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jjmjjktth · 3 years

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Prologue: The Escape

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I saw this fic idea by @messymessyml and couldn’t help myself. I tagged the people who asked to be tagged on the original post; if you want to be added comment or send an ask ;)

Damian is 16 and Marinette is a month shy of 16 at the beginning of the fic.

the characters may be a tad OOC.

TW: Bullying, cursing (it’s censored but still there)

Damian stormed into the cave through the zeta tube. Everyone moved aside; they had not seen a look of such fury since he had first come to Gotham. Despite him not being the violent assassin he was raised to be, Robin found himself nearly following through with his usual threats. Not even bothering to discard his equipment, the heir walked straight to one of the side rooms for private discussions. As predicted, his father followed him. No doubt for a lecture.

Spinning around to face his father, Damian took a deep breath. I can’t lose my head, it won't help my case.

“Father….” there was so much defeat and anger in his voice that the bat seemed to almost reconsider his decision, almost. Robin watched his Father lift his hand to stop him from speaking any further, and begin to address him.

“It was the right call, Damian. It had to be done. You cannot just run around with superpowers. I had to deal with that.”

“It wasn’t your call.” The teen growled. “I had an advantage, Father! It would have been hard for Mother to kill me again! I was safe.”

“You do not need powers to be safe, Damian.”

“I died because I was too slow. It wasn’t your call to remove my safety net! It was mine!”

“I am your father! Everything is my call!” Daman could see that this was going nowhere. Setting his face into a scowl, he left the cave.

Left with his thoughts as he navigated through the maze-like halls of Wayne Manor, the young hero began to negotiate with himself; beginning a difficult game of mental tug-of-war. Weighing the pros and cons proved to be harder than he originally thought; it started with admitting that he may have become attached to his “siblings”, at least more than he would have originally thought he could be. On the other hand, they treated him one of two ways, all of the time; he was always either a child or a weapon. At the very least they should be able to treat him like his actual age! But, they also cared for him a lot… in their own way. On top of that, the manor was a hugely more beneficial environment than the league ever was. His mother would also have a harder time reaching him here. That didn't stop her before. Despite how “safe” this place was said to be, his mother still found a way to kill him for his change in loyalty. If he left, he would surely be caught. If you stay, she will know you’re here and plan accordingly.

Slowly the pros started to outweigh the cons making his decision obvious, he would run away tonight.

It wasn’t until he arrived in his room that he realized he was still wearing his uniform. Not wanting to return to the cave, the heir simply folded the uniform and placed it at the end of his bed. No doubt Pennyworth would retrieve it in the morning. He glanced around his room. There weren't any decorations aside from the occasional painting or katana. Making up his mind, Damian went through his few belongings that mattered. He had to be careful to find ones that would not have a tracking device in them. I’ll have to go to my safehouse for clothes. He gathered up all his weapons that wouldn't be noticed gone and wouldn't be flagged by airport security. Putting everything in a bag, he snuck out his window and took off for his apartment. Leaving only a note that read, I need space, I will be at one of my safehouses, off grid.

___________Marinette pov______________

“You b*tch!” a loud slap echoed across the school courtyard. “Not only are you a liar and a bully, you’re a thief too!” Alya screamed, waving her hands around. “That’s Lila’s life’s work and you just claim it as your own! Lazy, fat, sl*t!”

“But, Alya! I have my sig–”

“I didn’t say you could speak, wh*r*.” Alya said, grabbing the designer’s shirt. “You are going to stand up; walk over to Lila; apologise; and give her her sketchbook back. Understand b*tch.”

“No.” Mari took a deep breath and shoved her building emotions back down into their designated corner. “I will not apologise to Lila because I did–”

“What did you say b*tch!”

“I said no.”

“You piece of sh*t.”

At this point Marinette just tuned her ex-best friend out. She always said the same things. So the heroine only waited.

After school Marinette left for home immediately; she did not want to be in any trouble for being late for her shift. With twenty minutes to spare, the girl leapt up the stairs three-at-a-time to reach her room with enough time for concealer. She would probably be grounded for operating the register with marks on her face. It’s a good thing that my miraculous has healing properties or I wouldn't be able to work at all.

While at the till, a swarm of wasps swept through the shop stinging everyone, except Marinette. As soon as she saw the wasps, she took off for the walk-in freezer in the back of the bakery. Tikki fazed through the door to see when it would be clear to leave the freezer.

“All clear Marinette!” Tikki chirped.

“Thanks.” The hero swung open the door and took off running for the Seine.

Upon arriving at he famous river, Marinette dove into the water scattering the trail of wasps behind her. Pulling out the water powerup, Mari was amazed to discover that even underwater the macaroon did not get soggy, but remained its usual texture and firmness. Calling for her transformation again, Ladybug sprinted to Master Fu’s location unaware of the villain tailing her.

“Master Fu! May I use the snake miraculous?” With a nod, Master Fu pulled out the miracle box and selected the snake miraculous.

“Thank you!” LB called out as she left merging the two miraculous. Lately, Marinette had taken to using the ladybug and snake miraculous together having taken the cat miraculous away from Adrien.

Arriving in front of the town hall, Ladybug surveyed the battlefield. In front of the akuma, Miracle Queen, stood all her previous allies: Adrien, Luka, Ivan, Nino, Max, Alya, and Kagami. They all appear to have been stung by the wasps. At that moment, Hawkmoth arrived bearing the miracle box! Hawkmoth passed the box to Miracle Queen and the students stepped forward to take their respective jewels. All but two, Luka and Adrien. Ladybug had both of those miraculous on her person (the black cat miraculous was in her yoyo) She was about to enter the battle when Master Fu leapt over the building in pursuit of the villain weilding the turtle as Jade Turtle. At that moment Ladybug engaged the various villains calling for her second chance.

As she landed, Pegasus opened a portal to space. Reactivating second chance she tried again, and again, and again, and again. Until she managed to take the dragon and horse miraculous back.

There was a rush of wind and all the holders before her, except Hawkmoth and Myura, were stripped of their miraculous as a light formed above her head. Oh no, Master Fu! The miracle box fell into her hands. Using the destraction Ladybug broke and purified the akuma.

She ran to Master Fu as quickly as she could.

“Master Fu! Are you okay?” She waited with baited breath.

“Hello, young lady, do I know you?” There went any hope I had.

“No, I’m just a concerned citizen.”

I dropped off the miracle box in my room before releasing Tikki from my transformation and entering the bakery through the front. Her parents were there, waiting for her.

“We’ll talk about this later.” Sabine said smiling at Marinette with daggers for eyes.

“Yes, Maman.” Nope. Nope. Nope. Not today. Not ever.

As soon as Marinette reached her room, she pulled out the miracle box, a backpack of clothes and sewing supplies, and her toiletries (she could pull money out of her account later if needed). Opening the box, Marinette took out the horse miraculous releasing Kaalki.

“Master F– where is Master Fu, Marinette.”

“Gone, he relinquished his guardianship when hawkmoth cornered him.” She put on the glasses. “I need an escape; is that ok Kaalki?”

“Of course guardian.”

The girl called for Kaalki’s transformation, summoned a portal, gathered her belongings, and walked through.

Authors notes will be at the end from now on (minus warnings and such)

what should i call this story?

Smiles and love, Jjmjjktth <3 :)

Next - Masterlist

Taglist: @swiftie-miraculer13 @messymessyml

#maribat #marinette #salt #damian wayne #the bats #daminette #paris has a hawkmoth problem #toodles #wip #young hearts are easily broken

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dramioneasks · 3 years

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Hey! I’ve read & loved so many fics I’ve found on your blog! I haven’t asked before, so if I do it wrong please just ignore this.

This is vague, but I’m looking for a new fic suggestion. Anything is helpful—I feel I’ve looked through everything. I like slow burn, angsty, raw emotions, PTSD & hurt/comfort. Ideally after war. Supernat. creatures are sometimes fun too. No prior rom relationships between D&H tho pls. Do you have have a suggestion? No rating in mind. Wild cards are great too! Thx again for the work & dedication you bring to the community!

Here are some darker, angsty-er fics:

I Will Not, Cannot Go by odairrieres - M, 41 chapters, Words: 364,252 - After running away from the shadows of the war and finding a new life and fiancé in muggle London, Hermione is faced with a ghost from her past who refuses to let her go on living a lie.

Blood Traitor by Zalia - M, 92 chapters - Draco Malfoy has been living a lie to protect the girl he loves. He has inherited the Veela gene and on his next birthday he will become the first male Veela for three hundred years. Canon, (except the epilogue of HPDH).

Static by galfoy - M, 21 chapters - The Order rescued Draco and Lucius Malfoy after Lord Voldemort turned on them. All the safe houses are full, and Hermione Granger is the only one who can take them in. Will she agree after having suffered a drastic nervous breakdown?

Untold Stories - storyofeden - M, 11 chapters - Witches and wizards set upon repairing Hogwarts after the war. In a step towards rehabilitation, they try to eliminate some of the more…problematic rooms of the castle. Hogwarts, however, fought back. Much like ghosts, the castle will not move on if there is still unfinished business. Tired of her job at the Ministry, Hermione Granger returns to Hogwarts when Madam Pince retires. Little does she know that she may be embarking on her own journey of rehabilitation.

Bittersweet and Strange - UndiscoveredQueen19 - T, 15 chapters - “Look at me, Granger,” Draco said quietly, dangerously. “Tell me what you see.” So Hermione looked. The scars that crisscrossed his face were jagged and deep. They had probably taken years to fully turn white. Standing mere inches away from him, Hermione noticed for the first time that his right eye was clouded with a white scar as well; probably an effect from the scar that slashed through his eyebrow and across his cheek. The skin that wasn’t marred by the scar tissue was pale and clammy, and his eyes were shadowed with grief and pain. It was true; he really did resemble a monster. But Hermione could see desperation in his eyes, hurt and loneliness lining his face, and it was those emotions that made him very much human. “I see a man who was cursed to wear the face of a monster,” she said, “but who still has the heart of a man. I don’t know what you did to make Voldemort mark you so, but I certainly hope it was worth it.” *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Trapped to share the same cursed fate in a world ruled by Voldemort, Draco and Hermione find that their differences are what make them similar and that their flaws are what make them whole. Dramione AU with a Beauty and the Beast twist.

Dragon in the Dark - GracefulLioness - E, 31 chapters - The battle is won, Voldemort is dead, but the war is far from over. In the new Death Eater regime, Draco Malfoy does what he must to survive and keep his mother safe. Now a highly trained assassin, Draco has learned to think of his targets as inhuman beings, but when he is tasked with killing someone from his past, he can no longer hide from the horrors of the world around him.

Encyclopedia of Solace by littleornaments - E, 10 chapters - She felt fabric sag over her ears, stinking of decades worth of anxious sweat. She never thought it would be placed on her head a second time, much less that she’d stride towards the Ravenclaw table afterwards. The war had gutted the library, and though many books survived, countless tomes still needed repair. If anyone could have fun in a library, it was Hermione Granger, and it certainly didn’t involve Malfoy’s feline nose hanging about every night. DM/HG. Post-war.

Find A Way To Live On by LitheLies (Vlora) - M, 48 chapters, Words: 195,298 - Hermione has every reason to move on from her time at Hogwarts, to accept an honourary N.E.W.T. score and any job she so desired. It isn’t like she needs the grades, not with her accolades and her status as a war hero. But perhaps there’s more to her eighth year at Hogwarts than the sense of accomplishment. What if she’s not ready? What if she was simply afraid to let that part of her life go? What if The Brightest Witch of Her Age is simply burning for nothing, bright for the sake of brightness, clever for the sake of cleverness. Everything is too easy and too difficult, all at once, and she just wants – well, what does she want? It’s been years since she’s allowed herself such a thought. (AU Eighth year, Dramione.)

- Lisa

#angst #progressive relationship #hurt and comfort

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mindmeltonabun-blog · 3 years

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Tale of the Nine Tailed: More Analysis and Theories (Ep 9 & 10)

If you haven't done so already, I would suggest that you read all of my other TOTNT posts before continuing to read this post because otherwise you might find yourself lost or confused as to what I’m talking about. For the most part, the majority of the theories that I have proposed here have came true which is great! However, there were a few theories, most notably my zombie theory that didn’t quite come true. Although I wouldn’t be surprised that if in the end we found out that the Imoogi had a hand in creating those zombies.

Now this post may leave you in a state of exhaustion upon reading it, but I can guarantee you that it will be well worth your time at the end of it ! Additionally, I would like to apologize in advance if I haven't posted my theories or analyses right away, but I’ve been preoccupied with school work as well as tirelessly watching the US election. Needless to say, it’s been a very long week for me! I do want to write well thought out posts for you all, but at the same time I hope you guys will understand that these theoretical and analytical posts do require a great deal of time and extensive research. Anyways with that being said, let’s get to theorizing and analyzing the clues of which we were given in Ep 9 and Ep 10!

What The Imoogi Wants

Initially, I had strongly believed that the Imoogi was after Lee Yeon’s fox bead because it was a form of “Yeouiju” which could’ve helped it become a celestial dragon. There are of course other ways an Imoogi could be a celestial dragon:

1) Fox Bead/Yeouiju

2) Sacrificial Virgin Bride

3) Living to be 1000 years old

It should be noted that I am still somewhat uncertain whether in the context of TOTNT, an Imoogi would need to fulfill all three requirements to become a celestial dragon. In Korean mythology, it is heavily implied that the Imoogi only needs one of the three. Furthermore, in most of the popular myths about the Imoogi, it mainly seeks to obtain the fox bead/yeouiju. Thus, this is why I had initially concluded that the Imoogi in TOTNT was solely after Lee Yeon’s fox bead/Yeouiju and not anything else. However since TOTNT is an adaption of many popular Korean folklore, I think the writer is trying to incorporate all three requirements in their own unique way. Meaning that they are trying to add their own dramatic flair or twist to it. Now I’ve already discussed in great detail about the first two ways so now I want to focus on how I think the writer is trying to incorporate the requirement of living to be 1000 years.

1000 Years + More on Bok Gil/Imoogi’s Background

First, it is implied that Mountain Spirits are “celestial” animals (i.e bears, foxes, snakes, and tigers). By “celestial” I mean that you have to be at least 1000 years old in order to even be considered for this prestigious position. Therefore, at the time when Ah Eum had met Lee Yeon, he had just been recently appointed to that position. In the meanwhile, we as the viewers aren’t given any additional information as to what Lee Yeon had been doing up to that point. One thing is for sure, Lee Yeon must have been a real arrogant and egotistical ass. There I said it ! I mean just look how he behaved when he first met Ah Eum and Lee Rang! However, I think that by meeting Ah Eum and Lee Rang, they brought out Lee Yeon’s more compassionate side.

So you’re probably wondering well what the hell does this have anything to do with the Bok Gil/Imoogi? Well I’m getting to that! If you had remembered, I had theorized that Lee Yeon may have been the reason why Bok Gil committed suicide. Given Lee Yeon’s arrogant pretentious nature, I could definitely see Lee Yeon being completely unaware that his words and actions could’ve deeply affected others. One of those people was Bok Gil/Imoogi.

I believe that Bok Gil/Imoogi is around or exactly the same age as Lee Yeon. Bok Gil had probably died some time during the Goryeo or Joseon dynasty. What makes me believe this? Well just look at the kind of shoes Taluipa was holding. Those shoes are “Kkotsin” which were typically worn by men during those dynasties. Coincidentally, around the same time Bok Gil had died, Lee Yeon was appointed to the Mountain Spirit position. It raises the question, did Bok Gil kill himself before he was able to reach the “celestial” age of 1000 years old? I think so. Thus, he was unable to meet one of the requirements to become a Mountain Spirit.

Collectively, I think Bok Gil’s backstory will have a lot to do with our understanding of the Imoogi’s true motivations . For the Imoogi, it’s not purely about fulfilling the requirements of becoming celestial dragon, but it’s more about personally getting revenge on the person who took away his chance of ever becoming a Mountain Spirit in the first place. If you think about, you didn’t see him trying to go after Sato or any of the other Mountain Spirits or any other Gumiho for that matter. He specifically zeroed in on Lee Yeon.

Maybe the only wrongdoing that Lee Yeon may have committed towards the Imoogi was that he simply existed. Though, I wouldn’t be surprised that Bok Gil’s death and his hatred for Lee Yeon had all stemmed from a simple misunderstanding because let’s be real here, one of the central themes in TOTNT is misunderstandings.

Imoogis are typically seen as auspicious creatures in Korean folklore. Meaning that they are typically viewed as a good omen. Therefore, I think the Imoogi/Bok Gil was a good person, but because of his jealousy of Lee Yeon, he was driven towards depression and suicide. Upon coming back to life, instead of sadness, he was filled with anger and the need for revenge. I mean it’s easier to be angry than sad right?

Additionally, other theories I have for Bok Gil is that maybe his mother had foreseen he would meet the love of his life (Ah Eum) once he became the Mountain Spirit. However, this all changed when whoever decided that position belonged to Lee Yeon instead. If you think about it, Taluipa’s visions of the future are purely subjective just like Alice’s visions from Twilight. Meaning that the future is subjective because it is based on a person’s decision which can readily change.

Imoogi Changes His Decision of What He Wants

In the past, the Imoogi had wanted Lee Yeon’s heart. You might ask well what did the Imoogi mean by Lee Yeon’s heart? Did he mean his literal or figurative heart? The Imoogi could have meant his literal heart, but I think he meant it in a figurative sense. I think the Imoogi probably meant Lee Yeon’s fox bead which in traditional Korean folklore is the main power source/life force of a Gumiho, but I cannot say this with 100% certainty because TOTNT is after an adaption of many Korean folklore.

Now in the present, the Imoogi changed his mind of what he wanted from Lee Yeon. Why? Because he already knew that the fox bead has disappeared into the hands of the fortune teller. The Imoogi with his great powers could’ve easily gone after the fortune teller to retrieve it had this been his main objective. The Imoogi’s main objective isn’t to become a celestial dragon. Rather, it’s to get revenge on Lee Yeon whom he believed had stolen the life he was meant to have. The Imoogi had wanted Lee Yeon to suffer just as he had when he was alive as Bok Gil. He wanted Lee Yeon to feel the exact same pain of having to lose everything most precious to him. Man the Imoogi/Bok Gil is so immature! Taluipa, you need to discipline/talk with your son !

Is Taluipa a Snake/Dragon?

Other things I think would be interesting to know is what kind of species Bok Gil was. As mentioned earlier, Taluipa’s character is based off of Samsin Halmoni. In both Chinese and Korean folklore, Samsin Halmoni and Goddess Mago have been viewed as being the same. Mago was described as having long birdlike/clawlike finger nails. Furthermore, the Goddess Mago was associated with snakes, caves, and the “elixir of life”. See where I’m going yet?

Although it has not been revealed yet, I think that underneath Taluipa’s human skin, she is a snake/dragon. Therefore, this would also make Bok Gil a snake just like his mother. However, I am still unsure as to what kind of animal Taluipa’s husband is because as far as we know, he is just a regular human with immortality that was granted to him by Taluipa. If that is the case, would Bok Gil have been only half snake?

Does Taluipa Realize The Imoogi is Her Son?

I don’t think Taluipa has realized that the Imoogi is her son yet. If you remembered, I had said Bok Gil’s soul was in limbo. Therefore, when his soul traveled back into the land of the living, it had probably randomly jumped into whoever’s dead body was in that cave, thus this would make him unrecognizable even to his own mother.

Other things to note is that just as there is many foxes in the TOTNT, it should be assumed that there are also many snakes/Imoogis too. So Taluipa might not have realized that this one particular Imoogi was actually her son.

I think also that the Imoogi has the ability to cloud Taluipa’s psychic powers of clairvoyance. The decisions we make determines the kind of future we will have. And where exactly are decisions made? In our minds. We obviously know that the Imoogi has the psychic power to read others’ minds, but I think he also has powers that can block others from reading his. Without being able to see the Imoogi’s decisions which are made mentally, Taluipa cannot foresee what he will do next, only what he is doing presently. It’s about to be mother and son psychic power showdown ! Ouch, my brain hurts just thinking about that !

Resolving the Entangled Mess

In some of my previous posts I had suggested that Lee Rang will be the one that tragically dies. At the same time, I did leave room for the possibility of him having a happy ending through means of reincarnation. In this week’s episode, we were given another possibility of how Lee Rang might achieve a happy ending for himself such as untangling the mess.

Well what is this mess? I’m so glad you asked! Below is a chart that I drew as a visual aid to help you all understand the mess that currently exists in the world of TOTNT. I must say the mess in TOTNT is almost as messy as the US elections right now!

As you can see from my chart, the Imoogi has gotten Lee Yeon cornered in a sort of checkmate move. To win the Imoogi’s game, one must find a way to resolve the following two conflicts:

1) Lee Rang’s deal with the CEO

2) Imoogi piece inside Ji Ah

In doing so, one will then be able to remove the Imoogi completely!

Lee Rang’s Deal w/ The CEO

I had mentioned in a previous post that another common theme in TOTNT is deals/contracts. In ep 10, Taluipa’s husband advised to Lee Rang that he should try to think of a way to get around his contract with the CEO aka find a loophole.

What does “Quid Pro Quo” mean? It means that an item or service has been traded in return for something of equal value. The CEO had saved Lee Rang’s life and in return Lee Rang must comply with returning the a favor of equal value when asked. The favor the CEO asked Lee Rang was to bring Lee Yeon which essentially is a favor of equal value (a life for a life). Remember that if you choose not to comply, the power of the contract will force you to complete the favor anyway. However like with any deal, there is always a loophole. This loophole exists in the definition of Quid Pro Quo...of equal value.

Let’s look back to that chart that I drew earlier. What is the most precious thing to the CEO and is basically considered his life? THE CHERRY TREE! Without this tree, the CEO cannot survive. The CEO knew Lee Rang was being swayed by his brother as well as Lee Rang having knowledge of what his greatest weakness was. So then the CEO took precautions to ensure his greatest weakness could never be used against him by having the cherry tree be wheeled away to a safer location.

In order to avoid bringing/killing Lee Yeon, Lee Rang must find something of equal value to give back to the CEO to repay his debt. And that something of equal value is that damn cherry tree! Go Go Lee Rang! Find that cherry tree, return it to the CEO, and afterwards when the contractual rings break....KILL THE CEO !

While this does ensure the death of the CEO and the end of the contract between the CEO and Lee Rang, it does not ensure Lee Rang will survive in the long term. Meaning, Lee Rang cannot survive without the cherry tree either unless there is another means of extending his life (maybe elixir of life?). I do wonder what the typical lifespan of a half fox is. Things are implied, but yet there is no definitive answer as exactly how long a half fox can live. It also raises another question, can a half fox live forever provided that it does not get fatally injured?

Imoogi Piece Inside of Ji Ah

Now onto resolving the 2nd conflict which is how to remove the Imoogi piece inside of Ji Ah. Well I think it can go two ways:

1) Lee Yeon strikes up a deal with the Imoogi:

Lee Yeon will let the Imoogi take his body only if Imoogi would agree to removing the piece of himself that is inside Ji Ah. Now here’s the part where both Ji Ah and Lee Yeon could work together to stop the Imoogi once and for all. Remember that Lee Yeon is susceptible to the effects of evening primrose so when the Imoogi enters Lee Yeon’s body, it will also share the same vulnerability. Ji Ah could trap the Imoogi/Lee Yeon with evening primrose and then use her Shaman powers to remove the Imoogi. After all, one of the powers of a shaman is the ability to excise evil spirits!

2) Taluipa provides Lee Yeon with the elixir of life or turns him human

I will write out more of this theory later, but ngl guys I’m exhausted! Sorry!

Ji Ah = Supernatural Being=Shaman Goddess

In Ep 10, the writer is once again dropping clues like its freaking Christmas that Ji Ah is some sort of supernatural being. We got her female coworker asking if Ji Ah is even human. No she’s not human!! Then we saw how the Imoogi could read everyone else’s mind except for Ji Ah’s. Why? It’s the same reason why Lee Yeon couldn’t hypnotize Ji Ah. It’s because Ji Ah is a supernatural being (shaman goddess) that has hidden powers that makes her immune to powers of other supernatural creatures.

If you don’t still get it by now, I’ll give you this example: Edward Cullen and Bella. If you remember from Twilight, Edward Cullen could read everyone else’s mind except for Bella’s. Why? Because Bella had that special shield power which was later revealed once she became a vampire.

Therefore, just like Bella, I think Ji Ah has a bunch of special shaman powers that can be unlocked somehow. Don’t ask me how right now, my brain is struggling to write this sentence as we speak.

Last Remarks

Okay peeps, I struggled hard to try and write this. I am literally exhausted after staying up super late and waking super early to watch the US election results all week as well as doing my school work. So now I want to relax and celebrate the win of my President Elected, Mr. Joe Biden! I may or not write a separate post on what I think will happen in Ep 11. So stay tune!

P.S: If there are any other questions about TOTNT that I did not address, please feel free to leave a comment and I will do my best to try and provide you with an answer!

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sinsbymanka · 3 years

Note

ooh for the femslash feb prompts- f!aeducan/f!brosca. sfw,your choice between 'Trust me, you don’t want to meet my family' or 'You’re right. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m just making it up as I go along.'

Thank you friend! I've never written an Aeducan/Brosca before. Both of those work SO WELL for this pairing but I went for your first prompt: "Trust me, you don't want to meet my family." I’m submitting this for @dadrunkwriting!

Title: To Fall on Her Sword Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 1523 Relationships: Female Aeducan/Female Brosca (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multiple Wardens (Dragon Age), Warden Brosca (Dragon Age), Warden Aeducan - Freeform, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Post-Betrayal, The Aeducans are f’ed up, Brosca has had enough, Arguing, Kissing, Orzammar Culture and Customs, Femslash February Summary: Natia Brosca knew that letter Gorim Saelac gave Sereda Aeducan was gonna cause problems. She just didn't expect the problem to be Sereda gaining a bit of a death wish. And, by the Ancestors, Natia has saved Sereda's life enough that if anyone is going to kill the princess, it's gonna be Natia.

Read on AO3

Natia knew that letter was gonna be trouble the second that warrior handed it over to Sereda.

Not that she could read it even if she got her grubby hands on it. Natia’s reading lessons were only brief moments snatched by the fire at night with Sereda, which meant she was just beginning to recognize the shapes of letters on signs in Denerim. She couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what they meant.

But there were other things Natia understood very well. She recognized the shocked relief on the warrior’s bearded face when he saw Sereda’s blonde braids. She knew the emotion choking his voice meant he was on the verge of tears when he fell to his knees in the marketplace before their exiled princess. She even recognized the way he stumbled to his feet, it meant a wound hadn’t properly healed and now never would.

She saw the way Sereda reached for him greedily, the way her eyes flashed with concern when he tripped on his aching joints.

More importantly she knew the parchment he handed over, rolled into a tight little tube, was the creamy, expensive kind that cost the same as a full meal in Dust Town. The expression on his face spoke volumes, none of it good. The wax sealing it shut had the crest of Orzammar embossed within it.

...And Natia knew that the tiny tremor in Sereda’s fingers was the only hint of emotion the princess would show as she took the paper and tucked it away with a brisk thank you.

If that was the last of it, Natia would be happy. But Natia also knew it wasn’t going to be the last of it. She just didn’t know exactly what kinda trouble it was gonna cause until they had Denerim at their backs and were heading deep into the Brecilian Forest.

Natia didn’t realize that Sereda had lost her damn mind.

The princess fought like a warrior, Natia always appreciated that about her. Ancestors, it had been the reason she threw her lot in with an exiled royal rather than risk imprisonment. Sereda had confessed once that she’d been meant to lead her father’s army, and Natia could see it. In another world, she’d have been a warrior queen fit for the ballads.

In this world, however, Sereda was a pain in the ass that was going to get Natia killed.

Sereda threw herself into battle with no thought for strategy. Her warhammer swung into one wolfman’s ugly maw, shield bashed into another. She didn’t pay the slightest attention to the monsters flanking her. She just drove onward in relentless, foolish pursuit of blood.

If Natia wasn’t there, Sereda would be dead. Again.

But nobody was gonna pin a medal on her Duster chest for keeping the Kinslayer alive. They probably wouldn’t even do it if she managed to help end the Blight and save all these surfacers. Sereda Aeducan could afford to go out in a blaze of glory - they’ll remember her regardless.

Natia Brosca didn’t have that luxury. So when the last wolf dropped, she turned her ire to the Princess.

She’d lost her helm somewhere, Stone knew where, and her blonde braids were askew. There was blood running down her cheek, but Sereda’s blue eyes burned with desperation.

Natia knew that look too. It was the look some of the Dusters got in their eyes when they’d made up their mind to find their last fight.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Natia asked.

“There were werewolves.” Sereda picked up her helmet and looked at the dented metal critically, pointedly not looking at Natia. “Now there aren’t. Problem solved.”

“Come here,” Wynne ordered Sereda, exasperated. “Your head wound needs tending.”

“Let her keep it,” Natia declared hotly. “She’s in such a damn hurry to get herself killed, may as well not waste the healing.”

“Natia,” Wynne scolded.

Notably, Sereda didn’t deny it. She simply glared at Natia across the battlefield. Not to be deterred, Natia glared back. The silence stretched between them until Sten finally broke it.

“Asala-taar,” he rumbled. “That is what my people call it. The urge to give up because the battle is too much. We cannot afford such an ailment now.”

We can’t afford it in you.

Sereda with her quick mind. Sereda who knew what to do, how to talk to these nobles, Sereda who was indomitable. If Natia lost her, she may as well walk up to the next darkspawn and kindly ask him to finish the job that the Joining had started because there was no way they could do it without her.

No way Natia could go on without her.

Wynne’s hands reached for Sereda and she flinched away. “I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are,” Natia challenged.

“I’m fine!” Sereda used her best princess voice. It rang off the trees with regal authority, silenced both Wynne and Sten in a moment.

Natia simply drew herself up to her full height and leveled her dagger in Sereda’s direction before whispering one word. “Bullshit.”

Sereda cursed under her breath and turned on her heel, vanishing into the trees despite Wynne’s sputtering protests. Sten growled in his own language and Natia moved without thinking.

“Stay here!” she called behind her, flying after Sereda’s retreat.

She did not lose this stubborn princess to the Deep Roads. Natia would not lose her here.

“Can I not have a moment’s peace?” Sereda called over her shoulder, sliding down the riverbank until her boots sunk in the mud. Natia clammored down after her easily, unencumbered by her leathers.

Her quick fingers twisted into Sereda’s chainmail and tugged. “What was in the letter?”

“What letter?” Sereda asked through clenched teeth.

“The one that made you decide to sodding end it all!”

Sereda whipped out her grip and turned, glaring at Natia. She could see herself reflected in those clear eyes, all frazzled orange hair and reddening face. “It is none of your business.”

“I saved your life twice, I’m sorta attached to it.”

“I never asked you to.”

“Well I did!” Natia yelled, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I’ll be the one that decides when it ends, thank you very much. So come out with it. What did your loyal knight give you?”

“My loyal- Gorim?” Sereda asked, momentarily perplexed.

“Yes! The one that looks like he’d throw himself on his blighted sword for you.” Natia sighed, exasperated. She understood that much better than she particularly wanted to. Sereda had that damn effect on people.

“Gorim was my Second. Before-”

The pain that crossed Sereda’s face was raw. Violent. Before. Before Sereda was banished, before they called her Kinslayer, before she almost died in the Deep Roads.

Before she picked the Grey Wardens, before she would ever have looked twice at Natia Brosca or the brand on her cheek.

“My father’s dead,” Sereda said quietly. “I’ll never see him again. The last time he saw me, he sentenced me to death.”

“So you wanna finish the job in his honor?” Natia asked. “He was a shite father. Lots of people have shite fathers, Sereda. You don’t have to please him, especially not now.”

“He knew I was innocent.”

That surprised her. Sereda reached up to her breastplate, touched the space over her heart. Natia wondered if that was where the damning letter was stashed. Sereda’s voice grew hoarse, but she kept talking. “He knew I was innocent, that I didn’t kill Trian, and he exiled me anyway to avoid the scandal.”

...well, lots of people did have shite fathers. But Sereda’s father was truly the king of shite.

“He ruined his only daughter’s whole life to avoid a scandal?” she asked dumbly.

Tears popped into Sereda’s bright blue eyes, but they didn’t fall. She nodded. “There’s no king now. He’s dead, but they won’t make Bhelen king. The other candidate, Harrowmont, doesn't have enough support. There’s no King, the throne is empty, my father is dead, and I am…”

She trailed off helplessly and lifted her arms.

“Better off,” Natia declared, crossing the distance between them to run her gloved fingers over Sereda’s bloodstained cheeks. “You’re better off. You don’t belong to them, not anymore.”

Sereda was hers now, and Orzammar could rip her from Natia’s cold, dead fingers.

“We have to go back, Natia,” Sereda whispered, tipping her face to nuzzle into the cool leather while her eyes closed. “I have to go back.”

They did. They both did. “I’ll be with you. I’ll be your new Second, watch.”

Sereda smiled. “Maybe I can meet your family.”

That startled a laugh from Natia’s chest. The beautiful, perfect Sereda Aeducan in her former hovel across from her drunk mother and ferociously cunning sister? It was too absurd. “Trust me, you don’t want to meet my family.”

“Why not?” Sereda asked glumly. “They can’t be worse than mine.”

Natia took Sereda’s chin in her fingers and guided it to her lips. “Not true,” she murmured softly, “I’m your family now. And I’m pretty sodding great.”

The smile underneath Natia’s lips when they crashed together tasted like sweet, sweet victory.

#manka writes #da drunk writing circle #dragon age #female aeducan #female brosca #female aeducan/female brosca #dragon age origins #femslash february

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bemused-writer · 4 years

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Spirits and Personhood in Dragon Age

I’ve been sitting on this idea of spirits vs personhood for a while now (i.e. months) and the way Dragon Age: Inquisition portrays the dilemma. I have a lot of frustrations with how spirits are portrayed in this game, so I figured I would take some time to look over the question the game posits: Do spirits qualify as people or not?

Full disclosure: I opted for Cole to remain as a spirit in the game and while I criticize the idea of making Cole human this isn’t a judgment on how other players are playing the game. It’s more a critique of how the writing addressed the dilemma to begin with. Also, this post meanders … a lot. It has kind of become a general post about spirits in Dragon Age. I haven’t read the books, so if anything here is completely misinformed or if there’s info I’m lacking, feel free to let me know.

With that out of the way let’s get into it! At a certain point of the game we have to help Cole decide whether he will be more of a spirit or more of a human. I really wish we’d gotten a chance to just ask Cole what it was he wanted at some point. Granted, at the time he really just wanted to murder a guy and he very well could have turned into a demon afterwards, so I suppose that wasn’t an option.

So instead of the ideal, we’re given two viewpoints on the matter to fill the void: Solas’s and Varric’s.

Solas, our resident expert on spirits, believes it’s important that Cole accept himself for who he is. This way the ideal he aspires to, compassion, won’t be corrupted.

Varric thinks Cole should have a chance at being a person and phrases it to Solas as such: “All right. I get it. You like spirits. But he came into this world to be a person. Let him be one.” It kind of makes it sound like Solas’s appreciation of spirits is akin to a fondness for cats.

More to the point, Varric sees Cole remaining a spirit as robbing him of any chance to be a real person. But why? Why would being a spirit automatically make Cole less of a person?

The simple answer, at least for Varric, is that spirits simply aren’t people to begin with. I think Varric’s opinion about spirits is similar to a lot of people of Thedas: they’re concepts and they’re frequently dangerous. In other words, Varric doesn’t see spirits as people because most people of Thedas don’t see them as people. It’s the dominant opinion.

In DA2 Anders was one of the few people who didn’t follow this simple logic—he saw Justice as a friend and that’s the reason he did so much for him in the first place—but no one in DA2 got a chance to interact with Justice one-on-one. They just saw him as Anders’s weird, alternate personality that was causing trouble. I suppose most of the Awakening cast also saw Justice as a person; they spent a great deal of time with him after all, but none of them are people Varric has met.

The one other person from DA2 who I think sees spirits as people is Merrill. She said they’re like people: good and bad. It’s why she doesn’t refer to the bad ones as “demons.” You just need to exercise some caution like you would with anyone else.

What all of this means is that Varric can only come at this from the perspective of someone who has never really dealt with spirits, never really thought of their personhood, and the people he knows who did are those he feels made extremely poor life decisions (particularly Anders).

So, that’s Varric’s background on the situation but he has good intentions. He wants Cole to have the freedom of being a person, but the basis he uses for his argument is faulty. Cole isn’t worried about whether or not he’s a person (I kind of doubt this is a dilemma Cole is even having), he’s worried about becoming a demon. So, when Varric says “Cole came to this world to be a person,” he’s not actually correct. According to Cole: “I came through to help … and I couldn’t. So I became him.” Cole’s motivations are those of a spirit trying to fulfill his purpose. It’s very similar to other spirits we’ve seen in previous games.

For example, if we look at the spirit of faith from DA:O we see that Cole (Compassion) is quite similar to her. We never really met Faith properly but we saw her work through Wynne throughout the game. She helped preserve Wynne’s life, actually resurrected her when she died fighting a demon in the Circle Tower, and apparently watched over her for her entire life since she was a child. Faith cared for Wynne so much she allowed herself to weaken over time to preserve her. I think Compassion wanted to do something like this for the human Cole but wasn’t strong enough to sustain it.

Cole also some similarities to Justice in Awakening: Justice was trying to fulfill his purpose by helping the spirits of the dead move on by righting a wrong. He inadvertently comes to the mortal world and is trapped within a corpse.

However, Cole purposefully enters the mortal world in an effort to fulfill his own purpose, much like Faith. For him, his purpose was easing the suffering of a man trapped and forgotten.

Things get a little confusing at this point of the story. Did Cole possess a dead body the way Justice did or didn’t he? I would be inclined to say yes, he has, but Solas doesn’t even seem to think this is a possibility: “Cole, this man cannot have killed you. You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body.”

Hasn’t he though? How else could he “become him?”

I’ll admit it doesn’t make complete sense to say he’s possessing a body, much as I’m inclined to think he is. The body isn’t decomposing in the way Justice’s was. And yet, Cole creating his own flesh and blood body all on his own doesn’t make a whole lot of sense either, so I’m a little lost on this one. I guess the game wants me to assume this is what happened but I’m not entirely convinced. There’s no precedent and it’s never fully explored. It’s simply taken as a given.

Continuing on, Cole says this to the man he wants to kill: “You forgot. You locked me in the dungeon in the Spire, and you forgot, and I died in the dark!” It’s followed by “He killed me. He killed me. That’s why it doesn’t work. He killed me and I have to kill him back.” Whoever the original Cole was, he’s long gone and Compassion misses him and wants to right that wrong. His desire is still firmly within a spirit’s domain, but it’s becoming perverted. Hence, the danger of becoming a demon.

Now, Solas can be closed-minded about a lot of things (so many things...) but when it comes to spirits he is refreshingly open-minded. He sees them as people albeit different types of people with different problems and aspirations. He befriends them and talks to them regularly and Cole is facing a problem that only affects spirits: the possibility he could become a demon.

This is something Varric refuses to even consider. He thinks Cole is just a step away from becoming a human not a demon, and as such he needs to sort things out like a human. He phrases it like this:

Varric: But he isn’t a spirit, is he? He made himself human, and humans change. They get hurt, and they heal. He needs to work it out like a person.

Solas: You would alter the essence of what he is.

The game shows us making Cole human is a valid way of doing things--neither path results in a devastated Cole at least--but is it the right way of doing things?

For me, that’s the big point here. Is it all right to change who someone is so completely simply because you can’t fathom them being “real” any other way?

We could easily flip the script, of course, and say Solas is being closed-minded as well. He doesn’t think it’s possible for Cole to be a “person” in the way Varric does, thus preventing him from any kind of change whether it benefits him or not. But he also isn’t dismissing Cole as an individual just because he’s not mortal, and I think that’s key here.

Of course, Varric thinks Cole changed himself already but to me this shows his lack of experience with spirits. It also shows the game itself seems to have forgotten the depth they’ve given previous spirits, e.g. Justice.

I’m not sure why the game seems to think spirits behave strangely and can wipe themselves clean of their memories over and over. This was never something Justice needed to do and no one ever disputed the fact he was a person. In Awakening Justice was single-minded but he was willing to look at things from different angles when necessary and he grew as an individual. He didn’t “become a person” and he certainly didn’t stop being a spirit. Every single issue he faces in DA2 is because he’s a spirit living in the mortal world.

Also, if Cole can create his own flesh and blood body (presumably) why couldn’t Justice? Why don’t other spirits? How does this work? How--???

*ahem* The problem with the whole setup is that it didn’t need to be framed this way. Cole is already a person. The question isn’t “Should he be a person or should he be a spirit?” The question is “Is this guy mortal (and how did that happen if so?) and should we treat him, medically speaking, like a mortal or a spirit?”

Everyone except for Varric seems to be in agreement that if Cole isn’t treated like a spirit he will become a demon if he kills a human out of vengeance. Varric doesn’t actually address this; he’s treating the situation as if it’s not even a possibility. According to him, Cole is angry and depressed and he needs to sort through his emotions.

The game doesn’t let us see what would have happened if Cole had killed that man. Would he have become a demon or wouldn’t he have? Ultimately, that is the only way of getting an actual answer to the question of “is he human or is he spirit?”

Also, Varric didn’t even stop to consider what kind of spirit Cole might have been:

Solas: As the young man starved to death in a dungeon, his pain caught the attention of a spirit… Likely one of compassion.

Varric: Compassion?

Solas: An uncommon spirit, certainly… and all too fragile, when its efforts to help proved to be in vain.

And if you do make him a spirit Varric says: “Have you talked to him since? Have you heard what he sounds like?”

Solas: He sounds like a spirit.

I’m going to take this as an opportunity to disagree with both of them essentially. Cole does not sound like any of the spirits we’ve met previously. They all talked in a far more natural manner. Also, Varric is acting like Cole died, which is kind of unnecessary.

Varric: “He could have been a person.”

Solas: “Possibly. Would that have made him happier, child of the stone?”

Cole doesn’t feel like he’s lost anything and has this to say on returning to being more of a spirit: “There was someone. Before. He was my friend. But he didn’t know what I was. When he found out, he changed. I lost him. You found out, but you didn’t change, didn’t make me change. You let me be this, be more. Thank you for helping me find this again. For believing in me. You don’t know what it means.”

He also says, “I’m me, more me than I was. I can care and comfort but keep clean, no shackles. They feel, forgive, forget, and I am free. Finally. Thank you.”

There’s an awful lot of talk about forgetting though and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Is this something only spirits of compassion need to do? Cole seems to think it’s something spirits need to do in general, to avoid becoming demons, but could this be a belief he’s picked up from humans? That the only way to avoid being a demon is by being a perfect version of a spirit?

We could use this as an explanation for how Justice became a demon (Vengeance) but we also hear so little from Justice in DA2 that I’m not wholly convinced he became a demon in the first place. To me, it always seemed more like Anders was letting his own fear of that happening run away with him.

When we see Justice in the Fade he acts exactly as you’d expect a spirit of justice to: concerned for the welfare of others, not a huge fan of demons, wants to help. The only other time we really hear from him is if you’re rivalmancing Anders and he thinks you’re confusing Anders unnecessarily. And honestly, rivalmances aren’t exactly healthy, so I’m inclined to think Justice was defending his friend. The entire rivalmance made Anders more and more off kilter: he has more missing time and he claims to be losing control more readily. I think the game wants me to assume this is a more honest take on his relationship with Justice but to me it indicates how stressful his relationship with Hawke was more than anything else.

The only instance where Justice really seemed like a demon to me was when he became enraged at being called a demon. And to me that seemed like a very human response—perhaps, like Anders, he is also terrified of becoming a demon. Perhaps, in their merge, his responses are closer to Anders’s. Regardless, this was a singular instance, a bad one to be sure, but not enough to actually draw any real conclusions from.

Getting back to Cole, I’m not entirely sure whether he’s forgetting as much as he says he is. If he had, would he have any idea what the Inquisitor even meant when she asked if he could tell her about the real Cole? I would say no, but he knows exactly what she meant and claims he forgot it.

Perhaps he doesn’t forget so much as he makes the details fuzzier. If all spirits went around forgetting everything none of them would be able to interact with humans and we know for a fact they do.

But let’s take a look at Cole when he’s human. If we do that he’s happy, but a little more unsure of himself. He has more pronounced regrets, has fewer abilities, seems more “normal.”

Cole: That was enough for me. Now they remember, and I’m not sure… Ah. (chuckles)

Inquisitor: Cole?

Cole: I told you about Rhys, the mage who could see me. My friend. My only friend, for a long time. Evangeline showed me that templars could be kind, but even she…” (sighs)

Inquisitor: Cole, if this is troubling, we don’t have to talk about it.

Cole: Gentle. You watch me walk into darkness over and over, and you always worry. Thank you. But this isn’t about them. It’s about… When I found out I wasn’t human, when I grew, I lost Rhys. I lost my only friend. That’s why I was scared about letting all these people see me. That’s why I laughed.

Inquisitor: You’re laughing at yourself?

Cole: Yes. This world taught me that changing means losing your friends. But now I know that doesn’t have to be true. I have enough self to know that what I felt was foolish. Isn’t it wonderful? I might like being human. What do you think I’ll learn next?”

It’s a good message and I’m glad Cole realizes what happened wasn’t his fault and that he doesn’t need to erase himself from people’s minds to be good. I just don’t understand why this isn’t something he could have learned as a spirit as well.

I’d say the main difference between the two routes is that as a spirit, he speaks of freedom and of being able to better help others; he thanks the Inquisitor for not being like his last friend by forcing him to change.

As a human, he says he was foolish to think he was destined to always lose his friends and that it might not be true now that he’s changed. The implication is that he can only keep friends now that he’s changed. “I have enough self to know that what I felt was foolish.”

What that really means is that, even as a spirit, he was having very real, very “human” doubts. And this path is saying that the only reason he can now maintain those friendships is because he’s changed himself so completely. It’s not said directly, but it is the implication.

Ultimately, the game never outright says whether spirits are people and the whole thing is left to the player’s interpretation, but to me Cole seems a touch more downtrodden as a human. He’s now faced with all the typical problems that plague humans and he doesn’t have that barrier that allows him to help without it hurting.

Some would say that’s a good thing. For humans, it can be. But for a spirit… And once again, I’m right back where I started. Why is the game insisting we use the same, human logic on things that aren’t human in any form?

This is very similar to the problem I had with Star Trek: TNG insisting Data needed an emotion chip when, to me, Data was already feeling things. He was just feeling things in a different capacity than a human. But why should that automatically be viewed as lesser or worse?

All right, to finish off I’ll go over one last tidbit that relates to Anders and, indirectly, Cole. It’s a conversation from the DLC, Jaws of Hakkon:

Augur: Every mage in the hold is made one with the gods until they’re strong enough.

Inquisitor: You let spirits possess your mages on purpose?

Augur: What better teacher than one woven from magic? The spirits in the hold have helped us in this way for hundreds of years. Once a mage masters their powers, their teacher departs, duty ended. Unless the mage is weak.

Inquisitor: What happens to these “weak” mages?

Augur: Their teachers stay with them and the other gods watch them both, so neither soul turns sick. If one does sicken, or the mage stands in risk of harming the hold… One day, they do not wake in their bed. It is very sad. It is what must be done.

Solas: It is kinder than what happens in many mage Circles.

Cole: You give them every chance, spirits watchful, wary, waiting until you’re both sure. It’s always cold in the hut then.

Augur: Who is this one? He is blood and bone, but there are bonds about his form.

Cole: Yes. I am compassion. I know that now. I want to be here.

Okay. You know, how DA2 made a big deal out of Anders merging with Justice and how this was bad and couldn’t be undone, etc. etc.?

Guess that was wrong! 8D With this one, singular conversation we’ve learned that the Avvar people have been doing that exact thing for centuries, have an entire ceremony, and sometimes even allow the merge to be permanent as long as no one starts going off the rails.

Think about how much more relaxed Anders might have been if he realized he hadn’t damned himself as completely as everyone says he has and, even more importantly, there’s a way to separate them both? And this isn’t even the first time separation has been possible??? In DA:O we can help free a boy from possession by separating him from a demon by using tons of lyrium and sending someone into the Fade. Spirit/mortal interactions are possible and they don’t have to be as devastating as DA2 made it out to be.

So, why is DA2 so determined to act like this is the worst possible scenario? It isn’t! They’ve shown us at least twice now that things could be rectified!

But how is this important for Cole? There are two things from that conversation that stand out:

1) The Avvar have no idea how Cole exists either. They’ve never seen a spirit take on its own physical form, so who knows how this is possible.

2) Cole approves of what the Avvar do and how they handle spirits merging with humans. Imagine if he ever met Anders? It would be utterly fascinating. They both have pretty odd circumstances (although Cole’s are apparently much stranger) and they could sort out so many things. I really need to see this.

All in all, I just want to see more spirits in the game and I want them to receive better treatment, I suppose. This might be the main thing Solas and I kind of agree on. XD I also feel like that, seeing as the game as built up a couple character that are involved with spirits in some way, we should explore this a lot more and see what can be done. And I also think, at some point, Thedas is going to have to acknowledge their personhood.

#dragon age #da: i #long post #Bemused's post #cole #solas #varric

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itsmyfandomandilikeit · 5 years

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I'm 26 arcs into Worm: The Stick Up Brian's Butt

So I'm listening to the We've Got Worm podcast and they keep talking about KingBob, the guy on reddit who really related to Alec and ended up understanding him (and by extension Aisha) far better than most of the other readers.

I haven't really gone into this on this blog, I've been reading Worm for like six months now and I don't update that often, but throughout this read I've been the KingBob to Brian. It's gotten to the point where I actually took a few mental health breaks from reading Worm. I know a lot of people thought Brian was boring and dumb. I'm almost done with Worm now and I feel like the inclusion of Brian this story elevated it, for me, from a fun superhero story to something intensely personal, something that was almost a struggle to read. I know from spoilers that Brian's part in this story is almost over. He isn't my favorite character (Dragon) or even my favorite Undersider (Aisha) but I felt like I should write something before this is over. It wouldn't be an honest blog otherwise, as infrequently as I post.

But Kuno, you say. You're a 22-year-old white female engineering student. Why the hell is this the character you relate to?

For a collection of dumb reasons that add up to a large part of who I am. From the time I was eleven to the time I was about twenty-one, I had night terrors. Seven times a night sometimes, I dreamt vividly of the people I loved getting hurt, hurting me, getting killed, killing me. My students and pets melting in my hands. My mom and I clutching each other on the freeway as we're stopped in traffic, a terrorist approaching our vehicle with a shotgun. We don't make it. The dreams made life almost impossible. Seeing people during the day and being absolutely certain they would die before I saw them again. It didn't matter how many times I saw them come back okay. They never would.

I'm afraid of everything. Every missed phone call is a sudden death. Every text message brings terrible news. Every possible situation brings danger, but if my friends go, I can't let them go without me. Something could happen. They'd be safe as long as I could see them. If I was looking at them, everything would be okay. Some child psychologist I spoke to at a young age noted I was a "natural leader". To this day, I lead because I am a control freak. I am afraid of what would happen if I let someone else be in control.

Interlude 15 fucked me up.

My fatal flaw extends from this. I'm terrified that people will see me as weak. I dated a boy on my robotics team when I was in high school. I treated him like shit in public because I didn't want anyone to think I cared about him, even though he was my boyfriend. What would they think of me if they saw there was a person I treated as an equal? Horrible things. I became a better girlfriend to another boy, years later, because someone mentioned to me they thought I could be a good girlfriend, and that it was rough, calloused girls who were the weak ones. It was the perfect two sentences to convince me that for people to see me as strong, I had to be a good girlfriend.

In the We've Got Worm podcast, Scott and Matt always mention that each of the Undersiders brings the team down somehow, their inputs to every situation silly or stupid. I was confused. I always thought Grue's avoidance of conflict, always taking the slow, deliberate path, was the right way to go. Then I realized that, to many, this behavior indicates brokenness. Maybe they're right.

Yeah so I said I'd talk about the stick up Brian's butt in arcs 25 and 26. I don't think he has much to say for the rest of Worm so here we go. I'm building off a lot of what the WGW guys say, but I think I can take it a little farther.

So in arc 10 the WGW guys point out that Brian resists letting Taylor back on the team until the precise moment when it becomes apparent that everyone else wants her back, when he suddenly changes tactics to talking about how they "need her for offense". They make the imo correct deduction that this is because he's afraid of looking weak. Everyone knows Taylor likes him, so, logically, to be Stoic Leader Man he should want her to go away. He needs permission to want her back on the team. Once he has that permission, he is all for it.

I know that sounds convoluted but trust me as a person with exactly these issues this makes perfect sense.

Arc 11, Brian has still not decided to be Taylor's friend again. This is because she's on the team to be offense. Their friendship doesn't help nobody's offense. When Lisa calls him and tells him he needs to lay up on her, that to be her friend would be good, he goes directly to Taylor's house and declares them... best friends. Because Lisa has given him permission to do so.

I hope you're following because I'm aware this is stupid.

In arc 12, I'm gonna veer a little to the side. Let's talk about Brian's second trigger, just so that I can educate the public on exactly how this came around. Keep in mind that trigger events happen from a long period of a specific type of stress coming to a head. And that Brian's previous trigger happened from feeling like he maybe couldn't help Aisha for a long time, and then suddenly being hit with the fact that he definitely couldn't help her.

Arc 1: The Undersiders save Taylor who was saving them from Lung Arc 2: Brian punches Rachel for attacking Taylor Arc 4: Taylor gets blown up by Bakuda, Brian sits in her hospital room and stares at this for presumably a while Arc 5: Taylor looks like she's been hanged, having fought Lung again Arc 7: Taylor and Rachel are attacked by the ABB, Brian shows up late. Taylor is attacked later the same day by Sophia, Brian shows up pretty late. Taylor propositions the boy, he tells her he thinks of her like he thinks of his sister. I am 100% certain at this point, looking back, that this was an early indication that the second trigger process was starting towards a lack of ability to keep up with Taylor. He wasn't just saying he thought of her like he would think of her if they were related, he thinks of her like Aisha specifically, the one his power is attached to. His little brain is drawing the equivalences already. Arc 8: Broken spine, betrayal, yadda yadda Arc 9: Sophia attempts murder because it's Tuesday Arc 10: Brian pretends to not want Taylor to come back Arc 11: Brian does his now-classic "walks into room/why is Taylor injured/maybe she should not be doing this" routine Arc 12: Repeat of arc 11, except now he starts stumbling over her name. He tells her she should have let her people die. If there's a point onscreen when he realizes there might be something going on, this is it.

Point is, this has been stewing in the background since as early as arc 1 and as late as arc 7 but probably actually started in arc 4. It wasn't out of the blue, it was the logical culmination of the entire story's events thus far from Brian's perspective.

Arc 13: Yeah, you know what happens here. In the final chapter, he tells her he thinks about her too much, but even though he received a new set of superpowers and a vision from aliens telling him that he probably loves her, the vision is definitely wrong and he just feels like he can't keep up with her.

She's been attacked by everyone. Lung, Rachel, Bakuda, Sophia, Armsmaster, Leviathan, the Merchants, Mannequin. He doesn't want her to keep fighting, he feels he needs to be the one to do it. At the same time, he knows he's not powerful enough. No one power is enough to deal with all of these threats.

No single power.

But he doesn't love her. That would mean he was weak.

He doesn't even agree to have dinner with her in 15. He allows it to happen because Aisha set it up. She knows what's going on, and she has given him permission to have this.

Aisha had to be the one to give him permission because his previous powerset was for her, and now it doesn't work with her, either. At the same time as his second trigger was stewing under the surface for Taylor, he was losing his power's connection to Aisha because their powers didn't work together and he kept being forced to forget she exists. He had lived for her before, and being Super Big Brother was exactly what Brian wanted to be. Now, Aisha doesn't want to be lived for. She wants to be her own person.

Brian spends the next several arcs simply living for Taylor.

I strongly suspect that the side effect of Brian's power is that it makes him pathologically need to be 100% responsible for others. No matter how dumb everyone's plans are, he always has to be there. No matter how stupid it is, Coil told him being a villain will allow him to get his sister back. No matter how dumb it is, he tells Taylor she has to sit out running from the Nine in arc 13 because she might be tired. He pays for it.

Brian's powers will probably never actually allow him to get over Taylor Hebert. It's like Taylor and bullies. No amount of therapy or time will get Brian's shard to let the fuck go.

So when the girl whom you are physically incapable of not thinking about leaves and goes to prison and tells every single person on the planet exactly how weak you are, who goes to an even more dangerous situation where you cannot follow her, what can you do?

The only possible thing. Try your absolute damnedest to pretend you never knew her.

You walk out of that meeting with the most powerful people in the world because she is there. You go find yourself somebody else. Another girl. Taylor hated her little boobs? This girl has big boobs. Taylor can't stay away from violence? Cozen seriously appears to have never even seen a corpse.

When Taylor comes back, Brian greets her with the new girl on his arm. He tries to shake her hand. Time has passed. There's nothing between them any more.

The next day, Grue is presented with the choice of pushing back against Taylor and standing with the new girl, whoever she is, or supporting Taylor. He chooses Taylor.

Of course he does. The situation calls for it. The situation has given him permission.

#worm #parahumans #brian laborn #ward #kuno speaks #thanks for reading to the end #i know this was long and personal #talk to me about it if you want #please

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galaxyacerodoesart · 4 years

Photo

And we’re back with more OCs, because I love making them pfff BUT THIS IS ALSO A SPECIAL BATCH! They are all monster/supernatural cookies! :o

Ok so… short story short, i’m actually plaining on uploading more info about MY OTHER CR OCs I’ve posted so far (not only the dragons, like, the very first OCs I uploaded here and what not) and while writting some stuff down, I came to a sudden realization without giving MUCH spoilers, one of my OCs, Mugwort Cookie, owns and runs an Tavern located deep into the woods, and while she receives any wondering cookie into the place, she specializes in monster/supernatural cookies, since she is one herself. AND THEN I REALIZED… I didn’t have many “monster cookies” myself, so i went ahead and created some, pfff AND DIFFERENT FROM THE FIRST TIMES, I’LL ACTUALLY TALK ABOUT THOSE GUYS AAYY. All basic Info about them will be under Read more, and when i say basic I mean…basic. I usually don’t think about “what would my OCs abilities be if they were actually in the game” or “how they were baked” and stuff like that so…yeah. Basic stuff like who and what they are, and their relationships. That’s it pfff :’D This also might be long, but if you are curious about those guys, feel free to read!

NEKOMATA COOKIE:

Pronouns: She/Her Rank: Epic Pet: Neko Fire Age: Young Adult Relationships: Kumiho Cookie (Friendly): “How about a trip to town hmm~?” Werewolf Cookie (Tension): “HISSS! DON’T GET CLOSER DOGGY!” Extra Notes: -While kuhimo is more on the flirtatious side, she is one the mischevious one. -Despite what one might thought, she and Kumiho are on pretty friendly terms. -Will act cat-like even in cookie form. -Real form IS the cat one. -Doesn’t get along with dogs (Kumiho seems to be the exception despite being a fox) -Let’s be real, she probably has a crush on Kumiho. -Apart from shapeshifting, is also able to randomly disappear and create small fire flames to confuse and scare others. ———— POWDER COOKIE

Pronouns: They/Them Rank: Rare Pet: Dust Spirit Age: Child.

Relationships: Fire Spirit Cookie (Admiration): “Fire…Bright…light…!” *Mugwort Cookie (Trust): “She’s…Real nice!” Squid Ink Cookie (Tension): “I’m not a fan of water… sorry.”

Extra Notes: -SO BASICALLY. THEY ARE BABY. THAT’S IT. THEY CANNOT CHANGE IT. -Pure and curious bby. -FOUR ARMS TO BETTER GIVE HUGS! -Grew up alone since their appearance usually scare most cookies. -Really curious about everything, not used to speak so much, so their english is not perfect. -Yes, they are DEFINITELY attracted towards bright lights. And they aren’t a fan of water since it makes it difficult for them to fly. -Is actually still too young to properly fly for too long, they just flap around. ———— DREAM EATER COOKIE:

Pronouns: He/Him Rank: Epic Pet: Cloud Baku Age: ??? Appears as an adult.

Relationships: Moonlight Cookie (Tension): “To hate me when I’m simply doing my job… that’s uncalled for dear~” Millennial Tree (Admiration): “To have slept for so long, and yet be immune to my magic, you truly are something.” Cyborg Cookie (Tension): “How much of a cookie is left, can you even dream, I wonder…” Extra Notes: -Don’t be fooled by his appearance, as he definitely isn’t a normal cookie. -Has the ability to enter others dreams and change them, is known for tricking cookies into allowing him to help them to get rid of nightmares, only to eventually leave them without any hopes and dreams. - Will charm others into letting him into his dreams, don’t be fooled. -No one knows WHERE he came from… He definitely has a bone to pick with Moonlight Cookie, but no one knows how far it really goes. -While he is incredibly powerful in the dream world, being able to do pretty much anything, he is pretty much an ordinary cookie in the real world, only really having the ability to put others to sleep. ———— UMBRA COOKIE: Pronouns: She/Her Rank: Legendary Pet: N/A Age: Has been alive for too long to remember. She is Ageless and kept the appearance of an adult. Relationships: *Galaxy Cookie (Tension): “Can’t we just keep the past in the past?” Dark Enchantress Cookie (Tension): “Your powers are…WEIRDLY familiar…” Dark Choco Cookie (Tension): “Don’t look at me, I had NOTHING to do with that sword.” Matcha Cookie (Friendly): “Hee hee…You are a weird one, aren’t you?”

Extra Notes: -No one knows where she came from, one day she just- appeared. But it’s clear she has been around for way longer than most normal cookies. -There is definitely SOME bad past with Galaxy Cookie. -Has control over shadows and dark, is able to control them as if they were matter, and is also able to teleport using them. Some theorize she actually has power over Dark Matter, and that’s why her and Galaxy don’t get along. -Some also believe she has some sort of connection with Dark Enchantress, but even Umbra doesnt seem to know anything about that. -You would think having power over darkness, she would be evil or something, but in reality she is just pretty chill. Might have done some bad things in the past, but nowadays, she just keeps stuff for herself and doesn’t go off to destroy anything. -”Bruh, im just… Im just chilling here.” -Has a huge knowledge of the modern times for someone who seems to have been gone for so long. In other words she is definitely meme trash. -Her whole body is made of shadow-like matter, and because of that she can just- cut pieces off and they will grow back in no time. She doesn’t even have blood or anything like that. Her whole body is made of shadow magic, and as long as she has shadow energy in her, she is fine. -Hair and cloak are made of shadows, so they usually move and create small particles of shadow every now and then. -Might give vampire vibes, but if anything she is more like a demon. -Collects magical shadow energy as long as she stays in the dark, and then converts said shadow energy into keeping her form and to do any of her shadow magic, so that’s why she wears a cloak that covers pretty much all of her body, she is constantly gathering energy. -Because of that, she is 90% of the time walking around completely covered with her cloak, like she is an walking burrito or something. Gotta always gather that shadow energy.

#cookie run #cookie run ocs #cr ocs #cr oc #my art #Dream Eater Cookie is shameless inspired completely by a vocaloid song #and I have no shame admiting it.#AND OK SO UMBRA MIGHT BE MY FAVORITE HDKJADHD #I lowkey made her just a cookie version of one of my OCs so that might be why pff #She just be chilling bruh.

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shanghai-ohmy · 5 years

Text

Mao Mao: Heroes of... Holomyr? (MaoMaoctober day 20: Game)

In this fic, King Snugglemagne summons Mao Mao, Badgerclops, and Adorabat to guard and entertain him on a rainy day. What better way to pass the time than to play a little Dungeons & Dragons together?

Snugglemagne, Mao Mao, and Adorabat play. Badgerclops DMs. Mao Mao learns to let himself have fun and be vulnerable through roleplaying.

This is day 20 of my daily fics for the MaoMaoctober prompts! As with all other days, it’s totally independent of the previous ones and can be enjoyed on its own! I’m proud of this one, and it’s full fic length (3.2k words), so I thought I’d post it here like a standalone. Thanks to my boyfriend @htodinth for his help with scene and dialogue ideas, as well as editing.

Read it on AO3, or under the cut!

The rain pounded on the intricate stained glass windows of King Snugglemagne’s palace, slipping down the colored panes in thick rivulets. The king had sent most of his retinue home before the rain began, leaving the large estate almost entirely empty. He’d even sent his guard detachment away. But that was fine; he had the utmost confidence in their temporary replacements.

“So you see,” King Snugglemagne said, posing dramatically in his throne, “with this horrible rain I simply cannot entertain myself! There can be no croquet, no outdoor galas, and no hastily-produced reality TV shows! And since the rest of my court has been sent home, and you’re here to act as my guards…” He gestured with a flourish. “...that duty falls to you three!”

Mao Mao’s eye twitched. “So you called us here… in the middle of a massive rainstorm… to be your jesters?!” He took a step towards the king, who immediately began to cower.

Badgerclops grabbed him by the neck of his cape and pulled him back. “Chill out, man! We just have to entertain ourselves and include the king, that’s all.”

“Yes! Quite right!” Snugglemagne agreed nervously.

Mao Mao groaned. “With all due respect your highness, this is a waste of our time!”

“Excuse us for just a moment, King Snugglemagne.” Badgerclops walked towards a side chamber, dragging Mao Mao with him. “Adorabat! Keep an eye on the king for us!”

“Roger!” She sounded excited.

“Dude, what’s your problem?”

“This is ridiculous, Badgerclops! I’m a legendary hero! Not a babysitter!”

“C’mon man, just suck it up and help out! It’s one night! And besides, it’s your sheriff-ly duty to obey the king or whatever.”

Mao Mao crossed his arms. “Ugh, fine! But I’m not going to enjoy it!”

An idea came to Badgerclops. A really good idea. This might be the moment to do something he’d wanted to try with Mao Mao for ages. “Hey Mao Mao… what if you could go on a really cool adventure, keep the king safe, and entertain him all at the same time?”

Mao Mao looked intrigued.

“I’ve got a great idea. Just trust me.”

They returned to the throne room to find Adorabat finishing up a magic trick. The king gasped with delight and clapped as she produced a bouquet of roses from thin air. She threw it to him and took a bow.

“Okay y’all,” Badgerclops said, “I’ve got a game for us to play. Have any of you ever played Dungeons & Dragons before?”

Mao Mao stared at him blankly.

“I have a dungeon!” the king offered, confused.

Adorabat had stars in her eyes. “Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh YES!!! I LOVE that game!”

Badgerclops was surprised. “It’s… a lot of rules for someone your age, Adorabat. Who have you played with?”

“Well…” She looked embarrassed. “I might have… snuck out to play it with the sky pirates…”

“You WHAT?!” Mao Mao yelled, turning to her.

“I’m sorry! They’re just so good at imagining things! Even their food is imaginary!”

“Adorabat, we’ll talk about this later. Mao, run to the aerocycle and grab my bag, okay?”

Mao Mao nodded and strode away.

“I’m terribly sorry, Sheriff Badgerclops, but what exactly is… happening?”

“Oh, nothing major, I’m just saving the day. This game will keep you entertained for hours, dude. It’s kinda like… you, Mao Mao, and Adorabat will make up your own characters with cool moves and stuff, and then I’ll narrate an adventure for you! You get to make choices about where you want to go and what you want to do, and I use some dice to help decide how it all goes.”

The king seemed uncertain.

“You get to come up with an outfit for your character~” Badgerclops said enticingly.

Snugglemagne leapt out of his throne. “Oh! Oh! Let’s begin at once!”

---

A few minutes later they were gathered around a table. Badgerclops had printed off several blank character sheets from his arm. Mao Mao, Snugglemagne, and Adorabat were poring over the race and class selections. A platter of tiny bite-sized pizzas sat on the table between them.

“I say, this bard seems like a saucy fellow!” King Snugglemagne announced, raising the class guide for everyone to see.

“Ooh, excellent choice!” Badgerclops said. “What’s your instrument?”

“Keytar.” He replied without even a moment of hesitation.

“Atypical, but I like it!” Badgerclops jotted down some information on Snugglemagne’s character sheet and then handed it back to him. “Now you have to pick out a race.”

“I shall play the fighter,” Mao Mao announced, indicating a sheet of paper.

“Shocking,” Badgerclops said sarcastically. “Hand me your character sheet, and pick some moves.” He filled in the appropriate fields on Mao Mao’s sheet.

“Um, Badgerclops?” Adorabat said.

“Yeah dude?”

She motioned for him to lean down, then whispered into her ear. He looked surprised, then nodded. “You got it.” Another sheet printed from his arm.

“I’m playing a homebrew alchemist class!” Adorabat announced. “We’re gonna BLOW SOME STUFF UP!”

They continued setting up their characters, taking moves and choosing proficiencies. Badgerclops looked up at them brightly once everyone had finished. “Okay, why don’t we introduce our characters? Adorabat, would you mind starting?”

“Okay!” She straightened up her papers and cleared her throat. “I am Rirkarg Shrapnel, the gnoll alchemist! Once I was a maker of medicine for my people, but an evil duke and his army razed my homeland and killed all my friends! So I turned my skills to destruction, and seek to destroy him!”

Badgerclops nodded approvingly. “What’s the duke’s name?”

“Um,” Adorabat rubbed the back of her head, “I couldn’t come up with one.”

“Let’s just call him something generic for now, then. Duke… free… water. Duke Freewater.” He took down a note. “Mao Mao?”

“Can you…” Mao Mao looked embarrassed. “Can you come back to me later?”

“Okay, sure. Just let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“I don’t need help playing an imaginary game!!” He snapped.

“Right, okay, I got it. Jeez, dude. Snugglemagne?”

“Yes, very well.” Snugglemagne put on a smooth voice. “Yes, hello my adoring fans! I am the one, the only Gilwyn Goldheart! The most handsome elf in all of…” He turned to Badgerclops. “What are we calling this place?”

“The whole world is Holomyr, but we’re focusing on the Green Reef Coast.”

Snugglemagne nodded. “The most handsome elf in all of Holomyr! Or at least… I was.” He placed the back of his hand to his head, dramatically. “You see, a horrible curse has befallen me, and cracked my beautiful face like a porcelain mask! I have nothing but my music now! So I wander the world in search of a way to undo this dreadful affliction!”

“That is SO COOL!” Adorabat said.

Snugglemagne looked bashful. “Oh, my! Thank you! I thought your character was excellent as well!” He beamed.

“Alright Mao Mao, whatcha got?”

Mao Mao shifted nervously in his seat. “Um, hello, everyone, I’m… Mercutio. I’m a human fighter.”

When Mao Mao didn’t continue, Badgerclops stepped in. “Mercutio, that’s a good name! Does he have a surname?”

“I, uh… It was…” Mao Mao fumbled for an answer. Coming up with one name had been hard enough. “Umm…”

“It’s a mysterious secret,” Adorabat chimed in, “that only his absolute closest companions may learn.”

“Yeah! It’s that!” Mao Mao looked relieved.

“I love it! Good job, Mao Mao.”

For a moment, Mao Mao’s eyes filled with excitement.

“Any backstory you want to share?”

Mao Mao nodded. “I was a… my village…” His face reddened as he stumbled over the words.

“Hey,” Badgerclops whispered to him, “you can talk about your character in third person if it’s easier.”

Some of the tension eased out of Mao Mao’s pose. He looked a bit more confident. “Mercutio showed promise as a hero early on, and there was lots of talk around his village about all the good he could do if he were trained properly. But the village didn’t have much, and going off to any sort of hero school seemed like an impossible dream to him. But after his years growing up there, helping everyone and being a hero at home, he earned their love and respect. So the people pooled their resources to send him to a heroic academy far across the continent. Now he patrols the world trying to make a name for himself and raise his village to prominence in return for their charity!” Mao Mao realized he had begun gesturing and gently folded his hands back in his lap, embarrassed.

“A world traveler! That’s fantastic, Mao Mao!” Badgerclops said.

“Oh yes,” King Snugglemagne agreed, “I simply love a village prodigy story!”

Mao Mao rubbed the back of his head, looking away. “Thanks…”

They worked out some details of how their relationships to each other and how they’d met. Gilwyn had hired Rirkarg to find a treatment that could fix his face, and the two of them had struck up an unlikely rapport even though Rirkarg failed to help him. Mercutio had come across the pair when he hitched a ride on a caravan of traveling merchants and found Gilwyn entertaining the salespeople with his songs in exchange for their transport.

Satisfied with their characters, Badgerclops stood up and dimmed the lights a little. “Okay,” he said, sitting back in his chair, “let me set the scene.”

“The three of you are sitting at an outdoor table in a busy park in one of the Green Reef Coast’s largest cities, Ymera. Mercutio tracked a lead to an informant with info on Duke Freewater. You intend to meet her here. Since you’re meeting under broad daylight, you’re hoping that the anonymity of the city will prevent any prying eyes; the crowds should be enough to leave you in total peace.”

“Rirkarg, you spot the informant first. She is a tall, strong Dragonborn with green scales and large black horns jutting back from her head. She approaches the table and sits down inconspicuously, as though she’s a part of your group. ‘Greetings, Mercutio.’ she says.”

Mao Mao considered. “I want to check her for weapons, but we’re trying not to draw attention…”

“You can roll a perception check to see if you spotted anything on her as she was sitting down, or sleight of hand to attempt to feel around for weapons without her noticing.”

“Well, my sleight of hand check would be better, wouldn’t it?”

Badgerclops glanced at his stats. “Yes, it is.”

“Now, sheriff,” King Snugglemagne chimed in, “you would be groping an informant under the table, which is most unbecoming of a hero. Plus, she looks like she could kick your ass.”

Mao Mao blushed. Adorabat giggled. “Okay, okay. Perception, then. Which one do I roll?”

“This one,” Badgerclops said, handing him a twenty-sided die. “It’s always the d20 for checks.”

Mao Mao turned the die over in his hand a few times, then rolled it across the table. It slid to a stop with a six facing upwards. “Six plus one gives me seven.”

Badgerclops shrugged. “You’ve got no idea if she’s packing or not. Nothing looks amiss.”

“Stupid dice,” Mao Mao grumbled.

“Please, Madam,” Snugglemagne said in his smooth character voice, “allow me to introduce myself. I am-”

“Oh my god, you’re Gilwyn Goldheart!”

King Sugglemagne tugged at his collar, evidently already in character. “Well, it’s always nice to meet a fan, but could you perhaps keep it down? This meeting is supposed to be… clandestine. Cloak-and-dagger-ish.”

“She shakes her head, embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I just got a little excited. Let’s just get to the point. You’re looking for intel on Duke Freewater?’”

“Rirkarg nods. ‘He destroyed my home. I will have my revenge.’”

“‘Well, rumor has it that in a week, he’s launching a massive warship from Port Rejtal. They’re going to blow a hole straight through the Green Reef and open up a passage to the sea. It’ll increase his naval power tenfold, and the damage to the reef will be unrecoverable.’ You guys know that Rejtal is about five days’ travel south of where you are, so you need to get there quickly if you want to make it before the warship launches.”

“Rirkarg’s nostrils flare. They look determined. Also angry. ‘Freewater. He will be on this ship?’”

“The informant isn’t certain. She says she’s heard conflicting reports.”

“Is the Green Reef well known?” Mao Mao asked Badgerclops.

“Oh yeah, this entire coast is considered one of the most beautiful places in the world. It’d be a huge deal if it was destroyed, even partially.”

Mao Mao’s eyes sparked. “Mercutio slams his fist on the table. ‘If we save the reef from destruction, we’ll be renowned the world over!’”

“Rirkarg agrees. ‘And Duke Freewater must not gain any more military power than he already has.’”

“So, we’re taking a road trip to Rejtal?” Snugglemagne asked in his Gilwyn voice.

“Yeah!!” Adorabat yelled, out of character. “Road trip!” They laughed, and after a moment, Mao Mao joined in.

===

The next few hours of the game unfolded without a hitch. Every time Mao Mao acted in character, Badgerclops would encourage and praise him. Mao Mao grew invested in the game, talking in character and building out his story. He carried out an excellent philosophical discussion with Gilwyn about fame, Gilwyn having lost his and Mercutio seeking to grow his own. He came up with unexpected, exciting strategies in battle. He took a few failed rolls a little too personally, but Badgerclops decided that was a good sign. Mao Mao was empathizing with his character, and poking at the edges of some of his insecurities through Mercutio. Badgerclops had hoped that Mao Mao would react like this. Roleplaying might be good for him.

It felt like no time at all had passed before they came to the climactic scene. The party was split, with Gilwyn and Rirkarg fighting to place a bomb down in the hold while Mercutio faced the ship’s captain, alone. The boat had pulled out of the dock but was not yet at the reef. Duke Freewater was nowhere to be found, much to Rirkarg’s chagrin. Adorabat had cursed up a storm when they failed to find him, which Badgerclops reprimanded her for even though it was technically in character. He’d have to speak to Orangusnake later about his language at the table.

“Okay, Rirkarg, Gilwyn is holding off the guards. You have a moment to act. What do you do?”

Adorabat stood up on her chair. “I plant the bomb I made earlier right against the hull, then cover it up with some boxes so nobody will see it! This thing’s going down!”

“Roll sleight of hand.”

“Sixteen plus three! Nineteen!”

“You plant the bomb and hide it perfectly. Nobody is going to find it.”

“Good show!” Snugglemagne exclaimed. They high fived.

“Let’s jump back to Mercutio. Mercutio, you have the captain backed against the railing of the ship. He grins at you as he brandishes his cutlass. ‘You were a fool to come here, Mercutio, and a bigger fool for fighting me alone! You want to be a hero, hm? Then it’s too bad you’ll die here, weak and alone.’ You hear someone running up behind you, and before you can turn around…”

Badgerclops rolled a die. His eye shot open. “He MISSES?!”

The players cheered. “The whole ship rocks as an explosive rings out from the lower hull. You see the captain’s chief naval officer stumble past you, his sword narrowly missing your arm. He was thrown off by the blast. And because he missed, it is now your turn.”

“Come on Mao Mao, get him!” Adorabat called.

“Yes, sheriff! Destroy those men!”

“What was that about being alone, Captain Ulrich?!” Mao Mao roared, laughing as he hopped up onto his chair. “I’m stronger than you’ll ever be! And I have my friends to help me be even better!” Mao Mao grabbed a twenty-sided die from the table. “And then I stab my sword into the chief officer!”

“Roll to attack!”

Mao Mao released the die. It rolled to a stop. He leaned over the table to look at it.

“NATURAL TWENTY!!” He roared.

Adorabat screamed. Snugglemagne whistled and clapped.

“Alright Mercutio,” Badgerclops said, “describe it.”

“I switch to a dagger grip on my sword and as he stumbles to my side, I swing out without even looking. My sword goes straight up through his stomach to his head, impaling him. I keep my eyes on the captain the entire time.” Mao Mao acted out his description in dramatic fashion, illustrating the movement for everyone else to see.

“Grizzly!”

“Cool!!”

“Oh, how terribly violent of you!”

“I’m going to action surge for an additional attack.”

“What are you doing?”

“I want to pick up the chief officer and throw him at the captain, sending them both overboard.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Adorabat was thrilled.

“Normally that would be a strength contest, but… he’s dead, so he can’t resist being thrown. Roll a strength check, I guess.”

Trembling with excitement, Mao Mao picked up the die. He let it roll along the table, and then…

“ANOTHER TWENTY!!!!!” He stepped a foot up onto the table as everyone absolutely lost it.

“Oh my god! Okay! Okay hang on!” Badgerclops looked like he was ready to explode. “What’s it like, and do you say anything cool?”

“I switch grips on the sword again and hoist the entire chief officer over my head like a kebab, my massive muscles rippling under the sun. I plant one foot back, yell, and spear him at the captain like a javelin. My sword slides out of him as he shoots forward.”

Badgerclops looked up at Mao Mao. There was genuine excitement in his eyes. He was being open and vulnerable, and he was having fun.

“The body collides with Captain Ulrich, knocking him over the bannister of the ship. He grapples with the corpse, trying to get a hand onto the side of the boat before he falls.”

“I say ‘Enjoy your new view of the reef.’”

“You hear fading screaming and then a splash as he plummets from the sinking ship and falls into the water below.”

Everyone around the table cheered. King Snugglemagne hopped out of his seat and grabbed Mao Mao off the table, spinning him around in a hug. “Good show, sheriff Mao Mao! Good show!!” He deposited Mao Mao, who was now blushing, back in his seat.

They played out a short epilogue to the adventure, Gilwyn and Rirkarg pulling up in a stolen lifeboat to rescue Mercutio from the sinking ship. They were technically felons now, since they’d destroyed the Duke’s ship and killed several people, so they fled as soon as the made land. But word spread of their heroism even though they weren’t there to tell it firsthand. Mercutio’s rise as a hero had begun.

===

“Oof, I’m EXHAUSTED!” Badgerclops said, slumping back in his chair. “Thanks for playing, guys.”

“Thank you for running this little experience, sheriff Badgerclops! It was most delightful.”

“Yeah Badgerclops, that was incredible!” Mao Mao laughed.

Badgerclops smiled at him. Then suddenly, Mao Mao was hugging him.

“Thank you.”

It was a short hug. He blushed and walked away very quickly, taking some of the snack plates with him to the kitchen to clean them up.

“How do I stack up to the Sky Pirates?” Badgerclops asked Adorabat.

She considered. “Your worldbuilding is better, but Orangusnake’s character voices are incredible. And it’s more fun with a fourth player.”

Badgerclops thought for a moment. He counted on his fingers. “Huh. Too bad we don’t have any more friends.”

“But lots of enemies!”

Badgerclops chuckled.

#mao mao: heroes of pure heart #mmhoph #mao mao #maomaoctober #mao mao heroes of pure heart

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thephant0mime · 4 years

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Dragon Age Origins Fanfiction

So recently, I’ve looked at the first fanfiction I’ve written three years ago as I’m struck with a case of low motivation to continue my current projects. I’m currently struggling with making my writing immersive but the problem is, I have a weird reaction to that. A beta reader once told me to write it through my character’s senses because my current writing is not making readers connect with the character. Problem is, when I try to write as if I’m in my characters’ head, it feels weirdly violating, Like I’m committing mind rape to them. Probably because I write my characters as If they’re real, and I just give them the plot for them to react to it and I to record what they do with it. My characters rarely end up as I intended at first. So this immersion thing really messes up our dynamic and it’s affecting my current works to the point I’ve stopped writing altogether.

Anyway, I read my old finished fanfiction again and while I think it’s not as good as I thought then, it also surprised me. I’ve forgotten some of the old jokes and it made me laugh both because I enjoy it and surprised that I’ve actually wrote those funny things. Then an idea to solve my current problem appeared in my head and I’m testing it out to see if it works.

This is only an excerpt, but I’m planning a rework of my old fic for publication soon. It’s about the Fifth Blight and narrated by Philliam, A Bard wrote it like an interview style/non-fiction book. The old fic in question: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074672/chapters/29909850

Chapter 2

Paragons are the elite of dwarven society and their symbol of dwarven excellence. They are the equivalent of gods in our society, for dwarves worship their ancestors and they consider paragons a living Ancestor, carrying the wisdom and will of the departed ones. They can be drawn from any caste, even the casteless, which is the only way one can change their caste upward. The house of one of our heroes was descended from such a Paragon.

The Noble House of Aeducan was founded when their ancestor became a Paragon for leading the dwarves against the darkspawn during the Fifth Blight and saved their race. Currently, they were the ruling, royal house of Orzammar, of which our hero belongs.

Now he would have told his tale from when he was recruited into the wardens, but that would not give us an idea of his character. Coaxing him to start during his time in Orzammar before his recruitment was difficult, as I understood it was painful for him to recount those events the most, but I managed it, as you shall see.

Thorin Aeducan’s story:

I am Thorin Aeducan, the second child of King Endrin Aeducan. I have two brothers; Trian was the eldest and the heir apparent and Bhelen the youngest. We grew up close as only boys do, until our coming of age where we went to our separate ways; Trian to train under our father to succeed him and me and Bhelen off to the army and lead them against the eternal threat of darkspawn. Fighting in the Deep Roads wasn’t much to Bhelen’s liking and went off to live like a pampered prince in the Diamond Quarter. I, meanwhile, see no better life than among those who fight and shed bled with each other.

Probably the first sign I had that everything would change for me occurred on the day I was ordered back by my Father to the city to honor my work in the Deep Roads. It started harmless enough, in my room at the palace, as Gorim assisted me in dressing up for the feast. I donned the antique armor of my grandfather which was more showy than practical. The burnished metal was too bright, the metal too thin and the shape too bulky. Looking at my reflection, I could see I was uncomfortable in it. My body was accustomed to my regular armor, which I think was molded from spending too much time fighting it grew callused to make them fit. While not-ill fitting, the ceremonial armor I was wearing was sending danger signals in my mind which I could not shake as Gorim laughing softly behind me, in the same spirit as if he just caught me wearing my grandmother’s gowns.

“Not to your taste, my lord?” he asked, dressed decently in armor that was as not as pretentious as the one I was wearing. His grin made even his wide face wider and his whole face was effusive as the light from the torch was caught in his simply styled, but neat, copper hair.

I looked away from my reflection to his smiling face as he held a matching antique sword in his hand. Then I looked down on myself. “This belongs in the Shaperate,” I said, as I readjust the straps of the gauntlet again.

“Hardly, my lord. If you’re concerned about it breaking apart due to age, then worry not. It was crafted by excellent smiths whose skill is still unsurpassed by anyone alive. It would certainly withstand some bit of walking.”

I groaned. “Not that. It just feels…wrong. This,” I pointed in the mirror at the shoulder guard, which was comically large enough to use as a shield, “isn’t something I’d think to be good to wear. How am I supposed to move in this thing?”

“That was the point. It’s meant to catch attention as fast as possible,” Gorim said, stepping closer to my side. “Its size was supposed to show the breadth of your strength and power and make everyone looking at you fall in awe. Which is perfect for the feast your father threw for you. We can’t have our celebrant looking unremarkable now can’t we?”

I shook my head at their silliness. My regular armors were perfectly fine.

“Now, do you wish to wear your shield to the feast?”

“Yes. Let me see them as the warrior I am and not some dressed-up spoiled prince,” I said as I gestured at my reflection. The shield on my back might calm me enough not to notice what I was wearing in time for the party. A shield saved me plenty of times in the Deep Roads when I sometimes lose my grip on my sword, and nothing was more comforting by the feel of it on my back.

“That would surely tell the nobles that you are a warrior if they hadn’t known already,” Gorim snarked. I shrugged that off. Gorim was more jesting of his lord than other seconds but I don’t mind it. No one was more faithful and more trustworthy than he.

Gorim stopped grinning at last and his tone was serious when he spoke again. “Moving on to the business at hand, the king expects you to make an appearance at the feast, but there’s no rush. The noble family heads will spend hours boring your father with petitions and petty grievances.”

“And you’re suggesting we do something else?”

“Well, as part of the celebrations, permits have been auctioned off to members of the Merchant Caste who wished to sell wares in the Diamond Quarter. Lord Harrowmont has also opened up the Provings for young warriors to test their mettle before the upcoming battle.”

I considered it. Though I would have liked to watch the Provings, it just served in the past for lesser nobles to push their petitions by chatting with me, hoping I’d pass it to my father’s ears. Though I discouraged them at every turn, still they persist so I never enjoyed watching at all.

“The Proving sounds appealing but I’d rather not meet other nobles until it’s time. Let’s go have a look at the Diamond Quarter.”

Gorim bowed. “As you wish, my lord. The day is ours until the feast.”

I cast one look at my room. It was sparsely furnished and decorated, for I rarely use it but today, it was filled with gifts from my friends, other noble houses, commoners whose names I do not know and even from my men who I left in the Deep Roads. Even though they could not leave their post as I did, they still managed to send gifts to me. We sneaked out the palace, bypassing the hall where my father was entertaining his subjects and emerged onto the Diamond Quarter. I huff with satisfaction as I saw the city laid out, sparkling like a well cut jewel. The Diamond Quarter was laid out with two wings on each side and the proving ground jutting out in the middle while the lava flowing below lit bathed everything in warm light. Our ancestors have hewn the rock of this cavern to make our home; in sharp lines, hard walls, and strong pillars.

Every day, the city grows in beauty and I cannot be prouder.

“Shall we take a look at the stalls, my lord?” Gorim gently prompted me.

I smiled at him to excuse my lapse. “Of course.”

We walked down the steps towards the ground at the left of the palace, which was filled with stalls selling all kinds of dwarven crafts in honor of the Proving today. As soon as I appeared, everyone acknowledged my presence through the gradual lessening of their talk.

The previously spacious ground was now filled to bursting with stalls selling every kind of merchandise from the city and the surface. A shop selling dwarven weapons and armor was placed next to one selling human-made trinkets. Behind a rack of smithing tools was a cabinet filled with surfacer curiosities. And tables with sumptuous food from the surface. Bottles of wine and beer known to people.

We dwarves mostly produce what we need, but we could never beat the surfacers in terms of food and cloth. They have simply far more variety up there and I briefly wondered how they could have it. From what Duncan told me, the surface was wide open, with no ceiling, and seemed to stretch from side to side, seemingly without end, so they had more crops than I could count with my fingers. Though Duncan never lied to me, I always thought what he said about the surface as ridiculous. An infinite space like that; however did it not manage to break up and fall apart?

Currently, I was looking at a display of surfacer cloths with the owner standing attentively at my side. I have little use for it as I’m rarely out of armor, save for leather and cotton, but the stall owner has many interesting types displayed today.

“A bolt for your lady, my lord?” he inquired. “We have all manner of cloths she will surely love: wool and velvet from Ferelden, silk from Orlais, cotton, and linen from the Free marches. If you would like something more special, we have embroidered bolts at the back in silver and gold thread. We also have ones appliqued with gems. Just let me get to it.”

I smiled at his insinuation of a mistress. Before I could speak, Gorim spoke. “You are too familiar, merchant,” he scolded the shopkeeper. “This is your prince who you’re talking to and you ought to pay him more respect.”

“It’s alright, Gorim,” I said as the merchant began to cower and mutter his apologies. I smiled wider to reassure him. “No harm done.”

The merchant started to stammer. “Apologies my lord. I wanted to please you so badly that I-”

“It’s alright. I took no offense.”

He nearly fell to his knees. “Oh, thank you, my lord.”

I drew back my hand at the silk bolt I was looking at. “Let me assure you; Your attention to me has pleased me enough that, if I were to be fortunate enough to have a wife, I surely would look for you to recommend to me an appropriate gift for her.”

He stammered effusively his thanks and with a nod, I and Gorim went to the next stall, which was selling something to my taste

“Greetings, my lord Aeducan,” the weapon seller called to me as we stepped in front of his goods. “I am so honored to have you visit my booths.” He stopped and looked as if he was about to say something. When I turned to look at his wares, he spoke, lowering his voice. “If you would excuse me, I have a…preposition but I dare not approach any further.”

I stared at his face in surprise. Gorim stepped closer and looked at the merchant likewise but with narrowed eyes. “Yet you dare now?”

“It’s alright,” I said to Gorim. “I’ll hear him out.”

Gorim nodded at me and turned back to the merchant. “Very well then. Speak.”

The merchant made himself smaller as he glanced around us. “Sorry. So nervous. I have a dagger made. For…you. As a gift for your first command. I, uh, sent a messenger to deliver the dagger to you but Prince Trian threw him out. I don’t know what offense he caused, but I had him beaten severely.”

Gorim and I glanced at each other. We both saw we had no idea why Trian would stop people from giving gifts to me. It was none of his business.

“I’m sure Trian has his reasons,” I said carefully.

He nodded, seemingly to accept my explanation. “Would you like to look at the dagger?”

“Of course.”

He smiled with extreme elation. “Oh, thank you, my lord. A thousand thanks to you. Here…” he bent down to retrieve a box on a drawer. He opened it, showing it to us. Inside nestled an extremely beautiful dagger on dark purple velvet. It was triangular-shaped, with the grip covered in druffalo leather. The guard was embossed with intricate designs and the blade shone dark like obsidian, I knew the blade was silverite just extremely polished to look like the glass. It was not merely decorative a fragile beauty belying its deadliness.

I was silent in admiration. From what I can see, I have no complaints about its craftmanship.

“That’s an amazing piece merchant,” Gorim said, not quite keeping his awe out of his voice.

“You do me much honor ser,” the merchant replied, abashed. “The blade has been crafted over a period of two years by masters of every art. I wish to bless my lord’s first command and hope that someday, when he rules, he will wear it.”

I and Gorim went still as we both understood that the merchant was proposing treason. Dangerous words to speak aloud in the middle of the public market. If his messenger was just as careless as he, then Trian throwing him out was no mystery.

“Trian is heir,” I reminded him gently, hoping that only his enthusiasm had led him to speak treason. “He will rule when my father your king returns to the Stone.”

“If the Assembly wills it,” he said, looking upward in the sign of our Ancestors. “Forgive me ser but whispers say that the second child of King Endrin will be chosen.”

“The whispers are wrong,” I said more strongly to impress in him his danger. “What they propose is treason and you would do well not to speak that aloud.”

The merchant paled.

“I was born a prince and I shall die a prince,” I added. “I have no wish to take the throne as long as Trian is alive to claim it. Pass it on to those who whispered to you and never speak of this again, for your own safety and those around you.”

The merchant bowed low. “Of course. Thank you my lord for warning me. But,” he looked with pain at the dagger in his hands, “what shall I do with this?”

The wise thing to do was to throw it in the lava but as I saw the way he looked at it as if it was his child, I reconsidered. We dwarves don’t treat our craftmanship lightly.

“I’ll take the dagger. I’ll wear it with pride when Trian ascends the throne.”

The merchant looked at me as if I’d just saved his family. I glanced at Gorim and he immediately held out his hands to take it from his hands. The merchant handed it over with reverent care, taking one final look at it, then turned to me, with tears in his eyes. “Thank you. You bring uncountable honor to me.”

I nodded my goodbye and we walked away from the stall. As soon as we’re out of earshot of the merchant, Gorim remarked. “What he meant is this will bring you uncountable gold to him if you wear that piece in public.”

I smiled at his cynicism. “Gorim, be kind to the poor man. He nearly lost his life today.”

“All for a bit of gold,” he answered and shook the package in his arms lightly. “Whispers, indeed. This is a princely gift. If Trian recognizes it, though, it may send the wrong message.” He then gave me a sideways look and added in a low voice, “Or the right one, depending on your view.”

I stopped walking to stare at him in shock. “Gorim, are you sincerely proposing…”

Gorim glanced around us and made his voice low, which, from the chatter of the people around us, would make his words intelligible to anyone but me. “My lord, you should know, though your humility prevents you so, that most people would want you to take your Father’s place instead of Prince Trian.”

I stared at him for a long while and I didn’t know I was holding my breath until it was forced out of me in coughing disbelief. “This is just a steaming pile of brontoshit.”

“I am not jesting, my lord. The army loves you, and the people too in the same way that they do. And the nobles would rather deal with you than with Prince Trian with his volatile temper.”

“Spawn’s balls, Gorim! I am not gonna take my brother’s birthright. My brother, who I love.”

Gorim clamped his lips tight as I looked at him with disbelief that he would dare say something extremely painful to me. “What kind of man do you think I am to think that I would do that?” I asked softly.

Gorim kept silent, looking at the ground in shame.

“Let’s speak no more of it,” I said with finality and we went to other stalls in silence.

While we peruse the next stall in a somber mood than the one we started in, we did not expect to run so early onto the one we were arguing about.

“Atrast vala, big brother. How surprising to run into you out among the common folk,” said a chirping voice to my left.

I turned around and found my younger brother, Bhelen. Despite his greeting, his pale face looked harried and the light blue eyes had no luster. It always was the case when he was with our elder brother, Trian, who was standing next to him, looking like his overgrown version. In contrast, Trian narrowed his eyes when he saw me and gave a deep huff, sending the braids in his light-colored beard to flutter. His face was set in hard lines of disapproval.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Gorim whipped the gift swiftly but deftly at his side, away from the view of my brothers, instead of holding it in front. I glanced at Bhelen quickly, who looked slightly guilty when he met my gaze then back to Trian. I knew immediately Bhelen used me as a distraction to our elder brother. Because Trian looked like he’s about to chew someone out.

“Especially since duty requires you to attend our father the king. Have you little respect for him to disregard his wishes on a day set for you?” he asked sharply at me.

Knew it. Before I can say anything, Gorim spoke up. “Lord Harrowmont assured me we wouldn’t be needed for hours at least-”

“Silence! If I want the opinion of my sibling’s second, I will ask for it,” Trian barked, cutting him off.

Gorim mumbled “Yes Your highness” and stepped back.

My brows drew together in reproof at Trian and I said, “Don’t speak to him like that.”

Trian raised his in surprise at my words then drew together in irritation. “I’ll speak to the lower houses and castes as they should be spoken to,” he said snittily.

Stone, I love my brother but he makes it hard to be loyal.

“Now do as I say,” he added.

I gritted my teeth. “I will go at my leisure,” I said in a measured tone.

Trian stared at me with a shocked face for one moment, as if I’d sprouted another head, then he went red with rage. He stepped closer to me until we were face to face. “If I am king, you will never be allowed to act like that to me again,” he growled, keeping his eyes on me to make me cower. But I stared back hard without flinching, even as a crowd formed around us. Nothing Trian can do to me will scare me after what I’ve endured in the Deep Roads.

“Come, Bhelen,” he said finally, snapping his fingers. Bhelen looked at me, sheepishly, then followed like a dog to our brother’s retreating back. The crowd around us parted out of the way for them, then looked back at me uncertainly.

“It’s just a quarrel with brothers,” Gorim said to them, smiling. “Everyone back to business.” As we watch the crowd disperse reluctantly, Gorim turned to me and said “That was fun. Nothing like being talked down by the next king.”

“He had better not be like that when he is king. The nobles won’t stand a tyrant,” I said, looking on until the heads of my brothers were lost among the crowd.

“Oh? What has your brother done now?”

I turned at the speaker and was pleased with what I’ve found. Finally, a person I like to talk to. “Nerav. Stone met,” I greeted and bowed to a woman dressed fashionably in silk and sable.

Lady Nerav, daughter of Lord Helmi. Also my betrothed.

I’ve seen her many times dressed in a smith’s apron with soot on her face and looked mostly at home with that, but she had no problem being decked out in her best for an occasion.

I gave a look at Gorim to give us some privacy and he retreated to a respectful distance. Then I gestured at her if she would take a stroll with me. She accepted with a smile on her full cheeks and we headed leisurely away from the stalls. Immediately, she asked me about Trian.

I sighed. “He has been throwing his weight again. Reminding each and every noble that he is the firstborn Aeducan, as if they didn’t know already,” I said.

She nodded sagely. “As he should, since the election is coming up. He must be anxious.”

“Yes, skittish as a nug in a dwarven kitchen. I just wish he doesn’t shat on us all while he’s at it.”

She laughed. “Oh Thorin, you were always my favorite.”

“Oh? I had competition?” I teased.

“Plenty. But before you, there’s just no comparison.”

“Good to know. Embarrassing, otherwise. Not looking forward to talking to your father why you chose me and not the others.”

“Oh, don’t worry about my father. I think he loves you more than I do.”

“Hmm. I like my chances. At least I wouldn’t expect him on our wedding day threatening to disembowel me if I did anything funny to you.”

“If you did anything funny to me, I think he’d still adore you.”

I chuckled. This was why I was going to marry her. She had a sensible head on her shoulders and share the same humor as I. We had been friends since childhood and when his father dropped hints that it was time for him to marry, I never hesitated to ask her.

We arrived near the railing overlooking the flowing lava. She leaned on it, the warm light shining on her face and on her dark hair like a halo, and I thought she grew up very beautifully. She is the only woman I’ve spent more time with and I wondered why marrying her never entered my head until she told me one day that I had the right of first refusal for her hand. For many years, she said.

“About the wedding, I want to talk to you about something and you’re not going to like it,” I said.

She turned to me still with that charming, teasing look on her face. “Oh? Is this the part where we tell each other’s dirty secrets? Like you always leave your clothes on the floor so I should expect to pick it up after you forever?”

“Save it when we’re married. This is more pressing.”

She stopped her teasing and waited.

I took a breath before announcing it. “We’re going to postpone the wedding.”

“What?” she yelled, as I expected. I wasn’t aware of the preparations for our wedding but I knew enough that she had worked long on it.

“At least until Trian is crowned. I didn’t like the look I got from him when I announced our engagement.” He looked like he was about to kill me then my bethroted. My brother wasn’t a particular favorite with the nobles, and seeing me, his younger brother, being the toast of Orzammar in alliance with one of the strongest noble houses, must have turned his mood sour.

When we were children, we were thick as thieves and Trian wasn’t this volatile back then. Now that we’re grown, he looked at everyone with suspicion and acted as if everyone was in conspiracy against him all the time. Even his family. And I had no idea why we’ve come to this.

“So we’re not getting married because your brother looked you wrong?” Nerav mocked, drawing her arms across her chest as she pouted.

“Don’t be like that,” I said to her. “We’re still getting married, just later. I don’t want to get married while Trian is in a foul mood. He might crash the cake.”

“Poor cake. I think I should tell the baker to make it from granite.”

“Yeah, tell him to come to me. I think I could find plenty of that in the Deep Roads.”

We shared a laugh, as we always do.

Nerav seemed to be pacified enough about her work being postponed and spoke with the same cheer as before she knew about it. “So, I have work to do, telling everyone the wedding is delayed. And what would the handsome groom do?”

“I’m going back to the Deep Roads, at least, until the election is over. I find I like hearing more of my men’s snoring than Trian’s tirades.”

“So I’m going to play the part of the pining lover?”

“Yes, you do that marvelously, the way you polish your ax.”

She laughed for a while then grew serious. She looked at me with slyness in her eyes. “Don’t you think he has other reasons for being …testy?”

“Like what?”

“Like there having a stronger contender for the throne?”

“There’s no one else who has a stronger claim than he has. Lord Harromont may try, but he’s too loyal to my father. The other noble houses may, but they don’t come close to my family in terms of prestige and honor.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be from another house. Maybe it comes from someone who had the esteem of both the noble and warrior caste by his fearless campaigns against the darkspawn.”

I sighed, a deep rumble. “Ancestors, not you too.”

She cocked her head quizzically. “Not me too?”

I glanced at Gorim. She followed it and turned back to me, understanding on her face.

I rubbed at my temple. “What idiot pushed my name forward?”

“It’s been talked about by everyone. If you were just born first, the deshyrs would accept you as king without a murmur.”

“Well, I’m not the firstborn. Trian is. And I would never go for the throne. Not while Trian lives.”

She nodded, looking down, hiding her face from me, and pressing her lips together. I could sense she thought I was just being stubborn and so annoyed at me.

“Besides, I’m not that fond of sitting on my ass all day listening to nobles argue about who owed money to whom,” I added, turning the conversation light as before.

“Well said,” she said flatly as she raised her head and turned away to continue looking around the city.

I gave a sidelong glance at her. “And don’t you want to be Queen?”

She smiled at me. “Well no, I’m not that fond of being Queen, nudging my husband the King awake while the nobles argue about who owed money to whom.”

I laughed. “So there it is; my dirty little secret. You’re going to marry an unambitious man. There’s still time to get out of the wedding if you have second thoughts,” I teased.

“The second thoughts that I have is the color of my wedding dress but the rest of it,” she leaned close and kissed my cheek, “I have no doubts.”

#dragon age fanfiction #dragon age origins #da fanfic

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metalempire · 5 years

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The Agarthans Did Nothing Wrong: A defence of the villains of Three Houses and also Edelgard

Spoilers ahead for Fire Emblem Three Houses, obviously.

The point of this post boils down to fuck the church it’s bad and stop calling Edelgard a fascist when that’s not what fascism it you braindead idiots please use google and basic reading comprehension for once in your lives. It also covers the wider ideas of the world of Fodlan and bigger picture political impacts and social structure with a historical viewpoint applied to it. Obviously, the villains do bad shit to achieve their goals, but the actual goals far outweigh the price paid to obtain them.

The whole thing will be long and thus under a readmore.

So after playing all the routes and nabbing all the lore and then looking back on the Crimson Flower route I ended up concluding that the villains weren’t actually the villains so much as they were the people killing the most amount of other people at any given time and thus villains by proxy. The actual villain is Rhea, or rather Sothis, kind of. To dive into that we need the basic backstory of Rhea and Sothis, which is given in Verdand Wind. The rough summary is Sothis breathed life into Fodlan, and her children, the Nabateans, a race of immortal dragon people (basically manaketes) ruled over the land. This included the human race, and eventually enough humans are said to have seen themselves as gods and challenged Sothis and the Nabateans in a war that humanity ultimately lost. Those humans were the Agarthans, better known as Those Who Slither In the Dark or TWSITD for short. They retreated underground and created Shambhala, which would become an advanced civilisation and their base. Meanwhile Sothis rests, and the surviving Nabateans live in Zanado with her. Nemesis comes along, kills Sothis in her sleep, drinks her blood and makes the Sword of The Creator from her bones and then massacres the Nabataeans with the 10 Elites to make the other Crests and Hero’s Relics from their bodies. The survivors of this are Rhea, now known as Seiros, and the 4 Saints, who go on to create the Adrestian Empire, beat Nemesis and 10 Elites and create the Church of Serios. The rest of the lore plays out as we know it. However, Nemesis wasn’t a hero, but a level 99 kickass bandit who was working with the Agarthans to get back at Sothis, which is why they recovered his body and that of the 10 Elites. The King of Liberation is the name they gave to him, more on the meaning of that later.

Edelgard also reveals that the Empire and the Church pretty much exist to control humanity, with the Church as the religious and social control and the Empire with the political and legislative control. Though Kingdom and Alliance came to be, so long as they had the national religion be Seiros, then they were under church influence all the same. So long as the church controls human culture and belief, it doesn’t really matter. The nobility system is also put in place by Seiros, using the crests created from her fallen brethren that humanity now has, in order to have a pseudo-Nabataean rule vicariously lived through them, which is why the nobles hold power in all regions, and why the Crests have the myth perpetuated as gifts from the goddess alongside their weapons. The church has its’ approved houses all naturally be pious on some level (see: one of Lorenz’s dialogue options earlygame in the monastery where he asks if you come to pray, even though he isn’t highly religious, he explains all nobles must be pious on some level) in order to instill the faith in the ruling powers, and thus, their ideologies and social practices will endure.

The Insurrection of Seven is very important to all this, since Hanneman reveals that the Emperor was trying to take power away from the nobles so he could control the Empire himself. On the outside this looks like a dictator kind of move, yet in context of the world of Fodlan, this is hum trying to regain power of the Church to be able to determine the fate of the Empire without the Church. The nobles won and the Emperor lost power, yet the Empire does not collapse because regardless, the Church has control thanks to the instilled ways the nobles operate originating from the interests of the Church.

Now that we know all this, it can be quite obvious that the Church, ruled by the last surviving Nabataeans, namely Rhea, is the continuation of the original social order. Dragons controlling humanity, albeit less overtly this time. With this in mind, the Agarthans didn’t think themselves as gods, but, considering the name they gave to Nemesis, they were simply humans who wanted to decide their own fates, to govern and rule themselves. In Hubert’s A Support, we hear him echo their very sentiments, in which he expresses the importance of humanity for humans, and how inhuman creatures with incredibly long lifespans can’t possibly have enough humanity to know what is best for humankind. Personally I’m inclined to agree with him here, since it’s a very logical point to make. Humankind needs to make advancements in science, culture, medicine, architecture, politics, language, agriculture and technology in order to survive. Living beings need to advance over time and evolve, which is what happened in our world, we developed civilisations and technologies and slowly improved everything over time to reach the point we’re at now. Immortal dragons have far less of a need to make all this progress, their lives aren’t short and limited, the future of their kind depends not on progress, but on stagnant peace “How lovely it would be for this moment to last forever. To hold on to this stolen time, for you and I to create a world without end.”- Rhea, after you complete Chapter 10. The best way to illustrate this is the compare Shambhala with the rest of Fodlan. Shambhala is a much more advanced city, with glowing walls and electricity flowing through it, with magical technology and powerful animated titans, as well as missiles that they use in Verdant Wind, controlled by magic, but clearly made of technology. The Agarthans made advancements in magic and technology when absent of the control of the Nabataeans, of the church, while Fodlan is forever stuck in the middle ages, with no changes made in the thousand years of history, forever a medieval world. With the Nabataeans in power, with the church in power, humankind is forever stuck in stagnancy, never advancing.A great example of this backfiring is when Faerghus experiences a plague that almost ends them all, yet they’re saved by Cornelia. When Cornelia is fought as a boss, she uses Agarthan technology, and is either one of them, or an ally to the Agarthans, as Thales mentions her importance in Crimson Flower, and punishes Edelgard for killing her by blowing up Arianrod with a missile. Cornelia used the advancements in technology, and likely medicine, to be able to beat the plague, which wouldn’t be possible in the stagnant world the Church preserves.

That’s where Edelgard comes into all this. As the Flame Emperor, she is given the power of two crests, the Crest of Flames no less, after the prototype experiments on Lysithea were a success, in order to have enough power to rival Rhea, and to reshape the world with the power of the progenitor god, the same power Byleth has. Edelgard endured the torment because of two factors; Agarthan desires and the Insurrection of Seven. With her uncle Arudnel being Thales, it was clear he planned on using her, and had infiltrated the royal family, but with the insurrection, it meant the nobles had made it unsafe for her to be in Enbarr. Everything lined up for her to be experimented on and to become the Flame Emperor. She had witnesses her father be defeated by the corrupt nobles of the Church, and she had seen her family die because of the importance of Crests. And so, rather than grow an eyepatch and cry about it, she takes her trauma and pain, and resolves to carry on the Agarthan legacy, but as she states, “There will be no salvation for you and your kind.”, Edelgard has no intention of letting them go free, even though they want the same thing, to liberate humanity from the control of the Nabateans, to allow life itself to move forward, she cannot forgive what they’ve done, and turns on them in the Epilogue of Crimson Flower for all that they did to get here. This is arguably hypocritical of her, but in the end it does also help to make right her own wrongs. It will never absolve her of starting a war that claims lives, but as far as history in the far future she creates is concerned, she took the fight to the right people to kill, and then did it again. History doesn’t care for the people and places lost in the past as much if the future they died to create is a good one. If human progress becomes a reality, then it is considered worth it in the end by those who live in a better age. Edelgard wiped out the Alliance and the Kingdom, and unified Fodlan, all to break the hold of the Church. She took a hard stance and presented an ultimatum, either renounce the Church or die. In her mind, and on a larger scale perspective, the Church is very much like a disease, an infestation that takes hold of the mind and the beliefs. If she compromises, the nobility system will endure and cause pain to people like her, MIklan, Sylvain, Ingrid, Marianne, Lysithea and so many more.

Interestingly, Edelgard doesn’t oppose religion. When fighting Rhea in chapter 12, she states she has not made an enemy of the goddess, only of the church. What this means is Edelgard allows religion as a belief, and is fine with Sothis worship on a personal level, but has clearly drawn the line with the church, which exists to control people on a sociopolitical level, and is ruled by a literal dragon, not a human with human interests in mind. For her, religion as a belief is fine, but as an institution, it has too much power over the world, and has not been used for the benefit of humanity, but of the Nabataeans. This is further reinforced by the fact that Rhea used humankind for her own ends, using Byleth and those who came before them to try and resurrect Sothis, and have her mother rule the world once more. For Edelgard, this would create further disparity, where a literal god would rule the world, rather than humankind, and so things would only stagnate further, and possibly degrade. Due to their belief system of worship, people would be subservient to a resurrected Sothis, never rebelling or complaining, becoming like slaves and ultimately never advancing as a species. Edelgard had to destroy the church, wipe out the remaining Nabateans (you actually miss two of them on Crimson Flower lol so she didn’t even manage to make them go extinct) and give humanity’s destiny back to itself, shattering Rhea’s ambitions and allowing the world to move forward. Her path is very similar to Emperor Rudolf’s from Shadows of Valentia, starting a war in order to ultimately have events play out that have old gods of the world, who were degenerating into madness, die out and give the land back to humankind. Edelgard does much the same, using a war to liberate humanity as a collective whole from the reign of the Nabateans, crushing their institutions of power and setting her own in place instead. Whether or not this creates a better future is unknown, but the potential for that future can exist now, whereas under the rule of the Church, it could never be possible.

Edelgard and Agarthans brought death and suffering to many people, but in a world ruled by people instead of stagnant gods, an even greater number of people could be living in a world far better in every way to one that came before it. In the end, it’s a question of if the means justify the ends. Is it worth war and bloodshed, for the sake of freedom from the control of institutions that are self concerned and perpetuate social and political misery and stagnancy? Only the people of a future Fodlan can answer that question, but honestly, I think it’s worth taking a chance on a better future for all humankind, even if it means alot of people won’t live to see it, because in the end, our future is the only thing we have as a species, and it shouldn’t be in the hands of those who could never understand what it means to live and die, and to move forward through time.

Also turns out all of this is pointless anyway cos Verdant Wind is a better outcome anyway thank god for Claude Von Ending Racism for proving everyone is colossal idiot.

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem three houses spoilers #long post #like really fuckin long post

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

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The Saga Begins (And She Doesn’t Stop)

Chapters: 44/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Is Really Starting To Lean Into Those Fantasies, You Really Want To Attend An Avengers Party, No Ulterior Motives, None at all, Phil 2 Will Not Start Singing Anytime Soon I Promise, Summary: You gain a new teacher, Loki gains a new anxiety.

Loki held your hand in one of his, the other on the small of your back, steadying you as you walked slowly across the room. Standing no longer made you as dizzy, but if you moved to fast, your head still spun, and Loki was not willing to let you fall again.

He hadn't really wanted to allow you out of your chair yet, but you had heard that Thor was throwing a bash for his friends, and there was no way you were being consigned to your room, or stuck in a chair, while there was an entire Avengers party going on.

You definitely didn't want any of them seeing you like this. You still checked in once a week, and each one you talked to-Captain America, Falcon, a young lady with an accent you couldn't place and who didn't bother to introduce herself, even Doctor Banner once-they all held your situation in negative regard. There were plenty of questions about your treatment and your captor. Nobody had a gentle word for Loki. The kindest had been Banner who had told you Loki was a 'bag of cats', but had bid you luck in 'finding the kitten'.

You couldn't let them know an Asgardian had injured you. Who knew how they might take it?

So you walked until you simply couldn't anymore, and Loki had led you back to your chair, showering you with gentle praises for your strength and perseverance.

Today he had magicked you into more modest clothing, the kind you had started considering 'normal'. A deep, blue-green dress, hemmed with ribbon woven with black and yellow chevrons. Tan apron overdress, embroidered with horned snakes and the phases of the moon. Warm, soft felt trousers underneath, comfortable padded slippers. The domed brooches on your shoulder straps were fancy today, with curling dragon patterns, and strings of gold and pearl beads to hang your little trinkets from.

You'd found out from Saldis during one of your baths, that the clothes you wore were Asgardian versions of attire once found on Earth. The clothiers who worked in the palace had only very old book illustrations to go off of, and did not know that humans didn't wear these things anymore; Asgardian fashion moved and changed far slower than Earth fashion did. They'd been trying to make you clothes that would help you feel comfortable, as a guest of the king.

That was actually pretty thoughtful of them, you thought. And you'd told Saldis that the humans out in the believer's camp wore dresses like this, or at least some of them did. It was a process known as reconstruction, where modern humans tried to bring parts of the ways of humans from generations past into their own lives. Some did it in little ways, like learning an ancient language, and reading texts those people left behind, if any. Some did it in big ways, like trying to live entirely like they did. Others participated in reenactment, where they lived, dressed, and acted as people from times past, but only for a little while every week or month, then went back to their regular jobs and homes.

“So it's not all that unusual for me to wear clothes like that, I guess, since the last humans who interacted with Asgardians in any numbers were all wearing them. And the people out in the camp are probably trying to get in touch with the thoughts and feelings of those people.”

“Can you tell me about them?” Saldis had asked you. “I never get close enough to the gates to see them, and obviously, they aren't allowed in.”

“Well, I was only out there for a short time, but they aren't all that different from me.” You said. “They come from different countries, and they feel a connection to the Aesir. Some of them worship them, some of them came to study, I'm pretty sure. Some probably came just to be a part of all this.”

“All this?”

You gestured around you. “A whole new alien species, now permanently residing on Earth. We're a really isolated species, you know? We didn't know for sure there were other people out there until, like seven years ago. And we haven't shared the planet with another intelligent species for tens of thousands of years at least, and that was just another species of human.”

“There were more than one kind of human?” Saldis exclaimed excitedly, prompting you to explain the human family tree to the best of your ability. She left vowing to find more books on the subject.

When you had been dressed and finished with your exercises, Loki wheeled you out into the palace complex, Andsvarr following close behind.

“Since we cannot practice magic or self-defense today, I will be leaving you in the library with a new teacher.” He informed you. “She has a 'Seidkona Express' curriculum laid out for you, or so she tells me.”

Once in the library, he took you to a smaller room that held even more library. The books here looked especially old and important. Some were made of metal, their covers crusted in gems and pearls, some were scrolls inside climate controlled cases, and some were no more than clay or stone tablets. There were even a few staves of weathered wood, carved all over with foreign symbols.

Obviously, you would be keeping your hands and feet inside your ride the whole time. There was no way you were allowed to touch anything in here. Some of these things might be older than the entire human race.

What a thing to realize: that there might have been some people writing epics, even before yours had figured out how to bash two rocks together.

There were a handful of ladies in the Special Library, all beautiful, dressed and coiffed very similarly to the unfinished murals of the Queen. They were all very friendly with Loki, and somewhat less reverent than most of the other palace workers.

You couldn't help but to side-eye him a little. Loki didn't seem like a philanderer, but that didn't mean that he had no history, and it definitely didn't mean that he didn't get around at least a little.

To think that one of these ladies-or more!-could be a former flame...or even potentially a current one...It made you feel strangely bitter. You held it back from showing though, after all, it wasn't like it was any of these ladies' fault that you'd gotten spoiled by being the sole recipient of all of his attention for all these months.

At least, you thought you were. But there were times when the two of you were apart, and who knew what he was up to then?

It was none of your business.

“Oh, you've finally brought her!” One of them exclaimed in perfect American English, startling you. She didn't even speak with the vague accent Loki and the King used when speaking; it was like hearing one of your old neighbors. She even had the very slight Midwestern drawl you were used to.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, dear! Loki has kept you away for way too long, especially for a new Seidkona trainee! My, it's been ages since we had one. My name is Saga, and I am going to be teaching you about the history of Asgardian law for the next little while.”

“Saga is an Aesir.” Loki explained. “All of them are, actually. These ladies all used to be my mother's handmaidens, and are an elite force of stored knowledge. They will be able to teach you all of the things-”

“-That he hasn't got the patience for.” Saga finished. Loki pursed his lips in slight annoyance.

“She also will not hesitate to sass anyone who crosses her path.”

“I like her already.” You proclaimed.

“Of course you do.” He grumbled, but patted you softly on the shoulder before leaving you there.

“Now,” Saga began. “I have several translated manuscripts of law declarations made by our kings. Let's read and discuss the history and reasons behind them, starting with Allfather Buri's Declaration of Sovereignty Over Nornheim...”

*****

Loki arranged foodstuffs on a platter: dark bread, a pot of jam, cold sliced lamb, and a cup of skyr. You would be in lessons for several hours at least and, knowing Saga, potentially quite a bit longer than that. You would need something to eat, and it would be a good excuse to check in on you.

And to make sure Saga was teaching you to be as subversive as a good Seidkona should be.

Buridag would be coming soon enough, and he could not wait to pin the cloak of office to your shoulders. A powerful message would be sent that day, many centuries of tradition would be broken. But it needed to happen, and if something needed to be broken, he was the ideal candidate. Things would change, even if he had to shove them through with a battering ram.

And you, so important, so central to it all...and he didn't think you really understood how vital you were. You still had a shy streak, a deep down belief in the bedrock of your being that you were somehow not worthy of what was happening to you...Well. Loki understood that feeling implicitly, but he did not know how to alleviate it in you. Loki had been through every possible stage of life and death, but relating to the feelings of others was still sometimes difficult for him.

He felt as though he could not court you properly, though, until you had removed that self doubt, and accepted your worth. If there was anything he could do to help, he would, without hesitation.

He also felt that it was becoming important for him to get to the bottom of the strange, quasi-real dreams you were sharing. It seemed to him that they were becoming more frequent. It seemed also, that something that should be within his grasp was being purposefully kept out of it, which was frustrating. There were many clues before him, and he either was not seeing them, or he was not connecting them.

He knew he was close, dancing right on the edge, which frustrated him all the more.

“My prince.” An errand runner approached him, breaking his train of thought. “There is a Midgardian man at the north gate who says he has come from Reykjavik. He says he is with Íslandspóstur, and that he has a package for your Seidkona. Well, he did not call her that, but that is who he meant, my prince.”

“Is that so?” Loki asked suspiciously. “She is not available. I shall see to it. Andsvarr, please take this tray to the library. I shall be away for a short time.”

He dismissed the errand runner and stalked through the half finished streets all the way to the north gate. The person waiting there was certainly dressed as a postman, in his red and black, although that was not a difficult uniform to procure. He waited anxiously, being heckled by a group of nearby protesters. When he noticed that it was Loki coming to greet him, his anxiety seemed to skyrocket; he couldn't wait to be rid of the package-a large, light, very taped up box, signed by Tara Miller, your irritating friend.

Loki took the package and let the postman escape with haste. They would have checked it for dangerous things, such as explosives or venomous animals, but he was going to check it again, in the safety of his chambers.

He took a different route back, stumbling across a road crew whose work had ground to a halt.

“Is there a problem here?” He asked, as the supervisor rushed up to him with relief washing over his face.

“Your Highness! Perhaps you can put to rest a disagreement we are having, if it does not waste too much of your time.”

“There is little of more importance to a city than it's roads.” Loki said. “Tell me of your problem.”

“It's this bloody great stone.” The supervisor pointed to a large boulder, jutting out of the dirt. “Those Midgardian fellows are very odd about their rocks and hills; they refuse to muck about with them, and they don't even break them or build over them. They advise us not to either, but this one is right in the middle of the road.

Now, I know we're not Midgardian,” He continued. “But I want to stay on their good side, since they're trying to help us out. So we're having a bit of a debate as to whether we should just smash the thing and incorporate the rubble into the road, and leave the Midgardians none the wiser, or if we should respect their superstitions and try to move the thing whole, out of the city, or into some courtyard somewhere.”

“I see. I suppose there is nothing wrong with not wanting to offend our allies. If you can move it, do so.”

“Thank you your Highness.” The supervisor said, turning back to his crew. “You heard him! No more debating now, we dig it out and move it!”

The workers approached the stone with shovels and levers, Loki leaving them to their job. Funny, the things that seemed to require a Royal Opinion.

Far down the road, almost out of earshot, Loki heard the crack of breaking stone, and rolled his eyes. At least they had tried.

*****

Loki set the large box down on the sheepskin rug, in front of the fireplace. Knife in hand, ready to throw the entire thing into the flames if he had to, he slit the heavy wrapping of tape, and peered inside.

Loki was not inclined to feel guilt over going through someone's mail, especially not where your safety was concerned. Just because it was signed by your friend, did not mean that it really came from her.

There was a bright green, stuffed...creature, that did not resemble any earthly creature he knew of, which he checked for hidden dangers. It proved to be free of needles or poisons, or secret compartments, so he set it on the 'safe' side. There were several packets of snacks, which he set on the 'unsafe' side, to be sent to Bjarkhild for checking. There were several books, which he checked for hidden razors or pins, and of course, more poison. A tiny USB labeled “Music”. A knitted throw blanket. A few of what must have been your favorite articles of clothing and jewelry, all of it ratty and cheap.

Within another box was a very carefully wrapped leaf, large and variegated, its thick stem enclosed withing a vial of water. New roots were already growing. It was labeled “Phil 2: Electric Boogaloo”, a reference he did not understand, though he did remember you speaking of a cherished houseplant you had named Phil. This must be its offspring, a way to circumvent the extreme difficulty of shipping an entire live plant of the size you had indicated.

Beneath it all was a collection of papers, mostly keepsakes from the places you had visited with Tara, as well as a diploma from some place known as a 'High School'. Odd. You had told him that you had not been able to receive higher education, yet here was proof that you had not just attended, but graduated from a High School. Maybe there was a school that was even higher than that. A Greater or Grand School, perhaps.

Beneath that, were the calendars. THE Calendars. Tara had sent you all three, including the newest one. Loki hadn't even known it was available yet. There were still months to go before the Midgardian year ended.

Ugh. The calendars. How humiliating. He flipped the new one open, finding his picture on the month of November. How they had joked and teased each other, so friendly even though they were debasing themselves for money.

They had wanted him to put oil on his skin! He'd refused of course. If they wanted to glisten like sweaty, filthy, slime farmers, that was their prerogative; if he absolutely had to show skin like a trollop, then he wasn't going to do it like a common one.

They had eventually relented...then they had stuffed him into prisoner's clothes, opened them to the waist, tousled his hair, and handcuffed him to the prison bars! Everyone had had something scathing to say, some sly, insulting jest at his expense, their jeers bouncing off the walls.

After the photographers had gotten their shot, he'd snapped the cuffs with barely any effort, and had to be persuaded by his brother not to wreck the place.

He doubted he would be invited back for next year. He doubted he would want to go. But just imagine if there was a demand for it? A clamoring for pictures of Loki, outstripping even the desire for photos of the Noble Captain? The Playboy Philanthropist? Even his illustrious brother?

Did human women in fact, like a 'bad boy'?

Probably not.

Did you?

Definitely not, given the scoldings you had rained down on him.

But maybe...maybe if you came across him, in this particular situation; chained, unbuttoned, ostensibly helpless...what would you do? Would you help him out? Or would you 'help him out'?

He picked up one of the older calendars, idly flipping through as he floated on the thought of your sweet hands on his skin, right up until he noticed that for the months where Captain America was the feature, you had marked out all the days with hearts instead of crosses.

His heart sank in his chest, the reverie entirely broken.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)

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ahiddenpath · 4 years

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Books that Shaped My Writing: Childhood

For a long time, I’ve been thinking of writing a post about the books that left an impact on me and shaped me as a hobbyist writer. I’ve always wondered if I could trace elements of these books to how I think and write now, but I also... Frankly, I’d really like to see what you guys might have to say about your own childhood reading!

Please read on below the cut.

First, I should point out that I’ve been an insatiable reader all my life. I’m only mentioning the handful of books that I recall having a huge impact on my writing, and I’m also not going to mention Harry Potter or The Lord of the Rings, just because I assume everyone’s read them/knows about them. I was and am a huge fan of both, though!

These aren’t necessarily my favorite childhood books, or the ones I think are the best. They’re simply the ones that I suspect shaped how I write today.

I’ll start in rough chronological order of when I read the books, ending at about age twelve for this post.

The Fairy Rebel, Lynne Reid Banks

I read this for the first time in second grade, so roughly age... Seven? It’s about a couple that cannot conceive and the fairy that decides to help them, in direct breach of fairy law. After the baby is born, the fairy queen (who is EXCEPTIONALLY evil) goes nuclear. The rest of the story deals with the humans and the fairies struggling to survive the queen’s wrath.

This book is really a trip. It’s got bratty and sweet fairies, cute domestic moments, a human girl touched by fey magic, a super evil queen, and lots of dark stuff.

In retrospect, there’s some stuff that I could do without. For example, the book constantly mentions how chubby the female characters are, like... In a really self-conscious way? And the eventual mother is in deep depression over her infertility until the fairy helps her, which is a heavy topic for a kid.

But like... As I said, I read constantly, but this is the only book I really remember from that far back. It blew my second grade mind and hooked me on fantasy. I immediately began writing stories about fairies interacting with humans. From there, I transitioned to “animals behaving like humans” stories. I still have them all! They’re illustrated, too, which is fun.

I’m not sure if I picked up any writing elements beyond topic from this book, but it inspired me to write my very first full-blown stories. Before this, I was drawing ideas in comics that are incomprehensible to me now.

Where the Red Fern Grows, Wilson Rawls

This book is about a boy who desperately wants hunting dogs, eventually acquires a pair, and forms an incredible bond with them. Unlike the other books on this list, I was only able to read this once.

My mother found me inconsolably sobbing when I finished this book. I could barely communicate why I was crying! I tear up easily, but I’ve never cried over a work of fiction like this, before or since. Even though I only read it once, I can remember the ending so vividly, down to sentences.

If I’m lucky, then maybe I picked up some knowledge about moving readers from this book.

Matilda, Roald Dahl

Matilda is probably the fictional character that my child self related to most. She’s a gal who survives emotional abuse at home by reading, creating a beautiful world for her mind. Unlike most kids in similar situations, however, Matilda was able to carry out small acts of revenge on her abusers, and even help an adult escape her abuser. No wonder so many kids love this book!

Thematically, I absolutely solidified the idea of cultivating inner resources to deal with a stormy outer world from this book. This continues to pop up in my writing, but it also supported me as a kid struggling at home. God, what an important book. And it’s Dahl, so it’s hilarious, unpredictable, and pretty dang dark.

Island of the Blue Dolphins, Scott O’Dell

The story of a Native American girl left behind when the rest of her people sailed away from their island. She has to survive on her own, awaiting the day that another ship will arrive.

Like Matilda, it’s about surviving however you can, but it’s more physical in this story. Although when you’re alone, there are emotional and mental elements to surviving, too. I remember taking away a feeling of awe at the main character’s power. And she didn’t have magic or anything like that; she was resourceful, tenacious, and smart.

That’s something I want all girls and women to see in themselves (although I certainly don’t want anyone to be marooned, lol!). I make a point to write with this goal.

Absolutely Normal Chaos, Sharon Creech

I was probably about ten when I read this for the first time? I can’t begin to tell you what it did for my sense of characterization and voice. In it, a girl is given a school assignment to keep a journal over summer break. She develops a passion for journaling, which helps her deal with an unexpectedly tumultuous summer.

It’s a fun read with a lot of life. I felt deeply familiar with the main character by the end of the book.

The Last Dragonlord, Dragon and Phoenix, Joanne Bertin

I read the second novel, Dragon and Phoenix, before the first. I was about twelve, which was waaaaaaay too young for these books. I bought it in an airport before a flight, and I chose the longest book with the coolest cover (a dragon facing off with a phoenix, of course).

Having reread these as adults, it’s clear that they’re a writer’s first two books from a technical level. However, Bertin’s world building is so thorough and developed, and her love for her cast is so strong. Hands down, this is where I first learned how to handle multiple close third person perspectives in a story, and to use the various characters to show the reader things that only that character could show them.

These books are not for the faint of heart; they have every dark thing you can imagine, if I recall. They’re also rather slow and ponderous (another thing I might have picked up here, lol!), but... At the time, I thought they were the best books ever, and I owe a lot to them.

The Last Dragonlord is the tighter, more cohesive, less dark read. Dragon and Phoenix is much more ambitious, but not as well executed, I’d say? The third book, A Bard’s Oath, was frankly... Not worth reading, but that’s another story.

And that is where I will end the early childhood section of this journey! I’ll probably talk about books I read as a teen next, and then adulthood? I might try to cover books on writing, also?

Please let me know what books shaped your writing as a child, I’d love to hear!

#books #book talk

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stupidstubbornbravebitchoftarth · 5 years

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Sorry if this is a bit depressing but I just had the most horrible thought & need to vent. We know that GRRM told D&D about some characters’ endings - what if the ending he told them for Jaime was that he and Cersei die together??? And 8x05 was D&Ds Interpretation of that (it was shit and I hated it) but what if it was partly true?? I’m legit panicking rn, I cried for weeks after season 8 finished bc I couldn’t cope I have no idea what I’ll do if Jaime somehow dies with Cersei in the books too..

I know what you feel like and every once in awhile I get depressed about that too. But I am also pretty good at envisioning Brienne and Jaime on Tarth, teaching their little baby girl how to fight with a sword, while the sun sets over dark green meadows and the sapphire blue waters and they are at peace at last – it helps.

Disclaimer my knowledge about the whole GRRM vs. Dumb&Dumber debacle is very superficial – so what I am gonna tell you now is mostly what I can remember having read in other people’s posts lmao.

So for starters I believe having read somewhere that GRRM has been less and less involved in the actual writing process of the show BC he finally started working on the books. Praise God, She is too kind. He actually said he is kind of sorry for it but work e.g books caught up to him and it seemed like he didn’t even like the ending for the show (see the post where people compared his reaction to Marvel’s Endgame vs. The Reaction to his own show – it’s somewhere on my blog but I can’t Tag for shit so yeah just Google it it’s probably faster …. )

So for me that COULD mean that he was less and less contact with the writers and honestly maybe he actually wrote some of what he told D&D but then changed his mind and wrote other endings without telling D&D because a) he felt like it b) it’s his work c) probably thought D&D were fucking incompetent d) it was too late anyway

Also I just think that if he really kills Jaime off, which is always possible but I don’t think is going to happen, it will be way more justified death, a just death not some fucking bricks. Like we know he is looking at Jaime and Brienne as a Beauty and the Beast retelling and Cersei is not of that much importance to him and he literally said that Jaime and Cersei’s relationship disgusts him or something along the lines of that. So I really cannot come up with a lot off GRRM worthy scenarios of Jaime dying with his sister other than maybe he will have to sacrifice his life to take her down or some shit but that is boring … in my opinion. Like I just don’t see a realistic ending that involves both of them dying at the same time for the simple reason that in the books Jaime is way more important than Cersei and I, personally wouldn’t sacrifice such a multifaced character like Jaime for a probably very funny to write but sometimes rather one dimensional alcoholic maniac, powerhungry villainess … like Jaime’s redemption arc is far from complete but Cersei’s plot? Idk I am not that far in the books yet but to me it seems like all signs are pointed towards her demise. Again it’s ASOIAF so GRRM could probably still find a way to redeem her or whatever but I don’t really see the point in it. I always felt like he is writing Jaime and Cersei in a way that, as the story goes on, reveals that they in fact don’t mirror each other but are polar opposites actually pulling away from each other e.g the further Jaime heads towards redemption “the path of light” if you wanna say it like that, the further Cersei heads towards darkness and the only way they are equal can be found in the intensity their characters are involving, showing that House Lannister can be a force of evil and a force of good in equal measure or something going into that direction – it’s just a feeling though.

Also several prophecies and dreams are still unexplained and unresolved as far as I know like why is homeboy dreaming of naked Brienne with a sword in her hand – other than the fact that he is utterly and eternally in love with her

Why are literally all of their dreams revolving around each other

And, this is something I think about at least 435 times a day – D&D are fucking illiterate. While Gwendoline Christie does an amazing, incredible, showstopping, Oscar worty portrayal of everybody’s favorite highborn Ser fucking Brienne of Tarth – D&D’s interpretation of Brienne is …. well the thing you would excpect from two white dudes. They completly left out one part of Brienne which makes her so dear to many – the soft side, the femine side of her, the romantic side. While she is the best fighter in Westeros, that’s not all she is and wants to be. Like tons of better analysts and writers pointed out – People tend to forget that she a) is a HIGHBORN LADY b) had to become a swordswomen to somehow make it in the Patriachy she is living in – which with her being deemed as ugly is even more of hellish nightmare. She didn’t really see another option other than becoming a Knight because everything else would have meant a lifelong endurance of humilation and submission. So at 16 she said, Fuck it, I will FIGHT any man who wants to oppress me for the rest of my life, AND SO SHE DID. Her other option would have been eternal unhappiness and marriage to a man like four times her age. She became who she is because she had to. Unlike Arya who always hated being Lady however, Brienne is in someways way more similar to Sansa – both of them believe in tales of knights in shining amour that save maidens. Like as far as I can remember Brienne doesn’t hate being a Lady – she hates how she is being treated for it, THAT being said I think D&D failed to portray the overwhelming amount of that Brienne, so I am not very convinced that D&D truly interpreted and wrote things in the final episode the way GRRM would have – I mean look at the script lmao.

Also one way Jaime Lannister could potentially DIE is in a not literal way. Like the Death of Jaime Lannister could also be him becoming Jaime of Tarth? “Dying” in the arms of the woman he loves? – When he sleeps with Brienne for the first time on their wedding night or at least for the first time ( I mean having sex pretty much equals marriage in their world and they are both big softies so….) Or him “dying” by doing something extremly heroic therefore complety parting ways with the arrogant, the “evil” character parts of him (obessed with Cersei etc.) , signaling the completion of his redemption arc – like idk he slays a dragon for the lack of a better example so “Kingslayer” dies but “Dragonslayer” lives on. Like I am 90% sure the Kingslayer part of him is going to die and the Oathkeeper lives on.

Also what happens in Beauty and the Beast? The beast dies – or so we think. What if Jaime pulls a Jon and gets murdered and then revived. Honestly we really don’t know how D&D interpreted what GRRM told them.

To sum up

Yeah, Cersei and Jaime could probably end up dying together again and I would probably never know happiness again. Anything is still possible and everybody is entitled to their theories until the books come out and prove all of us wrong anyway. I personally don’t think it is going to happen I am just willing to believe that GRRM is a better writer than D&D and that is not very hard. For one, Cersei is not THAT important, Jaime’s redemption arc is unfinished and several prophecies unexplained. Jaime and Brienne’s arcs are connected and killing one or both of them of would be an extreme huge loss of unique and multifaceted characters as well as potential for the overall history, and also I think hard to pull of. I personally wouldn’t worry that much because yes Jaime could get killed off but if GRRM decided to do that it will make sense. The thing that made me so fucking depressed over Jaimes death is first and foremost the way he left Brienne which book!Jaime would simply not do and even for show Jaime it was soooo fucking out of character that I refuse to believe D&D even watched the other three episodes of Season 8. Like I just refuse to believe that GRRM would even write something like 8x4. Jaime’s death would make me sad because rarely I think you really need to kill a character to tell a good story but at least I know that book!Jaime is going out with a bang not a brick. Also there are not a lot of signs (if any ??) pointing toward Jaime’s death, most signs and prophecies can be interpreted in tons of different ways. Nothing is certain.

If it were upto me he would die in the Epilogue as an old man in the arms of Brienne surrouned by their kids and grandkids. In peace.

So if I were you I would stay out of the theory rabbithole as much as possible. I didn’t join the Jaime Lannister is Alive Clown Club for nothing. Just snuggle up with some snacks and the fluffiest and/or smuttiest Braime fic and have a good time.

Always remember Jaime and Brienne are chilling in the meadows of Tarth, having told the rest of the realm to kindly fuck off unless they are absolutely certain that it will be necessary to call Jaime “ Oathkeeper” of Tarth and a very pregnant Ser Brienne of Tarth to fight whatever creature from the Seven Hells was unleashed onto Westeros now. The only visitors allowed are the Stark Kids. Somewhere in the background Pod is somehow getting chased by a giant dog that stole his sword. The End.

#anon #Braime #that is all i can offer #brienne x jaime #game of thrones

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algernoninwonderland · 5 years

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Miraculous, the Monster of the Week Format and the Status Quo, or Why Things Barely Change At All

TLDR; while the monster-of-the-week format doesn’t mean there is no overarching plot in Miraculous, these monsters are variable in terms of quality and the overarching plot itself is not something the show explores.

The fact that you can watch 80% of the show in any order without feeling lost is quite telling: the goal is to have self-contained stories during the space of one episode, not to have things that happened in such and such episode have consequences in the following ones. Which is frustrating in the long run, even more so when the monster-of-the-week format doesn’t mean that episodes are aired weekly.

It isn’t that the people working on Miraculous aren’t talented enough to write something good, simply that the format they have to work with makes the story what it is.

Now, if you want to read something a little more detailed, just click the thingy!

With now 64 episodes aired, it’s safe to say that Miraculous is a show that is meant to stay on our screens for quite some time. For exactly five seasons, so far. Yay! Or perhaps not?

With its reused villains (when you’ve got 2.0 in your title, that screams Electric Boogaloo, I’m sorry), its apparent lack of character development and little focus on the overarching plot (if there is any, at this point), it sounds like this is pretty much stretched out.

The show has two focuses, so to say, our two cinnamon buns and their love story, and superhero stuffs with different villains in each episode (and that guy alone in his lair, and sometimes that woman with the fan but eeeeh, don’t sweat it, besides they’re interchangeable so far)

What do I mean by Monster-of-the-week format?

Exactly what the title says. For each week/episode, one villain. Who is defeated at the end of the week. Yay! The prime example of this is the original Scooby Doo cartoons, Scooby Doo, Where Are You!

Now, what do we think of that show? Other than the laugh tracks, it holds up well enough. More importantly, though, every story is self-contained, and the appeal of the Scooby Doo is its mysteries. We don’t care about Velma’s backstory, or how Fred became the leader, these characters have very little depth and that’s OK, their interactions is not the main point of the story.

Scooby Doo has a very simple formula:

The gang goes somewhere, finds mystery, chase one, traps, chase two with a bubblegum pop soundtrack this time, then the mystery is solved, very basically. And we can move on to the next mystery

You can air any episode in any order, you can get the story without feeling lost.

And for most Miraculous episodes, it is true as well! They follow roughly the same recipe:

Something something civilian life, Hawk Moth akumatises someone, Superhero Time, Lucky Charm, Status Quo again.

The first episodes that aired never explained how Marinette got her Miraculous and… It didn’t seem to matter all that much?

But there’s a problem here. MLB isn’t just about Superhero Thingies™. We’ve got that Love Tesseract™ thing too. And a love story requires a progression and character growth to work.

You can’t have a monster-of-the-week format if you try to explore things that are character-driven, unless there is a clear follow up, an overarching plot.

Like, say…

Revolutionary Girl Utena.

Utena is one of my favourite shows of all time, and I’m talking live action and animated. It is stylish, the writing is great, the direction work is awesome. It’s a masterpiece and for a show aired in 1997, it aged pretty well in the way it handles it themes. (some of the animation is wonky, though, characters are definitely not always on model, it’s not perfect but hey, 1997)

You should watch Utena. It’s available on Nozomi if you’re from Americaland, otherwise I’m sure you’ll find a way to stream it somewhere. Or buy the BluRay.

So, Utena has a “Duel of the Week” format, it follows a clear formula. And just like Miraculous, it recycles animation and some sentences are said at least once or twice per episode. Hell, Miraculous references Utena quite a few times (but I’ll make a post just for that).

Having a repetitive formula does not mean you cannot have a sense of progression. And Utena shines because of that. Things… Things have consequences, a duel leads to another because of reasons that become clear. It’s not a “we need that many episodes” thing, everything is needed, you cannot not watch an episode, even the recap ones, even the Nanami ones, especially the Nanami ones (Nanami who is a much better Chloé than Chloé is).

Unlike Miraculous, Utena has an overarching plot, you can’t play the episodes in any order. Repetitions and variations are meaningful in Utena, it is not simply a matter of style, or rather, style in Utena is meaningful, not only there for “the show”, a spectacle which in itself is meaningful too. Hell, everything in Utena is meaningful. Meaningful. Could you imagine that much meaning in Miraculous? Me neither.

But, you may say, you’re not fair; you’re comparing Miraculous, a show aimed at schoolchildren, with Utena, an anime aimed at an older audience.

And you wouldn’t be entirely wrong if you thought so. Which is why I’ll reiterate my point with a show for which Thomas Astruc himself worked.

Code Lyoko

Code Lyoko is super formulaic, replace Hawk Moth with XANA and superpowers with going inside a computer and that’s about it. It recycles a lot of its animation, the character design is… A bold choice. I barely watched it when I was younger though it was a pretty big thing for us Frenchies (but hey it’s available on YouTube now in French so I binged the entire thing in a few days and while it’s not groundbreaking, it does some things really well)

Code Lyoko is all that, repetitions, terribly formulaic, XANA-tised person/plushie of the week thing with towers to deactivate and whatnot, and a “return to the past” to erase whatever has occurred during the episode. Literally.

But.

Once again, a visible overarching plot, and can you believe it, things have consequences. William is lost on Lyoko, and the kids spend episodes looking for him. There’s romance, and though it is dealt with clumsily, there’s a sense of progression to it. Things… Happen… With… Consequences.

Miraculous is, for the most part, an inconsequential show

Yeah, the problem with Miraculous is that its overarching plot is muddy and flimsy, the status quo is very much that, I’d argue that it’s a show in which nothing truly happens because nothing has consequences. I mean… Nino and Alya are dating, I guess? Adrien… Is still allergic to pigeon feathers? There are sometimes more than just two heroes? But it doesn’t really matter.

And Oblivio is the perfect example of that.

That’s the message of the episode. Even if we forget things, it still works, there is no need for memory, for remembering what has happened in all the previous episodes because we still make it work somehow. What happened before this episode does not matter to the story we are telling now.

The show keeps telling the same things about its characters, over and over, and whenever something new is introduced… Well it’s great but don’t expect to see it in the episodes after that one.

Which is why specials, story arcs which last two episodes, are good. There is room for developed character moments, interesting interactions, plot, sometimes good fights too. Chloé shines in Queen’s Battle, “Origins” is, for me, probably the best bunch of episodes in the entire show so far because things happen and we can see change happening. Like, actual change. Characters who learn how to do stuff, whose interactions with one another changes over the course of these two episodes.

Outside of this however… Here, have that very important book, we’ll see it in one or two episodes because we need a macguffin and voilà. Here, have new heroes, but don’t expect to see them after that episode, unless we need a real showdown.

It’s hard to get hyped by Jeremy Zag’s posts, because no matter how cool Dragon!Kagami looks, because of that format of self-contained stories with the only connection being them being the same static characters. Kagami with a Kwami? Eh. It’ll be a one-off thing, sure it’ll be cool but to make the plot move on… Don’t sweat it.

Speaking of Kagami, she is presented the exact same way in Frozer and Selfinsertepisode Animaestro, nothing has changed about the character, don’t worry, she’s still going to be used the exact same way, perhaps we’ll show once again that she really cares for Adrien but hey, we already knew that, there’s nothing new in Onichan. And that is symptomatic of the entire cast.

Is that format something the creators of the show absolutely wanted? Is near-stagnation what they wished for? Let’s decide it’s not their choice, and that they try their best with the limitations they have.

Would these flaws be this glaring if new episodes were aired weekly? Like, say, air three episodes during three weeks, a break and then some new episodes again? I think not. The wait and the lack of follow-up from one episode to the next makes them really noticeable, and watching them feels unfulfilling.

So that airing schedule I just suggested? That’s not how things work, that’s not how television works apparently and there’s nothing the people who work on Miraculous can ask about it. Thomas Astruc doesn’t know when the episodes will air, blah blah blah. Television networks not really caring about the shows they air? Never heard of that before, huh. SU

So I guess this is it, then. I hope you enjoyed this overlong post!

(shameful self-promotion moment, but about Kagami, I wrote a Kagaminette/Marigami fic, it’s 80,000 words so far and I update it on Mondays so give it a look if you want! It’s here.)

#miraculous #love square #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug and chat noir #kagami tsurugi #this show #could be so much better #instead it's a frustrating watch #rena rouge #carapace #hawk moth #thomas astruc #oblivio #monster of the week

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loversandantiheroes · 5 years

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Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford Characters: Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Lyrium Withdrawal, Lyrium Addiction, Mild Gore, Hurt/Comfort, first comes the hurt, then comes the comfort, I swear there will be comfort

The threat of Adamant looms, and the cracks begin to show.

Perpetual love and thanks to @songofproserpine for the beta reading <3

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“And people say I’m stubborn!” Cassandra shouted after Cullen as the door shut.

Aadhlei stood staring at the door, thunderstruck. “Maferath’s balls, Cassandra, what was that about?”

The Seeker folded her arms with a sigh, arranging her face into a rough semblance of her usual irascibility. But there was an unusual, uneasy edge to it, the expression ill-suited to her face. Cassandra was worried.

“Cullen told you of his decision to stop taking lyrium?”

“He did. I can’t say it’s a decision that hasn’t worried me, but it was clearly important to him.”

The image of him came to her, bent over his lyrium kit. Some go mad, others die. A cold little knot landed heavily in her stomach.

Maker don’t you dare, she thought, and swallowed hard. “Am I to take it the attempt is going poorly?”

“Most attempts do,” Cassandra said with a sad shake of her head. “He is ill, yes. He pushes himself too hard. He always has, but more so now. The man has not stood still since we received word of Adamant. He has seen two Circles fall, and more than his share of demons because of that, even before Veil was breached. He is afraid that he cannot protect our people, or you, from what we will face. He is a stubborn man, driven, but that same stubbornness has twisted in on him.”

“He thinks he can’t do it without the lyrium,” Aadhlei said. For all his anger at the Order, Cullen still held - and, she suspected, always would - an unflagging loyalty to the people that served in it. The Templars were instruments crafted with a purpose, and even as he shed the chains the Order imposed he still sought that purpose, still sought to prove they could do the good he’d been raised to believe in. But now the Order was all but shattered, and so few Templars still stood that had not been cut down in the war or stained with red lyrium.

A familiar wave of regret twisted through her. Thoughts of Therinfal Redoubt and the things they had found in its deserted halls clutched at her with a thousand tiny hooks, each one a bright and burning red. For the thousandth time, she wondered if there was more she could have done, if there had ever been a chance….

Too late for that, she told herself. It’s done, let it lie. She dropped her head, letting the straggled mess of her hair hide her face. All the wear and worry of the past two weeks seemed to be landing in her at once. And above it all sat a new weight, a heavy, pressing concern that what was wrong with Cullen was beyond her ability to help.

Pulling her focus back, she realized Cassandra was still speaking, either unaware of the her distress or electing not to acknowledge it. “Cullen has the chance to break that leash to prove that it is possible, to himself and to anyone else who would follow,” she said, more than a little pride in the words.

“What can we do?” Aadhlei asked, trying to brush away her tears as discreetly as she could.

“Not we, Inquisitor. I have done what I can. He wants me to recommend a replacement for him. I will not. It is unnecessary, and quite frankly it would destroy him. He has come so far, and weathered so much already, I will not take this chance away from him simply because he is afraid.”

Cassandra took a step back, spreading her hands. “I cannot claim to know what he needs, but I know that he is capable. He can do this, he just needs reminding. And he needs care that he is too stubborn to seek out on his own. In that I must defer to you. You are the healer. And your bedside manner is certainly preferable to mine.”

Aadhlei sighed, long and tired. “We were to gather at the war table in an hour. Please inform Josephine and Leliana the meeting is postponed until we may all attend.”

“As you say, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said. The Seeker regarded her a moment longer, mouth pursed. “May I ask you something?”

Aadhlei nodded, barely listening. Already she was running down remedies in her head, trying to think of things to say, things to do. Anything that might help.

“There have been rumors around Skyhold for some time. About you and the Commander. I knew that he had long held you in high regard, but tell me, is it true? Are the two of you-”

“Would it be a problem if it was?” she asked, words worn to a needle-sharp point.

Cassandra gave a slight shake of her head, a strangely satisfied look on her face. “No. He needs someone. As do you, I suspect.” She cast a quick glance over Aadhlei, as if finally taking in the state of her. “I don’t suppose telling you to get some rest before you see him will do any good.”

A short, barking laugh escaped her. “Maker, as if I could sleep after - no, Cassandra. No it would not.”

“Then go. I will see to the council for the time being.”

The sight of him stayed with her as she rushed up to her quarters. Ashen-faced and shining with sweat, making for the door on legs that bore him up through strength of will only. The worst of it had been that jagged catch in his voice as he’d passed her, muttering for forgiveness. The shame in his voice, the defeat, had been overwhelming.

Her traveling clothes hit the floor in showers of dirt and sand. Every inch of her ached. Exhaustion left a tingling thrum in her limbs that made it feel as if she was still on horseback, rattling around in the saddle. All she’d held onto on the long, punishing ride back to Skyhold had been the promise of a hot bath and the thought of Cullen’s arms around her again. She hadn’t written. Not once since they rode out of the Western Approach. There had been no time. All the world for her had been fitful sleep and hoofbeats. Maker, she regretted that now.

What if I can’t fix it? Wounds she could heal. Breaks she could mend. Maker’s sake, she could even stitch up holes in the sky these days. But what could she do for wounds she couldn’t see? When the break was not a bone but something deeper and far more essential. When his body was tearing itself apart for want of a thing that poisoned his mind. What then?

Her mind kept returning to his words the day he’d told her about the lyrium - some go mad, others die - worrying over them again and again like a tongue on a loose tooth.

“Maker, don’t you dare,” she said aloud. Pointing a shaking finger skyward, she called up in a stern but breaking voice, “You hear me? Go kick over someone else’s ant hill. Or better yet, get off your omnipotent arse and do some fucking good for a change!”

Steady, child. Kenna’s voice, cracked and kind. You’re no good to anyone all twisted up.

Aadhlei braced herself against her desk, a strangled sob caught in her throat. Kenna, her foster mother, had taken ill one winter, not long before the war broke out. A cough came creeping in with the sharp winds and settled deep in her lungs. No remedies would touch it, no matter how hard Aadhlei tried. As the weeks wore on and her condition worsened, Aadhlei grew desperate. In the end she had given Kenna a sleeping draught to keep her settled and, in one last frantic attempt to save her, she had tried to heal her by magic. A powerful spell, not dangerous, but strong . The sort of thing she had always been discouraged from using, lest she risk drawing the attention of the Templars that roamed the village from the Chantry.

And it did nothing. But she was stubborn, a bull-headedness fuelled by love as much as fear, and she had refused to see the truth of the matter: Kenna was old, and Kenna was dying. And so she had kept on trying again and again, pouring magic into the old woman’s flagging body until she had run herself dry, collapsing out of sheer exhaustion.

When at last she woke, Kenna was dead. Her first failure. The first taste of real loss.

Hardly your fault, poppet. There are some hurts in this world that aren’t yours to heal. But that doesn’t mean you give up, and that doesn’t mean you sit about and do nothing. So you steady up, now. You’ve work to do.

“Aye, mum, so I do,” she muttered.

She threw open her wardrobe, breath shuddering through the tears that flowed steadily down her cheeks, grasping half-blindly for something clean and uncomplicated to pull on. A small pile formed beside her - things that were an ungodly mess of buttons, laces, and buckles - before she pulled free something ivory-colored and lace-trimmed. Either some form of fancy night dress or a long chemise meant for more formal wear. “Fuck it, that’ll do,” she mumbled, pulling it over her head. If it stained, Maker knew she could afford to have it replaced. Her apron hung near her potion cabinet and she tied it on rapidly, stepping into a pair of soft leather slippers and thumbing the catch on the cabinet.

Inside was an odd mish-mash of prepared potions. There were still a few bottles of the basic tinctures she’d mixed up for Cullen, and she scooped them up. Three squat bottles of a purplish-red liquid sat lined up on the far right side. Midnight Oil, she usually called it, something she’d put together to keep herself going when sleep wasn’t an option. A bad thing to make a habit of, but a help when necessary, and right now it was deeply necessary.

Aadhlei grabbed two of them, considered, then took the third as well. She cast a long, hard glance at the small wooden box on the bottom shelf, the one she kept a few lyrium potions in. If worse came to worst and she had to heal him with magic, if he’d even allow it, taking one now might not be a bad idea. Yet she had found herself almost unwilling to take them after Cullen had confessed he had given it up. It felt wrong somehow, offensive, almost, knowing what the substance had cost him.

In the end she decided against it, closing the door a little reluctantly. A faded green shrug lay across the back of her desk chair, and she slipped it on, too hurried to drag on a proper cloak. She pulling her big leather satchel off its peg, stowing the tinctures and two of the potions inside, and slung it over her shoulder.

Popping the cork from the third potion, she knocked it back swiftly and set off down the stairs for the Commander’s office.

The path felt like a gauntlet, deflecting staff and redirecting messengers with short barks of “Later,” “Fine,” and “On my desk.” Solas, looking worn enough himself after the journey back, regarded her perplexedly from his desk as she passed him, making with more than a little haste for the door to the catwalk. The coldness of the air hit her like a physical blow. The nervous buzz in her limbs subsided bit by bit as the potion began to take effect, but it did little for the tight coils of tension that wound up her back and around her ribs, squeezing tighter as the cold sank into her. Maker, why hadn’t she thought to take a damned cloak?

Unthinking, she pushed open the door to Cullen’s office without knocking. A mistake, to be sure, and hardly courteous to boot, but she was still too unnerved for the sake of courtesy, and now too cold to want to linger on the doorstep. As the door swung open she heard Cullen’s cry of frustrated anger and a flash of movement and brought the large, heavy bag up like a shield, ducking her head behind it. Something collided with it hard, ricocheting off to splinter against the door frame. The remnants of his lyrium kit lay scattered at her feet, a small shattered phial of crystalline blue glinting prettily in the weak torchlight.

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen lay half splayed against his desk, breath short and eyes wild, the momentum of his throw and the shock of her appearance knocking him off what little balance he still had. “I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you enter, I didn’t, I would never, are you -” He let out one long, shaking breath as she lowered the satchel and he saw she was unharmed. A fraction of the shock drained from his face, but what replaced it was a look of such utter misery it hurt her to look at. “Forgive me,” he said again.

Kicking the broken box away, Aadhlei closed the door, considered, then bolted it and crossed to do the same to the others. The last thing he needed was another interruption. “Talk to me, Cullen,” she said, willing her soothing voice to service, the one she kept in reserve for the sick or gravely injured. “What’s wrong?”

The creases in his brow deepened, shoulders slumping. “No, you’ve been riding for days. You don’t have to-” he began, and then his legs finally gave out and he collapsed against the corner of the desk with a groan. Aadhlei rushed to him, taking his weight, waiting for his breathing to slow and whatever spell had gripped him to pass.

“Aye, I do,” she said. “Come on, you need to sit.”

“I never meant for this to interfere,” he said as she eased him into his chair, sounding so small it was as if he was a child in armor, waiting to be punished for his failure.

“It’s alright, Cullen. But I need you to talk to me, and I need you trust me, alright?” She swiped a hand across his brow, felt the heat of fever under a slick of sweat. It gave off a sour smell, but beneath that Aadhlei realized she could smell the faintest scent of burning, like a lightning strike. “Are you in pain?”

He hesitated. Then, again, so very small, “Yes.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere. All over. My joints are on fire. And my head.”

“Dizzy? Sick to your stomach?”

A nod. “Both.”

She began unbuckling his vambraces and pulled off his gloves. His hands were like ice, and covered in that same thin, slimy sheen of sweat. “Squeeze my hand, hard as you can.” He began to mutter a protestation and she put a finger to his lips. “Meant what I said. Hard as you can. Tougher than I look, remember?”

He nodded against her finger. The hand closed, squeezed just barely as firm as a handshake, then shook violently.

“You feel hot or cold?”

“Freezing,” he said. As she moved her hand from his mouth he caught it, pressed it desperately to the side of his face, and closed his eyes. “Forgive me,” he said again. Not just an apology now, but an appeal.

Aadhlei bent double, pressing her forehead to his, feeling the fever baking off him in waves and not shrinking. “There is nothing to forgive, Cullen.”

She did not expect him to laugh, or the for that laugh to sound so hard and bitter. He pulled away sharply, letting her hand fall.

“You should not sound so sure.” There was a horrible, manic sparkling in his eyes, feverish and wild. “You have no idea the things….you asked me once what happened in Ferelden’s Circle. Shall I tell you? It was taken over by abominations. One of the senior mages, Uldred, decided a Blight was a fine time to push for an independent circle. When the Grand Enchanter refused, Uldred and his ilk resorted to blood magic to get their way. We shut the Circle down so the maleficars could not escape, but that only trapped us in there with them. The Templars were slaughtered or corrupted. Most of the mages who would not bend the knee to Uldred’s coup were bent with blood magic or killed outright. Demons took care of much of the rest. My friends were cut down in front of me.”

A haze fell over his eyes, not dimming their fire but making it distant, and Aadhlei shivered. She had treated enough soldiers now to recognize that look, to know where he had gone, and that all she could do was hold on and wait for him to come back.

Cullen took a long, measured breath. Then another. A third breath, sharper and shallower, and Aadhlei thought briefly of a man preparing for a deep, sudden dive. “I was tortured,” he said in peculiar, toneless voice.

The word hung in the air, pendulously, like a body on the gallows. It seemed to hold such a foreign weight on his tongue that she wondered truthfully if he had ever said it aloud, ever allowed the admission of such a deep and private injury to be spoken.

“I don’t even know how long. Days, I think, but it felt like years. No food, no water, no lyrium. Demons scrabbling at my head. Or maybe it was the maleficars, I can’t be sure. I cannot be sure of much. It’s all…I...they tried to break my mind and I - how can you be the same person after that?”

He carried on, barely blinking, seeming to breathe only to keep the words moving. “For years I was nothing but fear and anger rattling in a suit of armor. Still, I wanted to serve. What else was there for me to do? And they sent me to Kirkwall. Maker help me, I thought I knew then. I thought I knew what needed doing, who needed protecting. I thought I knew who the enemy was. Meredith used that against me . Told me what she wanted me to hear and hid what she knew even I would oppose. I was her bloody lapdog for years while she abused the Mages - abused our people for standing up against her - and she used us to do it. And the Chantry did nothing. Not for anyone. Andraste preserve me, neither did I. I trusted my Knight-Commander,” he said, his face contorted in revulsion. “I aided her, for god’s sake! I defended her! By the time I saw through her, when the lies were finally too large to swallow and I saw the fear in the eyes of our charges for what it was, it was too late. It all happened again. Kirkwall’s circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets.”

At last his eyes focused again and locked onto her with a desperate ferocity. “Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?”

“Of course I can,” she said, striving for a soothing patience, but her voice shook with tears she could barely keep in check. She wanted to help, she always wanted to help, but what cure could she offer for this? What remedy for wounds of conscience and memory? She sucked in a breath, trying for reassurance, for understanding. “Cullen, you don’t have to-”

“Don’t!” He turned his head away, throat working.

He wants the blame, she realized with an awful sinking in her chest. Wants disgust and anger, not sympathy. It’s all he thinks he deserves, especially from a mage.

The urge to reach for him, to give some kind of comfort was overwhelming, but she kept her hands locked on the edges of his desk, the knuckles slowly turning white. Not yet.

“I’m not going to blame you, Cullen,” she said softly. He winced, too raw for softness, but she kept on. “If that’s what you want of me, then I’m sorry, because I can’t do that. I won’t. When they sent you to Kirkwall, they didn’t send a Templar, they sent a man who was scared and wounded and looking for someone to blame. And that made it very very easy for the wrong kind of people to hook their fingers into you and get you to follow. That you’re trying to do better now, that you’re trying to change and make up for that - and bloody well succeeding at it - takes more strength than I think you give yourself credit for. And that it hurts you so deep says you have far more goodness left in you than you think. In my experience, bad men have little time for remorse.”

She reached out a tentative hand and laid it on his arm. He flinched, hard, and she drew back immediately. “Whatever happened before, you’re not that man now,” she told him. “You told me once that you joined the Order because you wanted to help people. And that is all I’ve ever seen you do. You’re a good man, Cullen Rutherford. If you want my forgiveness, for whatever it’s worth, you have it. But you’ve come far enough that maybe you should try to forgive yourself, too.”

A strangled sob escaped him and he twisted away. As if finally unable to bear her kindness any longer, he launched himself to his feet and set to pacing, unsteady but frantic.

Aadhlei’s heart sank. Wrong, wrong, Maker help me I got it wrong.

“How can you - why aren’t you angry?” he cried thickly. “How can you say such things - how can you even stand to look at me? Can you not see the blood on my hands? You should be questioning what I’ve done, the decisions I’ve made! Blessed Andraste, how can I atone for something when I can still feel it happening? I thought it would be better without the lyrium, that I would gain some control over my life, but these thoughts won’t leave me,” he said, harsh and strangled, a scream made quiet.

He fell to an anguished babbling, words falling from him faster and faster. His hands tugged at his hair, raking it into wild, ragged furls. Tears cut fresh tracks down his cheeks. It was a terrifying contrast to the controlled demeanor he had always upheld, but the small part of her, the part that spoke patient truths in Kenna’s voice, was almost relieved at his frenzy. A bone that had set poorly would need to be re-broken again before it could be set true. Break clean, Cullen, she thought, hopeful now in spite of her fear.

"Blessed are those that stand before the wicked and do not falter. I cannot falter. I cannot. How many lives depend on our success? Adamant waits for us, a demon army in its walls, and I am meant to lead our people into that! I must send you into that! And I do it hobbled for the sake of my own selfish pride! I swore myself to this cause - I will not give less to the Inquisition than I gave to the Chantry! I should be taking it!”

With that last he lashed out finally, fist driving into the bookcase with enough force to crack the shelf and send books scattering to the floor. For a moment he simply stood there, teeth bared and hand bleeding, and then he slowly folded, the fight and fire extinguished all at once. “I should be taking it,” he said again in a voice heavy with defeat.

There it is.

She crossed to him slowly, and this time when she touched him - feather-light, a question of permission made with fingertips - he did not recoil. “Cullen. Listen to me. Forget the Inquisition, forget the war. Is that what you want?”

A look of horror settled on his face. “No. Maker, no. I want to be free of it. I need to.” Desperation and exhaustion shook his voice ragged, but his eyes seemed clearer and more focused.

“Then do not put your neck back in that leash for our sake. Please, Cullen. You can do this. I know you can.”

Cullen pulled his hand away from the broken shelf. A ragged gouge cut across his knuckles. He stared down at the trembling mess of his hand with a furrowed brow, listening to the gentle patter of his blood against the stone floor. “The sickness I can take,” he said slowly, “but these memories have always haunted me. Even with the lyrium. If they become worse, if I am not strong enough to endure it-”

“You are,” she said, and carefully cradled his bleeding hand. “I have never seen a match for the strength in you, Cullen. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

He hitched in a watery breath. “I’m sorry. I did not want to - I was afraid let you down.”

“You never could. I’m proud of you. But I will not stand by and watch you suffer and do nothing. You don’t have to do this alone. Let me help you, Cullen. Please.”

Something settled in his face then, something like gratitude, and he seemed all at once steadier with it.

“You’re still here,” he muttered in a wondering voice.

“Aye, so I am.”

He leaned into her with a shuddering sigh, and Aadhlei thought she had never heard such a singularly relieved sound in her life. He nodded, forehead rocking against hers. “Alright,” he muttered.

Aadhlei shouldered her bag again and pulled Cullen tight to her hip. “Come on, lean on me. Let’s get you to bed.”

#da:i fanfic #cullen rutherford #cullen x lavellan #cullavellan #f!inquisitor #f!lavellan #oc: aadhlei #this chapter is even more terrifying to post!! :D

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