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cuubism · 8 months

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The thing is.

Hob understands that Dream cannot be hurt easily. He is an ancient, powerful, nonhuman being. Hob has, in fact, heard a story from Matthew about when some foolish human wannabe-magician had attempted to stab him when Dream had gone to retrieve a spell book that had slipped from the Dreaming library. According to Matthew, the knife had simply gone through his chest like he was made of smoke and left no mark at all.

(Hob still wishes he had been there. He’d have snapped the guy’s arm. Or worse.)

Barring luck and a magical binding, like what happened with Roderick Burgess, Dream can’t be hurt by mortal means. Hob understands this. Hell, he can hardly be hurt by supernatural means either. Only a few very powerful beings would be able to manage it, or else the very laws that govern his existence, coming down upon his head.

The thing also is.

Dream bruises so easily.

Sometimes.

Like now, when Dream is actually limping across the floor of the Inn. Long coat, which usually does not come with him to the waking world, wrapped tight around him. A dark bruise blooms along his cheekbone. Hob doesn’t understand how it’s possible. It shouldn’t be, not when Dream can take a knife to the heart like it’s a gust of wind, but the fact of the matter is that it is possible, apparently. And so Hob’s got to do something about it.

He meets Dream halfway across the room, braces him by the arms. “Jesus, Dream. Are you hurt?” Well, evidently he is. “How badly?”

“I told him he should stay home and rest,” grumbles Matthew from where he’s hopping along the floor at Dream’s side. Hob hadn’t even seen him there, he’d been so focused on Dream. The fact that Matthew’s not even riding on Dream’s shoulder is not a good sign.

“I did not want to miss our meeting,” Dream says. Which is a hell of a thing.

“Come upstairs, then,” Hob says, and doesn’t quite realize he’s grabbed Dream’s arm and is right pulling him along until he’s already done it. But Dream just follows him. Matthew follows, too, which, again, is not making Hob feel confident about Dream not being too badly injured.

“What happened?” Hob asks, as he sits Dream down on the couch, perching carefully at his side.

“A minor altercation,” says Dream.

“He was thrown into a wall,” says Matthew. “The wall cracked, by the way.”

Hob winces in sympathy. “Thrown by who? Or… what?”

Dream says, “It’s of no consequence.”

Matthew says, “I don’t know, but it had a lot of limbs.”

Hob’s kind of glad Matthew’s here as bullshit translator right now.

“How badly were you hurt?” he asks again. Not badly enough to keep him from traveling, evidently, but badly enough that he is limping. As a measly little human, Hob might find himself limping for a while just by twisting his ankle going down the stairs— but he does not like that intersection of facts when it’s someone like Dream.

“I am fine,” says Dream, and then winces as he shifts his weight on the couch.

“Bullshit,” say Hob and Matthew simultaneously, after which Matthew adds, “Uh, I mean, bullshit, your lordship.”

Dream slants a reproving glance over at him, then back to Hob. “Can I see?” Hob asks, more gently. “I’d like to help. If I can.”

Gingerly, Dream shrugs his long robe off his shoulders. Underneath, he’s wearing his usual black t-shirt, and at Hob’s urging he pulls that off over his head, too, though evidently with some pain. His chest and stomach seem uninjured, the unnaturally pale and smooth skin is still just that, unnaturally pale and smooth— so Hob tugs on his shoulder. “Can I see your back?”

Dream turns, and Hob tries not to think too hard about Dream doing his bidding like that—it’s tender and troubling and arousing all at once, and he’s definitely not going to think about that last bit—and sucks in a breath.

His back is a map of bruises, nebulae arcing over his shoulders and the nape of his neck, curling down over his spine like a coiled dragon. Dream bruises prettily, even like this, periwinkle and dusk blue, the purple of sunset clouds. Another reminder of how Night, too, lives within him.

“I told you,” Matthew says, hopping up onto the back of the couch by Hob’s shoulder.

Dream makes a grumbling sound, but doesn’t deny him this time.

Hob traces a light hand along his shoulder blade and the deep, spilled-watercolor of the bruise there. Thrown into a wall, Matthew had said. Ouch.

Dream shivers at the touch, and Hob says, tentative, “Do you usually bruise like that, love?”

He’s seen it before, though not this bad. Lines of strain on Dream’s hands. A red, banded mark on his arm on one of the few occasions he’d taken his coat off in Hob’s presence. He wants to hear it from Dream, though.

Dream says, tentative now, hunched on the couch like a wounded physical thing rather than what he is, “I… suppose.”

Sitting only in his tight jeans and boots, hair a mess, the mark on his cheek makes him look hunted. Hob touches that too, with light fingertips. Dream leans into his hand with a little sigh, and… oh. That’s something.

“Hey, he got the shit kicked out of him like a few days ago and just walked away like it was nothing,” Matthew complains, as if Dream’s I suppose answer is ridiculous. “And then obliterated the other guy, too.”

“Sorry, when was this?” Hob is still holding Dream’s cheek, but Dream doesn’t turn further to meet his eyes. “Why are you getting beaten up all the time, exactly?”

He’s not Dream’s minder. He’s not. He’s not. Hob forces himself to remember that fact.

“In my absence many have forgotten the might and sanctity of the Dreaming,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken there’s a little whining petulance in his tone which is… endearing, almost. “Other realms have become… impudent. Entitled. I am simply. Reminding them to show respect. Sometimes physical conflict is necessary.”

Hob sighs. “Well, Your Majesty, maybe it’s time to take a break from the ritual dueling, yeah?”

“…Perhaps,” Dream says, which is as much of an agreement as Hob ever gets.

He supposes he’ll take perhaps. Though the more he thinks about it, the more distressing it is to imagine Dream going around getting hurt. Even if he thinks he’s doing it for some important cause.

“Well, there’s not much I can do for these right now,” Hob says, and can’t keep the concern out of his voice. “Other than letting them heal on their own.”

“I see,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken his voice is small. And he reaches for his shirt, and—

“Hey.” Hob grabs his wrist. Dream freezes. “That doesn’t mean you have to leave?” He hates that it comes out as a question.

Dream wavers. Then he says, “Matthew.”

It’s loaded with more than just Matthew’s name. An order. Matthew squawks indignantly. “Boss! Come on. You’re really gonna send me back like that? When you’re like this?”

Dream just looks at him.

Matthew sighs, fluttering his wings. “Fine. Have your special private time, then.”

Special private time, Hob mouths to himself.

Matthew lifts his wings for takeoff. “You better not send him back with more bruises, Hobert.”

“Excuse me?”

Then he’s gone, winging out a window that Hob hadn’t realized was open. Maybe it wasn’t a moment ago. Who knows.

Dream looks after him, and sighs with real fatigue. “His insolence only grows.”

“Special private time?” Hob says, and Dream glances at him, and then away.

“He is under the impression that you are my…” he says, and trails off.

Oh. Well.

They’re not like that. But.

But?

Dream looks despondent now, staring off into the corner of the flat, back still turned to Hob’s chest. Hob’s become certain that he wants something, he came here for something, not just to make their usual meeting time… but he still doesn’t know what.

Probably he should ask. Not that that ever works with Dream. Probably he should anyway.

Instead he presses his lips to the curve of Dream’s shoulder, where the bruise is deepest blue.

Dream shudders, and then goes slack in his grip, his shoulders caving. “Hob…”

“Is that what you wanted?” Hob says against his skin. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe Dream is letting him. “Does it hurt very badly? Is that helping?”

“It…” Dream muses, and sighs. “Is. Helping.”

Hob takes Dream’s chin between his fingers and turns his face enough that he can kiss his cheek, over the horrible sprawled mark of the bruise. Dream’s eyes flutter shut. He braces a hand on Hob’s thigh as he twists back to lean into Hob’s touch. Hob could use his grip to turn his head further and kiss him properly, he thinks, with a trip in his chest. Dream’s lips are right there, soft and open.

Instead, he leans his head on the back of Dream’s neck. Lets his hands fall to Dream’s bare waist, lips brushing his skin as he says, “You don’t… really bruise, do you?”

Dream still has his head tipped back; Hob’s hair brushes his cheek. “It affects you to see it,” he says quietly.

“Of course it does,” Hob says, equally hushed now. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“Even,” says Dream, almost tentative, “if I am not truly hurt?”

“You are hurt,” Hob says, and finally draws the strength to lift his head from Dream’s neck. Dream is still looking at him, over his shoulder. His eyes are very dark in the dim light, rimmed red, he looks soft and fragile as a flower petal and Hob would do anything for him. “You were thrown into a wall by ‘something with a lot of limbs’, after all.”

Dream huffs. “Matthew exaggerates.”

“It’s okay if you want it to matter,” Hob tells him. That’s what it is, isn’t it? “To… be seen.” He slides his hand over Dream’s where it still rests on his thigh, twines their fingers together. A flicker of stillness runs through Dream’s body, the way a human’s breath might catch. Hob thinks he might pull away.

Instead he yields, and Hob exhales hard, a breath that had coiled far too tight in his lungs unwinding. Dream caves into him, and Hob wraps his arms around him, pulls him close, kisses the curve of his shoulder and watches a bruise disappear in the echo of that touch.

“Just wanted a hug after a rough day, in the end?” Hob says, and Dream huffs again as if such a desire is offending even to imply. He doesn’t move away though.

“Is it that easy for you?” Dream’s face is close enough that his hair brushes Hob’s temple as he speaks.

“And what if it is?” What if Hob had wanted to hug him when he first spoke of his imprisonment, and held back, and still regrets it? And what if it’s so easy to fall into it now? To slip into a world, this world where he can pull Dream into his arms, like he’s wading into the ocean for the first time, into foreign currents powerful beyond imagining but primordially known. Resonant as a familiar dream.

In some sense it would be accurate to say that Hob has known Dream all his life—he is, after all, dreams. But Hob doesn’t think of his friend as dreams. Maybe it’s a limitation of his human mind not to see the endless scale of the picture. But when he thinks of Dream, he doesn’t think of all of life or anything like that.

Instead, he goes back to their meeting in 1689. When Dream had thought he might no longer want to live, and Hob swore he saw a tear nearly break that usually stern countenance. Hob had always been fascinated by him, but he thinks that was the first moment he really saw him, beyond the cloak of distance and fantasy Dream liked to wrap around himself.

He’d like to think that Dream saw him then, too.

That’s the Dream he thinks of. The Dream he’d like to say he knows. The person, not the incomprehensible entity that Dream sees himself as. An incomprehensible entity can take a knife through the chest and dissipate around it like smoke, but not a person.

“If it is,” says Dream, pulling back to properly look at him, “then perhaps I might… impose.”

He looks so… cautiously hopeful. How can he not know already? “You think it’s possible for you to impose?”

“Imposition is easy,” says Dream, quietly. Hob lifts a hand to cup his cheek, and at the same time, as if of the same mind, Dream leans in and fits his face to Hob’s palm, eyes falling shut again.

He looks so gaunt now, with his bruised cheek and shadowed eyes, sharp collarbones and the swooping curves of his ribs. Hob had thought it had gotten better since his imprisonment, but now he’s not so sure. Maybe it’s just that without the shielding of his shirt, and his robe, he looks smaller than Hob’s used to thinking of him, and angular and fragile. He’s still so impossibly beautiful, delicate like a tree glazed in post-storm ice.

It makes Hob feel unexpectedly bold. His heart trips over, but he leans in and kisses the corner of Dream’s mouth.

Dream makes a quiet, surprised sound. Turns his head, blind, seeking, and then their lips connect properly.

When Hob had let himself imagine the possibility of kissing Dream, he had seen a force of nature. His friend would kiss with the chill of the rain that night he’d left Hob standing behind the White Horse. With the encompassing darkness of the night sky. The full experience of him would be overpowering and that was okay, because even a taste of him had already turned the course of Hob’s life.

But this Dream caves. Tips his head back in Hob’s hand, opens his mouth under Hob’s. Stiffness bleeds from him, regality flees him, and what Hob has left in his hands is a soft, horribly bruised thing leaning in for a deeper kiss.

So he kisses Dream deeper. Swipes his tongue into Dream’s mouth. He tastes slightly metallic, like he might have bitten his tongue and bled, were he human, and he makes a soft sound as Hob breaks the kiss for an unfortunate but necessary breath.

He keeps Dream close, hand to his cheek. Dream, eyes still closed, says, “A kiss just to comfort me, Hob?”

It hurts, just a little, that he thinks so. “How about a kiss just because I wanted to kiss you? You really think I’m more selfless than I am.”

Dream chuckles. “I see.”

Finally, he opens his eyes to look at Hob again properly. He looks tentatively happy now, it’s there in the slight crease at the corners of his eyes, the little spark that’s returned to them. Hob’s heart swells to see it, to think that he could do that.

“What then,” says Dream, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “would you do… selfishly?”

“Same thing,” says Hob, and kisses him again. Dream hums into it this time, pleased. “And tell you to bring me with you next time you’re asserting your dominance around the galaxy or whatever.”

“Why?”

“There’s some guys I want to throw into walls,” Hob says.

Dream huffs, but Hob thinks he looks secretly pleased. “I am not certain ‘guys’ is an accurate description.”

“You think just because the fifteen-armed thing is a lady that I won’t—”

And Dream actually laughs, a startled choking laugh. “Your definition of chivalry is—” he gathers himself— “appalling.”

“Take it or leave it, Your Majesty,” Hob says, grinning. Nothing feels better than getting a rare laugh out of Dream.

Mirth sparkles in Dream’s eyes. “I will take it,” he says, turning his head to kiss Hob’s palm, “of course. When you offer me haven and defense both, how can I not?”

Hob presses his kissed palm back to Dream’s cheek, over the dark bruise there, watching it start to fade. “Bring me your bruises, darling,” he says, “and I’ll protect you.”

Dream leans back in, and rests his forehead against Hob’s. He doesn’t need to ask for another hug. Hob just wraps his arms around him, and lets Dream’s contented sigh be its own question, and answer, at once.

#'you've written about dream manifesting physical injuries to reflect his emotional turmoil before' and i will again!#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #one short wip finished 5 billion wips to go

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dearharriet · 3 months

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American Honey; Steve Harrington ⛱️

summary: it’s summer, and you’re in love with your boyfriend, steve.

word count: 2K

warnings: implied fem!r, drinking, lots of pet names (honey, baby, pretty, beautiful), lord of the rings references (+ fellowship spoilers!!), tickling, suggestive language

authors note: rly missing summer after writing this one 😭 also I made a mental yarn map between st and lotr while writing this that i can’t unmake I fear

Steve Harrington is an American Treasure.

Fresh out of the pool, he strides toward you, a limber hand reaching out for the beer he entrusted you with. It made you feel special, and Steve certainly entertained the notion. He’s always calling you sweet things—baby, pretty, beautiful, or your favorite—

“Honey.” His shining body is enveloped in shade as he steps under the umbrella you’re using.

He’s an American treasure. Patriotic the way that Colonel Sanders or Bruce Springsteen are. Spangled with freckles and moles like stars, stripes of hot skin on display. Red-shouldered from the sun, blue-lipped from a rocket ice pop, but his teeth remain pearly white.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his warm fingers dampening yours as you hand the can off to him.

“‘Course,” you reply, breathless.

“You sure you won’t swim with me?”

You liked that. He never pretended he had the interest of the whole group in mind. Steve wanted you all for himself, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Smiling up at him, you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna get burnt,” you say. “And anyways, who’s gonna look after your drink if I get in?”

Steve steps closer to pet your hair. It’s a little awkward with his hands still being wet, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Lucky for you, I don’t really care about the drink. I only asked you to hold it ‘cause you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A smile creeps onto your face, which has turned red—sunblock be damned.

That’s another thing you like about Steve. He’s not really coaxing you into the pool. He knows you burn easy, and further, he’s trying his hardest not to touch your face. He’d watched you meticulously rub sunscreen over it just thirty minutes ago, and he’s sweet enough to remember now.

Worst of all, he knows your anxiety about burning stretches beyond just you, so he ordered the kids to sunscreen up just to put you at ease. It has you thinking undeniably fond, hungry, and binding things about him.

Steve is none the wiser, setting his beer down and rubbing a pruny palm down his chest.

“Could you get my shoulders again, babe? Think the chlorine washed it all off.”

You both know damn well it didn’t, but neither complains as Steve perches himself on the edge of your lounger and you rub sunblock into his broad shoulders.

It’s hard not to love everything about him. Not that you’re trying to stop, but you haven’t admitted to it yet, so maybe you are. Everything is terribly simple and domestic with Steve, easily imaginable as a forever kind of thing, and you’re desperately trying not to jump the gun.

What’s stuck with you time and again—like now—is your contentment in committing unselfish acts, as long as Steve is happy. Everything you do for him is sublimely fulfilling, and you can’t help but imagine that he thinks the same about you. Why else would he happily swim alone and bake away in layers of sunblock, if not because you’re happy first?

Feeling intimidated by all of the commotion around, you amalgamate all of these big feelings into a subdued kiss on Steve’s sticky shoulder. Your lips come away tangy with sunblock, but it’s worth it.

Taking it as a sign that you’re done, Steve turns around and gives you exactly what you want, leaning over your bare legs to kiss your waiting mouth. You think it’s a thank-you kiss, but then he’s leaning in for another, and another, his hand holding steady to your ankle.

When he pulls away he’s like a concentrated UV beam. His shoulder is hot where you draw shapes into it.

“Y’still having fun? We could go inside.”

Your legs press together.

“I know why you want to go inside,” you tease, poking his cheek, “and it’s going to have to wait.”

“Who says,” he challenges, pouting, “s’my house.”

Your eyes leave his face to watch the action in the pool. The kids are reenacting a Tolkien-related battle very loudly and dramatically, with Eddie as Aragorn.

“Everyone is here,” you remind him, nodding at the pool just as Will flays an imaginary Orc. Steve doesn’t even glance behind himself.

“So?” He mumbles, kissing your bottom lip. “I’ll tell them to leave.”

He’s so hard to resist like this, all gushy and lovesick. You push your fingers into the hair at his neck to pull him away and he hums happily.

“You’re terrible,” you chide, but you’re smiling, anyhow.

“Is it a crime to love your girlfriend?” A shock zips through you, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice what he's admitted.

“Steve!” Lucas—who is using his recent growth spurt to play Legolas—calls over, saving you from responding.

“Stop sucking face and get over here! It’s time for you to die.”

“Uh-oh,” you laugh, patting Steve on the back. “Sounds serious.”

“How come they always make me play Boring-mir,” he complains, turning back to you. He doesn’t seem very motivated to get up at all, practically lazing beside your legs despite the gang of nerds waiting on him.

“He’s not so bad, from what I’ve read,” you argue, glancing at the closed book by your side. “Though I think they should let you take a crack at Aragorn.”

Grinning, Steve stretches up to kiss you.

“Honey, I think you’re the only one who believes in me,” he whispers sarcastically, and then presses in again.

“Steve!”The kids all throw their hands up. Eddie continues to swing a pool noodle like a sword.

“Coming!” Steve gives you the kiss they interrupted, though it's missing the sensuality it began with. “Jesus, you guys, you see what I’m leaving behind?” Steve gestures to you, and you swat at his arm.

“Steve, stop.”

“No! It’s an impossible task,” he declares, arms out, loud enough so the kids can still hear him. Then, quieter, “you’re too damn gorgeous, gorgeous.”

“Resist temptation, brother,” Eddie calls. “The power of the ring cannot be wielded!”

Steve waves him off as he gives you one final, lingering kiss. Then he's up, trekking back into the sun.

“Don’t think you’ll kill me so easily this time, brats. I’m fighting for Mordor!”

“You’re fighting for Gondor, thick head,” Dustin snips, but screeches when Steve tackles him.

Smiling from your shady oasis, you leave your book forgotten at your side. Steve puts on a good show, taking imaginary hits for Merry-Erica and Pip-Dustin, cutting off forgotten lines with groans and tears.

You shake your head ruefully as the kids cheer and applaud his passing, not sure they understand the sacrifice made. Steve just smiles and bows, and you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

When he finally slumps down next to you again—dripping and warm and happy to be discharged—you curl into him and throw your legs between his.

“Tired?” You lean your head against the springy elastic slats and look at him softly. He nods and pulls you closer, his free hand and his thigh working together to open a new can of beer. He takes a swig and hands it to you.

“I don’t know how they can keep going. I feel like I need an IV.”

You laugh around the rim of the can.

“Maybe I can get you a glass of water, then, and keep this to myself.” You swirl the heavy can in front of him. Steve shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t dare. Beer is, like, basically water, I’m pretty sure.” You raise a skeptical brow, but hand it back to him. “It is! It’s sterile, baby.”

“I love it when you talk sexy.”

Steve throws his head back laughing, nearly dumping the can into both of your laps. You never take your eyes off of him, chest light with the high of encouraging a sound so sweet.

“Where did you even hear that?” You trace his collarbone as you ask, and then his adams apple. Steve’s eyes are still squeezed shut as he attempts to talk through his giggling.

“E—hedd—d-iehee.”

Surely it wasn’t that funny, you think, watching him go red in the face. He’s working himself up more than anything, now. You don’t care. You add fuel to the fire, pinching under his ribs to watch him squirm and howl.

Steve practically throws the can onto the ground, writhing away from your menacing fingers.

“Baby—stop!” You’re laughing with him now, infected by his hiccuping voice. “Honey—honey, please——time-out, time-out!”

You stop, and he snags your hand to hold it away from him. Panting, Steve twists around to pin you on the chair, his free hand creeping towards your bare side.

“Payback…,” he whispers threateningly.

“No…Steve—“It’s too late, Steve’s hands are already working into your sides cruelly, and his mouth is blowing raspberries into your neck. You kick your feet wildly, pushing at his shoulder with your connected hands.

At your shrieking, everyone looks over, faces forming into a hash of reactions. Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—no one intervenes. The boys boo at you, but it’s only as long-lived as the tickling itself.

“Sto-ho-ho-hoppp—“ you plead, and Steve yields, a satisfied smile on his face.

When you finally relax back into the chair again, chest rising and falling rapidly, Steve takes your hand into his and holds it over his torso.

“Hate you,” he puffs out, and then picks up the beer that started it all.

“Hmph,” you complain, and hold your hand out until he passes it over.

“I love you.”

You’re aiming for casual, but you miss the mark obscenely. It sticks in your throat and you end up saying every letter.

Steve is eerily silent, watching as you take a nervous gulp of PBR. When you try to pass it back, his receiving hand floats up to your face to wipe over your bottom lip instead.

“What was that?” It’s not a question so much as an encouragement, a request. You can’t even look him in the eyes, curling into his shoulder shamefully.

“Please don’t laugh,” you whine, mortified. How had he made it look so easy?

Steve snakes an arm behind you and rubs your back comfortingly.

“‘M’not, honey. Just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

“You heard me,” you confirm grumpily.

He hums a warm laugh.

Smushing your face into his bicep, you laugh, too. Like magic, the ease flows through your body again, as if it never left. Like the water in the pool, your conversations always slip and slide from childish to heart-pounding and back again. So far, the scariest parts of being with Steve have been the anxieties you invented along the way, and he’s never been unprepared for them.

Propping your chin on his peck, you cuddle closer to him, the warm day slipping into evening chill. Steve waits, patient as a Saint, fiddling with your hair and your top and your mind.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you whisper, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. The near-empty can is still wedged between your bodies, cool against your ribs.

“Sure,” Steve admits. “But thinking it and saying it are different things.”

“True.” You swallow. “Were you waiting on me?”

“Mm, I guess.” He shrugs. “I know it doesn’t change anything if you don’t, but I think I wanted to hear you say it back. Yknow, when I told you.”

Nodding, you kiss the closest patch of skin you can find. Steve continues.

“And then I realized I’d never know if you’d say it back, so I thought I’d wait for you to say it first, which is dumb—“

“S’not dumb,” you assure him, “that’s what I was doing, too.”

Locking eyes, you both peel into laughter at the same time.

“That’s why it’s dumb,” Steve emphasizes. You crawl closer still, giving him the can to put down so you can close the last gap between your bodies. Steve sighs as your nose presses into his neck. “What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

“Terrible, awful, horrible things, I hope.”

You can feel him smiling, sense it.

“Nuh-uh, we’re in love now. Only love-making from here on out.”

You look out towards the pool, at the kids drying off and getting hungry.

You could hardly wait.

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff

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say-hi-intrepid-heroes · 4 months

Text

alright let’s go over the junior year clues we got in the rick perry documentary thing (disclaimer: i’ve definitely missed stuff, but i think i got the big things, feel free to reblog and add with stuff that i missed though)

[at the bottom of this post I've typed out the decipherable words that plan out some combats and NPCs from Rick's screen. it's the most interesting thing but it's super long so it's at the bottom under a cut]

We get a blurry look at some minis. I’m seeing at least the PC’s minis, as well as what looks like Baxter the Gryphon.

There’s some major shots of this battle. Includes a Baby mini, the Hangvan with some kind of laser canon on top, a stingray-esque monster that is likely Night Yorb (see below), something that looks like maybe an ice elemental or the crystal (see below), and some large bugs and shirtless people. Clearly set in the Red Wastes. Detailed info of the planning for this battle below.

One of the shots had reference boards in the background. One is clearly for the Hangvan (see earlier screencaps), but the other is unclear. It looks like it includes some sort of tennis or tennis-adjacent sport.

Confirmation that Mordred Manor is a set piece.

Finally, one shot showed Rick’s computer screen with some critical info about planning. I’ve put what I’ve been able to decipher below the screencaps. and under a cut, as it’s very long.

EP. 701 DEFEATING NIGHT YORB CHASE (RED WASTES) Hangvan, Night Yorb is giant flying Manta Ray thing? Rainbow road, being chased by night yorb while trying to throw crystal into portal. Crazy gun on rough [roof] that gorgug made, I can’t get a lock on it. Just need one last final thing to defeat night yorb. Red wastes, chasing the night yorb around, flying bats teleporting onto rough [roof] of van, NPC allies, Balthazar, two other cars they are in contact with, tiefling bakers or sidekicks are reveals Stormchaser twister, trying to get a lock onto it, Night Yorb is escaping the world. Maybe night yorb gets away, why didn [didn’t] you get it? And Balthazar died? Murph invented the Night Yorb. Don’t fuck with the Night Yorb. Exploded out of riz’s chest, needs to be dumb as hell. it’s the jabberwocky, it burbled, hugely terrifying, Horrifying cursed thing. Unending night for two months. Dragon sized, bigger than the Hang Van, 30’ wingspan Stars and moon. While the night yorb flies it is night and not day. Not malevolent force, but everything on earth will die Have giant ghost busters canon, Honey I shrunk the kids cannon Driver, mechanic, gunner, navigator (using SW 5e mechanics) Hang Man - Fabian motorcycle Tether is attached to night yorb, either magic or harpoon Night Yorb could out pace them. Could smash van. Cultist of the night yorb appearing on the road, mad max style ”The night yorb is our god” Red Wastes Cultists: Riding skeleton horses, classic fantasy cultists, Manta ray night yorb masks Sword and Sorcery vibes, MUSCELY, oiled, black leather, rings Shadow of Night Yorb Tether must be reeled in over 4 rounds Success Meter - 4 rounds or it escapes Pop up cultists in the middle of the road 4 maps Straight away, gully bridge crossing, rap popping up, giant portal It’s going to another world but if it gets away thats just as bad Ayada [Ayda?] thing built in. Chekov’s gun. Gun has cool helix of energy that is getting cranked in. Gun is on the back and on the hood is a binding circle that Adaine does. Cultists are making the portal. YORBIES if they catch it, it gets bound into the paint of their van Gun is gorgug’s stuff and circle is adaine 6 cultist perusing them, 4 or 5 at the portal, 1 or 2 back up Single person traps, Vulture with cactus MINIS: Night Yorb - Giant shadowy manta ray, inky black dripping, made of liquid, different underbelly, deep indigo or bone white. Made of shadows, dripping aberration, flat plane, long tail, two weird eyes coming off front on stalks. Second set of PCs TERRAIN: Red Wastes! NOTES: favorite crazy dnd monsters, beholder, [unclear word, bu…ette] Fungal Black light portal battle! Dr. Strange battle set, pseudo pods of elder pod night yorb, day glow run fragments, purple stone castle night yorb temple, floor is octopus made of shadows. Starting mid battle. [blank sections] PROJECTION: Counter here of some kind?

POTENTIAL LOCATIONS Basrar’s icecream shop? Mordred Manor Seacaster Manor [crossed out] Strong Tower Luxury Apartments SAT Prep class [screen cuts off]

EP. 704 DENTENTION [detention] STEALTH CHASE SEQUENCE/ QUIET LIBRARY/ Aguefort chase sequence? Combine sets interrupted by having to make it past a hall monitor Underwater? Books suspended floating, everything is affected by water Don’t wake daddy? Start in Library to get to Aguefort’s office Hallway Classroom Bathroom Lockerroom [blank sections] DYNAMIC ELEMENT: Water

CONCEPTS Dicks! SPIRITUAL GUARDIANS - Full service on minis, summons, etc Psycadelic fungal giant, black light, trippy, beautiful Revisiting old set [screen cuts off]

[fyi everything past this point was very blurry, so I could only decipher pieces here and there]

EP. 706 OUTDOOR CONCERT COACHELLA Music feature? Flaming [?], giant [?] [???] Fig and Gorgug on stage [???] Lighting effects, [???] Floating stage or something [???] Demons? PROJECTION: Lasers?

NPCS/ VILLAINS/ MONSTERS/ ETC. PORTER CLIFFBREAKER is secret servant of nightmare king tactical battlefield combat that [?] 2-3 times larger than PCs LED buried inside him [???] Porter was [???] basketball player [screen cuts off]

[the rest was too blurry to make out anything other than a blank section titled ROLE PLAY/ NEUTRAL BOARD and a section that seems to be for EP. 708 and says EXTRA with some blurry words after it]

#dimension 20 #d20 #fantasy high #brennan lee mulligan #fhjy #rick perry #dropout #fantasy high junior year

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greenhappyseed · 2 years

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BnHA Ch.363 leak reactions:

Jeanist seems to be confirming Bakugo is dead BUT he’s also unwinding his clothes like he did in Vigilantes, so he’s stitching/binding something together. He’s gonna end up naked again, isn’t he?

Dabi fights back! He’s so badly burned you can see his bones. His eyes and hair are still ok though. No word on his white outfit. Quite possible he’s naked.

CONFIRMED NAKED AFO (except he’s missing his left eye!!). I mean, sure, look at his face if you want, but man is showing off his demon goods. Hawks is scared but also kinda intrigued.

Skeptic is having his moment, mapping out mecha UA’s escape routes (are the civilians ok???) and tagging the locations of every villain. He is not naked and I think that’s a good thing.

Seriously, this chapter ratchets everything up nicely. Izuku, my friend, you have your work cut out for you. [Edit: my full chapter review is now up here!]

#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha 363 #mha 363 #afo #all for one #dabi #todoroki toya #best jeanist #hawks

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calypsolemon · 1 year

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I have created an au that is so self indulgent. It is called "Starboots"

the tl;dr is that Puss made the wish for his 8 other lives back, and the Star decides to interpret that desire... liberally, to say the least. Longer explanation is under the cut.

The Star, in reaction to Puss's selfish desire, decides to grant his wish by imbuing him with its own power. This creates eight extra "lives" for him, but simultaneously binds him to itself and the Dark Forest, making him the a new immortal embodiment of the Wishing Star. He can only return to his 9th mortal life by granting eight true wishes; Peering into the hearts of people who enter the forest, creating paths for them that will heal their hurts and leading them to the things they truly need. Essentially, by giving others a new lease on life, he gives up his own, one by one.

The only way he can communicate with the outside world is via the map, with the exception of Death. Though their conversations over time become less hostile and more introspective, the wolf is a constant reminder to Puss that even if he manages to escape his fate of being the Star, Death will still pursue him in the end.

Kitty and Perrito are not aware of what happened to Puss, only that he made the wish and then they woke up somewhere else, with the map missing and the entrance to the Dark Forest having vanished. In their time away from Puss they become very close, forming a "crime duo" in which Perrito uses his friendly demeanor and smooth talking to gain intel, and Kitty does most of the sneaking and stealing. The only tension in their relationship is when they talk about Puss. Kitty believes he ran after the wish was made, and she wants nothing to do with him anymore for it. Perrito does not agree, and secretly searches for map in the hopes of finding any lead. Which he finally gets a whiff of 8 years later...

There's more stuff but I am still developing some aspects of the au. Just know my aim is to examine the concept of "selflessness", and explore what it means for a life to have value.

#puss in boots #puss in boots the last wish #starboots au #i have an idea of how it will all end as well but thats still being hashed out #just know my aim here is not to say puss ''deserves'' any of this #this is an au about regretting bad choices so much you feel too trapped by the consequences to heal from them #and its also about me designing and epicy cool outfit for him. look at him. he may be depressed but he can still slay #cal draws stuff

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dear-mrs-otome · 3 months

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Chapter One - Ansare

Pairing: Silvio Ricci x Emma...eventually Word Count: 2.1k+/??? Author's Note: If Cybird won't give me a proper Beauty and the Beast story, I'll write it myself. This is a slowburn fairytale AU that hews closely to canon, but veers when needed.

Summary: A curse, of sorts. A rose, of sorts. And one prince's long, tangled journey to answer an eternal question...What separates man from beast?

It all began, as so many things do, with a love poem.

Emma lifted the top off of a crate, and was greeted by the rich waft of old books. Leather and glue and that indescribable patina that only the echo of many long years could leave behind. Wisdom crowning wisdom.

“There’s so many,” she said with amazement as she dug through the first layer of packing straw and pulled a title free. Running careful hands and a practiced eye over the condition of the bindings and the gilt lettering that traipsed up their spines, she began sorting them into loose categories. Histories, the classics, poetry and novels, geography and the sciences. She paused long enough to linger over a detailed map of the continent in one of the gorgeously illustrated atlases, a wistful sigh escaping her.

The bookstore was her life - she knew every nook and cranny of this shop like the back of her hand. Had skinned her knees tripping over the single uneven floorboard in its stacks as a coltish child, had stained the pages of more than one romance with tears while nursing the first tender bruises of young love curled up in the nearby battered armchair. She’d scrimped and saved and squirreled away every penny she could pinch, ever since Akatsuki had handed her the first of her wages, determined to buy it from him one day when he retired. She knew that would make her the happiest woman in the world.

But some days, it was hard not to wonder what was over the jagged rooftops of town, crowded and gnashing the skyline like snaggled teeth. What mysteries might lay just beyond the hills that cradled their city so gently, rolling away towards the horizon as she imagined waves upon the sea must. In her dreams some nights she tasted the salt spray of the ocean, only to awaken, baffled to find it was tears on her tongue.

Some days, it was hard not to wonder if she was settling her future comfortably…or merely settling.

Putting the atlas and those maudlin thoughts aside, a delighted grin stole over her face as she plucked the next book from the box, a slim volume of poetry with an aging, cracked cover and worn edges. The obscure missing volume in her exhaustive collection of Benitoitian sonnets. She flipped eagerly through the pages, her gaze devouring the metered lines upon them, lingering over one poem in particular that was redolent with the bittersweetness of longing. “You found it! You actually found it! Is that what took you so long this time?”

“Partly. I didn’t want to disappoint you, not when you’ve been looking to round out that collection for so long.” Akatsuki’s ever-stoic face thawed with the first hint of a smile as he wove a far defter path through the piles she was creating than one would expect from a man of his years. But then again, the passing of time never seemed to touch him, she’d noticed, beyond kissing a few more strands of silver into his dark head of hair. He still moved as spryly as men a third his age, and had never in all of her years of working for him ever taken a single day off ill. “And partly I was busy with business meetings.”

“Business meetings?” She slipped a bookmark at the page with the poem that had caught her eye and looked up, wrinkling her nose at the implications of that. “Oh, no. No. Don’t tell me that means-”

The rest of her sentence was robbed by a resounding crash, the deafening clatter of a door thrown open - or rather, kicked open, as she knew better than to believe otherwise of the man who sauntered in. The violence of his entrance setting one of her nearby newly built towers of books swaying precariously.

“-Him,” she finished flatly, before plastering on a smile even more obviously fake than the forgotten vase of forlorn silk orchids gathering dust in a nearby corner. “Welcome in, Your Highness. Thank you for testing the resilience of our hinges. Again.”

His Highness in question - Silvio Ricci, the crown prince of Benitoite - drew to a halt and spared her a scathing look, shaking his fur-lined cloak back imperiously. “I’d start charging for the service, but there’s no way in hell this dump could afford me.”

“Strange. For being such a ‘dump’, it sure seems to keep you coming back,” she returned fire, cloyingly sweet, before forcing herself to take a deep breath. She would not let this goblin masquerading as royalty get under her skin and ruin the high of a delivery day. Not this time.

He snorted. “It’s the impeccable customer service, clearly.”

She ground her teeth together and shot Akatsuki a pleading look, noticing the amusement that clung to the wrinkles fanned around his eyes as his attention bounced between the two of them. Spectating his favorite sport.

“Prince Silvio,” Akatsuki said at last, wading into the fray.

Dismissing her, the prince turned a dauntless, charming grin on the man who owned the shop, and she did her best to ignore the nip of envy that inspired.

He’d never smiled once at her like that. But then, why did she possibly care?

“Signore.” Prince Silvio inclined his head ever-so-slightly in the older man’s direction. “I trust you found the details of the documents I had couriered to you acceptable?”

“Well, yes. But I…” He broke off, and his gaze bounced off Emma before landing back on Silvio. “Wasn’t expecting you quite this soon. I had hoped for a bit more time to explain things.”

“Explain what?” Emma interjected, unease a cool hand curling fingers around her stomach.

Akatsuki seemed at a loss a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Circumstances being what they are and all…”

Silvio made an exasperated sound that bordered on rude. “This bookstore is the second-most profitable one in the city. I could make it number one.” He paused a moment, and lifted his chin imperiously. “I will make it number one.”

Emma shook her head. “We don’t need any advice from the likes of you. I’m certain.”

“You may not want it, but you’re getting it. And it won’t be advice…it’ll be orders.”

“Says who?” she countered, eyes narrowed in challenge.

“Me. The soon-to-be owner of this enormous heap of paper.”

She’d heard the words, but they rang hollow, refusing to make sense. She whirled towards Akatsuki as if he might somehow be able to translate.

He had the good grace to wince. “Emma, this isn’t how I wanted you to find out. But I’m not getting any younger, and the traveling of a merchant’s life gets harder and harder every year.”

“So you sold the store to Prince Silvio? Of all people, him? But…” She’d never felt betrayal before, but this nausea that clawed acrid at the back of her throat couldn’t be anything else. “I was going to buy it.”

The forlorn admission slipped free before she had time to snatch it back, falling helplessly to the ground. A fledgling taken to wing too soon.

Silvio blinked, and chortled. “You? You were going to buy the shop?"

Her cheeks stung pink at the slap of his incredulous laugh. “Yes, me.”

“You wouldn’t know the first thing about running a business like this,” he scoffed.

She shook her head fiercely. “No, you wouldn’t know the first thing about running a business like this. Could you recognize an incunable if you saw one? Do you have the faintest idea what an octavo is? Or who Madame Rochefort’s favorite author is? What genre you can sell Monsieur Martin on without fail when he comes by every Tuesday afternoon? All you see is coin to be made. Numbers in a ledger. Profit and loss. Not people. And certainly not their stories.”

“This ain’t a library, lady. It’s right there in the name - bookstore.” He paused, as if considering something. “Although, if you’re so eager to make sure things are done in a certain way, I suppose I could let you keep your job.”

“Let me…” A logjam of words crowded her throat for a moment, indignities all clamoring for space at once until one finally jostled free. “You want me to work for you?”

A petty smile slanted his lips. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it.”

That expression of his was like a door being thrown open on a smoldering fire. Rage exploded through her in a backdraft, a mindless wave of fire and fury that vaporized the calm logic she prided herself on. “Listen to me, you tacky, tasteless, tawdry, tinsel-clad affront to the eyes. I wouldn’t work for you if you were the last thing standing between me and utter destitution.”

Answering sparks flew from a blue gaze turned flinty, as the blood drained from his face. “That could be arranged. One word from me, and I could make it so that you never work in this city again.”

Her mouth fell open, eyes stinging from the salt he had just rubbed into every last one of her open wounds. “And now you think you can threaten me into keeping the job that I already have? All while you buy the shop I already planned to?”

“Oh, I don’t think I can.” His grin was more a macabre baring of teeth than any thing of mirth. The snarl of a hound treeing its quarry. “I know I can.”

“Forget it. You can own this shop, you can own this city. You can own this whole damn country. But you will never, ever own me.” The world had gone strange around her, red and wavering, like water spilled through wet paint. It took her three tries to see through it well enough to snatch up her book of poems from the top of the pile. “I quit.”

It occurred to her, as she took her first wobbly step towards the door, that it might have hurt less to have simply driven her paper-knife into her own heart. She clutched the book tightly to her chest, as if it could staunch the blood she swore poured from some wretched wound, though her blouse remained as pristine as ever.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His snarl stopped her in her tracks, but she didn’t do him the courtesy of turning around to reply. Etiquette when dealing with royalty be damned.

“I’m leaving. Like I said, I quit. Have a nice life, Your Highness.”

He lunged forward, snatching at the book she held. “You can’t just walk out. That’s store property. Which means it’s my property now.” They tussled over the tome, wrestling, neither willing to back down - until finally it fumbled from their grasp and fell to the ground, open to the page she’d slipped her bookmark in.

They both dove for it at the same time, the childish squabble continuing until they were brought up short by the harsh sound of tearing paper, freezing where they stood.

Emma forced herself to look down, dread a swallowed lump of lead sitting queasy in her stomach. Gaze shifting from the book in her hands to the page now crumpled in Silvio’s fist, a forlorn flap of ragged paper still standing accusatory in the spine she held.

“Look what you’ve done,” she managed, through lips gone stiff and numb.

“What I’ve done? You started this. If you’d just handed over the book - or better yet, not thrown a tantrum and tried storming out - this wouldn’t have happened at all,” he retorted fiercely. But when she found herself at a loss for any sort of response, and the silence drew out long and stilted and awful, he thrust the rumpled page at her abruptly. Refusing to meet her eyes. “Here.”

She glanced down at it, and let out a humorless laugh. It was the only reaction she could muster when she saw familiar words of poetry between his fingers. The exact one that had warranted a bookmark from her in the first place.

Would I could come, O lovely one, to you just in a thief’s disguise, unknown to all!

It figured that he'd manage to ruin even this for her, too.

“I bought this book. It belongs to me. Akatsuki’s been looking for it for me for almost five years now. But you know what? Keep the page, and the poem. My parting gift to you,” she told him, no longer trying to keep the bitterness coating her tongue from seeping into her words. She was too sick with it, choking on the wretched feast as she ever-so-carefully closed the book. Ever-so-carefully tucked it under her arm, before flinging a razor edged glare at him like a flechette. “It’s the closest to love you’ll ever get, Your Highness.”

He flinched, as if struck, but made no reply. Made no other movement at all, as she left him holding those words and walked out.

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, let me know!

(Dividers courtesy of @/cafekitsune, header image commissioned from @/sbeep)

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri silvio #ikepri emma #ikepri fanfic #my writing

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fandomtrashhh · 1 year

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Updated for Episode 12

So I did a thing. I went back to every episode of The Winchesters and I wrote down everything that Dean has said so far, and I realized moreso than before how EVERYTHING he says not only is the lesson/theme of the episode, but it all also applies to himself. Also, I'm not sure if other people realize this because not everyone is into classic rock as I am, (many of the songs are rock songs) but all the songs also match what the episodes are about. Let's start with episode 1.

Sorry if I overlooked something or for any mistakes, I did not rewatch every episode to make this.

I also apologize for how long this is. If I knew how to add the "read more" on this post I totally would.

Major spoilers for all episodes of the Winchesters ahead!!!

Episode 1, "Pilot": March 3rd, 1972. The day Dad came home from the war, and the day he met Mom. Now I know this story might sound familiar, but I'm gonna put the pieces together in a way that just might surprise you. And in order to do that, I have to start all the way at the beginning.

Obviously, Dean is just starting the story. He tells us this is when John and Mary are going to meet, and he's also foreshadowing what's to come. This is why I have high hopes for this show, because Dean says so in the beginning that even though you think you might know everything, there's really more to the story.

Dean also narrated at the very end of the episode:

What they didn't know is that the Akrida weren't just a threat to Earth, but to all of existence. Now, like I told you, there's gonna be some surprises. Hell, I'm still trying to find all the puzzle pieces myself. But I'll explain everything. And until then, I'll keep picking the music.

Also something to note is that this is the only episode that has a non music related title. I'm 100% sure that if it did have a song related title, it would be "I'd Love to Change the World" by Ten Years After. The beginning, when Dean is first narrating and while John is holding the letter that Dean gave him and pretty much up to the point where John and Mary run into each other, that song is playing. Then at the very end of the episode, when we see Dean in the flesh, it's playing again. I find this VERY interesting, especially since the music applies to everything in this show. This leads me to believe that Dean really is trying to change something because the song literally says "I'd love to change the world, but I don't know what to do, so I'll leave it up to you." (The song also mentions bees, which I thought was interesting. That could be nothing, though.)

Episode 2 "Teach Your Children Well": The ties that bind a family together can be complicated. Parents raise you, teach you what's right and wrong, and in some instances, how to kill monsters. But no matter who you are, there comes a time when you have to break from them and make your own way. And if you're not careful, things can get pretty ugly.

“Teach Your Children Well” by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. Let me show you some of the lyrics:

“You, who are on the road

Must have a code that you can live by

And so, become yourself

Because the past is just a goodbye

Teach your children well

Their father's hell did slowly go by

And feed them on your dreams

The one they pick's the one you'll know by

Don't you ever ask them, "Why?"

If they told you, you would cry

So just look at them and sigh

And know they love you”

A big theme in this episode is parents, the guy who goes missing at the beginning for one, but mostly about John’s parents. John and Millie argue over John hunting and all around the episode is about kids forging their own paths and how it can cause issues which I feel like can definitely apply to Dean and how he discovers his identity away from his father and how the things his father put them through were wrong and how that caused issues.

Episode 3 "You’re Lost Little Girl": There's no map to being a hunter. No playbook. You gotta follow your gut. But that can only take you so far. Truth is, you can't do it all on your own. You need other people to help guide the way-- your friends, your family. Otherwise you just end up lost.

“You’re Lost Little Girl” is by The Doors. Some lyrics:

“You're lost little girl

You're lost little girl

You're lost, tell me who

Are you?

Think that you know what to do

Impossible? Yes, but it's true

I think that you know what to do

Yeah

Sure that you know what to do”

In this episode, Mary gets taken by a monster and everyone is trying to find her. Mary thinks that she doesn’t need anyone to help her because she’s a good hunter, but she ends up needing them to save her. It’s the same with Dean, Dean is an amazing hunter, but he still needs his friends and his family.

Episode 4, "Masters of War": Fighting the battle between good and evil isn't easy, especially when the first monster you have to face is the one inside yourself.

“Masters of War” is by Bob Dylan.

The lyrics for this song are very meaningful and well done. To put it simply, it’s about war and criticism of war.

“You fasten all the triggers

For the others to fire

Then you sit back and watch

When the death count gets higher

You hide in your mansion

While the young people's blood

Flows out of their bodies

And is buried in the mud”

In this episode, John and Carlos talk about their trauma from the Vietnam War and we really get an insight to how much anger John has in him. John is Dean’s parallel in this episode because Dean has a lot of unresolved trauma and deep rooted anger that is mentioned in Supernatural and it also fits because Dean was used as a weapon in a war against the supernatural from a young age.

Episode 5, "Legacy of a Mind": Spending a lifetime of hunting monsters takes its toll. There comes a time when you gotta let out that pain inside you. If you don't, it'll eat you alive.

The song “Legacy of a Mind” is by The Moody Blues

“He'll fly his astral plane

Takes you trips around the bay

Brings you back the same day”

This can be applied to what happens in this episode where Mary is stuck in her own head and has to face her trauma, and this song pretty much talks about trippy things like the lyrics above.

This applies so well to the episode because this episode deals with the complicated relationship that Mary has with her parents and her dealing with the trauma she has with being trained to be a hunter from a very young age and how it was wrong of them to do that to her, but she still loves her parents. This also applies to Dean, since John taught him about hunting from a young age, the same way Samuel and Deanna did to Mary. Mary is once again the Dean parallel, like she often is in this show.

Episode 6 "Art of Dying": Hunting has a way of changing a person. After a while, right, wrong, good, evil, they all start to look the same. And then it makes you start to wonder, "Who's really the monster here -- them or me?"

This is the only other episode where Dean narrated at the end:

Hunting's not for everyone. You have to be strong, stay sharp, make tough decisions, and it's not easy, but then again, the righteous things never are.

The Art of Dying is by George Harrison:

"There'll come a time when all of us must leave here

Then nothing sister Mary can do

Will keep me here with you

As nothing in this life that I've been trying

Could equal or surpass the art of dying

Do you believe me?"

and then the end of the song goes:

"There'll come a time when most of us return here

Brought back by our desire to be

A perfect entity

Living through a million years of crying

Until you've realized the art of dying

Do you believe me?"

This episode the core four finds a case involving an older hunter buddy of Mary's and it turns out that the monster is the ghost of the hunter's friend who the hunter friend and her group killed because he went too dark in magic. That's how the episode applies to Dean's monologue, along with Lata's fear of turning into someone horrible and letting her anger control her. John also (kinda) confronts his anger in this episode. The monologue also talks about how being a hunter is hard, but doing the right thing never is, which also applies to the characters of this episode, especially Lata. This applies to Dean because he really dealt with feelings like that during SPN, and being angry all the time and feeling like he was a monster, and how he always chooses to do the right thing when it comes down to saving the world, even when it's near impossible to.

Episode 7 "Reflections": There comes a time in every hunt when the fightin' starts. And the difference between winning and losing isn't whether you have the holy water, the wooden stake, or the silver bullet. It's whether you've got the grit to get the job done.

Reflections is by the Supremes:

"Through the mirror of my mind

Through all these tears that I'm crying

Reflects a hurt I can't control

Although you're gone

I keep holding on

To those happy times

Oh, girl when you were mine

As I peer through the windows

Of lost time

Keeping looking over my yesterdays

And all the love I gave all in vain

(All the love) All the love

That I've wasted

(All the tears) All the tears

That I've tasted

All in vain

Through the hollow of my tears

I see a dream that's lost

From the hurt baby

That you have caused"

I think this one represents loss, especially the loss of Henry. Dean's monologue ties into this because in this episode there are multiple instances where the characters show real strength and bravery in order to come out the other side with a win. And this can obviously be applied to Dean and everything he has done and hunted and how brave he had to be to be able to actually get the job done.

Episode 8, "Hang on to Your Life”: Being a hunter, it means living a life of sacrifice-- not a lot of room for dreams. But if you open your heart and get a little lucky, you'll find you gain more than you lose.

Hang On To Your Life is by Guess Who:

“Thinking 'bout it's here and it's real

Wondering how I really should feel

Well you can sell your soul

But don't you sell it too cheap

Hang on to your life, oh life, oh life, oh life, oh life

Hang on to your life

Thinking 'bout betraying a friend

Thinking 'bout delaying the end

Well you can ride the wind

But don't you ride it too high”

This episode is about Carlos’ dream of being a musician and how he had to give that up when he became a hunter. The parts about selling his soul and betraying a friend applies to the band member that Carlos used to play with and how he accidentally made a deal and because he “betrayed” Carlos by selling him out to Loki.

Dean’s monologue applies to the theme of found family in this episode. Even though they’re all a part of this life and had to give up their dreams, there is good that came from it in the form of family and friends, the same way that Dean found himself a family in the midst of it all. This is also the episode where John and Mary decided to get together, again proving that they can find something worthwhile, right before they found the picture of Dean. (Insert Miranda Cosgrove meme)

Episode 9 "Cast Your Fate to the Wind": This isn't how I saw things going when I pushed over that first domino. Thing is, I've had more than a few dances with free will and fate, but as my dad used to say, "Fate is what you make it."

The song here is actually a song that I didn’t know. It’s a jazz song by Vince Guaraldi. Honestly, reading the lyrics to this song make me think SO MUCH of John and who he becomes, and I’m actually going to put in the entire lyrics because I can’t chose one section that I feel is most important:

“A month of nights, a year of days

Octobers drifting into Mays

I set my sail when the tide comes in

And I just cast my fate to the wind

I shift my course along the breeze

Won't sail up wind on memories

The empty sky is my best friend

And I just cast my fate to the wind

That time has a way of changing a man throughout the years

And now I’m rearranging my life through all my tears

Alone, alone, alone

There never was, there couldn't be

A place in time for men like me

Who'd drink the dark and laugh at day

And let their wildest dreams blow away

That time has a way of changing a man throughout the years

And now I’m rearranging my life through all my tears

Alone, alone, alone

So now I’m old, I’m wise, I’m smart

I’m just a man with half a heart

I wonder how it might have been

Had I not cast my fate to the wind

To the wind, to the wind”

Like, come on. This is so John coded in who he becomes and what happens to him. In terms of how this song applies to the episode though, it applies to the theme of fate throughout the episode, which ties in with what Dean says at the beginning. “Fate is what you make it.” This speaks true to John in this episode because he uses the knowledge of his death to his advantage and makes his own fate, which Millie uses the “fate is what you make it” line. I find this episode very interesting because they use the theme of fate in an episode that deals with vampires, and has a whole scene that parallels 15x18 AND Carlos gets to kiss his male love interest. Dean’s monologue at the beginning applies to himself because he’s dealt with fate and free will plenty of times in Supernatural.

I also find it interesting that Dean said that this isn't how he saw things going when he pushed over that first domino, which begs the question of what did he expect? What was his goal in doing all of this? It's also worth noting that immediately after he says that he says "fate is what you make it," saying the two apply to each other, go hand in hand. I don't think it's a stretch to say that whatever his intentions were, whatever he did, had to do with controlling his own fate.

So, just to recap: in an episode where the two main characters are dealing with being in a new relationship and whether or not they want to tell people, one of those main characters dies from a vampire in a direct parallel to the 15x18 confession, and two men have an on screen kiss for the first time, and the entire theme of the episode is fate. That's VERY interesting to me.

Episode 10 "Suspicious Minds": Hunting and happy endings don't usually mix, so when you get your chance, you got to ask yourself, "How far will I go to get it?"

This can be read as a direct tie in to his monologue in the last episode! It's along the same lines!!

Something I've noticed is that each episode I feel like the monologues get deeper and more meaningful, the farther we go the more is revealed.

This Dean monologue ends right as John and Mary get interrupted while they're kissing and Mary says "normal will have to wait another day" while there's a close up of Mary's college application as a mirror to SPN 15x20 with Dean's job application. Something I thought was interesting.

Suspicious Minds is an Elvis Presley song, which I know that the trend here is to include 60's and 70's songs, but knowing the intense meaning of Elvis in the Destiel fandom makes me feel a little unwell knowing Elvis actually gets incorporated into the text.

"Oh, let our love survive

I'll dry the tears from your eyes

Let's don't let a good thing die

When honey, you know I've never lied to you

Mmm, yeah, yeah

We're caught in a trap

I can't walk out

Because I love you too much, baby

Why can't you see

What you're doing to me

When you don't believe a word I say?"

So this is very much talking about one of the big plot points of this episode, a man who tries to bring his dead wife back to life in such desperation that he's willing to kill innocents to do it. Now the parallels drawn in this episode are very intentional to both John and Mary, even including the dialogue they speak after they kill said man and how John thinks that's love and Mary thinks it's horrible and she essentially makes him promise that that will never be them (clear foreshadowing) when in reality, even though it's showing that John already had the mindset of "doing it out of love" as he does in the future, they're both guilty of that. Mary brings John back to life when Azazel kills him, and as we all know, after Mary's death John goes on a revenge mission, wasting his life and putting his children through hell in the process. It's also just a running theme throughout SPN of toxic codependency and how almost every major character is also guilty of going to great lengths to bring the ones they love back. The song lyrics also apply to John and Mary as a romantic relationship as well and can show how their relationship is now and foreshadow what will happen in the future.

The thing that is different about this episode though, is that even though the parallels in this episode can apply to Dean, the actual Dean monologue doesn't, and this is what I find really weird and what I think is honestly one of the biggest indications that Jensen really is writing a fix it fanfiction:

This is the only episode where his monologue doesn't directly apply to himself. Every other episode ties in to his own experiences, except for this one. Dean doesn't go to great lengths to get himself a happy ending. Happy endings for other characters? Absolutely. But not for himself. Why would this be the only episode that doesn't directly relate to him? Well me and a lot of other people think because it really does apply to himself. But not as something he experienced in the past or has knowledge on, but as something he is doing right now. He is actively changing his future, possibly even a future with Cas (I do really think that there's a solid possibility that Destiel will become 100% canon in this show because of how everything is being set up, all of the parallels, and the fact that some of the cast, the social media team, and an executive producer has acknowledged some of these said parallels.) So in the end, how far will Dean go to get his happy ending?

Episode 11 "You've Got a Friend": Being a hunter means always being on the move. But no matter how hard you plan, no matter how hard you work, at a certain point, we all run out of road. It's what we do with those crossroads that define us.

"You've Got a Friend" is a song by Carole King from 1971:

"When you're down and troubled

And you need some lovin' care

And nothin', nothin' is goin' right

Close your eyes and think of me

And soon I will be there

To brighten up even your darkest night

You just call out my name

And you know, wherever I am

I'll come runnin'

To see you again

Winter, spring, summer or fall

All you have to do is call

And I'll be there

You've got a friend"

This represents Betty, and how in this episode she goes from being a potential source of trouble for the gang to becoming an ally, or a "friend" and an inside woman for them. This also can be applied to Carlos and Lata because Carlos was there for Lata and helped support her while Lata told Carlos about her childhood trauma.

In this episode, Dean's monologue is about the choices you make before you die. This can be seen in the choices made throughout this episode by multiple characters (Betty, Mary, John, etc) and this ties in with the song because no matter what choices you make, you'll have your friends by your side, which is true to Dean and just Supernatural as whole with their message of family and found family. Admittedly, I feel like the connection to Dean's voiceover and to the title of this episode aren't as strong as a lot of the previous episodes, but they're still there. (Betty, the "friend," makes a choice to work with the rest of the gang.) At the same time, I believe this can also be another instance of foreshadowing because Dean is dead, he's at that metaphorical cross road, and he's making a choice to go into the past.

As I said above, Lata faced her trauma. This is the 4th or 5th instance of someone on this show confronting their past. At this point, it's become a theme. Why would the show reiterate this point over and over? I think this will tie into Dean's reasons for why he's in the 70's. Not to mention this was yet ANOTHER episode where 2 characters are trapped in a room, and this time because of a shadow monster, and the only way to get out is if one confesses a deep secret. What the fuck.

Something to keep in mind is how much this episode emphasized secrets. This seems to foreshadow the fact that Dean is harboring some huge secrets that will soon be discovered. I think the real question now is how will these secrets be revealed to the audience and to our characters?

Episode 12 "The Tears of a Clown": Hunting is a dishonest business. You lie about who you are, and what you do. But the hardest lies aren't what you tell other people, but what you tell yourself."

The song "The Tears of a Clown" was released in 1967 by Smokey Robinson & The Miracles:

"Now if there's a smile on my face

It's only there trying to fool the public

But when it comes down to fooling you

Now honey that's quite a different subject

But don't let my glad expression

Give you the wrong impression

Really I'm sad, oh I'm sadder than sad

You're gone and I'm hurting so bad

Like a clown I appear to be glad (sad, sad, sad, sad)"

Okay, so this episode gave me a lot of brainrot. What the song is expressing is that even if you seem happy, that doesn't mean you are, and that was the big theme of this episode. Just because you seem okay or even think you're okay, that doesn't mean you are. With John, that applies to his anger issues and his unresolved issues with being charged for a murder he didn't commit. For Mary, it's the issues she already has, plus being unhappy in her relationship with John because she thinks he's using their relationship as an escape, and this also applies to her because even though she got accepted into college, she hadn't really taken any steps towards a normal life since then. In general, this episode was about a clown who lures emotionally vulnerable people into his circus tent so he can force them to be "happy" even though they aren't, like we saw with Roger.

This can very much apply to Dean's voice over, because the characters in this episode, including the clown, are actively lying to themselves.

The thing is, like a lot of Dean's voice overs, it's intentionally vague. He could be referring to literally anything. In the context of this episode, it makes the most sense that this is referring to Dean's anger issues and the fact that throughout the entirety of Supernatural, Dean oftentimes told himself and the people around him that he was okay, even though he wasn't. But at the same time, these voice overs and one like this in particular can be interpreted in different ways. What Dean says about facing the lies you tell yourself can apply to sexuality. Dean could be talking about not only his mental and emotional issues, but he could also be referencing being in love with Cas. At this point, Destiel happening feels like genuine build up. Now all we have to do is wait a couple more days to see if it all pays off.

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thefollow-spot · 1 year

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A Leap of Faith by Misery_C_Epicaricacy & Ynnéalay

Merlin confesses his magic, upending the trust between him and Arthur; when he goes missing from Camelot, a conflicted Arthur must reckon with his fears and prejudices as Merlin’s life is put at stake.

Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: Gen Relationship: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon, Minor Gwaine & Arthur Pendragon, Minor Gwaine & Merlin Words: 40,475

Fanbinding of A Leap of Faith. Process, commentary, and additional pictures under the cut ♥

First of all, thank you to all the lovely folks from the @renegadepublishing discord for enthusiastically encouraging me to fanbind my own work, though this is not entirely just-mine. This fic was co-written with the awe-inspiring @whoawhataconcept (Misery_C_Epicaricacy on AO3) and this binding is as much a love letter to her writing, her mind, and our creative collaboration as it is to my own contributions.

On: Textblock & Typesetting

I've bound a couple fics at this point, but was saving Garamond for this one because I fell in love with how these particular words look set in Garamond. The headings are done in a simplistic all-caps Calibri with expanded spacing to pay homage to how many hours editing this damn thing were spent looking at the font in question. I've also used font 'Merlin' for the front title page—which I got linked out of the @merlinbingo discord server—and Felix Titling for the interior title page.

The body is printed on EarthChoice colour cream paper, and stitched with red crochet thread.

On: Endpapers

The endpapers were a tricky one for me! They are prints of my own fanart which was not the correct aspect ratio to use as endpapers for a book printed on letter paper. This was also the first large map I created, and if I could go back, there are things I would do differently. But in the end, I decided to use it as-is because I'm proud of it. To fix the sizing issue, I up-sized the map so the width was correct for a letter-sized print, which left a border on the top and bottom of the image—this I filled in with black and red checkerboard pattern to match the banners and standards of Camelot.

Originally, I wanted it printed on this textured, pearl-finish linen paper, but then the print shop I use didn't have it in a large enough size to do endpapers on and I was heartbroken. I ended up using topkote gloss paper by Oji.

On: Endbands

Hand-sewn in red and gold crochet thread. I redid these like three times to find a core I liked, and ended up doing them over tightly rolled paper.

The Dust Jacket

I'm not a graphic designer, so the jacket design is simplistic. It includes a cover, back cover (with a 'praise for' section), and two inside flaps (which contain the fic summary and author bios). I took some cues from this dust jacket post. It's printed on a thicker weight of topkote paper by Oji, this time with a dull finish.

Closing Thoughts

I'm so proud of how this turned out! It's my best work yet in terms of straight-ness of the spine/cover paper, and I learned a lot about printing. Lots of firsts for me here, and I feel that every time I make a book, I improve. I've gifted this copy to my co-author, Misery. Seeing her flip through it, and seeing it on our shelf, is giving me a lot of joy today!

#Withy Bindings #fanbinding #fic binding #ficbinding #fan binding #book binding #bookbinding #fanfiction #whoawhataconcept #Misery_C_Epicaricacy #Ynnealay #renegade bindery #renegade publishing #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin fanfiction #bbc merlin fanfic #A Leap of Faith #The Weavings of Destiny

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kjcreed · 3 months

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The Jewel of Seven Stars | Chapter 1

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Series Masterlist Prologue

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst; illegal transportation; sea sickness

Pronouns: they/them

Summary: The year is 1954. 9 years after the Second World War ended. Most people in the blooming city of New York should be living pretty peacefully by now. And most of them really are... Well, except for you... And your brother Tony for that matter. Your father was an archaeologist working to uncover the truth about the legend of Queen Nefret and the prophecy that has been engraved on the walls of her tomb which your father discovered with his team. The only problem is that he went missing and now it's your job to find him. But what if you unintentionally become a part of said prophecy? And what if you meet a persistent librarian and her extravagant brother along the way?

Disclaimer: This story is inspired by the 1999 film The Mummy, partly inspired by the book The Jewel of Seven Stars by Bram Stoker and a little by the life of Queen Hatshepsut.

"Wanda! I don't pay you for burying your nose in those Egyptian books for 8 hours a day." The young woman was startled by a ringing doorbell and the booming voice of her employer coming from some corner of the not-so-small library.

The woman's eyes darted up, startled by her superior’s voice, and she stood up quickly with a confused look on her face. "How did you…" She trailed off, looking around for any sign of the man.

"I know my books, Wanda." The greying man's head popped out from around the bookcase. "Now go and get the door." He scolded the woman, making her mutter a small "Sorry, Doctor Strange." and walk hastily to the door.

She wasn't expecting the sight she saw before her eyes the moment she walked around the corner to the front desk.

"Pietro?" And there was her brother. Sitting on the front desk with a book in hand. Swinging his legs, kicking the desk slightly in the process. The man looked up at his sister and grinned widely.

"Sestra!" He jumped down from the desk and greeted his sister with a warm hug. "Pietro, what are you doing here?" The small brunette slightly tilted her head in confusion with a small fond smile playing on her lips.

She hasn't seen her brother in a couple of months. You might think it's not that long, but Wanda and Pietro were attached at the hip practically ever since they were born. Pietro has been travelling a lot lately and Wanda missed having his giddy presence around.

"I need to show you something, little sister." The bleached blonde hopped off of the desk and started walking around the library. "What are you looking for, brother?" Wanda asked the man, confused. "A quiet place."

Wanda waited a second before responding. "We are literally in a library, Piet…"

The man stopped at a table, hidden by numerous bookcases. Then he motioned for his sister to sit by him on one of the couple chairs at the table.

When Wanda sat down, Pietro placed the book he was cradling in his hands the whole time onto the table. "What is it?" Wanda questioned, observing the book.

The book's binding was from brown leather and looked very old, almost ancient. Wanda noticed the fading gold symbols that were carved all over the book's exterior. They seemed to be Egyptian hieroglyphs, making Wanda more and more intrigued.

"Open it." Pietro insisted eagerly. The brunette hesitantly opened the book, revealing pages filled with Egyptian symbols, a map folded between the pages and a few small papers with notes in English. They were most likely someone's translations.

"Betrayed and humiliated she lies in her grave,

but in the walls of her cage a prophecy has been engraved:

For millennia she'll stay, buried under stone.

Her belongings tossed away, leaving her all alone.

Once the four wanderers unite them, earning a generous reward.

Queen Nefret, she will rise again and her power will be restored."

Wanda read out loud one of the first translations. "Queen Nefret… I read about her before." She thought out loud. "It's an old Egyptian legend… But I've never seen these texts before." She continued. "It's not just a legend, it's a prophecy!" Pietro beamed.

Wanda stayed silent for a while before speaking up again. "Where did you find this?" She asked her brother, picking up the book and observing it from all sides, more closely this time. "A friend gave it to me." Wanda offered Pietro an unimpressed look.

"Their father was a historian and they just wanted to get rid of it. They even seemed a little relieved when they gave it to me for some reason." Pietro added quickly, trying to persuade his sister into believing him.

Wanda looked through the book once more, studying the condition and credibility of the book and the writings in it. "I've never seen hieroglyphics this accurate when copied and the book itself does look like it could've been written at least a dozen centuries ago…" Wanda trailed off hesitantly.

"So… Do you want to go on an adventure with your big brother, Wands?" Pietro asked with a sparkle in his eyes. "I don't know Piet… I have work and responsibilities." Wanda sighed. "Come on. You know you hate it here. Besides, don't tell me you don't want to find out whether the prophecy is real or not. And have you ever seen a mummy in real life?" Pietro pushed.

"I'll show this to Doctor Strange." Wanda stated after a minute of silence. Yes. It was probably the best idea to get the opinion of someone more experienced…

"This is ridiculous. It's just a legend." Doctor Strange said dismissively as he was looking through the book. "But sir, the book speaks of the legend as if it really happened and I've never seen hieroglyphics that good be counterfeit." Wanda tried to reason with the older man.

"There's also a map that seems to be leading to the artefacts." She said as she carefully took out the folded paper. Doctor Strange took it from her. "And there's also a big reward in store for those who find Queen Nefret's tomb and bring the artefacts there." Pietro muttered bashfully, making Wanda slap his arm before scolding him, resulting in good old sibling bickering.

In fact, the two got so lost in their little squabble they didn't notice the paper catching on fire in Doctor Strange's hand from a nearby candle until the man let out a startled sound.

"Oh my god!" Wanda gasped as the burning map fell onto the floor. Pietro and she ran to it and started patting it and stepping on it to put it out. And when they finally managed to do so, the map was half burned already.

"What now?" Wanda asked rhetorically as she picked up the burned paper. "Well…" Pietro's finger travelled along the page, landing on a red stain. "Looks like we're going to the Caribbean." Wanda furrowed her eyebrows and brought the paper closer to her face to examine the mark.

"Are you really going to up and leave for some red mark on an old map in a book that talks about a legend as if it was history?" Doctor Strange chimed in. Wanda and Pietro looked at each other before looking back at the older man. After a minute of silence, the man sighed.

"Why do I even bother?"

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Your older brother asked as the two of you snuck past the guards to get to the side of the ship. "Please. I've been doing this since I was 13."

You replied nonchalantly as you carefully and slowly opened the storage door, revealing a room full of bags and briefcases along with a few barrels of spices and other trading products.

"Of course you have." Tony grumbled as he shut the door softly. He watched you get into a corner and make yourself comfortable among the bags.

"Y'know… dad used to be worried sick about you." Tony walked further into the room and found a spot next to you. "When you wouldn't return for days." He added. You looked away, feeling somewhat conflicted.

"He sure had a great way of showing it." You replied, vividly seeing those memories.

It was a rainy summer evening. Howard was listening to the raindrops hitting the roof of his home as he sat in an armchair, facing the front door, waiting. The door finally cracked open and in walked a 16-year-old you. You had been gone for two days after another ruthless fight with your father.

"Nice of you to finally show up." Howard said sarcastically. "Father." You replied in a monotone voice and were about to go off into your room before your father stopped you. "That's all you have to say to me? After you've been gone for what... two days?" The older man stood up from his chair, getting angry.

"Oh… I'm surprised you noticed." You retorted. "What's that supposed to mean?" Howard furrowed his eyebrows. "Well, I don't know… Just thought you'd be too busy reading that old stupid book of yours or being in the garage with Tony." You shrugged your shoulders.

"Stop being so childish Y/N." Howard scoffed. "I don't know what you want from me!" You threw your arms up in frustration, your voice now picking up on volume. "I just want to know why you're being like this!" Howard's voice became louder too. "Running away, talking back to me, being so headstrong, thoughtless and selfish-"

"Because of you! You made me like this!" You interrupted your father. "It's because you don't notice me. At all. You're either with Tony all the time or locked in your office doing god knows what. And whenever you do notice me it's just to correct my mistakes or to give me a disappointed look." You felt the tears starting to sting your eyes.

"And I'm the selfish one." You said after a moment of silence before heading up to your room to spend another evening crying yourself to sleep.

"I hope he's alright." You said, looking down after snapping out of your memories. Tony looked up from the ground towards you. "Come on." He playfully shoved you with his shoulder. "It's Howard Stark you're talking about. Of course he's okay." He grinned, making the corners of your lips twitch upward.

After a minute of silence, you pulled out a book from your small backpack. "Now, let's try to find out exactly what the Great Howard Stark has gotten himself into once again." It was your father's diary or a notebook of some sort. It's because you found this book, that you have even the smallest idea of where your dad could be.

"Where did you even find the book anyway?" Tony asked. "He left it in his office…" You trailed off. "Why would he leave it?" Your brother looked at you. "I don't know…" You stopped to think for a second.

A look of realization crossed your face and you let out a huff of disbelief. "That crazy old man knew something was going to happen." You whispered to your brother. "What?" Tony asked, dumbfounded.

"Queen Nefret… Dad has been researching this legend for years now, right?" You started and Tony nodded in agreement. "If he was going to Egypt again just to research or dig some more he would've taken his journal." You said. "But he didn't." Tony finished.

You and your brother stared at each other in silence for a few seconds before Tony spoke up. "Do you think that he…" He trailed off. "Found Queen Nefret's sarcophagus and accidentally got sucked into it or something? Quite possibly." You finished for him.

"So does that mean that the…" Tony slumped his back against the wall. "Prophecy is most likely real and we have to fulfil it or our dad is as good as dead, we don't even have the said prophecy anymore and the only lead that he left us were two silly little books one of which someone stole from us? I'm afraid so." You banged the back of your head on the wall.

"You forgot to mention that the 'silly little book' that we do have is leading us god knows where in the Caribbean for some talisman…"

"Oh, I'm gonna be sick." The rather greenish-looking boy said as he wobbled over to the edge of the boat. "Come on Pietro. Stop being a wuss and focus." Wanda scolded her brother as she leaned on the wooden railing next to him.

"You know I get nauseous on a boat." The boy muttered as he tried his hardest not to throw up. The two had been on the cruise for god knows how long and Pietro was getting sick of water being everywhere.

"Hm… Then how do you complete all of your travels, Mr. Worldwide?" Wanda mocked her brother. "By plane, sestra. By plane." Pietro replied, seemingly unamused. Wanda ignored her brother further on and took out the book that he brought instead.

She had been trying to decipher more the whole trip, but she hadn't been as successful as she'd like to be. It's like she couldn't tear her eyes away from the book and the strange feeling in her belly has been growing a lot stronger, the closer the twins get to their destination.

"Oh finally! I can see the island." Her thoughts had been interrupted by her loud brother's exclamation. She was about to say something back to him, but she got interrupted by a yell coming from one of the workers on the ship.

"Intruders!"

Author's Note

Well, that's it for the first chapter of my first-ever official fanfic that I really intend to finish. Thank you so much for getting all the way down to this part and I hope that you liked it, dear reader. If you have any notes on how I could make my writing better, anything would be much appreciated. Hope everyone is having a great day/night!

See ya next time :)

Series Masterlist Prologue

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george-weasleys-girl · 10 months

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Enemy Mine - Part 6

I did something a little different with this one. I'd love feedback, if you'd like to give it.

~•~

He was Fred Weasley. The Fred Weasley. Nothing touched him. He was strong and in control of his emotions at all times.

I watch the western sky, the sun is sinking

The geese are flying south, it sets me thinkin'

I did not miss you much, I did not suffer

What did not kill me just made me tougher

He'd walked off his burning anger, and now, all that was left was confusion and frustration. Why was everyone so adamant that he was in love with Y/N? It made no sense. He barely thought of her anymore.

I feel the winter come, his icy sinews

Now in the fire light, the case continues

Another night in court, the same old trial

The same old questions asked, the same denial

No, he did not love her. Not one bit. Anyone who thought otherwise was a fool.

The shadows closely run, like jury members

I look for answers in the fire's embers

Why was I missing then that whole December?

I give my usual line, "I don't remember"

Even if he had once liked her, those feelings we're long gone. They were enemies now. And enemies don't fall in love with each other. Do they? Fred hugged himself against the strange cold emptiness that seeped into his veins and made him shiver despite the warm summer afternoon.

Another winter comes, his icy fingers creep

Into these bones of mine these memories never sleep

And all these differences, a cloak I borrow

We kept our distances, why should it follow

I must have loved you

The tiny ache within his chest, the one that was always there, the one he pushed down and tried to ignore, expanded with every step. Like a million tiny knives stabbing into his heart, it nearly brought him to his knees. Why does it hurt so much? It shouldn't hurt this much.

What is the force that binds the stars?

I wore this mask to hide my scars

What is the power that pulls the tide?

Never could find a place to hide

His legs wobbled beneath him, and he sat down in the grass, his mind spinning out of control. No, it's not possible. It can't be. Not after all this time and everything that's happened.

What moves the Earth around the sun?

What could I do but run and run and run?

Afraid to love, afraid to fail

A mast without a sail

He was falling, spiraling out of control. Everything he thought he knew about himself was wrong. Everything that he'd convinced himself of was slipping out of his grasp.

The moon's a fingernail and slowly sinking

Another day begins and now I'm thinking

That this indifference was my invention

When everything I did sought your attention

Fred's world tilted sideways as the truth he'd denied for so long suddenly demanded it's due. He knew, now, what he had to do and he couldn't waste one second.

So, he ran. Faster than he'd ever run in his life.

You were my compass star, you were my measure

You were a pirate's map, a buried treasure

If this was all correct, the last thing I'd expect

The prosecution rests, it's time that I confessed

I must have loved you

Out of breath and close to collapsing, Fred pounded on Y/N's door. The look of complete and utter surprise on her face was so adorable and would've made him chuckle if he wasn't gasping for air.

"Y/N....sorry to show up....like this. But I.... just realized... something," Fred managed. "I love you...I've loved you since the beginning... since you saved me and George from Filch.... and I've been so stupid and mean.... but hope you can forgive me and... maybe love me back."

Y/N stared at him for a few seconds, her eyes wide. Then, without a word, she stepped back, opening the door further to reveal Angelina sitting on the sofa.

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @smallsweetvanillabean @costheticbabe @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @charmedfandomgal @loveosewood @igncrantbliss @28cnn @saintlike05 @millies0bsimp @yeah3459 @leeknows-wife @pandoraneverland @wickedsandwich08 @bai-wuxiangs-mask @c-yberstar @soosheee @ivvees-blog @withered-rxse @maddiedinosaur @astahsvea @impossibelle

~•~

#fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #hp universe #hp fandom #harry potter universe #harry potter fandom #Spotify

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solradguy · 10 months

Text

SOL RADGUY SCANNING GUIDE

Covers:

What you need to scan a book.

How to do it.

How to do it better.

What to do now that it's scanned.

This is a long post with images.

WHAT YOU NEED //

A scanner.

I use an Epson Perfection v39. It's old but it was affordable (~us$60 in 2016 money) and it's reliable. You need something that can scan in color, greyscale, and black & white modes at 300 DPI. DPI (Dots Per Inch) is the resolution the scanner outputs the scan in. Anything over 300 DPI for art/comic scans is a little overkill, imo. However, if you're planning on printing physical copies of your scans, consider scanning them in at 600 DPI for something around printer paper sized, or 1200 DPI for posters. These files will balloon in size considerably with the increase in DPI. It may be worth it buying an extra hard drive just for managing work in progress scan files if your computer's local hard drive is smaller than 500gb.

Black construction paper.

Construction paper that's black. Put this behind the page you're scanning and it prevents page bleed through. More on how this is used below.

Masking tape.

Not really necessary, but useful for mapping out the ideal scanning area on your scanning bed. Speeds things up.

Art/photo manipulation program.

I use Clip Studio Paint EX ver. 2.0 and Photoshop CS5. Your program should have a clone tool and basic image manipulation such as cropping and rotating. Free alternatives are GIMP and Photopea.

OPTIONAL:

White inspection gloves.

These are thin cotton gloves used to handle sensitive things such as historical photos, coins, and old books. Highly recommend investing in a cheap pack if your book has glossy pages. Don't have to worry about cleaning up greasy fingerprints in post with these on.

Bone folder.

This is a flat plastic (bone, historically) stick used to crease pages in book-making. I find having one is useful for carefully pushing pages flatter to get cleaner scans. If your book has tense binding this tool might prove useful.

Heat gun, hair dryer, or a stovetop + big skillet.

Tools for de-binding books in order of most to least useful. I use a heat gun. More on how these are used two sections down.

X-acto knife.

For skinning. It's sharp, it's a knife.

Non-abrasive document cleaning pad.

If you buy a book with glossy pages that's greasy as hell consider picking one of these up. It's a fabric pouch full of a soft powder that gently picks up and removes dirt and oils from paper. I've got one by Lineco and used it on the Dengeki PlayStation magazine scans. Some art stores will carry these but I had to buy mine online.

HOW TO DO IT //

Remove the dustjacket, obi (informational band around the book), and any other loose materials inside of the book (mark what pages those materials were found on). Clean the pages as best as you can with the doc. cleaning pad or just wiping it down gently with a dry paper towel, then get your black construction paper and stick it behind the page that's going to be scanned. If your book is really big, remove the lid on your scanner. It's only going to get in the way.

Try to put as much pressure on the spine as you safely can and hold down the parts your hand can't reach with something heavy-ish. I usually use this paint water jar. Scan in PNG or TIFF format at 300 DPI. For art books and manga use either the color or greyscale modes. Raw text (novels, etc) benefits from the black & white mode.

Here's the raw scan:

Artworks of Guilty Gear X 2000-2007 scans very nicely despite being perfect bound (bound with glue) and rather stiff, but it's still an old book and has some minor damage that will need cleaned up in post later, as well as any dust that I missed cleaning off my scanner bed beforehand. The gutter is on the left. Note the black specks of dust in the right corner and in the big white area, and how you can't see any of the image printed on the other side of this page due to the black construction paper preventing bleed through:

HOW TO DO IT BETTER //

SKINNING BOOKS. A scary thought... But sometimes necessary. Manga volumes have really tight binding that makes them almost impossible to get clean scans of in a traditional flat scanner bed.

You will need either a heat gun, hairdryer, or a big skillet and a stovetop for this part. I use a heat gun. Warm the spine of the book CAREFULLY over the heat gun while gently pulling back on the cover until it pops free from the glue. A hairdryer will be used the same way as a heat gun, just slower. Turn it to the hottest setting.

For the skillet method, heat it up until it's just a little too hot to touch (BE CAREFUL; don't actually touch the skillet with your bare hand). Then hold the book spine-down on the skillet and peel the cover off that way. This method can burn your book very easy because it's harder to gauge how hot the skillet is. Take your time.

Now that the cover is off, use the same method to remove the pages one by one. Make sure to keep them in the right order. Sometimes there will be a thick glob of binding glue that can be sliced off with the X-acto knife. Watch your fingers.

Scanning loose pages is mindlessly easy and there're ways to make it even more mindless. Tape black paper to the top of your scanner lid and use masking tape to mark where exactly on the bed to put the pages so you can get them all in about the same spot. Makes lining them up later in the digital cleanup stage a piece of piss. Don't be a fool and think to use regular tape or duct tape. Cleaning adhesive off glass is a nightmare.

Time to put on some Zeppelin and zone out for about an hour. Remember your page order.

My setup and the raw scan:

I number my pages how they are in the book with the cover, obi, and inside cover flaps usually being zeroes with a letter following it ("00a-dustjacket-FRONT, 00b-dustjacket-BACK, etc":

Your art program should load in the file as a layer with the file name. Load in about 10 to 20 at a time (if your computer can handle it), line them up, clean the dust, adjust colors, sharpen image, then save them in a new folder separate from the raws. Use the clone tool to clean up dust. If you sharpen the image, remember that less is more.

WHAT TO DO NOW THAT IT'S SCANNED //

Upload it. I put all my (non-doujinshi) scans on Archive.org and include a .PDF of the scanned book with smaller resized pages and a .ZIP of the full size pages as loose files. This is optional, don't feel obligated to do both because it really adds a lot of extra work saving the files in two different sizes. Having the full size files is more valuable than a compressed .PDF, though, if you're unsure about which to go with.

For smaller files (<25mb total as a .PDF or .ZIP) you could put them on Neocities too. Neocities doesn't really like the idea of people using their site as a file sharing host so while I don't really recommend using just Neocities, it's definitely something you could do if coding a website sounds fun to you. Here's the archives page on my NC site for an example of how you could code/organize your own archive, if you wanted: solradguy.neocities.org/archives

If you scan something and wanna get more eyes on it, feel free to slap my @ somewhere on the post or you can email it to me (junkyarddogmkii [at] gmail [dot] com ) and I can reblog it and share it with the lore server crew.

Here's a link to the Guilty Gear scans masterpost: https://solradguy.tumblr.com/post/701138089295364096/comprehensive-guide-to-unofficial-guilty-gear

#textpost #book scanning

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the-ellia-west · 2 days

Note

For the ask game, how about ❌📙⭐️💚💤 for whatever character you’d like? :)

(I also hope this isn’t too many items to ask about… lol)

Thanks for the asks @artsandstoriesandstuff (You're good, I love doing big asks >:})

❌ What kind of things would end any relationship for them? Is there a history behind why these things bother them? Could they ever take someone back despite this? If so or if not, why?

📙 What kind of subjects (of conversation, of discussion, in school or whatever) does your OC find interesting or engaging or that they can talk for hours about? What kind of stuff do they just find fun?

⭐ What is your OC afraid of? Any crippling phobias or some such? How do they act when scared and what helps them calm down? Does anyone ever find your OC scary? Why?

💚 Talk about some of the traumatic events in your OC’s life. These events can be ones that have happened to them or a loved one. These events can be minor or major.

💤 What was your OC like as a baby, a child and as a teen? (if your OC is a teen or a child, what will they be like as an adult?). How have they changed since then? What lessons have they learned and what things about their youth do they miss the most? Do they have any general regrets?

OKAY JEEZ

Uhm... To Avoid too many spoilers, lets just go with our Villainous Shade Duo for this one.

The X

Viasaki draws the line at abuse. If you mistreat him he will fire back with just as much power unless he's already loyal to you. He was traumatized by what happened to his family and doesn't want to have that happen to him. He would only accept someone like this if they made it up to him in some way and he knows they'll never do it again.

Kila's only dealbreaker is someone being weak. Because everyone who is weak in her life has died or been taken from her. She would only take a weak person back, if she's convinced they are worth protecting or they prove themselves to not be weak.

Book

Viasaki can ramble about maps, politics, nature, and science forever. He's a little bookworm. He also loves card games, hunting, chatting with his soldiers, and flying. He could also talk about other people and nature forever.

Kila loves talking about mundane things like food, daily activities, stories, myths, and nature. She also loves card games and fighting, but she also loves flying and stargazing.

Star

Viasaki is afraid of ice. He hates the cold with every fiber of his being, just as much as loud noises, bugs, and being hit with just hands. He can take blades, but not blunt force trauma. He is deathly afraid of these things, and will curl himself into his wings to hide when he is afraid, freezing up and praying. Hot drinks or kind words help him calm down, hugs, blankets, stuff like that. Kasi and Sokuna think he's fucking terrifying. Sokuna fears him for his intelligence, and Kasi for how he can switch from kindhearted to psychotic in a second. Eventually after Kila and him become lightly trusting of one another, she's afraid his temper might snap and he might hit her.

Kila is deathly afraid of blunt force trauma just like Viasaki, as well as snakes, spiders, being restrained, the ocean, broken glass, slipping up, or anything with sharp teeth. Unlike Viasaki who freezes, Kila fights. She lashes out at anything she finds scary in an attempt to hurt it before it hurts her, unless its someone she sees as strong, whereas she will beg for mercy. Everyone other than the generals fear her because she's unpredictable, but she can't hurt the generals without being killed.

Heart

Viasaki losing his first soldier was a nightmare to him, as it was the first time he realized that the blood of everyone he's in charge of is on his hands. He's responsible. He's in charge, and it's his job to keep them alive.

Kila has never forgotten what happened that night. That night the monster escaped its binds and ate her mother. She never forgot the feeling of watching someone so powerful and capable of causing so much hurt being torn apart piece by piece. She never forgot watching someone she saw as perfect and kind beat the tortured monster over the head with a spiked club. She never forgot watching her innocent uncle almost kill a monster then fall to a trap as she ran.

(No I will not explain wtf this means yet - Enjoy your spoilers)

Viasaki was hopeful and optimistic as a baby and a young child, clinging close to his father as they were forced to hide, a hybrid and his father. As a teenager he was scared and on the run until he found a place among the shades. He regrets all the people he's killed and not being good enough to save the ones he didn't. He misses the naivete of being young.

Kila was a secluded and scared toddler, before becoming even more terrified and traumatized as a child. Her teen years were spent kicking and screaming, on the run and beaten bloody every other day. She regrets only leaving her uncle behind, and misses nothing other than him from her childhood.

-------------------------------------- Hey there! Hi! You! Tumblr user!

Are you a fan of epic fantasy? Want a story with romance, action, and sassy heroes and villains? How about some good old-fashioned ANGST?

If so, you're in luck! I've got just the series! Come check out TCOT!

Take a quick look at this post if you're interested

And keep an eye on my blog for updates!

---------------------------------------

#creative writing #fiction writing #writing community #writer things #writerscommunity #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writers #writer #ellia's rambling #ellia tcot #ellia's tcot

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jiilys · 2 years

Text

“Where’ve you been?” Ron demanded, towering over her library table.

Ginny gestured at the piles of books around her, “Are you having a laugh?”

He shoved a mostly empty vial at her, “Drink this.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked.”

She looked at Hermione standing behind him, ready to raise her eyebrows, roll her eyes, but Hermione was chalk pale, biting her lip. Nodded once wordlessly.

“What’s going–“

“Gin,” Ron’s voice, a knife edge giving way to something else. Pleading. Asking with just her name. Hermione was trembling, and he reached out to grab her wrist. Ginny took the vial and finished it, honey-sweet all the way down.

“What was that for?”

“Harry’s gone and Malfoy’s trying to get death eaters in the castle.” Ron said, in a rush.

She felt her stomach drop through the floor, “What?”

“We think–“ Hermione added, “We think he’s trying to get people in the castle.”

“Hermione–“ Ron started, annoyed.

“Oh, I know, but–”

People breaking into Hogwarts. Everything she’d ever been told made this impossible: evil, here, unimaginable. But sometimes what you are told is not what you know (wet chamber floor, bored voice, the fear all through her body like blood). Unthinkable things were close all the time.

“Where’s Harry?” She demanded.

“Left with Dumbledore”

“Where?”

“Didn’t say”

“And you let him go?”

“It’s Dumbledore.”

She felt like the world was rushing toward her at speed, her body a riot of goosebumps. Unbelievable, ridiculous, and yet things always were until they happened. Until they were in front of you.

“When– what now?”

“We have a plan.” Ron said, grimly, “Or, Hermione’s got one. Don’t you?” He turned to her, still gripping her wrist without realising. Hermione bit her lip, nodded.

Outside the room of requirement, where once she’d been fourteen and blowing the doors off the place, now crouched against the wall with her brother and Neville, looking for that blonde piece of shit. Her pulse throbbed, almost painfully, in her neck, and yet she was bored enough to be counting cracks in the stone below them. Nineteen so far.

Ron was squinting at the map (dumb memory of a different life: sat against the greenhouses, watching the dots move, cursing the twins - every swearword she knows - for not showing her first, Harry laughing, the long line of his throat)

“He’s got to be in there, he’s not bloody anywhere–“ Ron muttering, hunched over. Beside him, shoulder to shoulder, was Neville, jaw set, turning the DA coin in his hand. He hadn’t needed anything to follow them. Only Harry told us.

It had barely been a half-hour, yet a minute was forever. It was the waiting that had real teeth, that’s what she’d learnt after everything. Every second, wondering if Hermione had found Snape, if Luna had, where Malfoy was, and mostly just thinking how Harry had left, how he’d left without seeing her, how he’d given all his luck away.

A crack, like lighting hitting the floor, and the hall was full of the kind of darkness that had been seeping out from under the twins room all summer, (hitting the windows in the hallway, tail of the cat disappearing into Percy’s old room, mum yelling up the stairs). Dread runs through her like water, corrosive and immediate, and Ron is yelling as the darkness becomes total.

Her mouth tastes metallic like she’s been sucking on a knife, but she still can’t stop her lip from bleeding. Every curse is a near thing. Flash of purple light just past her, Lupin deflecting it, throwing a body-bind back in that direction. Horrible fireworks, everywhere, and she ducks in and around, slamming Melveik again the wall and another guy she recognises only from wanted posters. All she can think, with every miss, is that everyone doesn’t have this, and Luna is in front of her, luckless, blonde hair pale as chalk.

Wand in her hand darting everywhere, flashing and flippant, all that practise. She can see a body in the far corner but can’t quite fight her way over (orange light, pulled back by Hermione), and it’s all she can do not to shut her eyes and will it to be anyone, anything, but someone she loves. Furious, sickening (duck under rock fall, block curse headed to Flitwicks left) how death was everywhere, right here, this close to the people she loves, and it’s all in her head (flick wrist, reducto) but her ankle is singing like she never left the Department of Mysteries, like she’s still sinking to the ground, gritted teeth, sick with losing.

Amycus, singing , “Crucio… Crucio…” red flashing like sick Christmas lights, and Felix is good but it can’t be forever, she knows it can’t. She can’t miss them all, quick but not enough, furious spell work nothing against a grown adult, here for blood, here for Dumbledore, here to kill her.

“Impedimenta!” and she turns so quick to his voice she doesn’t even see the curse hit. Harry, wand out, wrist twisted, blue veins up his arm exposed, alive, alive, alive.

“Where did you come from?” She says, unable to think of anything else. Without replying he sprinted off, narrowly missing collapsing rock, tearing down the corridor to some other dangerous thing.

A man who was in jail when she was born and had tried to cut Neville’s neck not ten minutes ago was across the hall: long grey hair, bloody arm, sick grin on his face, raising his wand at Harry’s back .

“Diffindo!” She shouts, glass rains from the window above him. He yells, collapses under it, and she twists her wand wordlessly, forcing the glass further through him. A scream, and everyone is yelling, the place a mess, but she can hear that scream arch over everything like a spell, like a song.

She hadn’t wanted just glass, she’d wanted more pain, thinking of pushing Neville out of the way of that flash of black light, how it had torn through the wooden banister like ribbon. Thinking of Harry’s running back, the wand raised at it. She could say an unforgivable, thinks about it, forms the words. She doesn’t, because people are around, and Amycus is coming too, aiming for Ron, and she stuns him and dodges a flash of blue light and thinks, all the time, of Crucio, of pain, of how its the one thing she can name stronger than fear.

Even the sight of Harry’s back was unbearable, hunched over, his shirt torn through the shoulder. Nobody moved, even the people crying were holding their breath, waiting for the next beat, for Dumbledore to shake himself right, sit up, fix it. The world was a wrong thing. Harry had to get out of here. Here, where death could touch him, where Dumbledore’s body was proof.

She moved past Hagrid and gripped Harry’s fingers, pulling him up, whispering. He followed blindly, leaning toward her voice. Dumbledore’s body twisted on the ground, and everything was unraveled and fucked and finished, but if she kept walking and shut her eyes there was only her footsteps, the cold wind, Harry’s hand. The pulse thudding dully in his wrist, scar on his palm, I must not tell lies. Only she could, actually, all she wanted. Dumbledore was not dead, she dreamt it. Bill was just as he was before, unkillable like all older brothers. Tom Riddle was a far away dead thing. Harry would never let go of her hand.

#hinny #hinny fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #carolineswritingtag #literally this whole thing is just them turning toward each others voice without thinking.... my sunflowers #did absolutely no work today but ginny weasley demands attention... thinking of when diarygirls said she was the original diary girl......#like yeah. and because of that shes the only one that can appreciate how that school is not safety - how it has its teeth out for you #otp: several sunlit days #the stupidity of using that tag on this Angsty 15-yo type fic........... my dumb mind......

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felassan · 1 year

Text

its that time again! 🍵 Thoughts/wonderings on Dragon Age: The Missing #3, under a cut due to spoilers for The Missing (not just #3):

Thoughts on Issue 1

Thoughts on Issue 2 (note: this post also contains spoilers from DA:D leaks)

Thoughts on the first 4 pages of issue 3 (which came out via preview)

Overall I enjoyed the issue a lot and it's my favorite of the 3 so far! Issue 2 was more fun and punchy/had more oomph (as Teia and Viago are amazing and simply showstealers tbh⭐), but this issue has been my fav so far because i] I'm hyped that after three (3) years we got to see Strife's design, and more importantly ii] the issue advanced the DA:D [pre-]plot a bit and dropped inchrestingggg new lore stuff. (The pacing wasn't great, it was kind of rushed in places and it was a lot to try to fit in to just a few pages. I also would have liked it if the the Veil Jumpers could have been given a bit more depth/been fleshed out a bit more, but again there's limited pages in these comics)

I like what they're doing with a different color palette version of the picture on page 2 in every issue :>

On page one, are those icebergs floating in the sea? would there be icebergs in the Nocen Sea or Ventus Straits? it seems like the climate around there is warm.

On the map, I like the little representation of the Imperial Highway.

^ one example of the triangle motifs incorporated into the Veil Jumpers' outfits.

^ the face on Tist's shoulderpad reminded me of Sentinel armor.

Tist looks like a Greek statue of a youth hh

I liked the designs and hairstyles of all 4 Veil Jumpers. Irelin's fur collar is a nice touch to have remembered, in TN she was described as wearing supple leather trimmed with fur.

Strife is tall and stacked. this didnt surprise me, after reading the first story in TN I came away with that impression of him. in TN he was specifically described as being tall and strong, square-shouldered and straight-backed with calloused hands, lean with long ropey muscle. also I'm simply biased and a tall buff elf enthusiast hh. (in terms of build and stuff he reminds me of my Lavellan)

^ I wonder if the book at Strife's belt here is the leatherbound journal from Ruins of Reality, the relic of the Morlyn clan?

I wasn't sure about some of Strife's dialogue, he seemed to be missing the sort of snarky or lighter-hearted manner he had at times in TN? dialogue in general was a bit stilted in this issue tho, not bad so much as just quite info-dump-y.

Veil Jumpers faction details: they are an alliance between the best Dalish mages and hunters (not an all-elf and/or all-mage group) and other non-elves who were wiling and able to help contain the threat of timespace warping hijinks and chaos that's reigning in Arlathan Forest. presumably a fair few of the Dalish elves in the group are from Clan Morlyn. the mixed nature of the faction and Binde's presence in Strife's group feels like a natural progression of Strife at the end of his story in TN: [said to Myrion] "You're right, shem. This [Arlathan forest] isn't your place. But then, once upon a time, it wasn't mine, either."

also their base or HQ is a "sanctum". about that.. remember this? from this concept art? maybe that piece of concept art was showing the Veil Jumper sanctum? some of the concept art of Veil Jumpers shows them in a similar location with floating rocks and orange vegetation/foliage. [one, two]

in a previous posted I wondered,

last time we got a look in [Arlathan forest], Strife had noticed something had gone wrong in the forest. time and space was stretching and folding weirdly, reality warping, and he and Irelin saw echoes or mirages of themselves running around. mysterious entries had begun appearing in the relic journal of the Morlyn clan describing sacred ruins in there guarding a powerful fabled artifact, a halla figurine that Irelin grabs during that story. when Varric&Harding arrive, will they also be facing this sort of thing (mad sylvans, reality& time/space warping)? is the crucious stone similarly guarded by sacred ruins? could it have something to do with what’s gone wrong in the Forest? even when Irelin succeeds in grabbing the figurine, Strife still feels that something has gone wrong in there.

fun to see that this speculation was also correct ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ as in this issue Arlathan is still timespace warping, Varric&Harding have to run a gauntlet facing these dangers, the crucious stone was contained in the ruins of an ancient temple, and Irelin posits that someone walking around using the crucious stone could explain the timespace warping in Arlathan.

Harding continues to eyeroll at Varric's bad jokes. he's basically an old man with dad/grandpa jokes at this point.

"Deep inside the Veil"? I found this to be kind of odd phrasing. we've long known that the Veil is thin in Arlathan forest, indeed thinner in such a way as to be different than how it is in other places where it is also known to be thin, somehow. inside the Fade is a place one can go. is that what's meant by this line? or is it meant to mean more like "deep in the forest, where the Veil is very thin" / "inside a place where reality and the Fade are mushing together" sorta thing? or is inside the Veil itself a place in which one can go? 🤔

that aside, these "Ruins of Reality", this "world turned upside down", this "place where chaos reigns", this "threat".. it reminds me bigtime of when Solas says in Trespasser "as the world burns in the raw chaos".. and indeed, Harding infers as much at the end of this issue, saying "[this] is going to be happening everywhere unless we find [Solas]", and Solas refers to the damage himself in his letter, "I will limit the damage as best I can". and I wonder.. in TN Solas talks about a few years of peace before his ritual is complete. it made it sound like the ritual would take a few years to prepare for or a few years to carry out (in ancient Elvhenan some spells and stuff would take years to cast). if his ritual/plans along these lines have already begun, it would make sense that places in the waking world which are "weakest" (i.e. places where the Veil is thin) would be the ones which are affected first.

the trials and gauntlet gave me nostalgia for the Urn of Sacred Ashes questline in DA:O

the map from page one of Varric and Harding's voyage contrasted with the map of the forest.. hhh

Spirits trading places with the living, literally ripping you out your own body and stealing it.. (by this point Strife, Irelin and the other Veil Jumpers are old hats at the Arlathan forest timespace shenanigans hh.) this is neat and interesting new lore, and it reminded me of the Nevarran belief that when a dead soul crosses to the Fade it displaces a Fade spirit. I wonder if it's related to that. also I thought it was represented in a cool way, with the reflection world and the muted grayscaleish color palette swap when their souls had been displaced and they were in the 'spirit world'.

the panels when Varric and Irelin are conversing from random upside down angles reminded me a lot of when the party enters the Fade physically with Hawke and goes "wtf" in Inquisition :)

Varric is having such a terrible time. again

Does Harding have the Inquisition hairy eyeball on her kneeguard?

Varric's reaction to the sky being the wrong way around reminded me of how it must feel to be a dwarf from Orzammar going to the surface and seeing sky above for the first time, dizzying, weird, disorienting

I like that while a mage, Irelin still has an alternative weapon (knife/dagger) just in case ^^

Varric seeming to sort've push Harding ahead of him while they fled the animals was a nice touch

is this the first time leopards were confirmed in Thedas? :D tho they look more like cougars or maybe lionesses or sabretooth tigers or something, and leopards are typically solitary. also lmao first the deepstalkers attack and now this. Varric's like "bloodthirsty wildlife omg" like they didnt already have that problem in issue 1 hh.

RIP Gilf Varric fans

hh, does Varric not know that he's been graying lately anyway, time shenanigans aside?

the time warping reminds me of In Hushed Whispers 👁️ very interesting in terms of implications. you can see why creating the Veil (which is connected to timespaceywarpy happenings) caused the ancient elves to begin aging.

^ check this out, the glowing green light on Strife's shoulder in his golden armor. seems like the green-glowing aspect of some Veil Jumper gear is still a thing [one, two, three]. it got more open, triangley and brighter in the second panel, like he was powering it up and gearing up for the fight. if they hadn't decided to run, would he have started to use it like the Veil Jumpers in those pictures? curious to find out more about the Veil Jumper gear - how it works and where they got it from.

^ what's happening in this panel? they seem to be straight-up disintegrating? not aging, disintegrating.

^ the presence of and focus on this satchel on the 'assassin', with its bright red fastener (draws the eye), seems sus. Varric says later in the issue that the 'assassin' saved him. it's hard to tell whether "I don't think this was the Venatori. I think it was Solas" means he thinks it was Solas who already entered the vault and took the stone OR if he means that and that the 'assassin' who saved him was Solas in disguise and that he's the one that's been tailing them this entire time. if the 'assassin' was Solas in disguise, I sus that the stone - which he had clearly already gotten at that point - is inside the lil pouch and that's what this panel is trying to convey. also it wouldnt be Solas' first time dressing up in disguise (Bard in TN).

the twisting pathway reminds me of the yellow brick road in Wizard of Oz

The Varterral. it looks nothing like the ones we've seen in-game or like the one described in Masked Empire (or depicted in the illustration in the Deluxe edition). is this an art/design oversight, or new lore showing that varterrals come in multiple forms? in fairness, in Dalish lore the first varterral was created by Dirthamen, fashioned of the "fallen trees of the forest" into a deadly guardian. this ent-like varterral looks like that. maybe "varterral" is actually just a name for any created creature that's been magically created and is guarding an ancient elven site, golem-like?

Irelin's staff-less magic and the spell distraction she did was cool. was she doing Stinging Swarm? ^^

And ofc the final pages are the motherlode, especially the new painting! Look here. I think the green figure (the one with the crescent moon headpiece) is the monster figure with the crescent moon head from that mural and from that concept art piece. and I think that's Ghilan'nain (Horror of Hormak and all that). BUT I don't think the red figure is the other monster figure from that mural (the one with pointy, crab-like shoulders, who I think is Elgar'nan). the headpieces don't match, the red figure's headpiece better matches with one of the other sigils from the hemispheres. I think the red figure is someone else. the question is who, and my guess is they're Andruil. the two figures could be read as feminine, and the feel of the painting could be read as romantic - definitely close. Ghil was Andruil's chosen, and her beloved. Andruil was the one who offered Ghil ascendance.

the painting also bears a resemblance to the red lyrium idol, which has been variously and interestingly described - a couple hugging, two lovers, one comforting the other, or a god mourning her sacrifice. does the painting depict the same moment from the idol, or not long before it at least? the main figure on the idol's headpiece is different, but coincidentally Andruil was also known as the Goddess of Sacrifice. wouldn't it be interesting and ironic if there was a time in the distant past when Ghil had to sacrifice the goddess of sacrifice? if this painting is depicting a moment before such a thing, that would help explain why the other monster figure from the mural has a different headpiece. if "the Evil Gods" are returning, Andruil couldn't be one of them, if she was killed. Ruins of Reality and Three Trees to Midnight are also full of references to both Ghil and Andruil..

Strife was looking at it now. On the other side, so was his double. Both transfixed by a statue of elven goddess Ghilan'nain holding a crystal halla figurine, exactly as the journal described. - As the Strifes drew the attention of the merciless trees, Irelin swooped in and snagged the figurine with her talons, tearing it from Ghilan'nain's grip. The statue didn't let go easily, but neither did Irelin. With an angry squawk, she yanked the prize free and disappeared into the sky.

-- Ruins of Reality

in TN, the story title "Three Trees to Midnight" refers to the Way of Three Trees/Vir Tanadhal, which Dalish lore holds were teachings of Andruil given to the People. Strife thinks of the Ways during his escape, using them to escape, and invoke's Andruil's name multiple times. Strife also refers to Arlathan Forest as belonging to the Lady of the Hunt/Andruil. He also calls on Ghilan'nain, and Irelin shapeshifts into a halla (Ghil's sacred animal, being Mother of the Halla and the first halla), as well as a falcon and an owl (hawks are sacred to Andruil and the Dalish believe owls are Andruil's messengers). meanwhile Strife has turned up in this comic with Andruil vallaslin, after not having them in TN. very inch... resting... indeed.

why Ghil and Andruil in the painting? presumably this ancient temple, deep in Arlathan Forest, was a temple either to Andruil (whose forest it is) or Ghil (her beloved). why next to a painting of the Dread Wolf doing something to the Veil? in the story of Ghil's ascension, there is a reference to Pride -

On the second day she drowned the giants of the sea, except those in deep waters, for they were too well-wrought, and Pride stopped her hand.

On the third day she killed the beasts of the land, except the halla, whose grace she loved above all else.

This is how Ghilan'nain was made youngest of the gods.

there is also a story in which Andruil wanted to punish Fen'Harel. it could also simply be (or both could be true) that Solas painted the Dread Wolf mural when he stopped by earlier before Varric and Harding to obtain the crucious stone. what if in this comic panel we're looking at the same location as here, just with the comic version of the mural compacted down due to limited panel space:

and what's the relevance to Solas' plans, what happened the past, and the idol? I am guessing it is something to do with how Andruil went mad and hunted in the Abyss, putting on armor made of the Void and making weapons of darkness, to the extent that she brought "plague" to her lands and howled things meant to be forgotten. it's often theorized that Andruil accidentally brought the Blight/Taint back from the Void, and of course that links to red lyrium (Blighted blue lyrium, the red lyrium idol) and is reminiscent of the Evanuris digging deep, mining the bodies of Titans for "something else" and unleashing something terrible by doing so by mistake (we read of elves frantically collapsing tunnels, "let this place be forgotten, let no one wake its anger"). also I'm obsessed with the Balrog Theory so

Solas being kinda extra with his dramatic fursona red seal

he is always one step ahead of them isn't he

"You're joking. You've got to be" Strife +50 Headache

"Interfering in matters you do not understand can only make things worse" explain them then pls Solas. if you're cryptic and don't explain things in full all the time, then ofc people are going to be Concerned

the Orb of Fen'Harel, the red lyrium idol and the crucious stone.. Solas' list of Maguffins I Need For My Plans keeps getting longer.

As for the crucious stone itself.. whatever it does, it sounds like it weakens the Veil. makes sense why Solas would want it, then. there was this line in Ruins of Reality: "Mysterious entries appeared of their own accord, describing sacred ruins in Arlathan Forest that guarded an artifact of fabled power." In Ruins of Reality it referred to a crystal halla figurine. maybe the journal has since produced more entries of its own accord, telling of other ruins and artifacts - Strife and Irelin in this comic had heard of the crucious stone and had a map to where it was located after all.

Also the final question is who is the person on the final page, which is the cover for issue 4? Presumably the trusted informant from the issue 4 synopsis, "Varric connects with a trusted informant who might help them." I've seen speculation that they are the person from this concept art and I like that idea and could see it :] I love their outfit and the design of it makes me think of snakes, so again I'm wondering about the Viper. their oufits are similar, and so far we've had Wardens-Crows-Veil Jumpers in 1-3. perhaps issue 4 will introduce (in advance of DA:D) the Viper's faction. in the 2020 trailer you have the pair of boots (speculated to be a Warden) character, a character on the roof (speculated to be a Crow) and a Veil Jumper stalking through the woods. there's also the character in an alley of Minrathous with the knife. the pattern on their hood -

is like reptile scales, like the pattern on the Viper here and the pattern on the character on the final page's shoulders (as well as the scaley reptile on the person in that concept art's staff).

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age: the missing #dragon age: the missing spoilers #dragon age #bioware #video games #longpost #long post #strife #solas

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