. She can't hold all of the enthusiasm that falls on her right now. She can think only about the parties and how she'll start teaching trolls how to make them.

She stops at the hill, panting and smiling. Branch isn't here yet, but she already can see his gray silhouette on the other side of the hill.

- Branch! - Poppy shouts at him without thinking. - You can't guess what I find out! The party! THE PARTY! The event when many, many trolls meet each other to dance, sing and listen to music and have fun and the lights, oh my good Father, the lights and the colors! Can't you believe something like that exists!

When she stops throwing her arms everywhere she notices that Branch already stands close in front of her with the Staff of the Light blurring slightly in his hand.

- What are you talking about? - He asks, and she answers maybe a bit too fast:

- I told you! The party, the music, everything! We have to show it to trolls! They can be as happy as the souls I saw in the Underworld!

- Oh, the Underworld - He says in a kinda weird way. - Now I know what you mean. The parties. - He sighs and then she hears his tired voice: - Poppy, there's no time for parties in the cycle.

- No! Hear me out...

- No - Branch interrupts her firmly. - The Day is for work, the Night is for rest. And trolls need both of them.

- I also know what trolls need! - Poppy persists. - And they need happiness! Trolls deserve a bit of joy in their life! Not only humming during the work or lullabies for kids to sleep!

- But there's no time for more of 'happiness' - He almost spat this word.

- There must be a way! - She throws her arms up. - For example, I can make trolls resting a few hours during the Day, and with that, they would parting a few hours during the Night...

- No! - He sounds pretty mad right now. - The Night is Silence! Silence and Peace! No music, no lights...

- And no fun! - She yells. - Branch, you have to understand...

- Understand what? - His voice is now cold, sharp, and even harsh. Still not being able to see his face, Poppy can guess after his tone, he is on the edge of his anger. - That I have to change myself because you want a party?

Those words hit her in her face. That wasn't what she said, but she realizes it was exactly what she meant. And it sounds just unfair.

- Um... - She tries to find new words, but until she does, she hears the familiar noise of sticking the Staff into the hill.

- No parties during the Night - The god says flatly. - Good. Night.

And he walks away.

But this time she isn't only hurt, but also mad.

Poppy crosses her arms on her chest, chewing an unpleasant taste on her tongue. She is frowning, maybe the first time in her life. She stares at the Staff of the Light with the biggest anger she has ever felt. The sphere is still blurring blue, blurring slightly, even subtle. It looks so calm. But it doesn't look sad or firm. The blur has nothing in common with his grumpy creator. It is happy. So different kind of happy than Poppy saw in the Underworld. It is calm and cheerful. The quiet happiness.

Poppy blinks. Her anger fades, she doesn't notice when. Now the only thing she feels is blue. The words of Riff about Branch are echoing in her head. A nice guy? Even if, he isn't as nice as he could be to her. But neither is she. A heavy sigh drops from her nose till she finally gets the Staff.

She has her job to do.

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Seriously, I promice this IS a fluff, just gimme a few more chapters xd

Chapter 1

#inseparable #trolls #trolls mythology au #mythology au #branch trolls #poppy trolls #barb trolls #riff trolls #dreamworks trolls #my fanfiction #fanfictin #trolls fanfiction #trolls fanfic #broppy #broppy fanfic

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reignbow · 3 years

Text

Nighthowlers

I’m in the process of starting an account on Ao3, but I thought I’d post this story here until then.

Fandom: Zootopia

--------------- “Carrots? Carrots! Wake up!” Nick shouted as he held the rabbit officer in his paws. “Carrots! It’s okay! I’m here!”

“Officers come quick! A savage fox had been spotted at the natural history museum!” The sheep above squealed into the walkie talkie with perfect drama. “Officer Judy is down! Please hurry!”

No! No! Nick’s mind screamed. This hadn’t been the plan, they had it all thought through! Why hadn’t it gone to plan?

“N-Ni?” The bunny wheezed as the carrot pen fell from her hand, hitting the faux grass that had been washed red seconds ago.

The lights above the exhibit glared down on Nick, burning into his flesh as his heart thudded against his ribs, filling his ears with the untamed rush of adrenaline filled blood. No! This can’t be happening! His mind screamed.

The blueberry stain on his fur dripped down as the scarlet fluid stayed wet on his lips. What had he done? What had they made him do?

The tapping of feet was heard as the silver light burned into him, perfectly highlighting the orchestrated scene. The cotton of the plush deer between his teeth soaked with the dark red of the body in his hands.

The tapping of feet as they surrounded him. An audience as he sat in the soul scorching lights that put him on display in perfect irony; as the blood was quite literally on his paws, but it did not belong there.

The gasps and shrieks of the spectacle, the shuffling of uneasy feet. He heard it all. The rustle of a hidden taser that shocked nerves and forced muscles to jolt, jaws to close, teeth to rend.

But was he shocked in another way as the body of the officer lay at his hands, as blood pooled around the two. And he watched with horror as her eyes became empty and dark.

Sour was the blood that bathed his tongue, but not by comparison to the injustice that defined the spectacle. The one only he knew about.

And even as he was muzzled and torn away, was he still picturing her determined face. And still while the straight jacket held him fast in his padded room was he dreaming of the past.

“Chief Bogo, officer Judy Hopps has been killed in action.”

Three years later...

Anchovies. Nick thought. They put anchovies on my pizza.

The yellow lights flared down on him in his ironically matchy jumpsuit as he sat in the cafeteria. The tray in front of him had a sad looking flop of cheese and bread next to a couple of other things that Nick had learned not to ask what they were. The only problem to Nick right now was the little silver fish that the lunch servers had thrown on there. I asked them not to do that.

The air around Nick was filled with the heavy clattering of silverware as the other inmates ate around him, each trying not to taste what they were putting in their mouth. But Nick casually sat there with his paws in his lap, trying not to look at his food. I hate anchovies.

This may have been a little dramatic, but at the time it felt right. So many of the other prisoners had given up themselves, lost to the cycle. But not Nick. He refused.

For three years now Nick Wilde had been in this building. Never aloud to see the open streets, never allowed to venture beyond the barbed electric gate. Treated like any other murderer. And for three years now, Bellwether has been president of Zootopia and the surrounding cities. And the little wooly serpent had made sure to enforce the rules.

It had been so long since Nick had met anybody other than a predator, apart from the stone-faced officers. Not since the courtroom had ruled him guilty. Bellwether had declared that predators and prey be kept apart in the prisons at all costs, not that the prey prisons were filling up or anything. It was almost a relief that Nick had been locked away for all this time. He didn’t have to see what a mess he had made of the world.

As the bell above rang and the announcer’s voice on the speakers crackled, Nick halfheartedly grabbed his tray and filed along with the rest of the inmates. As they walked past the trash cans, he dumped his untouched food down into the third smallest one with the rest of the medium predator’s filth before following the line out. He had already eaten twice today, and if he didn’t want his dinner, then he didn’t need to eat it! Nobody was going to make him, at least Bellwether hadn’t done that yet.

The line led back to the containment room. A large open room with an all around balcony looking down from the upper level cells. The cells varied in sizes, each ready to accommodate their own size of predator. From a tiny otter, to a towering lion. All were held here.

Nick knew the motions clearly, as they had been drummed into his head over the course of the time he spent here. For thirty minutes the prisoners were allowed to roam the common area between all of the containment rooms. A group of bears and a group of lions, which had been rival gangs in the past, would get into an argument, and maybe even a fight. The wolves would sit together and talk trash about prey animals. And everybody else would sit in their own little space and dream of their past lives or create small talk with the other prisoners.

But Nick decided to be different. He decided that everyday we would do something different, and today, he decided to do one he had been dreading for a long time. He had talked to the wolves before and engaged in their heated conversations, but he had been able to turn their slanderous tongues away from prey in general and over to Bellwether, which was something they could all agree on.

But today he was doing something dangerous, because he was going to join one of the rival gangs in their arguments, which could very likely get him killed due to his inadequate size.

Breathing deep to calm his slight nervousness, he watched as the two gangs gathered back by the larger cells. “Try everything,” he whispered to himself, before laughing quietly. It was a painful laugh.

As he began to walk over, he thought about which group he was going to support. It didn’t matter, since the arguments were often stupid anyway, and this wasn’t going to be a permanent alliance or anything. He eventually chose to go with the bears.

As he crept quietly over behind the gathering bears, he heard one of the lions start. “Just because you can shoulder most animals out of the way doesn’t mean you get to walk on our side of the halls,” he said coldly.

A large grizzly bear then stepped forward to challenge the lion. “We will walk wherever we want Darion.” She growled, and Nick sighed. This had to be the pettiest gang battle known to mammalkind. But if you lived your life for conflict, you had to find it somewhere.

Another bear stepped forward, but her voice was loud and untamed. “If you have such a problem, maybe you cats should find a new side of the hall!” She roared, and Nick could already tell that this was going to be a fight. Why had he even gotten himself into this?

The lion was about to say something when Nick spoke up. “Yes, get your own side!” He said, feeling suddenly awkward as the large heads of the bears turned away from their maned rivals to stare down at the small orange fox amongst them. Nick gulped slightly.

“What do we have here?” The female grizzly bear, that Nick now understood as the leader of the gang, stood as she slowly came closer. She craned her neck further to look down at him. Nick understood this tactic, it was to make him feel even smaller than he already was. But that didn’t work on him.

“Willy Bushtail at your service,” he said with a bow. It was his fake name he used, he had used it in countless hustles before. And he used it now because the cops had given him the mercy of not telling the other inmates that he was the convicted murderer of Judy Hopps.

A couple of the bears laughed, and why shouldn’t they? He was a little orange fox wearing orange and trying to blend in with the ranks of bears. Nick knew this would happen, and brushed it off.

“Seriously? You got a new member without letting us know?” Darion, the leader of the other gang, said with mock pain in his voice, before starting to laugh. “Aww, and he’s a little bitty fox too! How adorable.”

Nick rolled his eyes, but one of the other bears, a polar bear, spun around and smacked Darion. “Put a sock in it, kitty cat!” He growled as Darion reeled slightly from the blow. And then the lion struck one himself, raking his claws through the polar bear’s orange jumpsuit.

And that’s when the fight that Nick was expecting broke out. Nick slowly backed away as the larger predators beat and clawed at each other. Doing something different was his goal, but it would take him a little longer to actually rush into one of their fights. Maybe he could do that next time.

Then at the other end of the room where the door was, cops started coming in. They were used to dealing with the fights. And pretty soon all of the members of the fight were detained.

Nick was silently creeping back to his cell as Darion turned his head to avoid the muzzle that the hippo cop had in her hands.

“Darion, if you do not cooperate, I will have to tase you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Wait!” He shouted. “Willy Bushtail was with the bears! The fox was part of it too!”

Nick flinched when he heard this. He hadn’t considered that he might wind up in a higher security cell for a couple of days too.

The hippo suddenly stopped trying to put the muzzle on him and held it in her left hand. “Nick Wilde?” She asked.

Suddenly a hush fell upon the room, and Nick cringed. He hadn’t heard anybody use his real name for a long time, and knew that his name carried bad connotations. And now people that he had previously fooled with his fake name knew who he really was.

“Nick Wilde?” Shouted a deep male voice, and he turned to see a large wolverine stand up from next to a badger. He was one of the small talkers, Nick had noticed.

The wolverine looked down on him with an unreadable expression. “The killer of Judy Hopps.” He laughed a little bit, before turning to face around the room. “Look guys! It’s the killer of the only cop who cared about us!” The wolverine laughed some more, before his face turned hard. “You know, I really do hate foxes.”

Nick’s heart pounded as the massive predator loomed toward him. He whipped around and bolted as he heard the charging of the angry wolverine.

“Tase him!” Somebody shouted, and the sound of taser guns firing popped through the air, but did nothing to cease the pounding of paws behind Nick.

Nick scrambled up the metal stairs, heat jolting as he heard a heavier crashing join seconds after. The metal turned to tile as he leapt over the top of the stairs and dashed desperately.

The entrance to his cell was just up ahead! Nick hoped he could hold the door shut for long enough for the cops to detain his pursuer. But what if I can’t...

He could hear the cops running up the stairs… and the wolverine’s heavy footsteps right behind him. I’m not gonna make it. He knew he needed another option, quick. And with years of thinking on his feet, he saw one.

Desperate, he shot to the side, leaping over the rails and off of the balcony. This is going to hurt. He spread out his limbs to land as the ground raced up at him. Hit the table. Hit the table.

Suddenly, his body jolted as his vision whirled up, and he let out a yelp. He heard fabric tear as long claws tore through his jumpsuit and suspended him above the gawking inmates below.

He had been caught. He had never been caught before. Not since...

“Time to join your victim, fox!” The wolverine snarled, and Nick looked behind to see him lifting his massive claws to swing.

“Fire!” The voice of the hippo rang out from hind as the razors sped towards Nick’s throat. The large predator jolted as electricity pulsed through his muscles. His long claws swung up suddenly as pain exploded on the right side of Nick’s head.

The predator dropped him and fell back, stunned, and Nick fell fully this time, body slamming into a table below.

The fall hurt, but not nearly as much as the paralyzing agony Nick felt as he clutched his face. Over his closed right eye he felt the oozing of water and warm blood. And then he remembered. His mind dug up something he had long since buried deep into the back of his head.

The day he had bitten Judy, it wasn’t for real. It was only to trick the sheep into thinking that he had really gone savage. But the plan had gone wrong, and Bellwether tased him. His jaw had moved uncontrollably, and he had bitten her for real. He remembered the shock as his fangs pierced her throat, her neck crushing under the power of his teeth. He remembered the straight jacket and the muzzles, and how he was eventually found to not be affected with the nighthowler venom. But that didn’t help him now. Because if he wasn’t insane, he was a murderer. And then it all went black.

“No!” Nick shouted as he strained against his chains. “It’s not true! Don’t trust her!”

The ear splitting sound of the gavel rang out three times, each one killing the words in Nick’s throat. “Silence! Silence!” the kangaroo judge ordered. “You are lucky you even get a trial Nick Wilde. And while you are here you will speak in your turn and only in your turn!”

Nick’s pelt burned with anger. He and Judy had worked so hard to find the missing mammals, but all of it had been for nothing. Sure, the animals had been found, but Judy had been killed before they could catch the true culprit. No, Judy had been murdered. Murdered by the very accuser that sat on the other side of the judge as an eyewitness.

“Thank you, Your Honor” Bellwether said politely, before twisting her face in a strange fabricated emotion that only Nick could see through. That sheep was a sociopath. “When I first heard Judy scream, me and the upstanding citizens around me ran that way as fast as we could to make sure she was okay!”

Psssh, upstanding citizens, Nick scorned inside of his mind. Indeed the other sheep, along with Bellwether, had been the culprits. But only two people had witnessed the actual experiments, and one of them was dead.

“But when we arrived, it was too late!” The sheep said as crocodile tears pooled in the bottom of her eyes. “And Judy was dead!”

The kangaroo judge once more tapped her gavel, before turning to Nick. “What do you say in your defense, fox!”

Nick was ready to let the fire out, and burn this entire courtroom to the ground. “It is true that it was my teeth that dealt the fatal blow to Judy, but it wasn’t by my will!” He shouted.

There were several murmurs throughout the jury, but the judge looked bored. “Well if it was not your will, who made you do it,” she said dryly.

Nick swallowed hard as he thought of how to explain the situation. Through all his time in law bending activities, he had never been in a courtroom before. There was so much at stake here, the entire future of Zootopia rested on him, but he didn’t know where to start. At last when he had a truth to tell, his tongue failed to speak a single word.

With the silence, the judge tapped her gavel once more. “Bellwether, the report says that there were electric burns discovered on Nick Wilde, do you have any idea where those came from?”

At last Nick knew what to say, but the turn was not his. And one more word spoken at the wrong time could end the trial here and now. He had to trust that Bellwether would mess up, and make his story more credible by doing so.

But if she was caught off guard, she didn’t show it, until she spoke. “I had to tase him,” her voice warbled strangely.

Hope came up inside of Nick. Maybe others would hear that slight imperfection in her voice, and they would pick and chip at it until the truth came rolling out. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who saw through the psychotic creature’s lies. How foolish he was to think that though.

Tears suddenly began to spill from Bellwether’s eyes. “Because I thought… I thought that maybe I could still save-” the sheep suddenly dropped to the ground, weeping.

Nick flinched at this display, before he realized immediately what she was doing. Nonono… his mind pleaded. By perfectly mimicking the emotions that he had been forced to bury within himself, she manipulated the minds of everybody in the room. Molding their brains like clay.

After sighing, the judge spoke. “I am sorry for your loss, Bellwether.”

Nick’s heart nearly stopped. The pity in everybody’s eyes when they looked at Bellwether; instantly shifting into hatred when their gaze turned to him. His fate was sealed, and he had failed.

Suddenly bringing down her gavel three times, the judge stood up. “Order. Jury, all in belief that the accused is guilty, raise your paw.”

Nick turned away, refusing to gaze upon as every corrupted hand in the room rose against him.

The judge then continued in the same tone. “All in belief that the accused is non-guilty, raise your paw.”

Nick once more decided to not look, but when he heard the shocked gasps of the crowd, he forced himself to turn. And right there in the very center of all of the animals, was a little fennec fox. It was his partner, the very one he was working with the time he met Judy. And he was right there in the center of all of the still mammals, raising his tiny little paw in spite of all of the disgusted looks people were throwing at him.

Even though the entire world seemed to want to string Nick up, he stared gratefully at that one person who still believed him, that saw past his outside and knew the real him. And Nick mouthed a silent ‘thank you.’

But it would not be enough. The judge nodded before standing up. “The jury has spoken,” she said before turning to Nick. “I hereby sentence you to,” her eyes threatened to bore holes into Nick’s flesh. “Life in prison! For the life that you have stolen from us!”

Nick froze, as he realized what that meant exactly. His life would be over. No more traveling, no more hiding his life in the shadows and minding his own business, no more scheming another hustle. His future was gone, and every other predator’s future was broken.

He fought to hold in the tears that, after all this time of binding his emotions, threatened to escape.

As the police came up behind him to take him away, Bellwether cried out. “Wait! May I say something?” She pleaded.

After a second, the kangaroo judge nodded. “Of course Mayor Bellwether. You may get anything off of your chest that you must.”

The sheep nodded before turning to Nick. “You know Nick, when I first saw you down there, tearing Judy to pieces, I wanted to believe that you were just affected by the same madness of so many other mammals. I wanted to believe that the Nick Wilde that was Judy’s best friend was still buried deep down in there somewhere. But I was heartbroken to find out that you murdered her in cold blood,” the sheep raised her hand as she cleared a sob out of her throat. “But it is even worse to know that you are truly unsavable. Nick, this hurts me more than it hurts you.” Then, after a sniffle, the sheep turned to face the judge. “I am done, Your Honor.”

Nick was disgusted at how sick the sheep was. The way she could lie without guilt, even about something as fragile as a mammal’s life, made him want to vomit. But still, she wasn’t the only one to blame. He had failed to speak up before she sank her neurotoxic lies into the heads of the people around. He had failed to bring light onto what had really happened. He had failed Judy. As Bellwether walked down the hall to the exit and the officers cuffed and muzzled Nick and dragged him away, he knew one thing. It was her word against his, and his word had failed.

Beep.

The single small noise pierced into the darkness of Nick’s mind, as he faded back to consciousness.

Beep.

He remembered before, he had been scared of something. Not just afraid, but in mortal terror.

Beep.

He knew that his face hurt, and that what had happened before was likely the cause.

Beep.

But it didn’t matter. Because he was safe now. Nothing was chasing him. The pain was bearable. Everything was okay.

Beep.

He was safe now.

Beep.

He was safe now.

Beep.

He wasn’t safe now…

Nick’s eyes opened as he shot upright in the bed, throwing off thin covers. The bright lights stung his eye a little as he looked around the room.

A machine beeped steadily beside him, eerily consistent with it’s timing. A dark blue curtain hung beside him. The walls were a bland white. Numerous unfamiliar instruments lay around him.

He suddenly realized that he was in a hospital room. And then it all came rushing back to him.

�� First, he tested all of his limbs. Nothing broken. Nothing on his body seemed to even be bandaged. But as he looked around, he realized that the room was weird. It was like he couldn’t quite measure the distances.

His heart jumped . Maybe he had a concussion! His head didn’t really hurt, but maybe that was even worse.

He blinked a few times, before looking around to see if there was anything in the room that could give him a hint on his current situation. But despite his keenness for putting things together, his lack of knowledge in the medical field meant he had no idea what the objects around him meant for him personally, except for that he needed to brush up on medical science. If he ever got the chance.

Then another thought occurred to him. In the five years that he had been confined to the prison building, this may have been the first time that he had ever been outside of it.

He looked to his left, but was just met with the same dark blue curtain. Then he looked to his right, but oddly found that he hadn’t turned his head far enough the first time.

Slightly off-put, he strained his neck to look at the wall to his right, turning his body to get a better look.

But he was met only with drawers, cabinets, a sink, and a door. No windows. He assumed that if this place had any windows, that mister-lucky-side-of-the-curtain had gotten them.

Nick’s thoughts were broken into by the sound of a door creaking. He whirled back in forth in the bed a bit to see where it was coming from, before he realized that it was coming from the other side of the curtain.

Small, clopping steps echoed through the sectioned room as somebody entered the room. Nick hoped that whoever it was could explain what was going on.

A figure, tall in stature, pressed into the curtain slightly, before swiping it out of the way. Through the second the curtain was pulled back, Nick strained to see if there were any windows on the other side of the room, but the sliver of unblocked space wasn’t enough to tell him.

Nick’s gaze fell upon the zebra who entered. She was tall, just like he thought, and wore a seafoam-colored uniform that bore her name; Adamma Equus.

She wore a melancholy expression as she stepped over beside him with gloves over her hands. “Sit still,” she said, “I am just going to change out your bandages.”

Nick was confused. “Bandages?” He said, questioning.

“Yes, bandages. The ones on your face? Or were you not aware of the giant patch over your eye.”

Nick realized that he did feel something tight on his head, and his paws immediately shot up to his face. He inhaled sharply as he felt the fabric and other materials wrapped around the right side.

Paws shaking, he looked at Adamma, who was pulling supplies from the cabinets. “Wh-What happened?” He asked.

She left the question hanging for a moment as she grabbed some bandages into a bundle, before she finally responded. “Your eye was torn out. You don’t remember?” She said in the most matter-of-fact tone possible.

Panic struck Nick like cold water, as he grasped at the bandages around his head. “Tell me you’re joking,” he said, searching the area around for something slightly reflective.

Adamma’s braided black-and-white mane fell around her neck as she approached him. “Why don’t you look for yourself?”

She handed him a small spoon from within the drawers. Nick froze when he saw himself.

The entire right-side of his face had been obscured in layers of gauze and bandages. He knew that Adamma was telling the truth.

Suddenly, he remembered. The wolverine, the running, and the claws that had sliced across his face.

He dropped the spoon and felt a bit queasy.

Adamma picked it up off of the covers.

“Will you be able to fix it…” Nick said quietly, holding back his panic. In all his years of close-calls and stressful situations, he had almost always been able to squirm out of harm’s way. He had never lost a body part before. He didn’t even know if that had ever been a thought that crossed his mind! He had never really thought, could I lose a body part?

Adamma snorted, something Nick would have never expected as a response to his question, let alone from a professional.

“Maybe in a higher-class hospital we could do something. Likely not fix it entirely. But here? The best thing we can do is hope your face doesn’t look horribly maimed in the future!”

Nick froze. “Higher… class…” he spoke low and dark. Don’t tell me that means what I think it means.

“What did you expect?” Adamma said. “You’re a convicted murderer, for one. And for two, your a predator. Bellwether won’t risk you going bonkers and tearing up the patients in the prey hospitals.”

Nick had a bitter taste in his mouth from what she just said. He stared hard at his paws in his lap.

“I have seen what you creatures can do,” Adamma said, quietly and laced with spite.

Nick looked at her and saw something behind her expression. This wasn’t just a hateful person. There was something in those eyes that told him she had lost something, something to a predator.

“Is she still-“ Nick held his tongue, knowing if he finished, he could get himself into trouble. “Are… predators still going savage..?”

Adamma was selecting tools for the bandage change when he asked, and she didn’t look up from her task. “Sometimes. But the new safety measures that President Bellwether has ensured have been causing the rate to decline. Since taming collars have been released, less predators have been going savage.”

“What is a taming collar?” Nick asked.

“I’m surprised that they haven’t already been issued in the prisons,” Adamma replied. “It’s a device around a predator’s neck that administers a small electric shock when a predator gets too emotional for their own good,” Adamma replied as she began to unwrap a few layers of bandages. “It’s to prevent you from snapping. Now hold still.”

Nick felt around his neck, but only felt the soft fur of his throat. He hadn’t been collared, yet.

“I said hold still,” Adamma scolded.

Suddenly, there was a thump against the wall to his right, something had been thrown against it. Nick’s ears shot up to listen.

Nick couldn’t see whether or not Adamma reacted, but he felt her hands stop.

Adamma murmured something under her breath before continuing.

Then there was another one, except this one was much louder, and shook the entire room.

Nick’s head automatically turned to see what the cause was, but not far enough, so he turned it more.

“What the…” Adamma said as she instinctively braced herself against the side of Nick’s hospital bed.

“Could that be somebody in another room? Or…”

“No. That wall has nothing but outside on the other side,” Adamma replied, obviously thinking.

“Oh,” Nick said. Guess this place just doesn’t do windows.

They both stared at the wall in silence for about thirty seconds. Then, Adamma was satisfied. “I don’t think-“

Nick never heard the end of that sentence. There was a giant crack, and next thing he knew the world was rolling around him.

He felt himself hit against something rough, that then enveloped his vision as he whirled into darkness. He clanged against something hard.

#reignbow writes #zootopia #fanfiction #character death #judy hopps #nick wilde

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mrcleanheichou · 4 years

Text

Forever and ever chapter 2

When two young people fall in love others often call it puppy love. A love so intense that ultimately fizzles out very quickly. No one believes someone so young could fall for someone so fast and have it be genuine until they see it with their own eyes.

Pairing Cowboy!Jungkook x reader

Genre fluff, angst, eventual smut

Word count 2K

Warnings Mention of a boner

Author’s note soooo long time no see lol I am such a bad fic writer, I literally start a WIP and don’t touch it for months. I have 4 WIPs that I bounce between when i get writer’s block. Slowly but surely I want to start writing consistently so I can get better. So I offer to you my Bangtan cowboy yeehaw fic. I really want to read cowboy fics but there’s barely anything so I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world and wrote my own.

Here’s chapter 1

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1 week later Jungkook had just finished working on sections of the barbed wire fence with Jimin when he saw his hyung Jin getting the wagon ready. As soon as he put the roll of extra wire and his gloves back in the shed he jogged over to Jin. “Hyung! Are you going to town?”, He asked a little too loud making the horse Jin was hooking up to panic a little. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re ok.”, Jin says trying to get the horse back under control. Once he gets the nervous animal to calm down he looks toward the sweaty young man. “Yeah, I have to go to the market. Do you want to go?”Jungkook said yes a little to excitedly. “Ok, but go wash up. You stink.”

Jungkook hurried to the room he shares with Taehyung in the large ranch house where all seven of the men who work on Bangtan cattle ranch live.

**~~~~~~~~~** The whole operation is split four ways between the four older men. Namjoon and Yoongi run the majority of everything between Yoongi finding buyers for their livestock and Namjoon negotiating deals. They are both very knowledgeable cattlemen despite being in their mid twenties. They do not let other cattlemen try to dupe them because they think they’re young and gullible. Multiple times meetings have almost come to blows since the older men don’t like being shown up by the quick witted duo. The other partners are Jin and Hoseok. Jin takes care of feeding six very hungry mouths. He is a very good cook and he is also very skilled at fixing leather. He makes money on the side by fixing bridles and saddles for other people. Then there’s Hoseok who used to be a bronco rider on the rodeo circuit and now he uses his skills to break in young horses. Jimin and Taehyung were a couple of trouble makers that would do little odd jobs and play cards to get money to drink and entertain the women at multiple saloons almost every night. They ended up at the same poker table as Yoongi one night 6 years ago. They got to talking and he told them about needing workers on his ranch. Jimin automatically said no. He was very against that idea since he didn’t want to do actual hard labor in the sun. Taehyung was more open to the idea of a consistent pay check. Yoongi made them a bet. They’d play three rounds of ‘7-card-stud’ and if Yoongi beat them at least two times then he’d stop asking. But if he did beat them then they both had to come work for him. They took the bet and obviously Yoongi won. Although Jimin still to this day swears Yoongi cheated. Jungkook’s story is a little different. He made the 50 mile journey to Coyote Creek from his family’s farm after one of many fights he had with his father. When his mother died his father turned to alcohol to drown the pain. He became a monster of a man and resented the fact that Jungkook looked like his mother. The only time an argument turned physical was right before Jungkook ran away. He accidentally burnt the dinner he was making. His father immediately got up and grabbed Jungkook by the shirt and yelled in his face about how useless he was. He told him he regreted ever having him and that he has never loved him. When Jungkook started crying his father slapped him across the face. That was the final straw for Jungkook. As soon as his father was too drunk to even know where he was, he started packing some of his things and stole some money his father’s stash in his closet. He raided the storehouse for as much essential foods that he could reasonably transport and packed it all up onto one of their horses. Taking one final look back at his childhood home, Jungkook finally stopped fighting his tears. He sobbed, allowing himself to mourn the loss of both his mother and father. Once he calmed down he got on his horse and left his old life behind. At the age of 14 Jungkook set off for a better life. It took him two days to reach the town where he promptly started asking around for a job. Unfortunately no one was interested in hiring him, even for simple jobs. After six days he was out of cash, hungry and desperate. He went to the horse auctions and was going to sell his horse to survive when a man who was wearing an expensive looking black cowboy hat asked him why he looked so sad. Jungkook told him he couldn’t get money any other way and he had no home to return to. The man gave him a sympathetic look and told him to stay where he was. That he’d be right back. A few minutes later he came back with a shorter man in tow. “My name is Namjoon and this is Yoongi.”, the other man tips his hat at Jungkook “I’d like to make you an offer.” Jungkook was about to say thank you when Namjoon cut him off, “But, I don’t want the horse. We’re looking for a new ranch hand and you look like a hard worker. Would you like to come work for us?” Jungkook immediately says yes. “What’s your name kid?” “Jungkook.” “Where are your parents?” Yoongi asked looking concerned. When Jungkook looked down at the ground trying to come up with an answer Yoongi put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.” The two men take Jungkook with them to purchase the two horses they came to the auction for. They then head out for the ten mile ride it takes to get back to their ranch. Namjoon notices that Jungkook’s face looks sunburnt so he asks him if he needs a hat. “No, no it’s ok you don’t have to give me anything, I’m fine.” Namjoon pays him no mind as he takes the obviously expensive hat off his head and places it on Jungkook’s. “Every man needs a good hat.” Six years later Jungkook still wears it. **~~~~~~~** Jungkook took his time looking through his clothes. He finally chose a white button up, the pair of jeans he never wears when he does work and his nice town boots. After he washed up and changed he walked back to where Jin was waiting for him. ”You know we’re just going to town for supplies right?” Jin commented looking him up and down while Jungkook climbed onto the wagon next to him. Jin himself was wearing his work overalls that had leather oil on them. “Yeah, I just felt like dressing up that’s all.” Jin just shrugged and snapped the reigns to get the horse to start moving. When they got into town Jungkook immediately looked toward the school and was disappointed when it seemed like no one was there. Dejectedly, Jungkook got off the wagon and followed Jin to the first shop. “Ok, I made a you a list so we can split up and get it done faster”, Jin said handing Jungkook a piece of paper leaving him in front of the farmer’s market. Jungkook sighed and went into the shop that housed fruits and vegetables and opened the door. He grabbed a woven hand basket from the counter and went for the first item on his list. Apples. Not just any apples either, Jin wrote ‘***GOOD APPLES***’ Which caused Jungkook to stand confused in front of all the different types of apples for a few minutes. “What the hell does ‘good apples’ even mean? I thought all apples were good.” “Would you like some help?”, A sweet sounding voice asked. Jungkook looks to the side and almost gasped when he saw who was talking to him. It was the school teacher, she was stunning up close and her eyes were exceptionally beautiful. She smiles at him and he swears he felt his heart skip a beat. “You seem a little out of your element here.” “Y-yeah.”, Jungkook manages to say while trying to not stare at the woman. He doesn’t know why he’s so infatuated with her. He doesn’t even know her. “Do you know what kind of apples you want?” Jungkook feels his face getting hot because, no. Jin just wrote apples and there’s a bunch of different kinds in front of him. “No, my hyung didn’t write down what kind he wanted.” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I’m completely lost.” “That’s ok, can I see your list? Maybe I can try to guess what he’s making and get you the right apples for it.” Jungkook handed her the shopping list and their hands briefly touched causing Jungkook to completely stop breathing. The woman started reading the list and mumbling to herself with a look of concentration. Jungkook thought it was was the cutest thing ever. “Ok! I think he’s gonna be making apple pie because he wrote down; flour, sugar, cinnamon, salt, and butter. But you can’t get that here today. Mr. Lee only comes to town with his milk and butter 3 times a week so you’ll have to come back for that tomorrow. But we can definitely get your ‘Good Apples’ today.”, she giggled and he looked at her in awe. How could someone so lovely actually talk to him. He almost felt unworthy of being in her presence. “Ok so I’m going to be biased and get you the apples I personally think are the best for pie. If your Hyung doesn’t like them then tell me and I’ll give you money for different ones.” she said looking over her shoulder at a nodding Jungkook. “I love these ones. They’re ‘Pink Lady’ apples.”, she says grabbing a small light red apple “They’re Sweet but not too sweet. They make the pie come out much better than green apples and their name sounds classy.” She handed it to Jungkook and started picking out the best apples from the pile. After finding 6 perfect apples she put them in the basket he was carrying. Once again accidentally touching him In the process. Jungkook completely froze, he felt as if he was shocked by electricity. “I can help you with rest of your things” the woman said looking up at the poor awestruck man. “I mean only if you want me to...” she added when Jungkook just stared at her without answering worrying that she might have been intruding. Jungkook just nodded, he couldn’t trust himself to speak without fumbling over his words. The woman smiled and spent the next 30 minutes helping him with the rest of Jin’s list. After Jungkook payed the two made their way to the wagon. “Thank you for helping me. I would have been lost for a long time.” “You’re welcome” the teacher smiled at him brightly. “It was my pleasure. By the way what’s your name Mr apple pie?” “Jungkook” the woman pondered that for a second before extending her hand. “I’m y/n” Jungkook silently hoped she wouldn’t notice how sweaty his hand was. If y/n did she didn’t say anything about it while grasping his calloused hand with her smaller and much softer hand. Jungkook felt ashamed when his thoughts immediately when to a dirty place when he imagined her soft hands touching him somewhere else. Mentally slapping himself he snapped out of it before he, as Jimin liked to call it, popped a boner. “Well, Mr. Jungkook, I’ll see you at the school house bright and early tomorrow” she said while turning to walk away. When y/n was gone Jungkook raised his hand to his face to make sure this was all real. With his luck this would end up being a dream. At least it would has been a really good dream. He must have zoned out for a while because he was startled back to reality by Jin clapping him on the shoulder, “Stop staring into la la land and help me tie everything down.” Jungkook took one last look at his hand, “You were right hyung” ...’love at first sight does exist.’ “I’m always right. I don’t know why you’re barely realizing that now”

#Jungkook reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook reader smut #Jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #Jungkook reader fluff #BTS reader fluff #BTS reader #BTS smut #BTS reader smut

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thetimelesscycle · 4 years

Text

Tales of Arcadia Wizards Fanfiction: Hope Dies Last - Chapter 4

A common goal fails to foster cooperation, and questions without answers continue to perplex.

A/N: In which I am forced to try and include some actual plot and civil conversations are in short supply.

Chapter 4

A Puzzle Incomplete

To say that Merlin was furious would have been as wild an understatement as the claim that Arthur was not especially fond of magic. He was not certain there was a word for the incandescent rage boiling just beneath his skin, threatening to dissolve carefully constructed walls that had not crumbled in decades. It took a conscious effort to keep a lid on that fury as he guided his exhausted apprentice to lie down once again, the boy having spent what little strength he’d regained in a few scant minutes. Shivers still wracked his slender frame, his body reacting to the invisible wound festering beneath the surface, though at this point Merlin was more worried about his state of mind.

He had never seen Hisirdoux display such raw terror before, not even at the sword point of Arthur’s knights. Then again, Galahad had only threatened to execute him, not tear his soul to shreds and leave him with the tattered remains.

The worst part was he did not think there were meant to be any remains. Whoever had attacked his apprentice had done so with the intention of destroying him completely. They had come dangerously close to succeeding, thwarted by the boy’s own magic, which raised more questions than it answered. If Hisirdoux had encountered a creature powerful enough to wound him in this way, how was he still alive? How had a child whose own enchantments still flummoxed him fended off that sort of danger?

He wasn’t going to get any answers from Hisirdoux right now, that much was clear. His apprentice was mumbling restlessly in his sleep again, nonsensical words, the delusional arguments of an overstressed mind.

“Tell me you know how to fix this.” Archie had settled himself behind his familiar’s shoulders, one paw draped over the boy’s arm, but his eyes were fixed on Merlin, plea and demand both in that gaze. “Tell me you can help him.”

“I intend to do everything in my power, Archibald.” It wasn’t quite the same lie he’d told his apprentice, trying to soothe the boy’s panic before he did himself further injury, but it wasn’t the whole truth either; He was already doing everything in his power, it simply wasn’t enough.

“That’s not a ‘yes’.” The tiny dragon gave him a look that could almost have been called threatening. “He thinks you’re capable of anything, you know. Maybe it’s time you lived up to the legend.”

Not gracing that barbed statement with a response, he tucked the blanket back about Hisirdoux’s shoulders, pausing just long enough to rest a hand on the boy’s clammy forehead as he renewed his stasis spell for the umpteenth time. That done, he took his leave, refusing to acknowledge Archie’s lingering stare as he slipped out of the room.

Morgana was waiting for him when he reentered the workshop, pacing back and forth with long, sweeping strides, a book held open in her hands. She whirled as soon as the door opened.

“How is he?”

Straight to the point. Her and Arthur were very alike in that way. He didn’t answer at once, drifting across the room to the cluttered workbench by the stained glass windows. There was a fine layer of dust there that had gathered over the past two days, the designs he had been pouring over what seemed a lifetime ago now sitting discarded and forgotten. He sensed Morgana’s impatience as he lifted the page of sketches and idly examined its contents, dropping the weighted truth into the tense silence.

“Slipping away.” It was an inadequate description for what would happen if he didn’t find a way to stop the dark magic from finishing its work. What was confusion and spontaneous panic now would devolve into raving madness as Hisirdoux’s very essence continued to crumble. The boy was already losing memories, the spell he had cast only slowing the process, not preventing it. “I have no doubt this was an attempt to kill him.”

“Why?” Her outrage echoed his own. Where his bubbled beneath a thin veneer of self-control, hers revealed itself in a flash of righteous fury, the room rattling briefly as she paced closer. “He’s a child, Merlin!”

“That I cannot say.” His suspicions, founded on his knowledge of the type of magic it took to cause this kind of injury, seemed ludicrous. Hisirdoux was not trained enough to be a threat to anyone yet — besides himself — and certainly not enough of a danger to warrant such wanton cruelty. The being who had attacked his apprentice under Arthur’s very nose had done so with purely malicious intent. To hurt someone in that way, to threaten not only their life but their existence beyond the mortal plane as well... that was an act of pure hatred. More perturbing still, Hisirdoux appeared to have been the only target. Not even Archie had been wounded, despite the fact the pair of them shared the same bed. “Though I intend to find out.”

“I will help in any way I can,” she asserted, coming to stand on the opposite side of the work table. “What about Douxie? Is there anything he needs? Anything we can do?”

“He needs a proper healer.” Morgana scowled, and Merlin’s own glare deepened out of habit. It was a tall order. Neither of them had a gift for healing magic, formidable wizards though they might be, and those of Camelot’s dwindling magical community who were proficient in the healing arts had been some of the first victims in Arthur’s war against magic. Such individuals were typically well-known and notoriously bad at keeping themselves hidden, driven as they were to put their skills to good use. Hisirdoux had shown some aptitude for minor healing charms using his runic bracelet, but not to the level required to mend someone’s shredded spirit; Certainly not when he was the victim.

“Did he tell you what happened?” Morgana was on the hunt. He’d seen that look enough times to recognise it. “A name? A face?”

“No, not yet.” He could have pushed. It was clear Hisirdoux remembered something, and was deeply disturbed by it. Perhaps that was why he’d chosen not to force the matter. Further stress right now would only make things worse. He also had the image of his apprentice reeling away from him in abject terror ingrained in his mind, and wasn’t in any great hurry to repeat that experience. “We’ll have a chance to ask some more pertinent questions when next he wakes. In the meantime, we should continue our efforts to keep the castle secure.”

“You’re worried about Arthur.”

“He is a rather more likely candidate for assassination than my very green apprentice.”

“You haven’t even considered the possibility that you were the target, have you?” He came up short, casting her a piercing look. Morgana rolled her eyes. “Of course you haven’t. He is your apprentice, Merlin. If anyone wanted to draw you out, Douxie is by far the easiest way to reach you.”

It made a disturbing amount of sense, much as he would prefer to deny it. Anyone with even an inkling of familiarity with the royal court would be aware that he would go to Arthur’s aid as required, but the king had an enchanted blade and dozens of trained knights at his beck and call. He would not fall without a fight. Hisirdoux, on the other hand, couldn’t even fend off an enchanted broom. It was entirely possible, even probable, that anyone trying to strike down the Master Wizard would see his apprentice as the weak link in the chain.

Except, that would suggest that the person responsible believed he would set everything else aside to assure the welfare of his student. That assumption was to his advantage; Or, it would have been, had he not spent the last two days doing exactly that. Without the constant renewal of his stasis spell, Hisirdoux might not have survived long enough to regain consciousness. Putting aside his other duties had seemed the right thing to do at the time, weighed against the unnerving thought of no longer having apprentice and dragon constantly underfoot. Morgana was forcing him to face the fact his enemies may have depended upon him making that exact decision, and consider the very real possibility his eyes had deliberately been drawn away from some greater danger.

He wasn’t in the mood to entertain that thought, or to acknowledge the stark fear nipping gently at his heels, so he deliberately set them both aside. There had been no further attacks; It seemed reasonable to assume Hisirdoux was the only target for the time being, as perplexing as that was.

“There is no point speculating until we know more,” he said aloud, knowing the silence had stretched a beat too long. “Better to concentrate on securing our defenses and finding someone to help Hisirdoux.”

“You won’t find anyone in Camelot. You know that.”

That she was right didn’t make him any less aggravated by the observation. “What do you suggest, then?”

“I could try.”

He had not been expecting it, which was the only reason it took him more than a second to formulate his reply. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I think enough damage has already been done without bringing Shadow Magic into the mix, don’t you?”

“I’m not going to hurt him!”

“No, because you will not be using your dark arts anywhere near him. I forbid it.”

She clenched her fists around the volume in her hands, the room rattling again as she stared him down in muted fury. “You know you are part of the problem, don’t you? If you didn’t spend so much time dismissing and demonising that which you don’t understand perhaps Arthur would not feel so justified in destroying every form of magic that does not serve him.”

“Rubbish.” He waved the words away. “We both know where Arthur’s hatred of magic stems from. It has nothing to do with me.”

“You are blind if you truly believe that.”

“And you are wasting my time with pointless arguments in the midst of a crisis. I have better things to do right now than have this discussion with you again.”

He turned towards the door, only to have it come aglow with magic as it slammed shut.

“I am not Hisirdoux to be dismissed whenever you don’t feel like listening.”

“More’s the pity.” He swung back around to face her with his condemnation. “I did at least think you had enough regard for the boy not to delay my work.”

The glare she fixed on him could have quelled Gunmar himself. Merlin simply glared right back, raising an imperious eyebrow in that way he knew she hated.

“Waiting and hoping you’ll think of something is not the answer, Merlin, as you well know. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“What I refuse to admit is that diving headfirst into the Shadow Realm is a viable solution to the problem at hand. Because it isn’t.”

“You don’t know that.” She gestured with the book in her hands. Not one of his library; He had never encouraged this exploration of dark magic. He didn’t even know where she had happened across it, only that he deeply regretted not having snatched it away to cast into the fire years ago. “You don’t know Shadow Magic. How can you be so certain it won’t work?”

“Common sense, girl.” She glowered at the title, a humbling she had earned with her adamance. “Double the poison does not make a cure.”

“There is nothing there to cure.” She slammed her hand palm down on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin marked Archie emerging from the bedchamber, though whether he intended to intervene or simply wanted to be closer to the unfolding argument was debatable. “Whatever magic did this to him destroyed parts of his soul. They’re not there to be mended, they’re gone. He’s not a torn cloak, Merlin. You can’t just tie the pieces that remain together and hope it’s enough to cover what is missing. Even if you get him back on his feet you will stretch him so thin you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t kill himself the first time he tries to cast a spell!”

“And how would you know that, hmm? What extensive well of experience are you drawing your theories from?”

“This.” She lifted up the spell book, shoving it at his chest. He seized it on instinct, and she took the opportunity to pluck several more volumes off the table and toss them in his direction as well. He caught those with magic, which was preferable to his face, and watched her storm closer whilst struggling to contain his own rising ire. “You are so convinced that your way is the only way that it has never even occurred to you that I chose to study Shadow Magic for this very reason. For when other means are not enough. You have no idea how it works because you think it is beneath you. I do know. I can use it. And I know that if we have any hope of restoring Douxie’s soul the Shadow Realm is our best chance. Somebody tore that boy to pieces, Merlin, what’s missing doesn’t exist in this world anymore, but that sort of dark magic leaves a trail. I can save him if you will just trust me.”

“And when what you save is not Hisirdoux? When you patch him back together with dark magic and corrupt him entirely? What then, Morgana?”

“I know the difference.”

“No, you think you know the difference, and I will not wager my apprentice’s life on your arrogance.”

“My arrogance? You are the old fool who can’t see past your own self-importance to what your inaction has cost us all! You could have stopped Arthur years ago if you so chose, but you needed him to keep you safe so you could continue your all important work, at the cost of the hundreds of innocents you abandoned. The only reason your apprentice ever needed saving was because you were too much of a coward to stand up to your king!”

“How dare you—!”

“Stop it, both of you!” The outburst was such a surprise that Merlin was actually struck to silence, turning in tandem with Morgana to stare at the small dragon glaring at them both with a baleful expression. “What you seem to be forgetting is that this isn’t your decision to make, it’s Douxie’s. He is the one who has been hurt here, and you deciding what is best for him without bothering to even ask what he thinks is not going to help matters at all. When he wakes up we will all have a civilised discussion on what the best thing to do is. Until then, perhaps you two Master Wizards can put your heads together and properly figure out who was responsible for this. Before they do the same thing to someone else.”

The ensuing hush was awkward, to say the least. Archie refused to back down, standing with wings flared and lips curled back in a faint snarl as he tried to look as intimidating as a dragon that didn’t come up to one’s knees could. Merlin was the first to turn away, stalking back to the table to set down the books Morgana had flung at him in her fury. Unfortunately for him, years spent as his student had taught her to read his silences better than anyone else, and there was disbelief in her eyes when he turned back to face the pair of them.

“You already know, don’t you?” she accused.

“I suspect,” he defended himself. “That is not the same thing as knowing.”

“Yes, yes, it’s completely different,” Archie pressed impatiently. “Who do you suspect is responsible then?”

He had not been ready to disclose this much to anyone just yet. Sadly, he could not see a way out of it without inciting another argument. It was a small miracle they hadn’t already woken Hisirdoux with all the shouting that had been going on, and he didn’t want to subject himself to Archie’s righteous anger should it start up again. Instead, he adopted the stance of a teacher once more, marching back and forth as he spoke, “The ability to injure someone in this way is not common. Shadow Magic might allow you to tether a soul to a traumatic memory, hold it in place, twist it until it bends to your will, or rip it from its mortal flesh entirely, but it does not allow you to cause irreparable harm. This is something older, darker. This is the Arcane Order.”

Morgana exchanged a glance with the familiar, then asked the expected question, “What is the Arcane Order?”

“You mean who,” he held up a finger to emphasise his point. “They are a trio of ancient wizards who protect the balance between the magic and the mortal worlds by rendering destruction on those they perceive to be a threat. If you want to blame anyone for the world’s growing mistrust of magic, Morgana, the Order should be at the top of your list. To say that they are responsible for the deaths of hundreds would likely be understating the bloody mark they have left on history. Part of the reason I aided Arthur in uniting Camelot was because it was becoming abundantly clear I could not continue to fight them on my own, and the divisions amongst the mortal kingdoms made them easy prey. The Order has been quiet since Arthur came to power; I might have known they were planning something.”

“Why Douxie, though?” Archie wondered aloud. “Why not Arthur? Why not you?”

“I do not know.” It grated to admit that much. Morgana’s theory might hold some merit, but he still didn’t understand why the Order would not have come for him directly. He was not an easy mark, but he was not unreachable either. “If it was the Arcane Order, then I do not even know how Hisirdoux survived. These are beings older than nearly any other that walks the earth. Hisirdoux is a child. It doesn’t make sense.”

“We are missing something,” Morgana agreed, leaning across the table to emphasise her next point. “So let me look for it.”

He folded his arms, making his disapproval known. “We are going in circles, Morgana. The answer is still no.”

“But—!”

“Enough!” He called his staff to his hand from across the room just to add the force of slamming it on the ground to his words. “I need to go make sure our king is kept informed of this potential threat. If you want to make yourself useful, try searching my library for a solution that won’t simply kill the boy faster.”

“Kill?” Archie’s head shot up, eyes wide behind his glasses. “He’s dying?”

Merlin took that as his cue to leave the room. Let Morgana be the one to break the bad news. If she was doing that perhaps she wouldn’t feel tempted to go rooting through every scrap of forbidden knowledge Arthur had not yet managed to destroy.

A doubtful outcome, but a wizard could hope.

Right now, that seemed like all he could do.

Story Canon Notes:

"Hisirdoux had shown some aptitude for minor healing charms using his runic bracelet..." - Not strictly canon, but Douxie's role in the Trollhunters game is team healer, which at lease loosely implies he has some sort of remedial spell in his arsenal. His (minor) injuries also disappear between scenes in Episode 8, and I assume he was going to attempt to use some sort of healing spell on Merlin before Merlin stopped him.

#hisirdoux casperan #tales of arcadia #toa wizards #toa merlin #toa morgana #Hurt/Comfort #Angst #Fanfiction #toa archie

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thebibliomancer · 4 years

Text

Shadows of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 15

Shadows of the Dark Crystal by J. M. Lee because urVa is a delight.

Last times on book: Naia is on a journey to Ha’rar with Kylan to clear brother Gurjin’s name and warn the All-Maudra about all these dark crystals. Their journey took them through the Dark Woods where Naia dreamfasted with a tree and made the forest less spooky. Then urVa burst out of a tree and invited the Gelfling for a cryptic soup dinner.

Chapter 17

urVa teaches Naia about archery but mostly says a lot of cryptic stuff that Naia and Kylan can’t make sense of. That’s how it be.

Naia has a flying dream.

I swear, this has to be building up to something.

When she wakes up, Kylan is already up staring at the mysterious writing again because darnit he wants to know.

Naia ponders some more whether urVa is truly alone in this dirt hovel.

From the limited belongings he kept, it was hard for Naia to believe he was completely solitary. Life in Sog was very different, with every family keeping their own stock of meat and preserves, ranging gear and ceremonial garments, spears and bola, trinkets and family treasure. The Spriton had lived in communion with one another, too, each village hut full of material evidence of life and family and the village as a whole. Even the Podling burrow they’d found had had that same proof... but should urVa one day pass away, or leave for another place, the only thing left of him would be the bare walls with the writing Naia couldn’t read. And even then, it wouldn’t take long for the wild and the elements to eat away those as well, and then there would be no record he had existed at all.

Somewhere, the Skeksis have just broken out into a cold sweat.

urVa interrupts her melancholy to offer her some ta, which is almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea. Since it has red steam once the water hits the herbs, which I’ve never personally seen tea do. But as a name, ta still has the feel of caf or choc where writers don’t want to be just so mundane as to have coffee or chocolate in their fantastical world.

Cough Star Wars Cough

Despite his size and dragging tail, he was surprisingly stealthy and was already halfway across the small den’s space, heading toward the kettle. As he walked, his spine snaked in a liquid motion from his head to his bulk.

This. This is some good description.

urVa makes a comment about having all three suns in the sky at the same time which makes me wonder if there’s a time when that doesn’t happen and what that does to day and night.

Ta apparently tastes tangy and like alfen fruit. Fascinating.

Naia asks for directions from the Black River and urVa just gets up and gets his stuff and sets out. He’s a show, don’t tell kinda guy, I guess.

The Dark Woods is some whole other animal after Naia healed it. Full of life and joy and new growth. They’re going to need a new name for it, probably.

When the group stops for lunch, Naia asks about the corded staff and feathered spears urVa carries and he explains that they’re bow and arrows and asks if she wants to see.

They leave Kylan to rest his feet and go to a ledge where urVa can demonstrate.

“Bow -- two ends connected by a single string. Arrow -- head and tail connected by a single shaft.”

“For hunting? They look like spears.”

“Bow and arrow do not hunt; a hunter hunts. I am not a hunter.”

Naia be like ‘doubt’ but she’s impressed when he fires an arrow.

urVa hands her the bow and she tries to use it but the thing is nearly as tall as she is and the bowstring is bowstrung with the expectation of a Mystic’s bulk and four arms. She doesn’t really have success pulling back the bowstring, even without an arrow.

He helps her pull back the string and she manages to shoot an arrow, although it goes bouncing off everything because she didn’t so much shoot it as lose her grip on the bowstring.

Neech wants to go chase the arrow because that’s what he do but Naia settles him down.

urVa chuckled. “We need a Gelfling-size bow.”

Oh there’s a really cool picture of Naia and urVa on the ledge. The art in this book is so good.

Naia shoots off a few more arrows, getting better at it. She also takes the time to examine the bow and how the string is notched, the amount of curve and the type of wood. She looks at all his different arrows too.

Each was unique, with a different engraving or colorful adornment. Some had glittering sea-green scales along the sides, some had feathers or barbed orange leaves. The arrowheads were an array of hard materials, from stones and claws to bone and ancient wood. One even appeared to be made of a tooth. Every arrow was different, made with painstaking care and detail.

I wonder if Naia takes and spreads this knowledge and that’s how archery among Gelfling becomes so widespread that Toolah in Beneath the Dark Crystal can use arrows to solve every problem.

I’d like to think so.

Naia offers to go retrieve the arrows she had fired but urVa just tells her he’ll make more.

She gets really antsy about this because of the craftsmanship of the arrows and how the tradition in the Sog is to retrieve your bola. It makes her feel a little like shit that such good arrows will be lost forever just so she could see how archery works. She goes to climb down anyway but urVa pulls her back gently.

“Ah, Gelfling, little Gelfling,” he said. “Let them go. They were made of Thra and have returned to Thra. Now that my quiver is nearly empty, I have room for new arrows.”

So there was a thing I saw in a magazine profile of urVa that said he was so good at archery because he knows when to let things go and it simultaneously annoyed and impressed me because I hadn’t quite reconciled archery with how the urRu usually are but the explanation made perfect sense and was also kind of wordplay.

But it really works here and it really works as a dynamic against which Naia can butt her head.

She considers sneaking down to retreive them anyway but he just keeps staring at her so she gives it up.

“A stone in each hand leaves no room for a fifth... Mm, or in case of Gelfling, a third. Holding on to things too tightly will prevent you from moving forward.”

He’s just super good at letting things go.

But this also doesn’t sit right with Naia and tries to argue the point that if you let go of the things you care about there’s no point in trying and that there are things that are more important than stones.

urVa didn’t argue, simply bobbing his head from side to side. Though she hadn’t really expected to change his mind, Naia felt a pinch of frustration when he didn’t reply at all, but she kept it to herself. It was fine to disagree, after all, so long as neither of them held the feeling in contempt.

Naia: ‘i came her for an argument!’

At least its not getting hit on the head lessons.

But, the more urVa the more I like urVa. People could learn a lesson from how chill he is.

Naia asks urVa whether the visions and phantoms the Cradle-Tree showed her were just illusions and echoes of her fears.

“Hmmm,” urVa murmured. “Yes and no.”

“Yes and no are opposites,” Naia said, though it pained her to state the obvious.

urVa’s point though is that the Cradle-Tree is a tree and can only show what’s already there. “If you heard it, someone said it. If you saw it, someone did it” but context is key.

This doesn’t really answer the question of whether it was real for Naia but I think she’s getting used to that at this point.

While on the arrow quest, Kylan has been dream-etching the words he saw in urVa’s hovel into his book.

“Smart one, this one,” urVa said with a chuckle ... “What words are for, you know. Passing along a message from one place to another, even when the original dreamer has, himself, passed along and gone.”

The group sets off again and they pass under where the broken bridge was. And nice scenery building, the broken bridge was actually a branch of the Cradle-Tree, broken due to its darkening. Nice. I like that it ties together.

But urVa draws their attention to a figure traveling along the ridge and tells the Gelfling that its looking for them and then shrugs when they ask how he knows.

“An archer knows the path of an arrow from either end.”

Another way of saying a hunter knows when he’s being hunted, Naia thought. At least sometimes his riddles made sense to her.

Naia doesn’t worry about their maybe stalker because there’s nothing she can do about it until the pursuer catches up except pick up the pace which she does do.

They arrive at a stream that urVa tells Naia and Kylan will lead them to the Black River.

“Thank you, urVa. And for showing us the way to the river.”

“May we meet again,” urVa replied. “Even be it in a different form.”

Uhhhhhhm I mean, I like the sentiment here but I have a sinking feeling that he is going to meet them in a different form and its not going to be as pleasant.

Cough the Hunter cough.

Naia: “He seems very wise, but what good is wisdom when it can’t be understood? I didn’t understand half of what he told us this entire time.”

That’s the Mystic experience for you, Naia.

Alas, I’d like more time with urVa but he has other plot to attend to and really he’s like a super high leveled guest party member. He’s a tension breaker. For the good of the story, he has to go shoot arrows to annoy Aughra.

Bye urVa. You were a delight.

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Shadows of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Naia #Kylan #urVa #the Archer

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