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drabsyo · 3 years

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Drabs, I know that you usually draw Fleur with slightly darker blonde hair than Narcissa. Was it a choice so that it’s easier to distinguish them from each other or was your Fleur maybe slightly influenced by the actress from the movie who had darker hair?

In the books Fleur didn’t seem to have much description other than having long silvery hair (waist length?) and having this glow around her. So like with Narcissa, what works have influenced your design of Fleur?

It’s fascinating sometimes to read the artist’s perspective and your previous reply to the anon about Narcissa has been very interesting.

Thank you!!! 🥺

I was actually pretty embarrassed over how enthusiastic I got over the whole hair thing, but I'm glad it made some sense at least 😂 And now that I've been given even more reason to talk about it... (Let's face it, I shouldn't even be allowed on this website to begin with, ya'll have been way too nice to me.)

Only click on keep reading if you want to read Some Nonsense.

I did consider Fleur's actress when I thought about her hair color. Though I pictured it to be something of a mix between movie Fleur and Elsa’s (from Frozen) hair. But the way I drew Fleur's hair, the way it falls across her shoulders, that was more of... well, I imagined Fleur to have effortlessly perfect hair, like she doesn't seem to need to style it so much because it's already whimsical as it is, what with her being part-Veela. There were a lot of fanfictions that helped me to sort of see a better image of Fleur in my head so really, I owe it to all the talented writers out there!

It's also the same with Narcissa's case. Though I decided to give her paler hair, compared to Fleur's, because I wanted to emphasize that air of vulnerability Narcissa has—this image she conjures, like she's this fragile thing made of glass, which typically in fanfiction is what Narcissa uses so that Voldemort would overlook her a lot, hence why she wasn't given any "missions" or "tasks" while Voldemort was in Malfoy Manor. Slytherin preservation. This "fragile" image was something Narcissa capitalized on and maintained perfectly, but in post-war Cissamione fanfictions, she no longer has to put on that façade—she starts living for herself, but the quiet sadness about her never really goes away.

I really did struggle at first, I had to find a way where I could draw them without confusing people and myself.

So, again, I sifted through a lot of canon and non canon material about these two characters which funnily enough made me see some kind of parallel going on between them. I know. Fleur Delacour and Narcissa Black. Parallels?! It's nuts. But again, this is only within Fleurmione and Cissamione fanfiction, and it really helped me to draw them better. (At least in a way that made them distinguishable from one other at first glance, I’d like to think.)

These 'hair scenes' are mostly the bits where Hermione "first" sees Fleur. Hermione is entranced, a little curious, sometimes she feels indifferent, but the general theme is Hermione immediately finds Fleur beautiful—which probably explains why Hermione in fanfiction sometimes thinks Narcissa could be part-Veela like Fleur. And as you can imagine, that's where my struggle began.

You'll see what I mean in a minute. And just like last time, remember that this part comes with spoilers.

🔹 In Fighting is our form of Flirting by InsomniacAndBi in Chapter 2 Hermione sees Fleur for the first time. This is the first Fleurmione fanfiction I've ever read, and also the first time I've encountered Fleur's character. Tall, bright blonde hair, won the genetic lottery, aristocratic features, face held in a scowl, floats into the room with effortless poise, immediately starts demanding things out of people... Sounds vaguely familiar, doesn't it. Like some other blonde we know.

"Non!" A voice from the doorway said. "This is not what was agreed."

For a moment, Hermione thought about ignoring it but turned to glance over there if only to quell her curiosity. A girl stepped into the room and Hermione's phone call was forgotten in a moment. She knew that it wasn't nice to stare but Hermione couldn't help but do it because, in all honesty, this was the prettiest girl she had ever seen. She was definitely taller than Hermione was, with bright blonde hair and...clearly she had won the genetic lottery.

Her skin practically glowed and it looked so smooth and soft. It made Hermione wonder if she used those fancy beautification charms or had a very lengthy skincare routine. Or maybe, just maybe, this is what being rich did to people's faces. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that this girl was rich - like extremely rich, like even rich people thought she was rich. That kind of rich. That was the type of rich that this girl was.

Also, only super rich people curled up their lip like this girl was doing.

She breezed into the room like she was floating and Hermione hastily ended her phone call and promised to call back later.

"This is not what was agreed," The girl said again and Hermione felt incredibly small sitting in front of her. Not to mention, the girl's clothes screamed 'I'm rich and I know it' and Hermione's screamed 'I'm so out of place that I might as well be a bull in a China shop'.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione managed to get out when it became apparent that the girl was waiting for her response.

"You are English." The girl looked shock for a moment at Hermione's accent before shaking her head angrily. "This is not what was agreed."

🔹 In Oath of Silver by i_shall_wear_midnight immediately in the first chapter, when Witcher Hermione first meets Fleur, it's something Hermione quickly notices. Vivid sapphire eyes. Silvery blonde hair that shimmered in the torchlight. And once again, right off the bat, Fleur is pushy. She wants things done her way. It’s just so cute how she doesn’t even let the fact that Hermione is a Witcher, an extremely dangerous outcast in society, get in the way of that.

(I'm sorry for this but I just have to gush about Oath of Silver. Hermione as a witcher is just so fitting for her character; she possesses that natural eye for detail that remarkable witchers have, witchers like Geralt and Vesimir (a skill that gets even more honed through the Witcher Trials). Hermione even has Geralt's dry sense of humor, a bit rough around the edges, brilliant, snippy without really meaning to (because she asks a lot of questions and would rather get to the point), but has a good heart.)

The witcher figured that would be the end of her human interactions for the evening, but only a few minutes later, the stunning newcomer from before appeared before her. Upon closer inspection, Hermione couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t be conspicuous in any group of people she happened to find herself immersed in. The woman was looking back at her with vivid sapphire eyes, and silvery blonde hair that shimmered even in torchlight. Her attire was travel-ready, but elegant.

“Bonsoir. You are a witcher, oui? Or perhaps a ‘witcheress’ is more accurate? I am not familiar with all the terms…” She watched the beautiful stranger patiently while she fumbled through Hermione’s professional title. As if the distinctive, amber colored cat-eyes hadn’t given her away, the brunette mused wryly. Eventually, the blonde gave up and sat herself down at Hermione’s table, her medallion twitching faintly as the stranger got settled. Hermione filed that away for later. Her new dinner buddy seemed to be oblivious to the curious and concerned looks now being thrown her way at boldly taking a seat at a mutant’s table.

“I came from Ellander,” she began in a non sequitur. “The temple, and spoke to the priestess Nenneke, who told me about you.” Hermione continued eating her second serving of stew and waited for her to get to the point. “I would like to hire you as an escort as I travel back to Toussaint.” The witcher finally put her spoon down.

“Sounds like you ought to be asking some mercenaries to be your bodyguards,” she responded, eyeing the bow the woman was carrying on her pack meaningfully.

“A pair seems doable, and I’d prefer you.”

“I’m not a bodyguard.”

“Yes, technically, I am aware,” she replied, beginning to show signs of impatience.

“Then why are you soliciting a monster-slayer?”

🔹 Witnessed here in Time and Blood by whistle.the.silver is probably the most interesting one because it uses the concept of Veela hair as a wand core brilliantly. Again, this comes with huge 🛑spoilers🛑. Read the italicized words at your own risk. I can't add the entire clip here, as the topic of Fleur's hair is littered throughout several other chapters. But this story shows us a Fleur who is willing to do anything in order to protect Hermione during the course of the war.

My memory is a bit foggy, I haven't read this story in months, but here's what I remember:

This takes place during the time of Shell Cottage, where Fleur is married to Bill and takes care of Hermione. Fleur didn't expect to fall in love with the young brunette and, as the Golden Trio's time in Shell Cottage comes to an end, she worries over Hermione's safety. Fleur, using magic only known to the Veela tribes, does her best to offer Hermione protection in any way that she can--even going as far as to study what Lily Potter did so Harry could live. At one point, Fleur cuts her own hair with a length now roughly above her shoulders to give Hermione a new wand. But this isn't the only bridge Fleur is willing to cross to make sure Hermione survives the incoming battle. Fleur's grandmother, Ron, and even Bill himself, is a little sceptic over the propriety of Fleur's actions, but Fleur is determined to do whatever it takes to make sure Hermione makes it out of the war safe and alive.

So that was a lot to wade through, I know.

But if you've skipped all those parts for the sake of missing spoilers then let me go ahead and explain why the parallel between Fleur and Narcissa are there. Sure, it's plain to see that they have similar physical characteristics, but they're also similar in other ways.

In Witnessed here in Time and Blood, Fleur is willing to do whatever it takes to protect Hermione during the war: sacrifice the secrets of the Veela, make Hermione a wand, make her marriage and friendship with Bill suffer, be scrutinized by her Veela tribe, etc. And didn't Narcissa do the exact same thing during the war to make sure Draco made it out alive? They both chose to 'betray' everyone else for the sake of this one person. Not to mention, in Extinction by rubikanon Narcissa even makes Hermione a wand. (I’m telling you, there are so many parallels between these two ships and I can probably list more but I'd rather not make this post longer.)

Here, I’m just going to go ahead and say it—it’s almost like Fleur and Narcissa in fanfiction have the same love language.

A glaringly obvious difference between them is their upbringing, and we could argue that this why Fleur tends to be more open with her emotions while Narcissa tends to be more carefully guarded with hers. And I don't know if writers realize these parallels but as someone who's a huge fan of both characters and as someone who makes the occasional fanart of them, it's a pretty difficult detail to ignore. This crazy conspiracy all started because I had to find a way to make both characters look distinct from one another... It's just so interesting that writers from two different ships unknowingly make these parallels with two completely separate characters who are often at the opposite ends of the seesaw.

But again, let's take a look at Extinction by rubikanon. (I know. Extinction?! AGAIN?! Always.)

Spoiler warning!

🔹 Extinction by rubikanon has a marvelous take on this, as it turns out Fleur and Narcissa are actually good friends, and if I remember correctly, occasionally exchange letters (I’m unsure about this bit, I might have read it in a different story). They just get along remarkably well; I imagine they both share a kind of mutual respect for each other, a quiet understanding for the way the other woman carries herself: poised, meticulous, they pride themselves in their work, they both know how to handle an Ocean Of Secrets™, they're both accustomed to being under the spotlight of the public eye, and they’re both dedicated to their loved ones. Needless to say, Fleur and Narcissa are both giddy over the prospect of being with someone they love and adore, and end up meticulously planning numerous (I think it was hinted) double dates (Fleur with Bill, and Narcissa with Hermione) with the same kind of endearing enthusiasm that leave Hermione and Bill with no choice but to agree to the whims of their respective lovers.

(Scene seen in Chapter 23: Build Up Your Defense 2 of 2)

Narcissa and (Hermione) I were sitting together on one of the couches when Bill and Fleur arrived later. They showered Teddy with kisses on his little cheeks. He'd gotten past his clingy phase and adored us all, struggling to walk around the room by bracing himself on everyone's knees.

Suddenly Narcissa reached up and grabbed onto someone's wrist behind her head. "Don't even think about it," she said.

"That's just scary. How did you know I was there?" George stood up from behind the couch, a toy spider dangling from his hand. Teddy shrieked with laughter.

"She has eyes in the back of her head," Draco said.

"Mothers," George grumbled, sitting down close to Angelina. "Dump her, Hermione. I need you to date someone more prankable."

Fleur looked in surprise at the two of us on the couch. "Oh, la vache! How did I not know zees? You are lovers?"

"We're dating," I said mildly, though we really were lovers. In every sense. I glanced at Narcissa and bit my lip as heat spread through me. My imagination started planning a middle-of-the-night rendezvous.

"No wonder she (Narcissa) was so adamant about healing that curse," Bill said thoughtfully.

"Adorable! Simply adorable!" Fleur exclaimed, sitting down on Narcissa's other side. "We must go out for a double date next week, all four of us. We'll dine at L'Escargot!"

Narcissa's eyes lit up.

"Oh, no," I said.

"You won't have to eat snails," Narcissa said. "Please, mon amour?"

"French doesn't work on me."

"Please?" She kissed my cheek again and again. "Please? Please?"

Laughing now, I pulled her in for a kiss on the lips and said, "Yes, alright. But only because I have fond memories of trying new foods with you."

"As do I," she agreed.

Then we realized everyone was staring. Narcissa cleared her throat and straightened up, blushing. Draco made a face. Ginny looked a little more favorable. Harry held in laughter, and Andromeda hid her camera.

"Adorable!" Fleur declared again.

🔹 Also, I just have to add Sugar and Spice by waltzlikeits1698 because Chapter 4: Happy Birthday, Harry is absolutely hysterical. During Harry's birthday party, Hermione sulks in a corner because Fleur has apparently been avoiding her. Ginny decides to do something barking mad, something Hermione typically falls for.

“Ooh, someone’s grouchy,” Ginny teased, retracting her arm and facing Hermione fully. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Hermione insisted, although even she could hear the pout in her voice.

“Sure seems like it,” she snarked, summoning two shots and offering one to Hermione with a waggle of her eyebrows. Hermione pulled a face and Ginny shrugged before downing both, one after the other. (...) “You know, I spotted a tall, blonde drink of water hanging around the stairs.”

“What!?” Hermione exclaimed, whirling around and leaning out of the room to look at the staircase. Sure enough, standing at the bottom and resting a slender hand on the bannister was a tall, blonde witch who made Hermione’s heart stop with her mere presence. She had started forward before she knew it, her heart taking up an even quicker beat as she crossed the few steps and reached out a hand to clasp her elbow. The woman turned, that beautiful blonde hair catching the candlelight as it moved in one long sheet.

Hermione retracted her hand in horror, her eyes widening. “Mrs Malfoy!?”

Narcissa Malfoy raised an eyebrow at the witch who had practically accosted her. “Miss Granger. Can I help?”

What was she even doing here?

“Uh,” Hermione said dumbly, “sorry, I just… need the loo. Can I-?”

She gestured lamely to the staircase. Both women stared at the perfectly reasonable gap that Hermione could easily pass through. The moment stretched on.

Slowly, Narcissa returned her inscrutable gaze to Hermione, who squirmed uncomfortably in response. She then took a small step to the side and gestured for Hermione to pass. She did so and, as she turned the corner of the staircase, sent a deadly glare at Ginny, who was practically pissing herself with laughter.

(...)

Fleur had arrived. Hermione couldn’t explain exactly how she could tell, considering she had been in the duplicated bathroom for the last ten minutes after humiliating herself in front of Narcissa, but she knew it like she knew that it was levi-O-sa.

(...) (Hermione) She tried to avoid eye contact with Narcissa on the way back down and was thoroughly unsuccessful: the witch had physically reached out and laid her own hand over Hermione’s on the bannister, forcing her to stop and look up. Then, with an intention behind her eyes that Hermione had neither the brain capacity nor the energy to delve into, she said “It’s Ms Black now.”

Then she had released Hermione’s hand and turned back to her conversation with Andromeda and two wizards Hermione didn’t recognise.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of people Hermione didn’t recognise.

Anyway, long story short, this is the result of reading both Fleurmione and Cissamione—

But RIGHT. At the end of the day, again, these are just some crazy little things I picked up on and I may or may not be right, no one has to agree with me, everyone can disagree with me. Actually, yes feel free to disagree with me. I need to get out of this damn site and you know, touch grass.

Okay. Well. I'm gonna stop here now. So. Bye. But thank you anon for this lovely ask!! I’m really touched that you wanted to know what inspired the way I drew Fleur 🥺💕💖 But still. So sorry for this massive word vomit!! 😂

#fleurmione #cissamione #fleur delacour #narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #hermione granger #stupid rants #drabstuff #yall im telling you im the mad scientist but remove all the science

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vibrant-leaf · 3 years

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A Miraculous Second Chance

🧡 ~KiriBaku Drabble~ ❤️

Summary: An accident happens and Bakugou has a bad head injury that affects his relationship with Kirishima.

Warnings: cursing

So I realize that this drabble has a lot of holes and things wrong with it but I won’t ever actually write this because it’d be a lot to tackle, especially with basically rewriting Bakugou’s much needed character development buuuuut I thought of this and needed to share it. This was just a series of messages in a discord so, it’s choppy, there’s grammar mistakes, I go back and forth between Kiri and Kirishima, but I still love it. So I hope you enjoy it for the mess that it is 😊

Bakugou and Kirishima are dating, it’s their third year at AU, Bakugou is out on a work study mission, fighting villains ya know the norm, but something goes wrong and he hits his head somehow, gets knocked out, and has to go to the hospital. Once Kiri gets word that he’s hurt he rushes to the hospital and by the time he gets there Bakugou has only been awake for about 5-10 minutes and the doctor is talking to him and his parents are outside of his door. Kiri runs for his room and Mitsuki sees him and tries to speak to him, “wait Kirishima we need to talk to you real quick” but..

“I need to see him! Just let me him first please!”

Mitsuki tries to stop him but he barges through anyway.

“Katsuki!! Oh my god thank god you’re okay!” He walks over to Bakugou and hugs him but Bakugou is freaked out and pushes him off.

“Don’t fucking touch me who do you think you are?!”

Eijirou backs away from him to give him some space. “What- katsuki it’s okay it’s me, it’s Eijirou.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are- and stop using my given name!”

And Eijirou is just stunned. Eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, eye brows scrunched up.

Mitsuki speaks up again, “Kirishima, honey. A word?”

Bakugou is just glaring at him and he can’t take it so he walks out of the room and next to Bakugou’s mom.

Kirishima is gutted. Understandably. With Bakugou being Bakugou he’s not gonna continue a relationship with some random stranger. (I’ll be continuing with bulletpoints)

Last thing Bakugou remembers is him finding out he got accepted into UA

Kiri had to explain the situation to rest of the BakuSquad and they now understand that Bakugou will be okay he just needs some space from everyone so he doesn’t get overwhelmed so they can’t bombard him with their usual nonsense.

But then BakuSquad asks about their relationship and Kiri just shakes his head and says “but I don’t blame him” and he’s been trying to hold back his tears. Of course he cried the night he saw Bakugou in the hospital but since then he’s been trying to suck it up because itd be selfish of him to cry over their relationship when Bakugou is going through something worse, right? So he should just be thankful that he’s alive and okay. But the bottle that’s been filling up with his emotions for the past couple days inevitably explodes and he starts to sob in front of his friends.

Bakugou is back to keeping his distance from everybody.

At first he’s given a little time to adjust to his “new” life before he asks about everything that’s happened to him but he definitely wants to know everything.

Kiri is trying to be friendly towards him. says hi to him every morning, tries to ask him questions about what he last remembers.

He gets a stern answer, “that I got accepted into UA.”

He hates the answer because that means Bakugou knows literally nothing about Kirishima, and what him and his class went through, or things they’ve done together.

Kirishima is hurting but he thinks he’ll be okay because at least he still gets to see Bakugou everyday.

He once accidentally called him Katsuki and apologized profusely. But what Kiri doesn’t know (thanks to Bakugou’s glare) is that Bakugou maybe, sort of, kind of liked the way his name sounded coming from Kiri’s mouth JUST A LITTLE THOUGH OKAY?

They soon become sort of friends again and Kiri is ecstatic by the minuscule amount of progress.

There’s a test coming up and Kiri asks Bakugou if he can help him study.

“Why the fuck would I wanna do that, Shitty-hair?”

“oh.. right.. sorry. Um, I’ll just ask Yaoyorozu then.” Kiri at least tries to think about the silver lining that is Bakugou calling him “shitty-hair” for the first time since the incident, but he’s still sad.

The sad look on Kiri’s face is foreign and horrible and why the fuck can’t Bakugou stand to look at it?! “Shut up. If you need help you might as well get it from the best in the class. I’ll help you. But don’t even think about mentioning it to the others” - there that’s better. That bright smile is back on Kiri’s face. Bakugou has to bite his cheek to keep him from smiling even the slightest bit.

CUE THE FIRST NIGHTMARE.

Bakugou is surrounded by people he’s never seen before, everything around him is just rubble, and these people are trying to capture him, but he’s dodging and fighting back.

He wakes up to loud knocking on his door and realizes he’s sweating and breathing super heavy.

He lets Kiri in his room.

Kiri is asking if he’s okay and if he had a nightmare.

Bakugou gives short and simple answers as he tried to calm his breathing down.

He’s finally calm and he tells him what his dream was about.

Kiri is shocked tries his best to calmly break it to Bakugou that that actually happened.

They decide to tell Aizawa and Recovery Girl tomorrow but for now Bakugou wants to try and go back to sleep.

Cut Kiri some slack here, he’s half awake and his brain is in Comfort-Bakugou Mode, so when he tries to slide under the covers of Bakugou’s bed he’s all the sudden getting yelled at.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Shit shit! Shit! We would- or I would- um uh.. well we used to sleep together sometimes and especially if you had a nightmare.. but it’s okay I’ll just leave! Goodnight Ka- Bakugou!” And Kiri runs out of his room feeling absolutely mortified.

Bakugou is just sitting in his bed stunned. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was fucking KIDNAPPED once.. but he was also thinking about how that was the first time Kirishima said anything about when they were together. He tries not to think about what their relationship could’ve been like because it’s doing something weird to him like holy shit they slept in the same bed??? That guy?? With the stupid red hair?? Hair that honestly looked better down if Bakugou was concerned but he shouldn’t be, so he isn’t…

As Bakugou is falling asleep he thinks about how he finally wants to know about everything that happened to him in the last two and a half years.

So Bakugou talks to aizawa and recovery girl the next day and he gets a brain scan to see if maybe that one part of his brain that was damaged was healing at all.

The result: nothing much has changed with his brain.

He’s starting to get frustrated because he wants to remember but it looks like there was no hope of that happening anytime soon so he has to settle for stories from other people.

Sure he wants to know everything but good God a lot of shit has happened so he decides vague details for now are best.

Kiri just pretends that he didn’t try to sleep with Bakugou the night before and tries his best to act normal around him and it helps that Bakugou doesn’t bring it up.

Kiri really wants to tell him about their relationship though.. maybe one day. But as soon as he thought he was feeling better, he’s back to excusing himself from the lunch table because he can’t stop thinking about how much he loves Bakugou and wants him back and fuck he just really needs to have a cry right now. Luckily there isn’t anyone in the bathroom so he’s able to cry in peace.

Over the next week Bakugou has a couple more nightmares and Kirishima simply goes over to his room to check on him and it kills him that that’s all he can do for him now.

But on one night, it’s Bakugou’s turn to be pounding on Kirishima’s door.

Kiri quickly gets out of bed to open his door “Bakugou? You alright?”

“Why didn’t you tell me…”

“Tell you.. what?”

Bakugou just stares into his soul, takes him in, his pretty hair that barely reaches his shoulders, his eyes, the scar above his right eye, his whole face, his lips- okay that’s enough...

“Bakugou, I’ll tell you anything you want-”

“Why didn’t you tell that you were the one who.. who was there.. who called out to me.. whose hand I grabbed to escape those villains..”

Kirishima just stands there dumbfounded and says nothing because he didn’t really have a good answer to his question. Why didn’t he tell him? Because it was too much about them? Yeah maybe but looking at Bakugou’s face right now makes him feel real stupid for telling him nothing about that.

“I.. I really don’t know.. I’m sorry Bakugou.”

“Do you not have feelings for me anymore?”

Kiri could fucking laugh right now because that was the furthest thing from the truth, but of course he refrains.

“No! That’s not it at all.. I mean.. sorry I just.. I didn’t think you would want to know about us? Our relationship? I don’t know.. I feel dumb now for not telling you that at least.”

Bakugou keeps staring at him and Kirishima has no clue what to say or do with himself right now.

But Bakugou is annoyed. Annoyed that Kirishima wouldn’t tell him about that. Annoyed at how he’s been feeling towards Kirishima recently. Annoyed at how he wants to know everything about them, their relationship, what they did together, what sleeping next to him was like. He’s annoyed and he’s gonna do something about it.

So Bakugou takes a giant leap of faith, grabs Kirishima’s shoulders, and crashes his lips onto his. He really hopes that they’ve kissed before, otherwise this would probably be pretty fucking weird to do.

Kiri doesn’t kiss back right away because his brain needs to process what the hell is actually happening right now. But once he realizes that he isn’t in fact dreaming he puts his hands on Bakugou’s face and kissed him back.

When they pull apart they’re both breathless and blushing.

Bakugou’s stomach is doing flips and Kirishima is putting on the biggest smile he’s ever seen on him. And he’s almost mad at himself for not being able to remember what Kirishima looks like after kissing him like that. But he burns it in his memory this time and he silently swears to himself and to Kirishima that he’ll never forget again.

“I want to know everything about us.”

Kirishima can’t help it... he starts crying. But he’s crying because he’s so fucking happy and relieved and oh my god Bakugou kissed him again. “Okay, yeah. I’ll tell you everything.”

Bakugou lets a small smile form on his face. “It’s Eijirou, right?”

Kirishima nods frantically and wraps his arms around Bakugou’s neck and continues let the tears of joy fall down his face.

~Fin.

#mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #anime #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #bakushima #drabble #imagine #memory loss #happy ending #love

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ectonurites · 3 years

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Conner Kent in Suicide Squad/the Infinite Frontier era: wtf is going on

Alright lads hello I just need to type out some theories/thoughts about what’s going on with my boy Kon right now. This is more for myself than anything else (just trying to organize my thoughts) but since some of y’all like to hear me talk about comics (and some of this discussion has already been happenin in my inbox) I figured i’d format it and put it on here too! its like 4k words and written over the last few days mostly at 3am. sorry <3

this is basically just me going like

Also fair warning that like, I can be wrong and misinterpret things just as much as anyone else can, like I use panels to support why I think what I do but a lot of this stuff is subjective/complicated to understand so like... in general somethings should be taken with a grain of salt, especially because exactly what changes to the universe were made by Death Metal/Infinite Frontier haven’t been super super clearly defined yet. Also sometimes comic writers make the most random nonsensical shit happen, so I as a fan am also allowed to theorize about random nonsensical shit.

But to start: let’s backtrack!

Many months ago when Infinite Frontier was first announced they dropped some promotional art, and I remember being a little confused because. Well:

(Variant Cover spread for Justice League (2018) #59)

(Variant Cover spread for Superman (2018) #29)

Notice how Conner is back to his Teen Titans 2003 look up top, but in his YJ 2019 look at the bottom? This seemed weird to me! But then they announced that Conner would be part of the Suicide Squad ongoing title, in the T-shirt look, so I wrote this discrepancy off in my brain as ‘oh I guess that cover was just the last hurrah for punk Kon’ and moved on with life.

In Suicide Squad right away we learn he’s very much so there against his will:

(Suicide Squad (2021) #1)

Which corroborates more or less what we were also shown in Future State: Suicide Squad, although admittedly it tells... a slightly different version of the events. When I first saw both of these together I just chalked it up to being a bit inaccurate as it’s shown as a memory in Future State:

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Issue 2 we saw him in action with the Squad, trying to do his best to still be a hero despite the team, but things get a little more interesting in the following issue. It starts off with an account of his history

(Suicide Squad (2021) #3)

This page gave me a few immediate red flags, mostly minor things that had to do with coloring, so more irl problems than things to take seriously in-universe (Kon’s pants are the wrong color in the first Superboy shot, and Bart’s Impulse costume is in Kid Flash colors instead of the correct Impulse ones) but then also it just bugged me the phrasing “he joined Young Justice” when he was a founder of the team, he didn’t join it he made it with Tim and Bart.

But again, chalked that stuff up to just.... writers/artists being inconsistent/unaware of things that they should be aware of, or even Nocturna just not being specific with details. But it did still strike me as a little odd considering the very accurate use of villains in those same shots, Scavenger who was a reoccurring bad guy from Kon’s solo days and showed up basically nowhere else (even holding the Spear of Lono and everything!) and Billy/Harm (Greta’s brother) from Young Justice.

But then a few pages later we got this:

(Suicide Squad (2021) #3)

Which is interesting. My first instinct was to think he’s being drugged w kryptonite or something thats leaving him hazy/out of it, but my thoughts on that have kinda changed, we’ll get there in a bit. But in general the context of ‘something’s wrong’ made the slight discrepancies on some details of his own history make more sense.

I also want to then bring up the next part to this story, the crossover issue in Teen Titans Academy.

(Teen Titans Academy #3)

So a few things. Does it feel weird to anyone else that Conner Kent, a known previous Titan who literally has a framed picture of himself in a case there, would set off alarm sensors like that? Wouldn’t he be... recognized as a Titan not an intruder by their sensors? Interesting! Anyways.

He looks really pained looking at that picture, and sad, and almost frustrated, which ya know makes sense and hurts my heart because he misses them! He misses his friends and being happy.

But, importantly for a criticism I wanna make thats less theory related and more just me bein annoyed at Tim Sheridan, that’s a picture of Conner. Right there. That’s Superboy, on display at Teen Titans Academy, so the people who frequent this building would know who he is and what he looks like and be able to recognize him, he’s even in the same outfit and everything. Alinta recognized him at the end of Suicide Squad #3.

So why does only one person during this big fight then comment on his presence?? Why doesn’t it get a bigger reaction???

(Teen Titans Academy #3)

And after the fight we don’t see any on panel moment of Wallace going up to the staff Titans (who weren’t present for the fight) and saying like “HEY NIGHTWING UHHH SUPERBOY WAS WITH THE SUICIDE SQUAD?” we just see him talking with his friends upset about Crush leaving. We see Alinta talking to them but we don’t see the exact dialogue. So I do just wanna take the writer by the shoulders and shake him a little bit and ask WHY because that just feels like... something you’d wanna address on panel! This is like the first time since joining the squad that Kon’s at all in contact with people from his life before Waller got involved, I feel like not addressing those people’s reactions to it/not discussing it at least a little bit on panel (especially when Conner CAME UP in the previous TTA issue, Dick brought him up and everything!!!) is a really odd choice. Maybe it’ll happen next issue and i’m just impatient, but who knows. Anyways, gripes with Sheridan aside, lets move on.

I wanna bring up how Conner... doesn’t really respond to Wallace’s question? At all? Except to just fight him off, not even an attempt at a ‘Sorry’ or anything? (the ‘Ha! That all you got?!’ seems to be coming from Culebra not Conner, although the placement of the bubble is vague enough it could be that it was supposed to be Conner? but it seems more like what she’d say, especially as she’s grabbing Emiko like that) That just feels weird. It feels off. In general he speaks so little in Suicide Squad #3 and this issue. Tbh it almost feels like he doesn’t really recognize Wallace which I mean I suppose they never exactly met (they would have theoretically during Death Metal, basically all past/present Titans were together for a while during that), but Kon’s been back in existing long enough he’d have a sense of who current heroes are anyways.

But right, so, lots of little things that feel weird... that gets us caught up to the most recently released comics... but in this household we look at solicits as they drop. Which gives us some info on what’s coming up a few months ahead of time, albeit without full context obviously. Issues #4 and #5 don’t mention Conner in their descriptions or show him on the covers at all, because there’s just other plot things going on, so ya know seems things will be quiet for him for a bit.

But then we got the August solicitations and oh BOY it’s a doozey for him! And some things start to kinda connect perhaps!

I want to just take a moment to look at that specific wording. “The teen calling himself Conner Kent” I’m probably reading too much into it but that feels deliberate, like why wouldn’t you just say ‘Conner Kent’? Usually these kinds of descriptions are trying to keep a low word count, not add in extra words that don’t need to be there. It makes it feel like that’s a name he’s using that... doesn’t actually belong to him.

So the theory I want to propose (that has been floating around already) is that based on these covers and the description, and how the Conner we’ve been seeing in Suicide Squad apparently talks about his own personal history like he’s ‘reading a wikipedia entry’ and had little response to people he should be aware of like Wallace and apparently isn’t recognized as a Titan through a bio-scan and also bearing in mind those initial promo arts with two separate looks at the same time for him... I think we're looking at a situation where the Conner in Suicide Squad so far has actually been a clone of original Conner (like... like he’s Match 2.0 or somethin) the whole time, that’s just not aware he’s not the original.

Now that’s the base theory I wanna work with and build off of, but there’s MANY different directions that could go in/ways that could work.

For example, one idea is that the Conner we saw in #1 who was chained up is the original Conner, and he’s been being cloned and held captive, so everything else with Conner in Suicide Squad so far has been this Match 2.0

Another idea could be the original Conner in #1 is also the Conner in #2 who Waller had then commented wasn’t ready during the mission in Arkham and had zapped with a lil Kryptonite, and after that moment she took him off the field because his spirit hadn’t been broken enough to be obedient (as he was a lot quieter in Issue #3 & the TTA crossover compared to #2, and #3 is when the Nocturna thing with the history happened)

Or it could even be original Conner in #1, then in #2 was one clone that wasn’t ‘ready’ that after that point she stopped using him, and switched to a diff clone for #3, because like that first cover did show a LOT of clones. That could be more just ‘artistic interpretation’ or something, covers sometimes do exaggerate/mislead, but it also could indicate we’re looking at a lot of clones.

(Suicide Squad (2021) #2)

With all of those in mind I also wanna bring up this little bit from Future State Suicide Squad:

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Again Future State is a ‘possible future’ so stuff from it isn’t set in stone, but the idea of ‘she still has his YJ 2019 outfit somewhere’ makes me think it could be something along the lines of like, Clone!Conner finds original Conner and frees him and he gets back his YJ outfit, which could lead to like the imagery on that variant cover/the idea from my very first part of this post where I was talking about Kon being shown in both outfits in different places.

Alternatively entirely from all that, another option is that she maybe got ahold of what was needed to clone Kon, but doesn’t even have the original Kon in her possession. (again with the Future State thing, she could be lying since elsewhere in Future State we did also see a copy of YJ 2019 Kon’s costume in one of the Jon-focused Future State comics in a display case 🤷‍♂️) Which could also lead to that confrontation on the variant cover & the promo art thing... and could also explain why we have seen nothing about anyone looking for him, because in that sort of scenario he wouldn’t have even been missing in the first place.

There’s a lot of possibilities! It’s still too early to solidly know anything, but I feel pretty confident we’re entering another cloning related plot with our Clone Boy so it’s... ya know. Clone time. On the one hand it’s annoying because god we have done clone/multiple Kons plots before. We’ve done them so much.

BUT on the other hand, I think it could be interesting to use this situation to tie into some older stuff from pre-reboot that I can see some connections to, because due to Infinite Frontier altering the world and people’s memories it’s all technically fair game storytelling-wise again (and like, the use of Scavenger specifically in that flashback way above, who’s not a super well known villain in general, makes me think maaaaybe the writer did do some of their Kon homework)

Something also just dawned on me that i’m not quite sure what it means but still is worth mentioning: The Conner here in Suicide Squad is back in his Teen Titans Vol. 3 outfit, and his history as he tells it stops during Teen Titans Vol. 3. And doesn’t... mention when he died? It feels like it... stopped before that, because like I feel if he was telling his life history (even the wiki version LMAO) the part where he died and came back would be pretty important to bring up?? And Nocturna specifically says that he didn’t explain how that stuff from TT Vol. 3 then led to him in his current situation. That’s a pretty big gap (like uhhh everything from resurrection until he got lost on Gemworld + all the rest of the Young Justice 2019 stuff?) So like.. there could be something funky going on here that has to do with that.

Similarly when he flashes back in Future State: Suicide Squad to his past it also goes right from Teen Titans Vol. 3 to the current Suicide Squad run? Like I get it’s one page so they can’t show that much, but the fact that there’s now two places that flash back to that same specific time period and nothing past it until the Suicide Squad feels just... noticeable! Not concretely indicative of something, but noteworthy.

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Like...this almost has me thinking maybe it could be something where like, they tampered with his dead body and cloned from that? BECAUSE, for those of you who may not be familiar with how Kon’s resurrection (during Final Crisis: Legion of 3 Worlds) worked, when he came back there was time travel involved! He was brought back to life in the future (like. Legion of Superheroes era) because it was a process that took that thousand or so years to work/heal him (essentially because of his hybrid dna the process that healed Clark when he had died back in Death of Superman/Reign of the Supermen in the 90s just took a lot longer, but its the same Kryptonian healing chamber thing) meaning when he came back to the present alive again, his dead body was still also in the present just in it’s process of healing. Meaning especially if we’re bringing back stuff from before the reboot, Kon likely has his dead body just vibing out there while he’s goin around living life 🤷‍♂️

SO them doing something related to that could explain the choice to put him back in the T-shirt (since thats what he wore in the era his brain would be caught up to if we’re relating this to when he died) and why he’d recognize himself in a group photo with Bart, Cassie and Tim but maybe not someone like Wallace who didn’t exist back then. I don’t know, this branch of thought is still half baked. Will maybe come back and elaborate on this later. But I’m now really thinking there might be a connection to the early Teen Titans Vol. 3 era specifically because of it being referenced twice in stuff with this Suicide Squad.

ANYWAYS moving on, this is probably a shot in the dark and I only thought of it because I just was reading 90′s Superboy, but right away when thinking about ‘Amanda Waller’ and ‘Cloning Kon’ I was reminded of some stuff about the circumstances around the first clone that was made of Conner: Match.

(Superboy (1994) #35)

Match was created by an organization called ‘The Agenda’, that was after a while primarily under the control of The Contessa, Lex Luthor’s ex-wife, aided by Amanda Spence who had a personal grudge against Kon bc her dad was Paul Westfield the guy Kon was originally cloned from (before the Lex/Clark retcon). They were the big bad guys of an arc called The Evil Factory in Superboy (where Cadmus personnel got replaced with clones) which also then tied into the Sins of Youth event over in Young Justice (Remember how Match was posing as Superboy for a while there? yeah). After those plot lines finished the Agenda was pretty defeated (Amanda Spence was still out there and came back later but still) and... who got their hands on the remaining Agenda tech?

(Superboy (1994) #87)

Why none other than Amanda Waller herself!

If they re-canonized pieces of this (which also tied into Young Justice which ya know, YJ 2019 was all about re-establishing stuff from YJ even before Death Metal happened soooo) it would totally make sense for Waller to have complete access to the exact technology used to clone Conner before.

Now, a thing to consider here though is what happened to Kon after he’d been cloned that first time, where his DNA got all destabilized by the process (and he needed to go through a procedure with Roxy as a genetic template to keep him together, which was how he got stuck at age 16 for a while). This was something where he was fine for a period of time before the side effects began to kick in. Now, I think it’s worth mentioning that was also back in the days where he was not yet Lex & Clark’s clone, but still Paul Westfield’s. So there could easily be a ‘now that certain Kryptonian genes have kicked in as he got his newer powers it doesn’t destabilize him the same way’ reasoning or something along those lines to avoid this problem. Alternatively, it could be an interesting thing to embrace rather than retcon away, especially if we’ve been seeing Clone Conner in action and Original Conner hasn’t been in our focus, things could be wrong with him that we just don’t know about.

Another branch of thinking that I think is even MORE a shot in the dark but could be interesting (or again even related to what I just said, could be a combo of things) is if this somehow ended up related to those clones that were reverse engineered from the remains of Match from the very end of Teen Titans Vol. 3

(Teen Titans (2003) #99)

All of them were then taken down with Kryptonite and killed in battle (by Rose & Damian)

(Teen Titans (2003) #100)

But like... idk man if Waller got her hands on those corpses or even just the data from Dr. Caligan that he extracted from Match to make them... that could also be a potential way to make some new Conner clones, and that could be why the bio-scan thing at Titans Tower wouldn’t work properly because of the thing he says above about it not being a “complete match’

One thing I don’t think is the case, but has been brought up to me, is stuff with New 52 Kon. I’ve talked extensively about New 52 Kon in recent weeks because I read through all his stuff, but the thing that makes me shy away from him being part of this situation is the fact that... he’s not interchangeable with Kon the way I think some people think he is. He wouldn’t visually be recognized as Original Kon because he is literally on a genetic level a separate person. They’d prob look related, sure, like they’d pass for brothers because they both have Clark’s DNA, but New 52 Kon has Lois’ DNA and Original Kon has Lex’s. New 52 Kon would likely look more like Jon, rather than Kon. Lois specifically commented in an Action Comics issue that Kon had some resemblance to Lex, even. So like, things like Wallace recognizing him or him looking at his own matching reflection alongside the group picture at the Tower... those wouldn’t happen the same way if this was New 52 Kon.

Now I think it coooould theoretically be possible for Waller to have gotten her hands on that future N.O.W.H.E.R.E. cloning tech that had been used to make New 52 Kon, like I wouldn’t rule that out. Because she knows where the remains of their bases are as shown in Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #16-17, and like, Harvest is dead so she could easily just send teams out there to gather shit if she wanted.

Onto some other things I don’t think are actually related but that I was reminded of/wanted to address:

I feel i’d be a bad timkon fan if during all of this discussion of past stories with cloning Kon I didn’t even bring up Tim’s cloning attempt stuff, but I think it would ultimately be unrelated. His tech was stolen from Luthor, and his attempts didn’t succeed because he was trying to build from scratch without Cadmus’ the data about how they altered the DNA from the original process.

(Teen Titans Vol. 3 #34)

Then that initial cover for the annual really reminded me of part of the Hollow Men story from Superboy Vol. 5 just with like... Kon in a room full of copies of himself. I don’t think this story would be related either because it was more magic Tannarak stuff rather than regular cloning, but ya know. It’s the imagery.

(Superboy Vol. 5 #9)

It also really reminded me of the stuff from Hyper-Tension which was hypertime stuff not cloning but again just... visually.

(Superboy Vol. 4 #62)

In general I don’t think we’re EVER gonna see Black Zero or any of these multiverse Superboys again LMAO.

To try to sum up all of this in a way that might make sense here’s kinda a... flowchart of some of my main ideas for what the cloning situation could be/how the logic could work. Again this is borrowing stuff from across continuities because Infinite Frontier means theoretically anything’s fair game. (Also I don’t think I mentioned this earlier but I do mention it in the chart, but I think it’s also reasonable that Waller could get her hands on Cadmus tech if Cadmus is like properly made canon again. She just has funky government connections!)

Also I just now thought of this now several hours after I already made the chart and I don’t wanna remake it so sorry not incorporating it there but I remembered there was also that bit during House of Kent where Clark took Kon to the Hall of Justice and they were running some tests on him, so I’m thinking it’s also possible Waller got ahold of that data/that might be how she found out about Kon in the first place for this timeline. And they indicated that there was something wrong with him there, where he might eventually lose his powers or something, so maybe she tried to do cloning stuff to be able to have a copy of Superboy in his prime or something??? before that started kicking in. I don’t know, just more things to consider:

(Action Comics (2016) #1028)

ANYWAYS in conclusion: there is clone fuckery of some sort happening, I’m curious where it’s gonna go, and I just want Kon to be okay.

If you actually read this uhm. props to you bc this probably makes no sense to anyone but me its just word vomit <3

#this is very long! and disorganized! i am sorry #this doesn't have one theory abt things it has like. many #its basically just brainstorming/spitballing ideas #i could also be entirely off base! with much of this! i just feel i need that disclaimer #grandpa max is god? i go to church now #i need a kon talk tag bc i swear i write more analysis stuff like this for him than anyone else

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steve0discusses · 4 years

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Yugioh Episode 30 Season 4: The Dead Joey Shuffle

Lets ignore everything happening on planet Earth right now and talk about old ass anime, shall we? Yes, my sky turned a horrible end of the world yellow/orange color for an entire day because of a LOT of fire in my state. But thankfully, the winds have changed, the sky is blue...and I can write about Yugioh again.

Last we left off, Tristan, Tea, and Yami stumbled across two fresh corpses. Now, when Joey died a season or two ago (I honestly can’t remember when), we had my favorite storyboarder at the helm just sweeping emotion all over the field and the intense weeping for Joey Wheeler lasted for like 30 minutes. Yugi freaked out in the puzzle headspace for like half an episode and nearly gave up playing cards again, Yami punched a wall and then put a duel disk on Joey’s arm like a funerary send off to the afterlife, Tea started losing her mind and begged Yugi to drop out of the tourney so Yugi wouldn’t die, and Pharaoh was like “yo Tea, Yugi can’t talk right now can we do this later????” And then Tristan, out of nowhere, just started shaking Joey and screaming at him to wake up (and I think he punched him in the face and it got censored? Yo that episode is wild.) Joey got plugged to some Kaiba Corp med bay that had like 2 dozen weird sensors attached to his chest and feet to keep him alive. Serenity was like hyperventilating in the back, just a LOT of stuff was happening all at once.

But this time, with an ordinary animation team, these three kids are so distracted by the other corpse, that they only cry just a little bit before being like “woah what?”

And like this is their second time. Maybe they’ve gotten used to Joey being dead? Maybe they got it all out of their system and are now a lot more accustomed to the fact that they all must die. Several times.

Confronted with this Agatha Christie brand debacle, Tristan makes an incredible reach that is also completely correct. Like this is such an amazing incredible reach.

Hire Tristan as your detective, hot damn. There are like 7.8 billion Orichalcos-possessed people on this planet right now trying to kill Joey Wheeler and Tristan actually called the right one.

Yami never tells us who he blames, but it’s OK, because the show immediately cuts over to Dartz’ silicon valley fortress to tell us without telling us. So while this animation team isn’t as insanely extra as our previous animation teams, they still know how to edit their cuts to work alongside their dialogue just fine.

(read more under the cut)

Lets take a little while to just take this in. Someone took a while to make it, so rather than look at it for half a second before it passes--please lets count the number of floating streets in this scene.

So before when I talked about the history of San Francisco, I mentioned the old Embarcadero, which was a double decker street wrapped around the peninsula. (we still see parts of this double decker set up on parts of the highway to this day.) But what if--they actually have no idea that the Embarcadero was a thing before it fell down in an earthquake?

What if they just...wanted San Francisco to be vaguely cyberpunk in this universe and that floating freeway was supposed to be futuristic and not just an 80′s throwback?

Because there’s 3 streets stacked on top of eachother right here and yo there is no where in the city built like this. This is a Gotham situation where the poors live on the lower levels and the rich just kind of hang out on the top. We have too many Earthquakes in reality to ever support this setup but Yugioh...wow. They went for it.

Also, our art deco architecture isn’t quite in this style as Dartz’ mansion. Mind you, this isn’t full deco, and the structure has more of an ancient world vibe. But...while San Fransisco does have a lot of deco, it’s just different (sorry you’re not really here for the architecture but youknow, I’m an artist so I do think a lot about why concept artists may have gone where they went)

++++++++++RANT ABOUT SF DECO VS COMIC BOOK DECO FEEL FREE TO SKIP++++++++++++++

So I’m not going to dare say this is a mistake on the Yugioh team by any means, since Deco is Deco and who knows when Dartz built that building. But like I’ve seen the SF skyline many times in this show and it’s got some funky shapes in it that are just sooo off to me. They keep drawing a more Futurist New York. Truth is, we don’t have that many skyscrapers in SF.

Most of the pictures you see of scaling buildings are of this one area around the financial district--everything else is...pretty short. So in those photos they very carefully crop out all the really squat as hell buildings on either side of it, to give the impression that our city is super tall, much like a dating app.

And, as far as Art Deco Gotham-esque skyscrapers go, we got ones like this guy:

Where at a glance it’s like...that’s barely deco (and barely that impressive. This is 1/3 the height of the Empire State building.) Compared to a lot of cities in America, our skyscrapers aren’t as...clearly deco from far away? We don’t have the huge ass humps and long ass gilded lines of the Empire State building or the Chrysler building. You only really get those details when you zoom in.

Our other skyscrapers are kinda understated or modern in comparison. And the reason why we just don’t have many deco skyscrapers is because...our ground ain’t good for building skyscrapers at all, so it took us kind of a while to build up.

Like we got this tower that we built recently (the first skyscraper they built in SF in a good while) and they decided to name it the “The Millennium Tower” which...I know...good job, team, clearly you wanted to get cursed. Well the tower started leaning about 3 or 4 years ago, like well over a foot from it’s original spot, it’s just tilting and sinking away, and people are freaking out because it’s surrounded by other tall buildings so they’re like “damn it we’re gonna dominoes.” The people in charge were like “well...we don’t know why it’s leaning...but I’m sure it’s fine” and it’s like “the ground. It was the ground...you dumbasses” not to mention that it’s clearly cursed by at least one angry Egyptian Ghost but...what do you do?

I would absolutely watch the Yugioh spinoff season about the Millennium Tower and the SF tycoons that got possessed by a ghost and have to play card games to keep their tower from squishing all of San Francisco. Yo you should hire me, Yugioh, I got IDEAS.

Man...Yugioh predicting the future, how did they call the ill fate of The Millennium Tower????

But anyway, most skyscrapers in SF are kind of boring because they have to be sturdy as hell. But, they have some neat modern shapes (like the Transamerica Pyramid--in the shape of A PYRAMID that hasn’t shown it’s face once this entire Egyptian influenced anime)

I mean, come on Yugioh, it’s right there.

Also the hell is this weird UFO on this picture I lifted off of google?

Like I think it’s 4 jets?

I may have lifted this from an alien website, so forgive me, q-anon for lifting your image, I’m trying to talk about architecture in my Yugioh blog.

In fact the only building I (and google) can think of that is both really tall and deco-ey is this one:

And it’s a Marriot hotel built in the late 80′s. And honestly, it looks way more 1980′s Las Vegas than it does Deco. (It honestly looks like photobashing but made real, this is a weird building.)

And I could be wrong and overlooking a very important structure, but most of the city’s really cool art deco buildings are in the form of theaters, libraries, churches, schools, and houses--which are only a few stories tall. They’re gorgeous buildings with cool and different silhouettes, it’s just not very big.

Like I believe this is an old high school?

also a lot of our “art deco” has no idea if it’s victorian, deco, or art noveau so they’ll just hit all of it to see what sticks. It’s a lot more eclectic than other places where Deco is typically more...straight-lined. I kinda hate defining art styles as masculine or feminine but honestly it’s the quickest way to really hit home the difference between a Bruce Timm art deco that you’d see in a comic book, (which is very New York inspired) and what we have in San Fransisco which is really decorative and decadent.

The Yugioh SF just has no curvy nonsense and that really sticks out to me.

Ornate swirls get shoved Everywhere. Willy nilly. Just everywhere randomly. And it sits next to other structures that are modern and simplistic. It’s very San Francisco to have this old world next to new world.

And it makes sense. SF is the other side of the continent from New York, and about as far West as you can go from the movement going on in Europe. So...we made our own take and tl;dr the art deco in our city doesn’t look like Gotham at all.

And, while it’s not as grand or dark or iconic, it’s a good thing. It’s what helps make San Fransisco look really unique compared to other American cities--the fact that we're...short and eclectic. Our district with the skyscrapers is where it’s kinda boring, actually--the good stuff is when you get away from that. Where every little building has a spunky wild personality.

But in a show like this you gotta make it seem more grand and less homely so--they scaled up the buildings a lot more than we really have and homogenized all the stylings into one (and they axed every Victorian swirl because they don’t want to draw that). They really just turned SF into comic book New York--especially since I’ve only seen like...one steep hill since we got here.

It’s fine, and it makes complete sense why they did it, (I’m more confused as to why most of California is a Nevada desert so I can easily forgive a San Francisco without the right Deco) it’s just a very different energy.

and honestly...it’s an energy influenced by the tone of the show. Everything has a very dark blue-gray palate, and it’s because it’s literally the end of the world, Joey has died, everyone is sad...maybe it would be out of place to have a building that looks like it sparks joy? The harsh and cold lines do add to the gravity of the situation.

Maybe I would have done the same thing? In the end, the legibility of your story matters more than the accuracy of your story--especially when it comes to TV. Which is somewhat a controversial statement, and there’s exceptions when it comes to cultural stuff. But while the culture of San Fransisco was erased (a culture that they did draw in the beginning of the season! they did show alcatraz, a trolly, and the golden gate!), it is at a point in the show where...all of humanity is being erased anyway. Could also be symbolic? Maybe?

+++++++++++++END OF THE ART DECO RANT+++++++++++++

So anyway, stepping away from lovely buildings and into this gross ass abandoned park, Yami decides he’s gotta get himself to this gaudy ass Batman building ASAP.

He can ride a horse but he absolutely will not ride a motorcycle. Or touch Joey Wheeler’s dead body.

Which is wild because apparently there’s a Yugioh spinoff where all they do is ride motorcycles??? But from what I heard, Yami is not in it. Which is the most wild thing.

So uh...you know how much I love art details, lets take a long look at this one.

AH no.

Nope nope nope nope.

I hate this logo. It looks like an emperor penguin’s eyebrow thingies. Like a face with just four huge eyebrows.

Not sure why we randomly have a new logo. It’s nearly the end of the season, we’ve already shown the Orichalcos logo so many times. Was this episode made earlier in development than the rest? Is that why there were like - I dunno, put this random logo here... Maybe we’ll figure out the rest of the logo later?

I don’t know. This weird logo feels so out of place.

And then because I’m thinking about buildings...maybe it’s influenced by our Shell building?

Maybe? Or not? Just saying you got a round thing with radial lines hovering over a trellis...the possibility is there that they were inspired but had to edit it down for animation? Eh, I’m reaching desperately for anything that looks like San Francisco at this point.

Anyways, the front door of this building is an elevator (????) and in a somewhat confusing set of cuts, out of this elevator comes the murderer herself.

And she’s dead.

SO HAPPY I didn’t have to watch that card game but like...c’mon. There’s no way Mai would lose to Raphael.

Maybe that’s why they couldn’t show it? Because she’s the only person on this show who uses a themed deck with cards that actually sync with eachother? (outside of Pegasus’ toon deck and Grandpa’s voltron deck ((sorry it’s name isn’t voltron, I’ve forgotten the name of the robot that you build out of other cards. Exodus? Exodysseus?

It’s Exodia isn't it? Wtv. 2020′s been a real long one, all y’all.)) )

(don’t ask where the smoke came from, we don’t know. Maybe Yami felt like making it to be more aesthetic. It is a fun visual tic to the show.)

So Yami goes into this elevator instead of anticipating that this is obviously a trap. Like most would just decide to take the stairs instead, but Yami loves falling for a good obvious trap every once and a while (or, in the case of this season--each and every single time a trap is placed in front of him) and so this takes him directly to the fightclub roof of yore.

Ah. We started this season on fightclub roof, in like...2010 or whenever I started this season. Feels like forever ago. How long has the year of 2020 been? 20 years of my life? 40 years of my life? Was I in fact never born before 2020 started? I honestly don’t remember anymore who I was before this year happened. Probably because I inhaled just a hell ton of wildfire smoke and now my brain is a bunch of jelly beans rattling around in a jar.

Anyway, Raphael just hands Yami (by hands I mean throws aggressively) Joey’s dragon card.

A little unsure why he’d do this since...this is the weapon to destroy Dartz. Why are you giving it back to the Pharaoh? But apparently, Raphael did that to prove that he is the murderer of Mai, who murdered Joey and...youknow...the stuff that we know but would be pretty difficult for the people in this show to follow.

Mai’s voice actor seeing “Mumbo-Jumbo” and being like “Well if I’m doing this, I’m going to commit.“

WE ARE NEVER DUELING DARTZ.

I refuse that a duel with Dartz, in fact, ever happens in this season.

Kind of surprised whenever I see there’s still people left. SF is basically abandoned in comparison.

Thing is...that’s just SF on a holiday weekend.

And then, because Tristan’s in the middle of the street, the rest of the party has to try and run him over.

It is really funny to me that Seto went out of his way to ditch these people so MANY times, but keeps ending up around them again and again, and each time in a wildly different vehicle, each and every time it’s when these guys need a lift...he’s very quickly turning into the group’s soccer mom. Should’ve gotten a minivan.

And then this happens?

I’ll just leave this here:

I’m sure that fanfic writers everywhere rejoiced when Seto reached out a hand to catch Joey’s face from hitting the pavement. In all this was a bizarre animation and now that I’ve figured out my blender settings for the new update, I can finally cap little segments again.

Just don’t you dare flag me, tumblr. Hopefully segments less than 10 seconds long are fine.

Like there was this part where they had to just drag around Joey’s corpse over this rail, and it was Mokuba and Tristan just prying him up there like he were a potato sack and like...

...Joey’s gonna wake up with so many rail-shaped bruises! They do not treat him gently!

Then back on fightclub roof, Raphael made me do a bit of a double take when he accidentally implied the existence of another bean within that Pharaoh bean.

And no, Bakura did not show up at this point.

I would LOVE IT if Pharaoh biffed it a second time and Bakura suddenly took the reigns and was like “Oi loves! that was bloody easy!” but I...have a feeling that this team didn’t actually watch the episodes where Bakura is just vibing in that puzzle piece.

If this never comes back to bite Pharaoh in the ass...

It might never come back guys...I don’t know. How do these writers have this much self control to ignore Bakura for like a full season. How do you do it? I can’t hold a plot twist in for even like 5 seconds. How....how do you do it?

Anyways, now that Seto has Tea who has a map, they walk up to the entrance (I honestly forgot if they drove or walked because knowing this show, Seto would absolutely ignore the car. Either way, the Ferrari isn’t necessary anymore. Written right out of the script. Cars are hard to draw. Get rid of it)

You know, Mokuba’s seen an awful lot of corpses for a kid! Like 20ish corpses if you count the 2 times the Big 5 biffed it. Really should have left him with Rebecca! Youknow, the other kid the same age as him!

But it’s fine, we gotta train Mokuba to suppress that trauma deep, deep down like a proper Kaiba.

Youknow when I started this series I was like “I don’t get why everyone talks about the Kaibas so much, these two seem kinda like whatever” but now I’m on like S4 and like...I’m SO concerned about the Kaibas. With Yugi...whatever...he’s gonna be fine, but the Kaibas? Oh boy. Either one of them could go completely evil and I’d buy it.

And probably root for them.

And I know they won’t go full tilt, I’m pretty sure--but like...they COULD. I can’t say that about the rest of the cast.

Everyone’s made it!

Even joey’s weird coma/dead body for some reason!

Lol also I love this random sci-fi tech water tower next to Tea. What is that?

My drought senses are screaming, is that a huge ass water tower the size of a 4 story building next to Tea? Chances are, it’s got a jet in it or something because this is Yugioh, but...man. At least it doesn’t look like one of those rusty New York rooftop water towers. This show just completely not getting what SF looks like.

Whatever, he can resurrect the leviathan, maybe Dartz can make water?

Youknow, all you have to do to make California worship you forever is make rain. Screw this lizard nonsense. The man can power water. What’s he doing with this stupid snake?

But youknow, Yugioh just never really figures out how to harness the weather. They CAN and they do it all the time. But, do they use it for their benefit? Like freakin never.

Anyway, that’s all for now. I went on a looong rant about SF but maybe I’m just sick of my own house? Been a lot of fire and quarantine over here. It’s been messing with my head a fair amount so thanks for bearing with me and my weird ass update schedule (remember when I used to be productive? Was that just a dream I once had?)

But if you just got here, here’s a link to read these recaps in order, from the beginning way back in S1.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

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i-am-parsec · 4 years

Text

11/02/2020

Hey, so...I had a bit of a crisis a couple days ago and now I’m here, writing again. I think I can still picture your smug look whenever I’d admit I was “wrong”, even if my memory is very unreliable these days, I can still see it and I know for a fact that’s the look you’re giving me right now. You little shit.

Um, they are probably not gonna like reading that. They don’t like it when I “pretend I can actually communicate with my missing, most likely already dead ex husband”. Weird, right? Like I don’t see how that would disturb them, ha.

I suppose I now should explain to you who “they” are. I’m talking about my doctors, Dr. Richard Willson and Dr. Alexandra Freias, who, little fun fact, my sister hired solely on the basis of her being 1. A woman and 2. Latina. I guess she thought I’d “bond” better with someone who looked more like, but the funny bit is that Dr. Freias’ mother is Russian and she looks like a photocopy of her mother. What I’m trying is that, not only was my sister’s idea dumb, she also did a terrible job at executing it because my doctor looks white as hell. She is nice, though, and I’m grateful about that. And no, Dr. Freias, I am not writing that just so you’ll forgive me for destroying your brand new phone yesterday but yes, I am very sorry about that, or at least as sorry as I can be these days and I promise my dumb sister will replace it as soon as possible.

I’m gonna have to get used to the idea of these letters having a bigger audience than before. In the sake of my little agreement with my lovely health professionals, I’ll be open and honest and admit...I don’t like it, it makes me uncomfortable to share this, my only safe space, with people who are basically strangers to me, but I am aware this decision was taken for the sake of everyone's peace of mind. When I’m writing, I’m focused, more relaxed, less prone to spiral down after Dr. Willson gives me a mocking look and sighs at the mention of your name, Chase, so this is a good thing: I get to talk to you and my doctors get a bit of insight on what’s going on inside my mind without me losing my shit and breaking everything around me, something they claim to desperately need.

I am a woman of my word, so I will continue this little daily exercise if that is what everyone thinks is best for me, even if I can’t help but laugh at the idea that this might give them any kind of extra data about me or you or anything related to this mess our lives have been for the past couple of years. I’ve already told them everything, from the very beginning. They refuse to listen, I refuse to give in and spew the nonsense they are trying to feed me instead of the truth I already know, then we all get frustrated and eventually...we start the cycle again. Circles, we are just going on and on in these fucking circles and it does annoy me, but I guess I have accepted it to a certain degree - I’m stuck. This is my life now, an eternal retelling of the hell I’m trapped into, while being trapped within said hell.

I am lost here, Chase, lost and blind. But I keep moving, even if I know how it is all going to end, I still walk. I walk towards you, mi amor. You are my North, my compass in a world without poles, paths or direction. Ever since we were kids I’ve been doing that. You gave me purpose in a pointless world, a home in a deserted land, a glimmer of Hope among absolute darkness...so I’ll do my part, I’ll take my medicine, I’ll go to my appointments, I’ll write my letters. I’ll be good, I swear, for you, for the kids, for my sister - who bends over and backwards for me, even if I can’t seem to forgive her-, hell, even for my doctors, who refuse to actually listen to me but also refuse to give up.

Oh, before I go, in case you were wondering why I had the mental breakdown: I was telling the doctors about our wedding and it hit me that it was the 31st. I got quiet for a second, a bit teary and informed them that that day would have been our ten year anniversary. I laughed when Dr. Freias pointed out that we got married on Halloween and told her it was on purpose, that you love this holiday so much that you begged me for months to let you proclaim your undying love for me in front of our few friends, both of us being in full costume in our tiny backyard.

That’s when it all went sideways. “Undying love”. Dr. Willson just had to remind me with a smirk that we are divorced. I would like to explain in more detail what happened after that but truth be told, I don’t know. Last thing I remember was staring at him, my whole body shaking and then, dropping under water. It's a familiar sensation by now, but it never gets less disturbing or less violating. When I was back in control of my body, the room was a mess, I had three men holding me down and Dr. Willson’s forehead was bleeding.

I do not forgive him for the unnecessary remark about my civil status but I do regret, greatly, ever hurting him and I appreciate him not quitting. I don’t know why he wouldn't, I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with a new smug asshole who thinks they have the right pill and therapy combination to fix my unfixable brain. At this point in my life, I will always rather stick with the devil I know than the devil I don’t, and besides, Richard is no devil. I should know.

It’s late now, almost 8, so I’ll send this to Dr. Freias and be on my way to bed. See you there, my love.

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

Link to all the chapters in chronological order, here. Link to the last chapter, if you can even call it that, here.

Well. Here’s the thing. I am too broke for therapy and too uninspired to write anything original that could probably be more nurturing to my soul than a fanfic that I started 2 years ago...so I’m here, back to my bullshit. And also, Sean is finally dropping some new crispy fresh ego content so I guess...I’m doing this. I’ll be posting daily, the quality will be shit, there might be no actual progress to the plot and it is going to be mainly me just using Stacy to vent. I have little to nothing going on in my life right now, and I vaguely remember I used to get joy from writing so in order to get even the slightest bit of serotonin, I set myself the goal of writing everyday, no word minimum or special prompt in mind, I’m just going to write, and if it’s good, great and if nobody reads, fine. I’m just trying to get back whatever pieces of myself I can find, which I think is a feeling this character can very much relate to. That might be why I’m returning to her.

Or maybe it’s the fact that I was very invested in her before I fell in love and then I was so engrossed in my relationship that I completely forgot about her and then I had my heart broken in a million tiny pieces, losing any kind of sense of self or purpose in life and now, almost six months after my first real breakup, I’m trying to rebuild myself and I secretly hope that going back to Stacy, a character that was very dear to me, I can find whatever it is that I’m looking for. Maybe, but who’s to say?

Anyway, if you read all of that bullshit (and I mean the whole post, not just my after-chapter ranting), I feel like I owe you some kind of reimbursement for emotional damages. Sadly, I’m poor, so all I can offer you are memes. You can slide on my DMs for your payment of memes. Do not feel the need to ask me how I’m doing, I am doing Fine...in the sense of I will not be yeeting myself from a rooftop any time soon, no matter how sad I might sound, I’m just a whiny bitch using writing as a coping mechanism. I’m okay, like not really, super mega hyper ok but I’m ok. If you’re concerned, I appreciate you but don’t be. I’m writing to deal with my feelings, that’s like, healthy, right? So yeah, we good.

see u tomorrow

❤️Tag list❤️: @amyxmiaplay @beckofthewoods @closedworldofmathiel @darktrash-drash @fanfictionrecommendations-com @flyingfishflopsthings @fruitycasket @hiimizzyxoxo @hishex @scarlet-mangata @mcomegalletas @mijako98 @mysterious-cupcake-ninja @mysticalanimallover @novasingalaxies @plutoandpolaris @probablyghosting @randomartdudette @saltyweirdbi @scarlet--raven @septicuniverse @skyewardlight @thevampireauthoress @youllnevertaketheskyfromme @rats-this-username-is-taken

#Stacy Brody #Chase Brody #Jacksepticeye #Antisepticeye #Unaddressed Letters

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the-busy-ghost · 4 years

Text

Forensic Incoherence - TSP Edition

Ok I snapped and thought I’d get it out of my system. Also because I’m petty and I let things annoy me more than they should. I’d like to say first and foremost that people can and should still enjoy ‘The Spanish Princess’ as a fun tv show if they like, I’m simply pointing out that when it comes to Scotland, it bears even less resemblance to actual history than usual.

Also it is by no means the worst representation of Scotland! Which is saying something because it is NOT good. It’s about par for the course I’d say, with regards to the way mediaeval and early modern Scotland are portrayed in the media. Outlaw King and Outlander rise slightly above the mark but only just- i.e. they’re somewhat good pieces of historical media that are still inaccurate but are recognisably Scotland (and have some nice panning shots and good soundtracks). The middle point is probably inaccurate MQOS movies because they’re the least painful kind of inaccuracy that’s still kind of bad (but even their soundtracks don’t save them- I’m sorry John Barry). I will not say what the absolute worst piece of media is, I believe I have yet to encounter it and for that I am grateful. TSP is somewhere between the worst and the middle. The point is, most historical media about sixteenth century Scotland generally sucks, and this tv series is about the usual kind of bad. So I wouldn’t be so irritated with the people who made it if it weren’t for one or two individuals’ saying things about how ‘it really happened’.

With that in mind this is a good teachable moment. Usually there’s little point to a detailed analysis of where inaccuracy occurs in a tv show or movie- let’s face it, if they weren’t all a bit inaccurate they probably wouldn’t work too well on screen. However in this case it is such a classic example of the usual, standard depiction of Scottish history that it provides a great resource for showing where these things go wrong (which is everywhere).

So I thought I’d strip back a reasonably mediocre, not too terrible, not overly interesting piece and ask what we have left of sixteenth century Scotland after we’re finished.

I should point out I did not watch the first series of this show, and am basing this solely on the representation of the actual country in the first episode of season 2.

(Hours of James IV, source- wikimedia commons)

Now I’ve talked about James IV’s children in the first of the three scenes involving Scotland already. The last scene doesn’t have much meat in it except that I can confirm Margaret Tudor did lose multiple children and it WAS sad. So that leaves us with the second scene- the so-called ‘council’.

We open on your Usual Nonsense. Lots of men, many wearing tartan, with two famous surnames thrown in there for fun, arguing because The Clans Are Fighting Again.

I don’t have room to go into a whole analysis of the clan system and why our 21st century concept of ‘Highland clanship’ is not really applicable to many of the families at the centre of sixteenth century politics. Safe to say it is especially not applicable to the Red or Angus line of the Douglases (because yeah there were multiple different branches of that famous family), and only applicable to some of the branches of the Stewart family (and there were dozens of them, spread all over the country and operating in very different cultural worlds).

If Scottish politics worked the way that these writers seem to think it does- i.e. you support everyone who shares your family name against all others- then one wonders why James IV hasn’t taken the side of the Stewarts, seeing as that was his surname. Surnames and blood feud were very important in Scotland, both to traditional “clans” and to other families to don’t fit that bill, but they’re not everything. T.C. Smout famously said that “Highland society was based on kinship modified by feudalism, Lowland society on feudalism tempered by kinship.” Not everyone would agree wholly with that statement, but it’s a good starting point for beginners. Nonetheless, at no point should that confirm anyone’s belief that Scottish politics consisted basically of a bunch of clans with their own unique tartans and modern kilts running around the hills killing each other.

It’s also quite funny since James IV’s reign was one of the most (comparatively) peaceful in Scottish history between the Wars of Independence and the Union of the Crowns. He also had very little trouble controlling most of his subjects when it really mattered.

But I digress. We have Clans TM. They are Arguing. There are Douglases. There are Stewarts. It’s about as complicated as an Old Firm game, but less intellectual. This is supposed to be a serious political council.

(read more below)

Firstly, I can’t seem to find a good concise source, but based on a brief flip through the various charters, council decisions, accounts, and secondary sources on James IV’s reign I don’t think there were even any Douglases on the privy council in early 1511. Not that it’s a huge issue in itself- I don’t think that period dramas really put that much thought into representing the bewildering government reshuffles and that’s not really their main purpose anyway.

But what it leaves is this motley collection of characters, some of whom have historical figures’ names, and others who have vaguely plausible names that can’t be assigned to a specific person, and others who are unnamed set dressing but I get the feeling have probably been discreetly named something like Big Chief Hamish McTavish.

So among the few named characters you have George, Gavin, and “Angus” Douglas. These three are all presumably based on historical figures and it’s not too difficult to identify them, even if (like James IV’s children in another scene) they probably shouldn’t have been in the room.

“Angus” is presumably supposed to be Archibald Douglas, Margaret Tudor’s second husband, who became 6th Earl of Angus in 1513 (so two and a half years after this scene is set). “Angus Douglas” is not his name, in any way. It would be like me referring to Henry VIII as King England Tudor. Bit of a ridiculous mistake to make, if IMDB is not lying to me, since it implies that not only did the scriptwriters not even bother to use google, they didn’t even read the (somewhat inaccurate) novel that they based their show off.

Angus is not a common first name in the Douglas family during this period. In fact I don’t think I have ever heard of anyone called Angus Douglas from the sixteenth century or earlier. It was popular in some families from the west and the far north- mostly Gaelic-speaking families like the MacDonalds and the Mackays- but not really among the inhabitants of the Borders and Lowland east coast, which is where the Red Douglases held *most* (though not all) of their power. The earls of Angus took their title from a region in the east/north-east of the country, but they had a large power-base in the Borders and East Lothian too (not least the hulking red sandstone castle of Tantallon on the Berwickshire cliffs).

(The highlighted region is the modern version of Angus, between Dundee and Aberdeenshire. Nowadays, it has red-brown soil, old Pictish monuments, it grows wonderful raspberries and strawberries, and its main towns include Montrose, Arbroath (with its red sandstone abbey), Brechin, and Forfar. The urban and agricultural make-up would have been different in the sixteenth century though. The Borders meanwhile are pretty self-explanatory).

In 1511, Archibald’s grandfather, also Archibald, was still alive and held the title Earl of Angus. His eldest son George, Master of Angus (the younger Archibald’s father) was his heir apparent in 1511. Now the elderly 5th earl was still a wily character but he was old, and had also been held in custody on royal orders on the Isle of Bute until as recently as 1509, because the 5th earl and James IV had... well it was a complex relationship. We could perhaps assume that he was not able to travel easily- hence why his eldest son George, Master of Angus, seems to be the ‘George’ who is represented in that council scene. Somehow, I don’t see Archibald Junior being called his own grandfather’s title rather than his name when his father was in the room. George, Master of Angus, died at Flodden, which is why he did not succeed to his father’s earldom and the claim passed to his eldest son Archibald.

(There was another George Douglas worth mentioning, though he wouldn’t be in this scene- George Douglas of Pittendreich, Archibald’s younger- and, let’s be honest, smarter- brother. He was father to the Regent Morton).

The last is Gavin Douglas- probably the most interesting of the three to any literary scholars. He was the younger brother of the Master of Angus, and thus uncle to Archibald. He is one of the most important Scots poets- or makars- of James IV’s reign, and personally I would only place him beneath the great William Dunbar (the other big contenders, Henryson and Lindsay, respectively wrote most of their works before and after the adult reign of James IV). His works include the “Palice of Honour,” “King Hart”, and his greatest achievement the “Eneados”, completed c. 1513, which was the first full vernacular translation of the Roman poet Virgil’s Aeneid in either English or Scots. After Flodden, he became Bishop of Dunkeld, partly through Margaret Tudor’s influence, and didn’t find much time for writing any more poetry in the reign of James V, being consumed by political struggle. He died in exile in England in 1522.

Sixteenth century Scots had many complex and conflicting emotions and opinions, and one could severely hate and distrust England while remaining friends with certain Englishmen or respecting certain English customs. Nonetheless I find it a bit funny that Gavin Douglas is the one who is given the line ‘the English are the root of all our troubles’ since there was one thing that the English gave the world that no early sixteenth century Scots makar worth his salt could ever forget- and that was Geoffrey Chaucer (as well as his compatriots Lydgate and Gower). In his ‘Eneados’, Gavin Douglas himself described the great poet as “venerable Chaucer, principall poet but peir”. Which is not to say that such a character could not also have raged against the English on more than one occasion, this is merely to demonstrate that these three named men were rather more complex than the simplistic kilt-wearing, knife-wielding, drunk, Anglophobic, entirely uncultured stereotype we have on screen.

(And while I’m on the kilt and tartan thing- I literally JUST said that the Red Douglases were mostly centred on the Lowlands, and in particular the Borders. While it’s not impossible that they could have occasionally worn tartan, it’s not exactly everyday dress for them- unless you think it was also day dress for people in Carlisle as well. I notice Archibald Douglas himself isn’t really wearing any- perhaps this is to make him look more palatable. And don’t even get me started on the whole “the clans are fighting” thing).

(Look here’s a nice picture of Archibald Douglas, 6th Earl of Angus- admittedly when he was a bit older and had been in exile in England, but look! He’s dressed like other people in sixteenth century Europe! Nothing wrong with tartan but not your usual sixteenth century Borders earl gear.)

Funny thing is though, while the earls of Angus were undoubtedly important (and Gavin Douglas, being a university man, could act as an official), they’d lost their influence a bit by the end of the reign (again, the 5th Earl and James IV had a very layered relationship). Now, while lists of witnesses to charters do not necessarily reveal everything, if you were looking for powerful men who are likely to have been at the centre of government and on the king’s council in 1511 (and not just noblemen who were friends with the king but didn’t have government posts) I would look for some of the below first:

- Alexander Stewart, Archbishop of St Andrews and Chancellor of Scotland in 1511. He appears at the head of the witness list in almost every charter in the first half of 1511, and also signed off on the royal accounts. A young man, only about eighteen in 1511, who had studied under Patrick Paniter (see below), and then later had travelled on the continent and studies under humanists like Raphael Regius and Desiderius Erasmus. He was also James IV’s eldest son, though illegitimate- however although his promotion was undoubtedly nepotistic, there are signs that he would have made a pretty competent archbishop and he certainly actually did his job as chancellor. Although an archbishop (but never old enough to be fully consecrated or receive the revenues of his see), he followed his father to Flodden and died in battle. Erasmus famously eulogized him in his ‘Adages’, saying that:

“when a youth scarcely more than eighteen years old, his achievements in every department of learning were such as you would rightly admire in a grown man. Nor was it the case with him, as it is with so many others, that he had a natural gift for learning but was less disposed to good behaviour. He was shy by nature, but it was a shyness in which you could detect remarkable good sense.”

(A sketch from the Recueil d’Arras which is allegedly a copy of a painting of Alexander Stewart)

- William Elphinstone, Bishop of Aberdeen and Keeper of the Privy Seal in 1511. A man with many years of experience at the centre of government. After studying at Glasgow, Paris, and Orleans, he was made bishop of Ross and travelled to abroad on diplomatic missions. He had previously been High Chancellor of Scotland under James III, and even though he spent a small part of James IV’s early reign out in the cold he was soon brought back into the fold and played a leading role in government. Even though he was never chancellor again, he held the privy seal until the end of his career and often acted as de facto chancellor during the tenure of James IV’s younger brother the Duke of Ross (also an earlier Archbishop of St Andrews). William Elphinstone is also remembered for being a very active bishop in his diocese- he built a bridge over the River Dee, rebuilt part of the cathedral, and founded the University of Aberdeen, which received its papal bull in 1495. He organised the construction of King’s College, and the chapel built on his orders is still at the centre of the university’s campus today. He also sponsored the publication of the Aberdeen Breviary, on Scotland’s first printing press. He is supposed to have been against the invasion of England in 1513, but after the king’s death, Elphinstone was seen as the natural choice to succeed Alexander Stewart in the archdiocese of St Andrews, despite his age. He died in late 1514.

Andrew Stewart, Bishop of Caithness, Treasurer in 1511 takes third place on a lot of charters. Less can be said about him than the first two, though his rise at the centre of government really took off around 1509. He was Treasurer in 1511. It is not clear which branch of the Stewarts he hailed from, but it may have been the Stewarts of Lorne, which would have made him a distant cousin of the king and a slightly closer cousin of the king’s last known mistress, Agnes Stewart. Things are not made any simpler by the fact that, after his death, the next bishop of Caithness was ALSO called Andrew Stewart, and this one was an older half-brother of the Duke of Albany and a son of James IV’s uncle. The main takeaway- there are lots of Stewarts in Scotland, including the Royal Stewarts, and too many branches of the family for any simplistic tale of “clan” rivalry with the Red Douglases to be at all compelling or make sense. It is also worth noting that until 1469, Caithness would have been the most northerly diocese in the kingdom- whether Andrew spent more time there or at the centre of government is unclear.

(A rare contemporary painting of William Elphinstone, bishop of Aberdeen and Keeper of the Privy Seal)

Archibald Campbell, 2nd Earl of Argyll and Master of the Household in 1511- This post was less explicitly a ‘government’ post but the royal household still had an important political role. Even without this government post, though, the earl of Argyll was an important man. One of the two ‘new’ earldoms created in the reign of James II, the earls of Argyll were sometimes seen as royal ‘policemen’ in the West Highlands and islands. Their earldom was named after the large region on the west coast of the same name, cut up by sea-lochs and mountains. However they often had their own agenda and could exercise some independent policies in the Isles and northern Ireland. The earls of Argyll were usually the chiefs of Clan Campbell (look! An actual Highland clan for once!), including its many cadet branches. Clan Campbell has a very black reputation now (with some justification), though it is worth mentioning that in the sixteenth century they were also patrons of Gaelic culture and poetry, and frequently intermarried with the families they were meant to be ‘policing’. Notably, Archibald’s sister had been married to Angus Og (MacDonald), son (and supplanter) of the last “official” Lord of the Isles, but after Angus Og’s murder in the 1490s, the then earl of Argyll kept Angus’ son (his own grandson) Domnall in custody on behalf of the Crown- at least until he escaped and started causing all kinds of trouble in the early 1500s. Archibald Campbell, also called Gillespie, was the second earl of Argyll and rather less influential than his father had been, but he was still one of the most important laymen involved in government in the latter part of James IV’s reign. He died at Flodden in 1513.

Matthew Stewart, 2nd Earl of Lennox and Lord Darnley- Appears as a witness in many charters and is mentioned at council meetings on occasion. Yet another branch of the Stewart family- I must reiterate, a shared surname, though important, did not necessarily mean that everyone shared the same rivalries or stuck together through thick and thin. The Lennox is a region at the south-western edge of the Highlands, and north of the River Clyde- it is mostly centred around Loch Lomond. The Stewarts of Darnley had also had close links with France and in particular the Garde Écossaise for over a century. This earl of Lennox’s father led a short rebellion during the early years of James IV’s reign, but most of that was smoothed over in the end. In all honesty I don’t know that much about Matthew personally, except that he pops up a lot in government and court records (and there was also a very delicate case that came before the council in 1508 involving his daughter). I will need to look into him further. He died at Flodden- his son was the earl of Lennox who then died at Linlithgow Bridge in 1526, and his grandson married Margaret Douglas, daughter of the earl of Angus, and was the father of the infamous Lord Darnley who married Mary I.

Alexander Hume, 3rd Lord Hume and Great Chamberlain of Scotland in 1511. In the early sixteenth century, the Humes were borderers par excellence. Lord Hume was Warden of the East and Middle Marches, and had a great many kinsmen and friends (and a fair few enemies) throughout the borders counties. His great -grandfather and, especially, his father had also carved out a role for themselves at the centre of government. In the first couple of years of James IV’s reign, the Humes and even more so their neighbours the Hepburns (family of the earls of Bothwell) were practically running the show- this may have been one of the main causes of the earl of Lennox’s rebellion. In 1506 Alexander succeeded his father as 3rd Lord Hume and Great Chamberlain (less of an active administrative role by this point, but it still entitled the holder to access the centre of government and the royal household). He fought at Flodden but escaped- unfortunately for the Humes, rumours later circulated that they were partly responsible for the king’s death in the battle, and indeed James IV’s son the earl of Moray is supposed to have accused Hume of this in later years. Hume was one of the men who supported the appointment of the Duke of Albany as governor in 1515, after Margaret Tudor’s marriage to the Earl of Angus, but he very quickly grew dissatisfied with the duke, and by Christmas of the same year he had crossed the Border to join Margaret in Morpeth. After another few months of shenanigans in the Borders, Hume and his brother were captured by the Duke of Albany and executed in 1516- their heads were displayed above the Tolbooth in Edinburgh. This resulted in even more drama but I’m getting off topic and I think enough has been said on Lord Hume to give you an idea of his, um, colourful character. He is *supposed* to have had an affair with the second wife of the 5th Earl of Angus, Katherine Stirling, and was later the second husband of James IV’s last mistress Agnes Stewart, Countess of Bothwell.

(Restored windows in Stirling Castle Great Hall, the 20th century glass bearing the coats of arms of earls from the reign of James IV. The hall dates from around 1503 and was restored in the 1960s to look like it may have done in James IV’s time. It’s bright yellow and gorgeous and I’m furious it’s never used in anything).

Andrew Gray, Lord Gray and Justiciar in 1511- A lord of parliament like Hume, but with a less committed following, whose main interests lay in Angus (the region). Andrew Gray was one of the men who backed James IV in his rebellion against his father in 1488. Indeed, late sixteenth century legend has it that he was the one responsible for James III’s death- either arranging his murder in the mill at Bannockburn or carrying it out himself. However he acted as a loyal servant of the Crown until the end of his life, and as the justiciar he would have accompanied the king and other important nobles on justice ayres across the kingdom (and held some of his own). Traditionally, there had been two justiciars in Scotland- one for Scotia, north of the Forth, and one for south of the Forth (usually identified with Lothian- there was a third sometimes for Galloway as well). In the 1490s, Lord Drummond and the Earl of Huntly had also acted as justiciars at various points, but from around 1501 Lord Gray appears to have been the only justiciar. He died in early 1513.

Master Gavin Dunbar, Archdeacon of St Andrews and Clerk Register in 1511. Not to be confused with either of the poets Gavin Douglas or William Dunbar, nor with his nephew, Gavin Dunbar, Archbishop of Glasgow. This Gavin Dunbar was a graduate of the University of St Andrews and had travelled to France in at least one embassy in 1507. Technically, in 1511, Dunbar was clerk of the rolls, clerk register, and clerk of council- which is a lot of writing (if we assume he did it all himself, which I doubt). In 1518, Dunbar succeeded to William Elphinstone’s old diocese of Aberdeen and showed a decent amount of interest in the diocese. He undertook an extensive rebuilding programme at St Machar’s Cathedral and provided the nave with the wonderful heraldic ceiling that can still be seen today.

Master Patrick Paniter, Secretary to the King (among other things) in 1511. A very interesting individual. Paniter’s family were from the area around Montrose, in Angus, and he attended university at the College of Montaigu in Paris (as did many of his compatriots, including the contemporary theologian John Mair). He was clearly a bright spark since upon his return to Scotland he seems to have been appointed tutor to James IV’s young son Alexander and the two had a good relationship, with Paniter writing to the young archbishop as ‘half his soul’ and Alexander in turn keeping in touch with his ‘dear teacher’ while on the continent. By that time though, Patrick had moved onto bigger things, since the king appointed him royal secretary some time around 1505. Eventually Paniter became one of James IV’s most influential servants- in 1513, the English Ambassador Dr Nicholas West described the secretary as the man “which doothe all with his maister”. Of course Paniter enriched himself quite a bit too, becoming, among other things, archdeacon and chancellor of Dunkeld, deacon of Moray, rector of Tannadice, and Abbot of Cambuskenneth and, controversially, James IV also attempted to appoint him as preceptor of Torphicen. Paniter helped to direct the artillery at Flodden but unlike both his patron and former pupil, he survived the battle. He is also *reputed* to have been the father of David Paniter, bishop of Ross, by King James IV’s cousin Margaret Crichton.

The men whose careers I’ve outlined above all witnessed the majority of royal charters issued under the great seal in the first half of 1511 (by modern dating). A few others also appeared frequently- for example, Robert Colville of Ochiltree, John Hepburn the Prior of St Andrews, and George Crichton, Abbot of Holyrood. Obviously the make-up of the council changed frequently too. Equally though charters are not necessarily the only or best indication of who would have been part of the king’s ‘council’ and there are other officials and nobles whom we know were close to the king but rarely appear on these, either due to the date range or just their own status- Andrew Forman, bishop of Moray; the 1st earl of Bothwell (before his death); the 5th earl of Angus (in the 1490s anyway- I told you it was a complex relationship); John, Lord Drummond (especially in the 1490s), and others.

But why did I bother giving those long biographies? Well partly to demonstrate the complexity of individual stories in sixteenth century Scottish politics and that they did do important and interesting things. Also since several of these men held opposing political views and family interests, but were usually expected to cooperate at the centre of government, it underlines the point that sixteenth century Scottish politics was a bit more complex than ‘The Clans Are Fighting’. And also this is partly to show that we DO actually have this info at our disposal. Most tv shows and films just choose not to use it.

But the real reason for this long rant was mostly so I could ask, given the info I’ve provided above, WHO THE HELL IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE:

It’s a bad picture, I know and again, nothing against the actor who seems to be having a lot of fun with the role. But other than James IV, Margaret, and the three Douglases (one of whom has the wrong name and they all have the wrong clothes and also none of them should have been there), this is the only named character in that scene. And I cannot for the life of me work out who he is supposed to be.

He’s given the name Alexander Stewart. As we have seen, there was certainly an Alexander Stewart on the king’s council in 1511- the king’s son who was born c. 1493 and was also Archbishop of St Andrews. Now this this man very much NOT younger than Margaret Tudor, and very unlike the boy Erasmus described, and even though that Alexander died fighting in battle I’m not sure he would have spent most of his days brandishing daggers and yelling abuse at the Douglases in council meetings. He is also probably not our man because as I discussed here, I think the archbishop’s supposed to be counted among James IV’s children in that other scene where this tv series wrongly implies that Margaret Tudor played nursemaid to all of James’ children (again, not one of those kids should have been in the room and it’s really weird that none of them seem to have aged even though two of them were probably older than Mary Tudor).

So who is he? There were definitely other Alexander Stewarts who were both associated with the royal household and who were kicking about sixteenth century Scotland more generally. One was in fact the half-brother of the Duke of Albany- but he really doesn’t seem to have played any role in government, and mostly he appears when his expenses were met by his cousin the king, presumably out of familial responsibility (see also the king’s other probable cousins Christopher, the Danish page, and Margaret Crichton). Another one was Alexander Stewart, Earl of Buchan, a more distant cousin of the king (he was the grandson of Joan Beaufort), but he was dead by 1511 and his son was called John- meanwhile his half-sister Agnes, the king’s mistress, was enjoying the profits of the earldom. In character he seems to come across more like an earlier earl of Buchan, that infamous Alexander Stewart who got the nickname ‘The Wolf of Badenoch’- but he died over a century before 1511. There are probably a couple of other Alexander Stewarts I’ve missed out- it’s a popular name- but none I can think of who would have had any sort of reason to be on the king’s council.

Also worth mentioning I’m not sure what he means when he accuses the Douglases of ransacking his family’s ‘Lowland lands’. That’s just so confusing I won’t even get into it.

ANYWAY there was a point to all this ranting. As I said above, people should absolutely enjoy this show if they want to. However, two things may be said- firstly that if a show is already fairly inaccurate about English history, I am always willing to bet that they have been 200% more inaccurate about Scotland- to the extent that it’s not even inaccuracy any more, it’s just a completely different world and story.

Secondly, when the producers or whoever (and no disrespect to them necessarily except when they say this) claim that they did their research and say stuff like "we are totally with her story, we're up in Scotland, we're sort of Spanish Princess meets Outlander" I would like to remind everyone that not only is this waaaay less accurate than even Outlander could manage:

- Probably none of the kids in the first scene should have been there

- Probably none of the men in the council scene should have been there (except James, obviously)

- The costumes are the same nonsense as usual.

- There were only five named historical figures and somehow they still managed to balls up one of the names (again, Angus Douglas??? How did they even manage to mess that one up??)

- The sixth named figure is a completely made up individual with a vaguely plausible name who appears to serve no other purpose than to get stabby and foul-mouthed and show that The Clans(TM), as they put it, Are Fighting Again.

- It’s heavily implied that absolutely nobody involved in the production has ever looked at a map of Scotland properly, or tried to work out where any of these guys come from. Which is amazing given it’s literally attached to the map of England. Essentially, the land and regions matter in Scottish history and it’s one of the biggest things that period dramas misunderstand or simplify.

- As usual the architecture is slightly off, though it could be worse. Despite the claim that ‘we’re up in Scotland’, suffers from the usual feeling that actually no camera crew made it any further north than Alnwick (though the CGI Warwick-Edinburgh thing kind of worked.).

- Everyone is a classic stereotype of the Barbarian Uncultured Scot and the only sop thrown is the bit with James and the teeth.

- The above thus implies that the creators have not considered that Scotland could ever have anything of any cultural value, such as a talented poet they are literally showing on screen or a bunch of bishops and other churchmen they aren’t. Which is just European Renaissance stuff, and not even getting into the highly impressive cultural world of Gaelic Scotland and Ireland.

- Everyone Is Sexist Except the English (for god’s sake, it’s the 16th century)

- Person wanders around yelling that they are the king/queen and expects this to work. No.

- Bruce and Wallace are (accurately) mentioned a lot but it’s probably more because that’s the only people the writers have heard of, rather than any nod to 16th century literary and historical tradition. No James Douglas or Thomas the Rhymer or St Margaret is expected to make an appearance.

- Incredibly evident that nobody has opened a book on the reign of James IV or even one of those dodgy biographies of Margaret Tudor. I’m not even entirely convinced that they read Gregory’s novel, which is supposed to be their source material.

So what do we actually have?

- James IV’s interest in medicine and alchemy and other proto-sciences is given a nod with the teeth thing

- We know there were black musicians at James IV’s court and that was shown.

- It is implied Margaret Tudor has lost babies. This is true. However there are still allegedly two alive so the maths doesn’t add up.

- Some modern Scottish accents, one done by a Northern Irishman.

- A handful of historical figures’ names scattered around willy-nilly (one of them incorrect).

The overall point is, once again, if you thought the inaccuracy about English history was bad, there isn’t even any inaccuracy in the Scottish stuff, because it’s not even sixteenth century Scotland any more. And that wouldn’t be an issue if the creators didn’t keep going on about how this is what really happened.

(King’s College, University of Aberdeen, with Bishop Elphinstone’s chapel to the right. On other sides of the chapel, the coats of arms displayed include those of James IV, Margaret Tudor, and Alexander Stewart, Archbishop of St Andrews- I think the Duke of Ross might be there too, can’t remember)

- Most of my sources for this included Norman McDougall’s biography of James IV, Macfarlane’s biography of Elphinstone, good general overviews, and a lot of primary sources- especially the register of the Great Seal. Also general knowledge about Scotland because, you know, I’m from there. HOWEVER if anyone wants a source for a specific detail I should be able to find that reasonably easily. Just let me know.

#Scotland #Scottish history #British history #Margaret Tudor #period drama #didn't know what to tag as sorry

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ghastigiggles · 5 years

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Well!! The support was overwhelming so here it is!

I’ll be honest, it’s really just a lot of wordy nonsense because I’m still gaining confidence, but it’s also soft and most definitely gay. (It’s not something I write unless it’s gay, sorry. read it and weep.) In which Guy’s observation pays off and the I-Am-Am-I relationship reaches a new level of trust.

( SFW tickle fic, reader beware. Written in semi-platonic and fluffy way. Mild hints towards canonical events soooo spoilers, sorta? But I purposefully kept it vague, so if you haven’t finished the first season yet, you should be fine! )

It was fair, honestly, to say that Guy was quite comfortable in Sam's presence, after everything had transpired. It was the same the other way around, quite shockingly to himself; perhaps it shouldn't have been, considering how even throughout their mishap of an adventure Sam had been the obviously more clingy and touchy of the two. Still, despite the reconciliation afterwards, Guy couldn't help feeling some mild shock when Sam jumped back into squeezing and snuzzling his friend as much as possible every yipping minute of the day, even after he said what he did.

At the very least, he figured, they'd reached their lowest points already; it could only go upwards from there. And indeed it had, their days often spent in chaotic collaboration on new schemes (honestly, Sam had picked up quite a knack for technology the longer he spent around Guy, though he never boasted on it) with a diner brunch of green eggs and ham and a dinner often spent with Michellee and E.B., Sam regaling the group with some wild tale he made up about his past while the ladies listened in a mix of amusement and skepticism. Guy would just listen with a smile all the while, and the day would end reasonably early for the girls, whom had schedules to stick with, and reasonably late for the Briefcase Buddies, whom had the luxury of taking their time. All in all, it was frankly stellar, and Guy wouldn't change the routine for anything.

All that said, however, the two of them still found ways to break new ground in their relationship. Guy would get more bold, with a hand on the smaller's shoulder or a brief snuzzle during a cuddle that he would deny consciously doing; Sam would find ways to be a little more serious or genuine than usual, and Guy would listen with tenderness, every day grateful that he could help Sam break down his walls when the enthusiastic little criminal had spent so much time doing the same for him. It was mutually beneficial; companionship for the sake of benefitting the other. But more than that, the more Guy thought about it, they both needed it.

However, character analysis is not the driving force behind this story.

With the boundaries of their relationship slowly growing more lax, they both began to discover quirks and interests of each other that they hadn't before noticed; Guy actually feeling inclined to engage with animals more frequently than whos or knoxes, for instance. Sam getting small nervous tics and covering his mouth when he was guilty of something, and so forth. Guy found himself growing especially perceptive of Sam's, watching for every little hint he could pick up for unspoken words, things the little who would never confess or express with a phrase and would rather hide with some parable he could come up with on the fly.

It was with that learned attention to detail that he realized something he never had before. The first instance was at the dinner table, funnily enough; Sam had made a joke at Guy's expense, sending both E.B. and Michellee into a soft fit of chuckles. Guy, not to be made fun of in front of his interest and, how to put it, gatekeeper, had reached across the table to silence Sam with a pinch to the side. Predictably, the who had laughed and leaned away, chiding Guy for the action, but the entire response had felt so… Halfhearted. (And Guy would certainly know the difference between "genuinely don't yipping touch me or I'll bite you" and "haha nooo stop…", for he was usually the former.) At the time, he stowed the information away for later, resolving to keep an eye on it the next time he happened upon such a scenario.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. An opportunity quickly presented itself just days later, whereupon Sam nearly fell facefirst into a puddle - and Guy, determined not to let his best friend meet the same fate he did on the day they met, saved him by swiftly picking him up; Sam's usual luck had certainly rubbed off on him, allowing him to easily jump the puddle rather than falling down in turn, and they were safely on the other side in the blink of an eye. The who had offered praise on Guy's quick reflexes, but the praise had quickly been lost to giggles, his prior carelessness being punished by quick scritches through the fur on his belly, Guy scolding him the whole time for not paying enough attention and nearly soaking the both of them. It did not last long; after all, puddle or no puddle, he didn't want to publicly humiliate Sam, but still… He took note of how the squirms and the pushes weren't nearly desperate, how his pleas consisted mostly of "Guy!" and "No!" and "I'm sorry!" in giddy tones rather than "Please stop!" or "Enough already!".

And finally, the nail in the coffin. Ashes on the ground were the only remains of some invention Guy had found the inspiration to make an hour prior, the knox himself absolutely miserable over yet another failure. Fortunately, his obnoxiously peppy assistant and Briefcase Buddy refused to let that last, and pounced from the side when a pep talk failed to return Guy's smile, scribbling across the knox's sides and summoning up laughter with ease. Guy didn't let it last long, quickly (and easily) turning the tables by grabbing Sam's arms and pinning him down in return. For a heartbeat, he regained his breath; for a heartbeat, Sam stared up with that dumb and enamoured look on his face he tended to get when Guy made a display of dominance.

Then the heartbeat passed, and Guy exacted his revenge, ruining that glossy-eyed expression by turning it into a gleeful beam, split open by peals of genuinely happy laughter that made the knox feel softer than he ever remembered being. He didn't bully Sam long - maybe a few minutes, if that - but still Sam didn't once protest or make any proper effort to stop him. When Guy finally pulled away, Sam's face was all delight, save for the slightest flash of disappointment in his eyes as they opened.

That drove it home. Really, it should have made sense from the start; Sam-I-Am was so incredibly touch-starved from years of solitude, obviously preferred feeling happy, and most definitely trusted Guy. Still, Guy had wanted to be sure before he put the question on his friend, else Sam would find some way to counter it.

Herein lay the next problem; finding the appropriate time to ask.

Once again, the I-Amuel luck seemed to spread. Sam had picked up the trail, and they were off on a new adventure, briefcases packed to the brim with supplies courtesy of Michellee and promises of stories and souvenirs given to E.B.. A shared room on the train allowed the perfect setting; it was afternoon, most other travellers were in other cars, they were alone - and locked - in their own, where they simply snuggled against each other for the time being, comfy in the lower bunk. It was one of those rare moments where Sam lay almost eerily still, the only movement betraying his living status being his breathing.

Guy almost felt worried about ruining this moment, but if he was right (and he was quite confident, for once), then Sam likely needed something like this - considering the fact that the conversation they'd shared before arriving in their car had been about what they might find at their destination, or if it might be a good thing at all. Serious conversations tended to do a number on Sam, he knew; a pick-me-up might be appreciated.

So, he shifted to look down upon his little friend, running a hand through his fur and keeping his own tone soft as he broke the silence.

"Sam?"

There was a moment of silence; for a moment, Guy worried that his friend had actually been sleeping, but the slightest shift assured him otherwise. The who opened one eye, looking back up with a soft smile that held nothing but contentment.

"What's up, best friend?"

"Nothing important," The knox replied, continuing his gentle stroking. "I just remembered I have a question for you - if you're awake enough to answer."

"Mmh." Sam shut his eye again, letting out a melodramatic sigh and replying with humour in his voice. "I guess, if I have to be…"

Guy chuckled, then took a breath. Here goes nothing.

"Do you like being tickled?"

Sam's reaction was immediate, and Guy might've laughed if he wasn't worried that would injure the who in some way. His eyes snapped open immediately, and he stared up at Guy for a second, opening his mouth as he blushed under his fur. Then he looked away entirely, sitting up after a moment with his legs dangling over the edge of the cot.

"Gee, Guy, that's… Quite the left-fielder," He laughed, countering the question in his typical fashion. Guy merely shrugged, ready for it this time.

"Well, you know. I noticed you were acting a little more meh than normal, and tried thinking about what to do to cheer you up, and it occurred to me that you haven't once asked me to stop when I tickled you before."

Sam was absolutely silent throughout Guy's reply, the red in his cheeks almost glowing through his fur. Guy continued;

"And it's also hard to miss those sad pandog eyes you make every time I stop."

The who's head jerked up quite abruptly at that, and he gave the slightest nervous - but somehow, still amused - grin. "I don't make pandog eyes!"

"Oh, I beg to differ, Sam-I-Am," He retorted, propping himself up on his elbows to better face his friend. "I can almost hear the music from that shelter commercial play in the background!"

Sam laughed in reply, looking away again and shaking his head. Once again, silence took over the room. Sam swung his legs, and Guy didn't take his eyes off the smaller, tilting his head just slightly to the right. After about three minutes, he tried again.

"So? Do you like it?"

"Do you?"

Once again, Guy anticipated the counter, and he shrugged, laying back. "Not usually," He replied, a coolness in his voice that he hadn't expected in the face of the topic at hand, but he was grateful for. "Not unless it's from you or Michellee."

"Oh."

Sam's frame seemed to relax just slightly with that information, and Guy smiled, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to dance around it, Sam," he said, "it's okay if you do. I'm just asking so I know what's okay with you."

There was only the slightest hesitation left from Sam, but he lost it quickly when they locked eyes, trust and certainty filling his gaze - even though he visibly grew flustered, and had to look away once more before he spoke.

"I do. Like, uh, those. That. But - but only like you do," He added quickly, "from, um, folks I trust." There was another pause, and Sam shot him a sideways glance before tacking on, much more softly; "From you."

"Would you like me to do it more often?" Guy asked, running his fingers through the fur on Sam's back as a reassurance. Sam, evermore overwhelmed but still visibly comforted and delighted to have such a compassionate friend, nodded wordlessly, finally settling back into his comfortable position next to Guy and pulling him close for a hug, face buried in his chest. Guy chuckled in response, continuing his stroking for a moment more before pausing again.

"Would you like some tickles now, Sam-I-Am?"

Sam's frame tensed a little, but he still managed to grin and look up, his sass getting the better of him as he delivered his answer.

"I don't know, would I?"

"Oh, you smug little…"

It's a good thing the train made their housing cars soundproof, because their small room was filled with the brightest, loudest laughter Sam had ever given for hours to come, Guy more than happy to indulge him with snuzzles and tickles until the who'd had enough; and even when they finally stopped, they slept snuggled up together, confident that there were enough hours left in their journey to do so again whenever they desired.

Sam couldn't have asked for a better best friend.

#geah #green eggs and ham #AM I PUTTING IT IN THE TAG? YEAH #FUCK IT #TICKLES IN THE MAIN TAG #I'M PISS TERRIFIED BUT HERE WE FUCKING GO BABES!!!!!#anyway sam is gay guy is bi michellee is pan and theyre all in a poly relationship with one (1) chaos daughter #and if you don't like it die mad

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another-blog-bites-the-dust · 5 years

Text

Trouble.

Summary: Roger is always getting himself into trouble but you’re always there to take care of him.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, fighting, swearing.

A/N: I know it’s been agessssss 😭I haven’t been able to write or edit anything because I’ve had an eye infection and anytime I looked at a screen it would be agony 😫 it’s getting better however and I can endure looking at screens for a little longer now! 😅 I hope you enjoy! 💖(and I hope you spot a certain movie reference 👀😉)

“Kiss her already!” You snapped at the television. “If I have to watch another episode without any action happening I swear!”

The night was going in quick while you wasted it away on the sofa. Another Saturday night spent in the comfort of your house wrapped in a blanket with a bowl of pasta, carton of ice cream, wine and trash tv shows. There’s no place you’d rather be.

Except hanging out with Roger.

He was your best friend since the pair of you could babble nonsense. Although, Roger still did from time to time. He was your everything- clown when you were sad, a shoulder to cry on, therapist…albeit a very bad one. You couldn’t imagine a life without Roger. You just wished that you had the confidence to tell him how you truly felt. But doubt ate away at you and you worried that he’d never feel the same, that he’d always see you as the girl who wore odd socks and forced him to play with Barbie dolls with you.

Three loud bangs filled your flat and you jumped after each one. You glanced at the clock, it was late. Bang, bang, bang yet again. You slowly stood up and approached the door and grabbed the closest thing- an umbrella by your door. You opened it and almost took a swing at the person but they held their hands out. “Bloody hell! It’s me!” Shrieked Roger. A bloodied and battered Roger.

“What in gods name happened to you?!” You dropped the umbrella and caught him as he stumbled inside. “Jesus, Roger…” you groaned and practically carried him through to your sofa, shutting the front door over with your foot. You put him down as gently as you could but he still loudly groaned in agony. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“No,” he breathed out and held up one hand while the other held his ribs. “No hospital. It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?! Are you joking?!” You yelled in a hushed voice. “You’re beaten to a pulp!” Your voice cracked and tears stung your eyes at the sight of him. His perfect face covered in blood and bruises, his nose gushing with blood and his knuckles all cut.

“I’m fine, really! Can you patch me up?” He pleaded. Your mum was a nurse and had taught you a few things. Roger knew this and often used it to his advantage. “Please, I don’t want to be dragged down to the hospital.”

Letting out a defeated sigh you headed into your bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit. You noticed dots of blood up the entirety of your hall. When you saw yourself in the mirror that was in your bathroom, you noticed all the blood on you because your top had soaked it up. You headed back through with the kit in hand and sat down next to him. You placed some sterile alcohol solution on a bit of cotton wool and dabbed one of the many cuts on his face. Roger winced in pain and you pulled back before dabbing again. “Sorry,” you whispered as you cleaned up the cut just above his eyebrow “Almost finished with his one.”

“It’s alright,” Roger gritted out and groaned when you wiped the scratch on his cheekbone.

“You want to tell me what happened?” You lowly asked grabbing his chin to steady his head while you cleaned his split lips. His perfect lips. He wasn’t drunk, you could barely smell any alcohol coming from him…although the overpowering smell of blood could have easily swayed your senses.

Roger opened his eyes ever so slightly to look at you and you looked up to meet his gaze. His battered face was riddled with guilt. “No.” He simply replied.

You weren’t one to pry so didn’t bother asking what sort of trouble he got himself into. “Fine. I have something that will soak up the blood coming out of your nose, pinch the bridge and I’ll be back in a second.” You leaped up and headed to the bathroom again. Roger pulled a face when he pinched his tender nose.

“What the hell is that?” Roger asked as you came back in and tore open a long, thin packet.

You took the thing out and showed it to him “Tampon. Stick it up your nose and it’ll soak up the blood.” He looked at you as if you were mad. “Seen it done before. Trust me.” You tossed it to him and he inspected it intently.

“How does this go up…” he looked at you and then his eyes traveled downwards “There..?”

“I can demonstrate on you if you want…” you joked with a smirk and Roger gulped before complying and placed the product up his nose. You giggled at the sight before sitting back down and feeling his nose. “It’s not broken so that’s something.” You grabbed some small butterfly stitch strips and placed them over his cuts that weren’t too deep. “Anywhere else hurt or is it just your face?”

“I think I’ve sprained my arm when I’ve fell.” He explained and you checked it out, not bothering to ask how he managed to fall. You pulled up his sleeve and sighed under your breath, he was going to get a cracker of a bruise there in the next few days.

“I can tie it up for you so you aren’t moving it about too much.” You then moved his arm and he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in pain. “I’m sorry, Rog.” You whispered and tried to tie up his arm as quickly and as pain free as possible and then you cleaned up the grazes on his knuckles. “Anything-” you were cut off seeing him lift up his top and showing you the pink and purple blotches on his ribs. “My god…Roger…” your voice and heart broke at the slight. Your fingers delicately traced over his sore spots and Roger let out a content breath at the warmth coming from you. “I’ll…I’ll get you an ice pack for that.” You sniffled and stood up.

Roger watched as you made your way to the kitchen, quickly returning with an ice pack wrapped in a towel. He took it from you and pressed it to himself and let out a long wail of sheer relief. “Thank you.”

“You want to stay here tonight?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Is that okay?” Roger opened an eye.

You smirked “Of course it is. You can stay whenever you want for as long as you want.” He sent you a smile that made your heart jump like it was on a trampoline in your chest. Despite looking like crap, he beautifully glowed with joy. “You hungry?” He nodded and laid back on the sofa. “I’ve got some pasta left over, I’ll warm it up.” You went back to the kitchen again and heated it up. A tear slipped down your cheek and you wiped it away before setting up a tray for him. As well as the bowl of pasta, you placed some painkillers, a glass of water and a shot of scotch on it. You took it back through and Roger instantly raised a brow at the shot. “Medicinal purposes only.” You sat down next to him and handed him it.

He silently- and painfully- raised the shot glass at you as if to say thanks and placed it on the tray before trying to make an attempt at eating the pasta but his good hand was tied up and the other was still painful. “Can you help me?” He asked in a quiet, almost ashamed, voice. You nodded and grabbed the fork, picked up some pasta with it and brought it to his mouth. Roger shut his eyes and chewed “So good,” he hummed and opened his eyes again. You gave him another forkful and he ate it. “Why are you so good to me?” He asked and you froze for a second before feeding him again.

“You’re good to me. You lookout for me and stuff.” You vaguely explained, you’d become too emotional if you went into too much detail- especially seeing him in such a state. “You want a tank top to sleep in?” You asked as he finished off the bowl. Roger nodded and you headed to get one after helping him with his glass of water to swallow his painkiller tablets. “Try not to move too much, I’ll do most of the work.” You said as you removed his bloodied t-shirt. He groaned a little as he moved but you managed to put one of your tank tops on him without causing him too much discomfort.

“Can you take off my jeans?” He asked and you felt your face suddenly heat up. “I’ll just sleep in my boxers and the top.” You nodded and with trembling fingers, undid his belt. “Have you done this before?” Roger teased with a cocky smirk “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled and peeled them off. They were covered with blood too.

“Sorry about your top,” he motioned at the blood stain “And your floor, and for disturbing your trash tv show…and for coming to you in such a state.” His face was drooping as well as his voice.

“You just gave me a bit of a fright, that’s all. I’ve never seen you like this before. It’s never been this bad.” You stood up and he stretched out on the couch. “But then again, you’re always getting yourself into trouble.”

Roger sadly smirked “Guess that’s all I am- trouble. A troubled troublemaker.” He dramatically added.

“That’s secretly been my nickname for you since we were kids. Roger ‘trouble’ Taylor.” You chuckled and Roger looked at you with a smile forming on his face. “Ever since we snuck into Mrs Greene’s garden to get the ball back and you kicked right through her fence instead of climbing over like me.”

“I remember that! Her dog chased me because it got through the hole I’d made!” He laughed and then groaned, clutching his ribcage. Your smile fell at the sight of the almost broken man- the almost broken man that you loved- on your sofa at eleven at night. Roger saw the concern on your face. “I’m okay, the painkillers are kicking in a bit.” He pulled out the tampon in his nose. “Fuck! That did work!” He exclaimed in amazement.

You smugly grinned “Told you! Anyway, I’ll grab you another glass of water.” You quickly cleaned up and got him another glass. “Hey, do you-” you cut yourself off. Roger was fast asleep and little snoring noises left his mouth. You quietly placed down the glass on the table across from him and then fetched another two painkillers incase he needed them during the night. You grabbed him a blanket and tucked him up in a safe, warm cocoon. Your fingers found themselves brushing away the hair on his forehead. “My troublemaker…” you softly cooed and he stirred a little and the snoring stopped. “I’ll always love you, no matter how much trouble you get yourself into.”

You turned off the tv and headed to your own bed after wiping up the dots of blood on your wooden flooring in the hall. You then changed into fresh clothes that weren’t covered in Roger’s blood and tried to get some sleep. Tried. Your mind was racing thanks to Roger.

•••

The next morning after a broken nights sleep you woke up hearing loud rustling and banging noises. You squinted your tired eyes and looked at the clock- it was eight in the morning. If it was Roger making all that noise it shocked you- he was never up this early. A few minutes later, there was a knock on your bedroom door and you called him in after rubbing any remnants of dried tears on your cheeks. “Hey,” he grinned and you managed to smile back despite seeing his bruises blossoming into deeper shades on his face. He was carrying a tray “Made you breakfast- well I put cereal in a bowl…” he lowly laughed and you sat up in your bed.

Roger placed the tray on your lap, his face remaining close to yours. Roger leaned forward and pecked your temple, the gesture made you blink with shock. “Uh…thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do. You took care of me.”

You smiled “I’ll always do that for you, Rog.”

He grinned before shuffling on the spot “Is it alright if I go in for a bath or shower?”

“Of course!” You said after taking a mouthful of cereal. “A bath might be better. Soak your muscles. Are you still sore?”

“A bit, the painkillers helped. Thanks for leaving me more on the table.” A few moments of silence passed. “I really am sorry.”

“Stop apologising,” you got up out of bed “Give me a second to brush my teeth and freshen up then you can get into the bathroom.” You got up and got organised, quickly brushed your teeth whatnot before leaving Roger fresh, fluffy towels for him. When you left the bathroom, he went in. You changed into a black dress and put on the washer drier that was full of bloodied laundry and then did the dishes. You put the radio on to keep you company.

That was until the door was knocked on and you really did have company.

You dried off your hands and hurried to the door finding Freddie, John and Brian on the other side. “Is he here?” Brian asked and you nodded, letting them all in. “We’ve tried his place, our next guess was here.” Your brow creased ever so slightly. Were you and Roger that predictable? “Where his he? Sleeping?”

“He’s just in the bath. Were you with him last night?” You asked while receiving cheek kisses from them.

“We were,” John said and you went though to the living room. “He disappeared after getting into an argument with-” Freddie loudly cleared his throat and John shut himself up.

Your brows furrowed “Argument with who?” They all avoided your sharp gaze. Anger and worry was beginning to bubble inside you. “You better tell me who it was because he turned up here late last night covered in blood and bruises! I was beside myself with worry! Barely slept a wink!” You snapped with watery eyes and the three boys went wide-eyed at the revelation.

“We didn’t know that! Is he okay?!” Freddie asked.

“I managed to patch him up, he was so bad that I asked if he wanted to go to the hospital but he said no.” You sighed “Who hurt him?” Your voice was scarily calm and they all gulped at the tone.

“Richard Roberts…” Brian finally revealed.

You groaned and rubbed your temples “My ex? The one we call 'Dick the dick’?” They nodded “Why?”

Before they could give you an answer, Roger came in. “Y/N, I used your blue bath bomb but then my nose started bleeding again so I got out the tub and used another tampon. I can’t believe how-” he froze seeing eight pairs of eyes on him. John tried not to laugh at the sight of Roger with a tampon stuffed up his nose but then he saw the severity of his other injuries. The drummer gulped feeling like a kid who had stole a handful of sweets. “What did you tell her?”

“Enough to enrage me more than I already am…” you gritted out.

Roger had only heard that tone a few times from you- it was deadly. He tried to lighten the mood- your mood. “Why are you dressed in all black? Going to a funeral?” He joked.

You narrowed your eyes at him, you were highly unimpressed and unamused. “Yeah! Yours! Because I’m going to kill you!” You yelled and everyone flinched. “Why him, Rog?! Why that tosser?!” Roger looked at his bandmates, silently asking them to give the two of you some alone time.

“Y/N, hope to see you on Friday at the bar!” Freddie gave you a quick hug “Please go easy on him…” he whispered in your ear. You let out a sigh and tried to reassure him that you wouldn’t with a tiny smile. “See you both soon! Roger- take care!” He waved and the three left your flat. It suddenly became very quiet.

“Well?” You asked.

Roger slowly walked around and sat down on your sofa, he motioned you to sit next to him. “You know, I didn’t mean to end up like this,” he gestured at the bruises and cuts. “But I’m just trouble! He was slagging you off and I wasn’t going to stand for it! God, you deserved so much better than him! You’re so smart, witty, brave, independent, did I mention smart? Well if I didn’t you are…you’re also really funny, plus you’re gorgeous- even more than gorgeous! Beautiful! Why were you ever with him? He was a dick! You’re like a walking goddess or something.” He rambled.

“Roger!” You laughed and took his hand with blushing cheeks. “I’m thankful you stood up for me- and for saying such sweet things- but I’m not happy that it got you into this mess!”

Roger lazily grinned “I’d fight and fall to the ground for you a thousand- no a million- times if I had to…”

Your heart fluttered at his words “I’d pick you up and patch you up every time.” You whispered before quickly adding “But I’d make sure you wouldn’t be getting into a fight in the first place!” You pointed a finger at him while standing up, he just laughed. “Your washing is almost done, I’ll make you some lunch.”

•••

Roger stayed with you that night again, the pair of you were on the couch watching your trash tv show. You were in your pyjamas and Roger had borrowed another one of your tank tops with his freshly washed boxers. “What’s this even about anyway?” Roger asked “Bring me up to speed.”

“Well those two are best friends but are in love with each other- neither of them see that though. Everyone else does.” You pointed at the two characters onscreen. “They’ve been friends for years, just been hiding their true feelings from one another. It’s frustrating to watch.” 'And feel…’ you thought while looking at Roger. “Anyway they are always getting into bother, arguments, funny situations and he’s always getting into trouble but they still always love each other deeply.”

“They’re a bit like us,” Roger mindlessly uttered and your eyes shot open. It then hit him what he had said. “I mean like the best friend and trouble bit!” He nervously clarified with a laugh and you joined in, your own laugh just as fake and nervy. “Not the…” he lamely gestured “The other bits…”

“Right…” you forced a grin.

“Yeah…right…” he uttered out.

You glanced over at the clock- it was passed midnight. “I’m going to head to bed and get some sleep. You’re more than welcome to stay up and watch tv or help yourself to anything in the fridge.” You stood up and ruffled his hair “Night, Rog.”

“Night, Y/N.” Roger quietly said and watched as you disappeared into your room. You fell into your bed with a long sigh and then buried yourself under the covers. Your eyes were wide open, you couldn’t sleep, there was too many thoughts running through your mind. Especially all of Roger’s compliments earlier. Around thirty minutes later you still hadn’t fell asleep. Your door creaked open and you squinted your eyes in the darkness “Y/N?” Roger whispered.

“Everything okay?” You asked, sitting up in bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he reassured. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I was up. Can’t sleep.” You sighed.

Roger nodded but you couldn’t see as your room was drenched with darkness. “Me either…” he quietly admitted. “Can I come in beside you for a bit?”

You and Roger had shared a bed before multiple times but the older you got and the more your feelings developed, the harder it became not to fall in love with him more. Waking up wrapped in his arms was the best feeling in the world- it was something you wanted to feel every day.

You invited him in without words. Roger heard you throw back the covers and he leaned across to turn on the fairy lights that were tied around your bed frame. However, the battery was running out so only shone as half as bright as they used to. But they were still bright enough for you to make out all of Roger’s features. He climbed in and the dip he created made you roll towards him. Roger smirked and you tried to move back but he held you close. You brought your hand to his face “Does it hurt?” You asked tracing your fingers over his bruised cheek.

“Not right now…” he managed to smile. “Not when I’m here with you.” Your heart skipped a beat feeling his lips press against your forehead. He moved back ever so slightly to get a proper look of you. “I heard you crying last night.” He sounded sad and you felt a bit like a rabbit caught in headlights. “Why were you crying?”

“Was just worried about you. You were pretty beaten up- still are!” Roger managed to lightheartedly chuckle. “I was just worried.”

“I’m worried too…” Roger whispered, although he thought he was quiet enough for you not to hear him but you did.

“What are you worried about?” You asked, furrowing a brow.

“Everything.”

Roger’s vague response was even quieter than before. “You might have to be a bit more specific. I don’t do my best thinking at-” you turned and glanced at the clock. “One in the morning!” You let out a breathy chuckle.

Roger smiled “I’ve always loved your laugh.” He cupped your cheeks “Always loved your smiles, your stubbornness, your sarcasm- I’ve almost pissed myself laughing at some of the stuff you say.” You let out a loud laugh, not caring about your neighbours at this point. “Always loved you.”

Not many things that Roger said or did took you off guard but that certainly did. “What did you say?”

Roger looked deep into your eyes, despite the surrounding skin of one of his turning a shade of purple. “I’ve always loved you. More- way more- than a friend. I love you in like a 'Can we kiss in front of our friends just to make them gag at how lovey dovey we are’ and a 'Am I allowed to kiss you whenever’ sort of love.” He said you widely smiled with tears brimming your eyes. “A kind of love where I’d give you all of me…and the trouble that follows me…for the rest of my life.”

“Oh, Roger,” you cupped his face and both of you closed the gap between the pair of you. “I love you. Always have. I’ll give you all of me and I’ll happily have all of you.” You both shared a long awaited kiss. “I’ll take you- trouble and all.”

•••

After picking up more clothes for himself, Roger stayed at yours again the following night. You sat snuggled up together on the sofa and watched your trash show again.

The two onscreen characters finally kissed.

——————————

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calenheniel · 6 years

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The Lost Prince, a frozen fanfic | IV.

Frozen | Hans, Elsa | Fantasy, Drama | G+

Legend tells of the lost kingdom of Arendelle, and history records the many, many adventurers lost in search of it.

Read Part I | Part II | Part III

Follow updates: #TLPFrozen

IV.

Another two days passed before Hans was conscious for more than a few hours at a time. By then, the storm had quelled to a gentle, murmuring wind outside.

In the midst of his indisposition, he had managed to learn a few details about his savior, and where exactly he had ended up. The girl’s name was Gerda, and she had lived in this cabin on the North Mountain for almost two years on her own. She lived off the forest and the meager plant and animal life which could survive the endless winter, and she had kept him alive with what little food she had to spare. She looked thinner than before for her efforts, her face and hands covered in soot from sleeping on the floor by the hearth, and he wondered at how she could look after him when she herself seemed so pitiable in her poverty.

He did not have the sense to question her while he had been ill, but as he awoke on the third day to clear skies and a blinding sun, he felt more capable of carrying on a conversation without passing out in the middle of it.

Hans sat up with a groan, and looked out of the window by the bed. He was greeted by the same vast, empty expanse of snow and evergreens that he had seen en route to the cabin, with one exception: Gerda. She was carrying as much timber as she could carry in her small arms, and he watched her as she walked around the house and deposited the pile by the front door. She came inside after brushing stray wood chips from her apron, and knocked the snow from her thick brown boots by the entryway.

She exhaled fog as she took off her gloves one by one, meeting his curious stare. “You’re up early,” she remarked, and then walked to the hearth to stoke the waning fire. When it was alive again, she hung a kettle over it. “Are you feeling better?”

He nodded, and pulled back the blankets as he swung his legs over the side of the bed with only a small wince. “Better,” he confirmed, “thanks to you.” He looked her over for a moment, noting that she was still dressed in her outdoors gear. “Cold out there?”

“It always is,” she said, and flashed him a small, resigned smile. “Better to stay in here where it’s warm, while you’re still healing.”

He shrugged as he stood up to stretch, his legs quivering from disuse. “I’m no good to anyone if I’m on my back all day,” he rejoined, walking over until he stood next to her. Hans glanced at the bookshelf by the front door, upon which sat his over-clothes. They were neatly folded and clean - Gerda’s handiwork, no doubt - and he simpered a little. “But I’d be of more use to you if I were properly dressed.”

Her reply was guileless and gentle. “Of course. There’s a room in the back where you can change.”

He was almost disappointed by her simplicity, but took his clothes and went in the room as suggested. Once inside with the door shut behind him, he looked with surprise upon his new surroundings. There was a large, round bath which took up most of the space in the room, suggesting that this cabin had been home to a sauna at one point. He had a vague memory of the words he had seen written on the outside of the building - “Oaken’s Trading Post” - and thought that the cabin must have been, at some point, a mountain retreat for explorers and tradesmen.

The notion made him put on his clothes more quickly, and he walked back into the main room with a questioning gaze. “Gerda, what—”

“Tea?” she interrupted him, holding up the hissing kettle from the fireplace. His furrowed brow abated at her innocent look, and he nodded with a half-smile. Better to be gracious and approach this stranger slowly, he thought, than to attack her with suspicion.

She sprinkled a few grounded leaves into the bottom of a cup, poured the water over them, and placed it on a small table next to her. She motioned for him to sit in the chair beside it. “Please, Hans.”

His name sounded strange yet natural from her lips, and he marveled at how her hard life in the mountains had not diminished the lyricism of her voice. He took the cup carefully, blowing on the surface to cool the tea. “Thank you,” he said with genuine gratitude, at which she gave a slight bow of her head.

She smiled into her own cup as she pressed it to her lips, giving him an inquisitive look. “Were you trying to ask me something?”

Hans reddened. “Oh, yes, I—it’s just that I noticed the old sauna in the back,” he stammered, “and I recalled the name out front, and I wondered…” He paused to set his cup down on the table and collect himself. “Well, I wondered how you came to find this place. After all,” he continued, “I’d been travelling for what seemed like years before I stumbled upon it, and frankly, I thought it was just a figment of my imagination at first.”

Gerda’s smile was thin in response, and she looked down. “I thought the same when I first found this cabin,” she replied, her hands wrapped tightly around the cup. “But I haven’t managed to get away from it since.”

His brow rose. “What do you mean?”

She appeared pained by the question. “It’s a long and sad tale,” she said, and stared into the fire. “I don’t wish to burden you with it, while you’re still recovering your strength.”

“I think it’s recovered enough to hear the story,” he returned, and was circumspect in sounding as polite as possible even as he burned with curiosity. “If you’re willing to tell it, that is.”

Her hands unclasped themselves from around the cup, and she sighed. “No one else would, or could listen to it,” she said, “so I suppose I am.” Her eyes met his for a moment, and he felt stunned into silence by their dazzling blue depths as they shined brilliantly in comparison to her ashen and dry skin. In the next instant, they returned to the fire, and she began. “I came here from a small village by the sea, where I grew up. I lived there with my younger brother, Kai, and our parents… until they died.” Her lip trembled. “It was a difficult time, and I coped with their loss better than my brother. He took to running away when we argued - which was often - but I always found him and brought him home.” She grasped the cup again, her hands shaking. “Until the one time I didn’t.”

Hans nodded. “He came here.”

“Yes,” Gerda said. “But it took me a long time to track him down, and by the time I did, he had become very sick. Just like you were when I found you, but worse.”

There was something odd in the way she told her tale, Hans thought - a vagueness or emptiness to its details that struck him as suspect - but he maintained a sympathetic facade as she went on, remembering his determination to approach her with care. “And you took care of him here, the same way you have me?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, but he died, all the same.” Her lips pressed into a grim line. “I tried to find my way back home, I really did,” she said, “but the storms here are bad, as you know, and the trails I’d taken were covered again by the time I left. I walked for three days until I was too weak to go on, and I—” Her eyes shut tightly, and when they opened again, she was blinking back tears. “I came back here, because I had nowhere else to go.”

He believed her story even less than he had at the start, but put on a grieved expression for her benefit. “I’m sorry for what happened to your brother,” he said. “These mountains are no place for a boy.”

“No,” she agreed, sniffling. She wiped away a stray tear that was falling down her cheek before it landed in her tea. “They’re no place for anyone.”

Hans stared at her. “And yet—” He paused for dramatic effect until she looked at him again.

“And yet?”

He averted his gaze, pretending embarrassment. “Well, that is—what I meant to say, is… I’ve heard many stories about these mountains, none of them good.” He remembered the crone, the barkeep, and Leif with a deep frown. “‘Every man who’s ever gone there has never returned,’ so they said,” he said, imitating the barkeep from Farsund’s low voice, “and yet… here you are, alive in spite of all the evil trolls and witches that I was told had cursed this place.” He gave her a knowing look. “Though I can see you’re not a man, which perhaps has something to do with it.”

This remark drew a small smile from Gerda. “Indeed I am not,” she agreed, “nor have I ever been fond of, or believed in, such legends myself.” She gazed out the window, and in the same moment a cloud passed over the sun, dimming the shine of the snowy landscape. “But there is a strange aura about this place that I have never quite understood… as if it exists in a realm beyond God’s reach.” She blushed. “I know that must sound like a lot of nonsense to you.”

He forced himself to shake his head. “You’ve been here far longer than I have, so who am I to say what this place is, or isn’t?” he demurred. “It certainly is strange, if nothing else.”

She sent him an appreciative smile at that, and sipped her tea. “So why did you come here, knowing the stories?”

He had not expected the question, and so his answer was not as well-planned nor as well-executed as he would have liked. “I hail from warmer lands in the South,” he began with a truth. “I have family there, but... we’re not close.” He plastered on a look of consternation. “I have many brothers - too many, if you ask me - and one younger sister. She’s the only one I’ve ever cared for, out of all of them, and so I’ve looked after her like a father since our parents passed.”

This description earned him a plaintive stare from Gerda, as he had hoped it would. “She was struck by a strange illness very suddenly a few weeks ago, and her health declined rapidly. We were told that the petals of a certain kind of rose could be made into a balm that would heal her, but when my brothers found out that it only grows near the North Mountain, they wrote her off as a lost cause.” He stared at the stone floor below him, and strategically slumped his head over his shoulders, his elbows resting on his outspread knees. “They were scared off by the stories about this place, and told me it would be a fool’s errand to come here. But I had to take the risk, if it meant that I could save her life.” He let out a sullen chuckle. “Not that I’ve done much so far that would be of help to her, except get sick myself.”

“But you’re getting better,” Gerda noted, and touched his shoulder to reassure him. Hans lifted his hand, making it appear as if he meant to place it atop hers—but then paused, and let it settle back into his lap instead. He noticed her try to hide a look of disappointment at his withdrawal, and then return to the subject at hand. “What is the name of the rose that you seek?”

Having conjured the story of the sick little sister from whole cloth, Hans struggled to think of a flower that she might not know - or even one that he would know - and named the only one he could think of in that moment.

“It’s called the huldra,” he told her in his most convincing tone. “Do you know it?”

He glanced over at her face to assess her familiarity with the name. When it looked as blank as before, his nervousness eased—but before she could answer him, he shuddered, his whole body convulsing with a forceful pain that terrified him.

Gerda came to his side in an instant, and he slumped against her, allowing her to help him up and guide him back to the bed. She unbuttoned his shirt as his head lolled back, and he winced at the paralyzing ache that pulsed behind his eyes. “You’d better rest more, and let yourself recover,” she advised, “or you won’t be able to help anyone, let alone your sister.” She slid his shirt off arm by arm as he undid his trousers with quivering fingers under the covers. When he had finished wriggling his legs out of them, he handed the garment to her, sweating from the effort. She placed them to the side and pressed the compress against his forehead, which calmed him.

He fell back on the mattress in a cold sweat, and he breathed haggardly until she placed one of her cold hands against his cheek, shushing him.

“Sleep, now,” she instructed, “and tomorrow, we shall find your flower.”

#TLPFrozen #frozen #frozen fanfiction #disney #the snow queen #snow queen #elsa #queen elsa #hans #prince hans #helsa #hansla #iceburns

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kareenvorbarra · 6 years

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alright after thinking about things more and seeing the movie a second time (even though i fell asleep for the last half hour because i went to a late showing and bought a giant dumb movie-themes cocktail at the theater) i am ready to talk about TLJ in more detail. I am still feeling pretty torn about it, there were things i loved and things I hated, so here are some lists:

things i liked

the diversity!!!! TFA did this too and again it was such a joy to watch a Star Wars movie and see all these female and non-white background characters everywhere. heroic female Resistance pilots and gunners, female First Order bridge officers, the fact that a good chunk of the Resistance leadership is apparently made up of middle-aged women, i love it

Paige Tico was great, and I loved that Lt. Connix got some lines, Tallie aka Blue Leader is my new space girlfriend

Vice Admiral Holdo and her purple hair and flowy clothing and no-nonsense attitude and the way she fucking HYPERSPACED THE FIRST ORDER FLEET IN HALF which was one of the coolest scenes in the whole damn movie

every single scene Leia was in was gold and I love her and miss her and i’m so afraid of what’s going to happen in the next movie, and I miss Carrie so much ;___;

Poe and Leia’s relationship was very very good, the part where she bursts onto the bridge in her hospital gown and just stuns him very lovingly was another one of my favorite scenes

Snoke dying was v satisfying and good, get rekt you evil motherfucker (though i hope we find out what his deal was eventually because i’m still curious, who is this clown)

the Luke + R2D2 reunion made me so emotional, i legit cried a little the first time i saw the scene where R2 plays the old recording of Leia ;__; my poor kids

same with Chewie breaking down Luke’s door, and Luke asking about Han, and Luke’s last scene with Leia, and the part where he turns out to have been fucking astral projecting himself from the island

i like the possibility that Rey’s parents are just randos (v Taran from Prydain) and i really hope they stick with that and don’t pull a “psych she’s actually related to someone important” because lbr Kylo doesn’t know shit about her parents, he was just saying that because it was the thing most likely to make her come with him.

i loved Rose, she’s a real sweetheart and it’s cool to have a major character who would be a random background tech in any other story

Poe fucking crank-calling Hux was absolute comedy gold, also Hux pretty much did nothing in this movie except get dunked on which was incredibly satisfying

things i didn’t like

i uh try not to talk about how much i hate reylo because it wasn’t A Thing onscreen in the first movie and i don’t begrudge people shipping whatever they want to ship even if i don’t get it, but i really hate reylo you guys. i don’t mind them becoming friends or helping each other out but if they date in canon the new trilogy is dead to me, i really won’t be able to handle it.

i’m totally on board with Kylo turning but i still don’t give a damn about him compared to so many other characters. why does this movie treat him like a child when he’s almost 30? i really wish he wasn’t the focus of Rey’s storyline, I want Rey to be the focus of her own storyline. I want her relationships with Finn and Leia to be moved to the forefront. I want her to interact with people who aren’t white men

my one consolation is that Rey didn’t go with Kylo at the end, and she didn’t buy his bullshit about her not being important to anyone but him, because that was a gross thing to say and she has multiple people who care about her for real and aren’t just projecting their trauma and insecurities onto her

one of the reasons I loved TFA so much was the strength and depth of the relationship between Finn and Rey. That was the emotional heart of the NT for me and i didn’t expect them to interact much in this movie but their relationship was shoved aside way more than it needed to be. i do ship them romantically, but whether they get together or not i want their relationship to continue to be a big part of the story, and whoever wrote this movie clearly didn’t think that was a priority.

as much as a loved Rose and Kelly Marie Tran’s performance, Finn/Rose makes me sad. after what i personally saw onscreen in TFA, this movie felt like a reylo fanfic where the author pushed one half of my OTP aside and gave him a new love interest to get him out of the way of their OTP.

Finn, who was one of my favorite (if not my favorite) characters in TFA, just didn’t get much depth in this movie. I really enjoyed most of his storyline while I was watching it, but the more i think about it the more disappointed i get. his desertion plotline was the most compelling part of TFA for me and this movie didn’t have any kind of satisfying emotional follow-up to that; his fight with Phasma was cool to watch but ultimately hollow, and i’m not pleased that she died after getting maybe ten minutes total of screentime in the whole series. Where is my stormtrooper uprising? where is Finn continuing to grapple with the trauma of his past? i guess i can hope that ep. 9 gives me some of this, but i’m nervous now.

This movie left me with a lot of pressing questions, like where the fuck is Jessika Pava? i guess i’m supposed to assume she died somewhere offscreen but that’s super unfair to her as a character, until i get some confirmation i’ll just hope that she was off on a mission somewhere during the First Order attack on the base and will rejoin the Resistance when she can

and this is getting its own separate list because i have a lot to say about it:

structural/worldbuilding problems i have with the new trilogy that began in TFA and that TLJ only exacerbated

one of my least favorite things in TFA was the part where the First Order blew up the Hosnian System, where the New Republic government was based. Planetary destruction is a potential anxiety trigger for me personally, so i found the fact that it was included in TFA on a larger scale than in ANH both upsetting and derivative. i also didn’t think that movie explored the aftermath of such a massive disaster adequately, and i think it did an even worse job than ANH did exploring Leia’s reaction to the destruction of Alderaan.

TLJ, rather than taking any time to rectify this problem, gives the viewer no specific information about the destruction of Hosnian Prime and its effects on other Republic worlds. instead we get “The New Republic has fallen and the First Order controls everything.” i’m sorry, what? the New Republic is (presumably) very large, and while the destruction of the Senate must have been a massive blow, what the hell is happening on the Republics hundreds of member planets? did they all just roll over and submit to the First Order without putting up a fight? because that’s sure as hell not what happened after the destruction of the Old Republic. and how is the First Order even ruling anybody? they don’t seem to have set up any kind of new central government (which the Empire did pretty much immediately when it rose to power) and all of the First Order’s top leadership is busy personally pursuing the Resistance.

The prequel trilogy and the Clone Wars show dedicate hours and hours of time detailing the events that led up to the fall of the Old Republic, a sprawling and complex institution whose members cannot be pacified overnight even by someone as powerful as Palpatine. Surely the New Republic is no less massive and diverse - i understand that it’s not the focus of these new movies but they really can’t give the audience a single detail? afaik there isn’t even much supplemental material where i can go to find this information, and i’m mad about it.

i also have a million questions about the Jedi and Luke’s school and i don’t know where to find this information in new canon because it sure isn’t in the movies at all. Luke comes out of ROTJ knowing basically nothing about the Jedi’s history and philosophy - does he study them after the war? what does he decide to adopt, and what does he ignore? he’s obviously invested enough in the label to keep calling himself a Jedi, but what does being a Jedi mean to Luke Skywalker? also, what the fuck happened to the students who left with Kylo after he destroyed the school?

this complaint has a lot to do with the fact that i’m very invested in the Clone Wars and Rebels cartoons, maybe more invested than i am in the movies right now. i don’t expect my favorite cartoon characters to appear in the movies, and i understand the desire to keep the movies highly accessible for people who don’t engage in other Star Wars media. BUT. to me it felt like TLJ went out of its way to severely limit the scope of the kind of stories that could potentially be told outside the movies in the NT era.

I’m going to make a lot of comparisons here with the OT, because the OT also sticks closely to a few core characters and has a narrower narrative focus than the prequels, but it does so in a way that leaves a lot of room for additional stories. The Rebel Alliance is big and sprawling and has lots of bases and cells and operatives who exist perfectly well alongside the main action even though they never appear onscreen. this openness allowed for later stories like Rebels and Rogue One to exist unhindered. but the world of TLJ has no such openness - we are told that this is the Resistance’s only base, that the 400 people who evacuate and the handful of people who actually survive the movie are all that remains of the organization. there’s some vague talk of allies in the Outer Rim, but we have no idea how closely tied to the Resistance they are and none of them seem willing to respond to an urgent call for help. unlike the Rebel Alliance, the story of the Resistance is a small story that will never be bigger (though i hope to god one of the groups of “Outer Rim allies” is some sort of offshoot of the Free Ryloth movement, because if there’s one thing i know about the Ryloth of the last several decades is that it never fails to resist oppression).

similarly (and to me, even more distressing) is the way this movie handles the possibility of a Jedi remnant. there are a few lines in the OT about Luke or Yoda or whoever being the last of the Jedi, but that hasn’t stopped Star Wars from telling canon stories about other Order 66 survivors who are engaging with the Force on their own. these people can exist during the Empire’s last days without interfering with Luke’s story - the galaxy is a big place, and with Palpatine in charge it makes sense for them all to be in hiding. but wouldn’t they have come out of hiding during the New Republic and tried to find each other? i don’t want to believe that every possible ex-Jedi or former padawan or hidden Force user secretly developing their talents died before TFA. even if Ahsoka is really dead or ascended to some other plane of existence, even if Kanan dies in the Rebels finale, what about Ezra? are they going to kill him, too? what about surviving Jedi like Jocasta Nu or Quinlan Vos? what about kids who realized they were Force-sensitive during Imperial rule, like Dhara Leonis or Jai Kell? obviously i don’t mind these characters not being included in the movies, but i want a movie-verse that doesn’t make it impossible for them to exist and continue to have stories of their own. i don’t want Luke to be the only person who tried to develop his powers after the Empire fell, or who tried training a new generation of Force users.

#the last jedi spoilers #fandom musings #/#//#///#star wars #if you feel at all similarly feel free to comment or pm me - most of the reactions i've seen on twitter have been overwhelmingly positive #and a lot of stuff along the lines of 'all the haters are fanboys who are mad about the diversity and the women doing stuff and the jokes'#which is disheartening to say the least lmao #heaven forbid i'm annoyed that they sidelined the black lead or wish they'd let the female lead interact with other women

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seriestrash · 7 years

Text

The Sack of Gold

- One Shot -

Summary: Sad circumstances reunite Riley and Lucas in Texas. Word Count: 3636

○ ◎ ○ ◎ ○ ◎ ○ ◎ ○ ◎ ○ ◎ ○

Both Riley and Lucas are in their final year of college, Riley is studying in New York City whilst Lucas went back to study in Texas. Even with distance and conflicting schedules the two high school sweethearts defeated the odds and have maintained a happy and healthy relationship with each other.

Over the past year Lucas’ Pappy Joe has been suffering with ongoing medical issues and over the past month his condition has decreased greatly. The doctors say it won’t be long now before he passes.

Lucas takes this news poorly. The Texan takes his anger out on people who don’t deserve it. His temper - something he’s always struggled with - is even harder to control without his calming influence present.

Riley is held up in New York, important exams keeping her grounded there for the time being. While her head has to be in the city her heart lies with Lucas in Texas. It’s breaking for herself - as she’d grown to love the old man over the years too - and for Lucas, whom has always sought the approval of his grandfather whom he loves and respects.

When Riley finds the tiniest window in her schedule she immediately books her flight and travels to Austin Texas. Once Riley exits the airport she realises her decision to come was that quick that she hadn’t even told Lucas about it. After he didn’t answer his cell, Riley phones Zay and he’s quick to leave work and collect his friend from the airport. Riley gives him a warm embrace when they meet, she knows full well he’d be hurting too at this time, having also grown up with this man in his life.

During the car ride back to the boys hometown, Riley is quick to ask about Lucas and how he’s been coping. She knew little bits that he’d share on the phone but Riley was smart enough to know Lucas would conceal a great deal of his pain from her out of fear of distracting her from school work. Zay is vague, explains a little about Lucas’ mood, how he’s pulled away but mainly just how exhausted he seems. This doesn’t strike Riley as odd, when she visited last month she too noticed how worn out Lucas looked. This whole ordeal was clearly taking a toll on him.

Zay shares with Riley that Lucas was blowing off some steam so he wasn’t really sure where he was at this time. Riley says it’s fine, he’ll surface eventually and hopefully she’d be able to talk to him about it but for now she would like to visit Pappy Joe. Zay drops the brunette off at the hospital as he has to return to work.

After navigating her way through the corridors, Riley finds Pappy Joe’s room. Riley looks in and sees he’s asleep. Mr. and Mrs. Friar are in chairs by the bed. Riley gently knocks on the door and both of Lucas’ parents come out to greet her.

“Honey, we had no idea you were coming,” Mrs. Friar pulls her in for a hug, “Is Lucas here with you?”

“Zay dropped me off, I haven’t seen Lucas yet. I think he’s taking a moment to think...” Riley explains.

Mr. Friar nods knowing his son has been taking things very hard.

“Sorry if it’s trouble that I just showed up,” Riley apologises, “I saw a gap in my schedule and booked last minute.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Friar shakes her head, “You’re family and family is always welcome.”

“How’s he doing?” Riley nudges her head towards Pappy Joe’s room.

“He’s weak,” Mr. Friar says, “He has his good and bad days. Today is an okay one.”

“May I sit with him?” Riley asks, “You two can get something to eat or..”

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Friar asks.

“Absolutely,” Riley nods.

The two thank Riley as they’d been there with him all night and needed to return home to shower. Once they part Riley quietly slips into the room and takes a seat by the bed. Silently, she prays. She prays for a miracle, that he wakes up fit as a fiddle and outlives them all. Knowing that his was unlikely Riley prays for his family and everyone who will miss him when he goes. It's soon after that that the old man wakes up.

"Not that face I was expecting to see," Pappy Joe is groggy.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Riley does that thing where she scrunches one side of her face together.

The old man chuckles and struggles to sit himself up in the bed, “Never a disappointing moment when you’re involved.”

Riley smiles to herself at his comment and she enters a pleasant conversation with the man. She asks light questions about how he is but Pappy Joe insists on quizzing Riley about her life in great detail. How school was going, if she had thought anymore about what she wants to do once she graduates, things like that. Riley happily answers and the pair get lost in conversation. Since they first met Pappy Joe has always been interested in knowing everything about her. The girl who captured the heart of his only grandson.

A nurse had come in to check on Pappy a few times throughout their long chat so when the door opens Riley figures it’s the same lady but she turns her head to find the tired eyes of her boyfriend.

“Riley?” Lucas asks quietly in disbelief.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t call first,” Riley coaxes her head with a smile.

A soft chuckle escapes him as he pulls her in for an embrace. Lucas buries his face into the crook of Riley’s neck and takes a deep breath. The two of them stay like that until Pappy Joe clears his throat. Riley giggles nervously and apologises to the man to which he only smiles.

The three of them settle into conversation but it takes only twenty minutes for Lucas to doze off in the seat beside Riley. The brunette smiles lovingly at her exhausted boyfriend and lowers her voice to a whisper as she chats with Pappy Joe.

“So when do you get to go home?” Riley asks quietly.

“I’m not sure I do,” Pappy frowns.

“Why?” Riley asks. An ache in her chest not really wanting to know the answer.

“My son wants to keep me kicking as long as possible,” he lets out a deflated chuckle, “Staying here strengthens my chances...”

“Is that so bad?” Riley asks softly, “Having people love you and want you around forever?”

“I suppose not,” Pappy gives her a warm smile, “But sometimes the quality of life is far more important than the quantity.”

“You’re not happy?” Riley asks with a sadness building up in side her. A sadness that the sick man notices.

“I have had a wonderful life,” he reaches for the young girls hands, “I grew up on that farm, fell in love and married on that farm, had children and watched their children grow up on that farm. That’s where I’d like to be, even if it’s only for a little while longer.”

Once Lucas wakes up he and Riley spoke outside Pappy Joe’s room. She very delicately explained her conversation with the sick man and how he longs to return home. Lucas understands and convinces his father to respect Pappy’s wishes.

The following day Pappy Joe is discharged from the hospital and returns to his farm under the care of his loved ones. That night Lucas’ mom prepares a huge family dinner with all of Lucas’ extended family and close friends. It was like having the whole tiny town squeezed into his small farmhouse. Love for the man radiated throughout the house and warmed Riley’s heart completely.

Once everyone departs the remaining family members staying at the house begin to turn in for the night. Lucas falls asleep on the sofa, still catching up on all the sleep he’s missed these past few months.

The house is quiet and Riley tiptoes past Lucas on the sofa and decides to get some fresh air out on the porch.

“Pappy Joe,” Riley says noticing him on his rocking chair, “I thought you were already in bed.”

“I thought I’d come out here and watch the stars,” he says calmly.

“May I join you?” Riley asks.

“I’d be honoured,” Pappy Joe grins.

Riley pulls the wooden barrel on the porch closer towards the chair where Pappy rests. Quietly she sits herself down with hands folded in her lap and joins him in admiring the stars.

“Is Lucas still asleep on the sofa?” Pappy asks.

“Yeah,” Riley smiles, “I thought about waking him so he could move to bed but he looks so peaceful.”

“I don’t think that boy has had a good nights sleep until you got here,” Pappy says. A few seconds of silence pass before he says, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Riley gently tilts her head to the side.

“For making him feel safe enough to fall asleep.” Pappy says simply.

A smile crosses Riley’s face. Even if the remark didn’t come from a dying man Riley still believes it to be one of the nicest things she’s ever heard. The brunette points her smile back towards the stars. The two sit in a peaceful silence until Pappy Joe lets out a quiet sigh. “I used to sit out here and watch the stars with Mae.”

Riley turns her attention to Pappy once more, his face illuminated only by the moonlight which Riley liked because he didn’t look sick. He looked like the burley man that chuckled his way into her heart all those years ago.

“I wish I got to meet her.” Riley says softly.

“She would have liked you,” Pappy Joe turns to smile at Riley.

Over the times Riley had visited Texas she's come to learn a lot about Lucas’ grandma Mae. Riley loved hearing stories the from Pappy Joe, he spoke with such love in his voice. She was a kind woman, Pappy Joe and her met at seventeen were married that same year. Mae passed away when Lucas was about six. Pappy Joe was so heartbroken it contributed to the grouchy man he was for many years.

“Mae is such a pretty name,” Riley says softly.

“I’ve always thought that too,” he nods.

“If I ever have a daughter one day, I think I’d like to call her Mae,” Riley was thinking aloud at this point. Once she realises, Riley sheepishly smiles at the old man, “Do you think that would be okay?”

“I think that would be wonderful,” Pappy Joe fails to hide his smile.

They continue to watch the stars together in silence. Riley and Pappy Joe had never found difficulty talking to each other. The same way Riley loses herself in conversations with Lucas. Their outstanding communication skills with one another actually surprised Lucas’ parents the first trip Riley made to Texas as Lucas’ girlfriend. Pappy was very interested in the girl whom won Lucas’ heart. So every trip since then, or time she caught him on the phone, the pair have chatted away but tonight was different. The silence spoke for itself. The two were just content being.

When an unexpected yawn consumes Riley, Pappy Joe lets out a hearty chuckle and chokes down a cough. “Maybe you ought to get some sleep.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Riley giggles. “Do you need anything before I turn in, maybe a drink or something?”

“Would you mind getting me some paper and a pen?” he asks.

“Of course.” Riley nods and she does just that. Once she returns to the man and hands off the items she gives him a quick and loving embrace.

“Take care of him, Riley,” Pappy says before Riley goes back inside.

After a slight nod Riley coaxes her head to the side with a soft smile but an ache in her chest. She didn’t like that it felt like he was saying goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pappy Joe.”

“Goodnight, Riley,” Pappy says quietly.

When the brunette reenters the house Lucas stirs on the couch.

“Hey what are you still doing up?” He groggily wipes at his eyes.

“I was sitting out with Pappy Joe,” Riley says quietly not wanting to wake anyone else in the house.

“He’s still up?” Lucas’ tired confused expression makes Riley smile.

“He’s on the porch,” Riley points towards the front door.

Lucas stands and kisses Riley’s cheek, “I’m going to sit with him for a while but I’ll be in soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Riley nods with a smile before retreating to the bedroom where she falls asleep quite quickly.

Riley wakes again when Lucas enters the room. Riley rolls over and he gives her an apologetic smile for waking her as he takes off his boots. Riley notices the time on the digital clock by the bed, it’s so early in the morning Lucas must have spent hours out there with him.

“Thank you for coming,” Lucas whispers as he climbs into bed beside her, “For Pappy.. For me.”

Riley gently stokes his cheek with the back of her palm. Her eyelids heavy and her voice is soft, "You’re really important to me, Lucas.”

Lucas has a silent chuckle, the kind where he laughs with closed eyes and gentle jerks of his shoulders but no sound comes out. “You’re really important to me too...” He pauses a moment before whispering, “If I could go back to that weekend I’d tell you what I really meant, right then and there.”

“We’re together right here, right now and I love you.” Riley says softly. “Every single moment of our lives has been building up to this exact one so I wouldn’t change a single thing from our past.”

“I love you.” Lucas matches the softness of her voice.

“I know.” A statement not said with sass or even humour behind it. Just a gentle smile.

Even in a sleepy haze Riley notices Lucas’ demeanour shift to panic, the way he gets when he’s worked up or overthinking something. “I understand if you have to get back to the city soon, I know you’re busy-”

“Shh,” Riley gently cuts him off. The brunette uses her index finger motioning for Lucas to roll over. He does just that and Riley throws her arm over him and wriggles herself closer. Tonight she would be the protector, if she could. “I’m not going anywhere.” Riley whispers before pressing a kiss to his back, very soon after the two drift off to sleep.

After the break of dawn Riley wakes, Lucas is still sleeping contently. Soft sounds of his breathing make Riley smile to herself. The New Yorker very quietly creeps away not wanting to disturb him.

A heartbreaking realisation hits her when she reaches the living room where Lucas’ very upset parents console each other. Riley catches the tear that slid down her cheek with the back of her palm. Bravely she offers to be the one to tell Lucas.

Riley pauses outside the bedroom door and takes a few deep breaths. Once composed the best she could, Riley opens the door. Lucas stirs and sits up with a sleepy smile. It was as if in his tired state he was blissfully numb to everything that had been bothering him lately. Like all his troubles were forgotten. Then he sees the sadness in her eyes and everything changed. She sat by him, held his hand and confirmed the worst. Pappy Joe was gone.

Never had Riley felt pain quite like this. Seeing the man she loved completely shatter the way he did.

Not long before Riley woke up that morning Mr. Friar discovered his father still on the front porch in his rocking chair. The coroner determined that he fell asleep and didn’t wake up. Very peaceful and painless he assured them.

Since the news broke Lucas had been very withdrawn. Thankfully he didn’t push Riley away, he leaned on her to get through the funeral preparations and what not. Even though Riley felt her boyfriends heartbreak she knew there was a part of him that was holding back, stopping himself from feeling everything.

Three days later a funeral was held to pay respects to the old man. Everyone who loved Pappy Joe gathered at his beloved farmhouse for the wake. Lucas disappeared not long into things and Riley found him in the spare room they were sleeping in. Things were a mess. Like everything had been turned upside down. Riley’s immediate thought was that Lucas’ temper boiled over and he was lashing out by destroying the room but when he turns around to face her with tear drenched cheeks she suspects he’s finally letting himself feel the bulk of his pain.

“I can’t find it.” Lucas chokes on his words.

“Find what?” Riley keeps her voice as steady and calming as possible.

“My sack of gold.” Lucas turns again and pulls a few things from the nightstands drawer.

“Alright..” Riley looks around at the mess for a moment. “Where was the last place you remember having it?”

“I had it in my bag, when Pappy was in the hospital but it’s not there.” A frustrated Lucas kicks the now empty bag on the floor.

Riley soothingly rubs up and down his arm. “Just sit down and breathe for a moment."

“I can’t loose it too, Riley.” Lucas’ expression pains her.

“We’ll find it,” Riley nods lightly. “Just sit down and I’ll go see if it fell out in your truck.”

Lucas manages a tiny nod and sits at the edge of the bed. Riley gives him a small empathetic smile and exits the room. On her way out the door Mr. Friar stops her.

“Have you seen Lucas?” He questions.

“He’s in the spare room.” Riley explains. “I have to look for something in his truck, I’ll be right back.”

The two part ways. Mr. Friar makes his way to Lucas and finds his son trying to calm down in the spot Riley left him. Ignoring the mess he sits by his son and pulls a crumpled envelope out of his inner suit pocket.

“What’s this?” Lucas knits his brows together as he takes the letter is father held out for him.

“The people at the funeral home gave it to me after the service, they said it was on your Pappy when he passed.” A sadness present in his voice.

Lucas looks at the makeshift envelope, it was crumpled up and looked as though it had more than a letter inside. His name sprawled across the front in black pen. Mr. Friar quietly exits the room.

Lucas stares at the envelope again, it was more another piece of paper folded to act as an envelope, the handwriting very clearly belonged to his late Pappy. It takes Lucas a moment to find the courage to open it. But he does. Instantly he’s hit with a wave of relief wants he recognises the item that left the envelope slightly bulky but there was confusion present too. Lucas pulls out the folded piece of paper first, hoping it was make sense of things.

He takes a deep breath and he reads.

Lukey,

We must have just spent hours on the porch talking. Long enough to question how there’s anything left to say. I’ll answer one thing though, something I overhead you talking about with your father the other week. You asked him how you could possibly survive this. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for but I know if you do find yourself drowning help is never too far away.

I’ve seen the way you look at Riley. I saw the way your face lit up when you found her by my bed at the hospital, you looked relieved. That’s how I know you’re going to be okay, my boy. You’ve got her.

It was during that trip freshman year that she told me about your sack of gold and how you’ve kept it all these years. While you two chatted outside my room I swiped it from your bag and took the liberty of throwing away the dusty choke hazards. I replaced them with something a little more meaningful. When the time is right, use it. I know you’ve already found your Mae. After all, the greatest gold life can give you is true love.

I am so incredibly proud of the man you’ve become. I hope you know that.

Love always, Pappy Joe.

Lucas finishes the letter and takes a deep breath, the lump in his throat ached as he fought more tears. Still clinging to the letter in one hand Lucas takes the familiar calico bag from the crumpled envelope. His sack of gold.

It looked almost empty, definitely lighter than it usually was. For the first time ever Lucas pulls the drawstrings loose. He holds out his trembling palm and empties the contents of the bag. A single item drops into his hand. Lucas sucks in a big breath when he notices it’s his grandmothers engagement ring.

There was a tidal wave of emotions hitting Lucas all at once. He snaps out of it quickly when he hears Riley coming down the hall so he quickly puts the ring back into the calico bag and pulls the drawstrings tight again. Riley comes into the room just as he’s concealed the contents and notices the bag in Lucas’ hand, relief and happiness washing over her once the truck showed no suck luck. “You found your gold?”

Lucas closes his palm over the bag, the ring can be felt inside it. He looks at Riley who’s wearing the same soft smile she did all those years ago on the subway and he smiles back at her. “Yeah. I did.”

#rucas #rucas au #rucas fic #rucas one shot #one shot

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mystery-moose · 7 years

Text

FIC: Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V (24/24)

[AO3 link]

They’ve come a long way, but even ten years after the world was saved, they’re still not quite where they should be. A whim, a missing painting, and a handful of near-death experiences help a flip wizard and his apprentice bridge the gap.

Taako does his best. Angus takes some risks. Introductions are made, bonds are tested, and lessons are learned — better late than never.

a/n: Thanks to everyone who read this far, who read from the beginning, who left kudos or a comment or just enjoyed this over-long self-indulgent nonsense. Y'all have gotten me through some tough times, and I appreciate it more than I can say.

And thanks most of all to @orchidcactus, without whom this fic would never have been finished, let alone been any damn good whatsoever. You are the shiniest diamond, and there is no better beta (or friend) in the world. <3

As he woke from a dreamless sleep, Taako reflected that for someone who didn’t particularly need it, he spent a lot of time unconscious. He’d wondered in the past if that was something common to elves, or if he was a particularly lazy example of one. Though to be fair, a good portion of that unconsciousness wasn’t exactly voluntary.

Alright, that’s enough introspection. Where the hell are we?

Taako wasn’t in pain, exactly, but he was sore literally everywhere, from toe to tip and skin to bone. He flexed his fingers and his toes (all accounted for) and tilted his head to work out a kink in his neck before he bothered opening his eyes.

Clean bed, with white sheets. Clean room, with no real furniture. Single window looking out at the city. Taako didn’t have to be a fancy detective to know what a hospital looked like, though this one didn’t look as fancy as the last one he’d woken up in.

He looked to his right, and found Angus asleep in a high-backed chair by his side. His arm was in a sling, and he was wearing his old glasses; Taako still recognized the places where eleven-year-old Angus’ makeshift mending spells had put them back together just a little bit bent.

Taako smiled and took a slow, leisurely breath.

Everything’s okay.

Then he turned to his left, and found Kravitz sitting in the opposite chair. Arms crossed. Glaring at him.

Or not.

Taako swallowed and chuckled nervously. “Hey, rabbit.”

Kravitz leaned over and twisted Taako’s ear.

“Ow ow ow ow—”

“Do not rabbit me,” Kravitz growled. “You nearly died.”

He let go and Taako rubbed gingerly at his ear. “Yeah, but… I didn’t? So—”

“I get a call from Angus, out of the blue. He put me on with a healer. I had to listen to them detail your extensive injuries, and the likelihood of your recovery, all while I was sitting in our living room reading Fantasy Home and Garden thinking everything’s fine because you didn’t call me!”

“Hey—”

“You should have called me,” he hissed, anger mixed with hurt. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Taako grumbled, noncommittal. “Didn’t really think about it.”

Kravitz scoffed and leaned back in his chair, looking away.

The sad part was, for once, Taako wasn’t bullshitting; he’d never considered calling Kravitz for help. Not once.

“It wasn't—” —your business, is what he had been about to say, but Taako cut himself off before he said something he might actually regret. “—I felt like I could handle it.”

“Handle it?” Kravitz whispered in disbelief.

“Yeah. Handle it.” Taako frowned. “I can take care of myself. Been doing it a long time.”

“Again.” Kravitz leaned in and tweaked his ear again. Taako winced and swatted his hand away. “You. Nearly. Died.”

“So I made a bad call!” he said quietly, holding his hands out. “It happens from time to time!”

“And what happens when you make another ‘bad call’?”

“Jeezy creezy, my dude, what is your damage?” he hissed back. “Even if I died, it’s not exactly 'so long and farewell,’ is it? It’d be like moving to another county for you.”

Kravitz looked actually offended, and for a second, Taako was legitimately confused as to why.

“You think this is about me?”

Oh.

Taako turned. Angus was still fast asleep. Thankfully.

“Contrary to what you may think, there are people in the material world who give a damn about your continued presence in it.” Kravitz crossed his arms again. “Think about that the next time you decide to do something monumentally stupid.”

Taako turned back with a sneer. “I’m not exactly in the habit of rushing in, Krav.”

“Oh, so this was a fluke, then?” Kravitz asked. “And what caused it?”

Taako opened his mouth to respond and Kravitz cut him off.

“I can’t believe you sometimes.” He raised a hand and gestured emphatically between the two of them. “You could have talked to me, could have tried to say something clearly for once in your life. Instead you go off and nearly get yourself killed because running away is apparently the only way you know how to communicate! And then when something happens to you, I have to live with knowing it was my fault—”

Taako reached out and grabbed his hand. Tight.

“Listen,” he whispered firmly, glaring at Kravitz. “Because this is important. Any stupid, callous, selfish decision I make? That’s on me. Not you. Not Angus. Not anyone. No one, and I mean no one, runs Taako’s life but Taako. Capisce?”

He let go and looked away with a scowl.

“Nothing I do is anyone’s fault but mine.”

Silence. Taako hated this kind of silence. It was absolutely miserable. Maybe that hadn’t been the right thing to say, or the kindest. But it was the truth. That ought to be enough.

“You really are very self-absorbed,” Kravitz said flatly. “You know that.”

Taako nodded, staring at the wall. “Yup.”

Kravitz sighed. Taako chanced a glance in his direction. He was resting his head in his hand, rubbing his forehead. He straightened and leaned back in his chair.

“Just call next time,” he mumbled wearily. “Talk to me. Please.”

Taako was about to insist there wouldn’t be a 'next time’ if he had anything to say about it, but decided against it. Instead, he nodded, eyes drifting down to the blanket.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “I know I’m… me. And that’s… it can be rough.”

“Yes. It can.”

Taako gritted his teeth. When he looked up, Kravitz wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning, either. He simply reached over and held Taako’s hand, ran his cold thumb across along the knuckles.

“But I don’t have any regrets.”

Taako felt his mouth twitch into a smile as he leaned back into his pillow.

“Cool.”

Taako dozed off again; he didn’t feel at a hundred percent yet, and didn’t feel like waking Angus if he didn’t have to. He blinked his eyes open to find the boy standing by the door, arm out of the sling and talking to Silvia.

“'Sup?” Taako groaned as he sat up. “What’d I miss?”

Angus rushed over and hugged him immediately. Taako winced.

“Okay, okay, still sore, thanks.”

“Sorry,” said Angus, pulling away. He looked beyond relieved. “Kravitz went to get food, you’ve been out for nearly a day and we were starting to get worried.”

“You kidding?” Taako rolled his shoulder. “I’m the picture of heal — ow.”

Angus laughed — it felt like an age since he’d last heard that — and rested his hand on Taako’s shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re okay, sir.” Taako smiled and pat his hand. “Likewise, boychik.”

He looked over and saw Silvia standing by the foot of the bed, hugging her elbows and smiling nervously.

“Angus filled me in on everything that happened,” she said. “Pretty crazy week you’ve had.”

“Eh.” Taako shrugged dismissively. “I’ve had crazier.”

“That’s… actually true,” Angus said, somewhat reluctantly.

“Oh, hey, uh.” Taako gestured vaguely in Silvia’s direction. “Sorry for, y'know. Thinking you were evil and shit.”

Silvia brushed it off. “It’s cool. I mean, I would have thought I was evil too.”

Taako nodded towards Angus. “He didn’t.”

She blinked. Angus quietly cleared his throat and looked away.

“Nope,” Taako said flatly, propping his elbows on his knees. “Never a doubt in his mind. Should have trusted him to begin with, but I’m a real stubborn asshole, y'know?”

Angus blushed and gently pushed his shoulder. “Taako.”

“What? It’s the truth, ain’t it?” He turned to Silvia. “Boychik’s always been an excellent judge of character. You’d think I’d know that by now, but here we are.”

He extended a hand.

“We cool?”

Silvia smiled and shook his hand. “We cool.”

“Good.”

Taako didn’t let go.

“You break his heart and I’ll destroy everything you hold dear.”

Angus’ eyebrows shot to the top of his head and his mouth fell open.

Silvia didn’t flinch. She leaned in closer.

“Likewise.”

Taako grinned and nodded, satisfied. He let go and turned to Angus.

“You should put a ring on it.”

Angus sputtered helplessly. Silvia started laughing.

Just then, the door opened and Kravitz walked in. He held up two large paper bags and grinned.

“Who wants Fantasy Panera?”

“Oh, hell yes!” Taako clapped his hands together. “Garbage food! Let’s go!”

Taako was halfway through his roughly-adequate approximation of a chicken club sandwich when the door opened again, and a tall woman in plate armor stepped inside. Silvia dropped her sandwich and shot to her feet with a salute.

“Lord-Commander!”

“Oh, sure, come on in,” Taako said through a mouthful of dry bread. “Not like I’m recuperating or anything.”

“At ease, Lieutenant,” the tall woman said to Silvia, amused. “You’re off-duty, remember?”

Silvia shuffled nervously, then sat back down. Her sandwich lay forgotten on the bed.

“Is something the matter, ma'am?” Angus asked curiously.

The woman shook her head. “Not at all. Simply an informal debriefing.”

She turned to Kravitz, still seated by Taako’s side, roast beef on rye in his hands. “Sir, if you’d excuse us?”

Taako reached over and rested his hand on Kravitz’s wrist. “Like hell.”

The tall woman frowned slightly, and opened her mouth to speak before she was interrupted.

“It’s fine, Dierdre. They’re all owed some answers.”

Lady Blisk walked in and closed the door behind her. This time, Silvia and Angus both shot to their feet.

“My Lady!”

“Lieutenant.” Lady Blisk nodded to her. “Dierdre explained how quickly you and your captain acted in the face of a, shall we say, reluctant chain of command. She’s recommending you for a civil commendation. You should be very proud.”

Silvia looked like you could knock her over with a feather. Taako sneered — both at her thrill at validation and at what he saw as a thoroughly inadequate reward — while Lady Blisk conjured a small floating disk upon which she sat. Silvia and Angus both returned to their seats. Kravitz, to Taako’s silent appreciation, had done nothing during all this but continue to eat his sandwich; working directly for a goddess made you a lot harder to impress.

“Captain Yates and his cadre have been sworn to secrecy about what little they know regarding the context of all this,” Blisk explained. “The only ones who know the full truth about the Door and its Key are the people in this room. I’d like very much to keep it that way.”

Angus nodded. “Of course, ma'am.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Silvia said.

“Sure, fine, whatever,” Taako mumbled, taking another bite.

“Where’s the Key now?” Angus asked. “Destroyed?”

“Sadly, the enchantment is too powerful to ever fully destroy,” Blisk said with a sigh. “But you have my assurance that the Flying V is as far from anyone who might use it as is possible.”

“And the Door?”

“Locked. Hopefully for good, this time.” Blisk crossed her legs and rested her cane in her lap. “Of course, this means that the Museum has been informed you were unable to recover the painting — its theft and subsequent destruction have finally made the news.”

Angus nodded. “Figured.”

“Rest assured, however, that the city of Neverwinter recognizes and honors your valor, and will richly compensate you for services rendered.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary—”

Taako slapped Angus hard across the shoulder.

“…but I’ll accept it graciously, ma'am,” Angus said, rubbing his arm. “Thank you.”

Blisk smiled. “It’s the least we could do. Truly.”

“What about Gavin?” Silvia asked. When all eyes turned to her, she shrank a bit. “I mean… what’ll happen to him?”

“'Gavin’ is an alias,” Dierdre explained. “His real name is Gabriel Vincent Stanton. Lady Blisk expelled him from the Guild of Magi some years ago after repeated offenses regarding misuse of magic and unauthorized experimentation. Apparently, he’d been operating under a number of different names before he arrived at your door, Mr. McDonald.”

Angus grimaced. “He was very thorough. I checked his background myself when I hired him, and didn’t find anything out of place.”

Blisk shook her head. “You couldn’t have known. I doubt anyone would have suspected.”

“Mr. Stanton will be spending the rest of his life in a cell,” Dierdre said sternly. “Somewhere isolated and very, very quiet.”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold the fucking stone.” Taako set his sandwich down. “He’s still alive?”

Everyone looked at him. Blisk and Dierdre nodded.

“What the fuck?” Taako threw his hands up. “I went through all that shit and he’s not even dead?! Fuck this!”

Angus closed his eyes, amused. “Sir.”

“No, for real! I am very upset! That bitch-ass piece of shit should be in the ground!”

“Death would be preferable, yes.”

Everyone turned to look at Dierdre, including Blisk.

She shrugged, nonplussed. “Well it would.”

Blisk gently patted Dierdre’s arm, and turned back to the group.

“Well then. Any other questions?”

No one spoke. Kravitz set down his roast beef and extended a hand towards her.

“Pickle?”

She considered it for a moment, then plucked it from his hand and took a bite, humming appreciatively.

“I suppose that’s that, then,” Dierdre said with a chuckle.

“Oh!” Blisk said suddenly, swallowing quickly and reaching into a small purse on her belt. “I nearly forgot. There is one last thing. More of a formality, really, though I’ll spare you the ceremony…”

“Y'know, I didn’t really think they gave these out anymore?” Taako said as he adjusted his hat and admired the large ornate key in his hand. It was as long as his umbrella and twice as heavy, made of pure gold that caught the sunlight as they left the hospital.

“They were meant to go to the city gates, originally,” Angus explained, hefting his own key in his arms. “But since the gates are always open these days, it’s more of a ceremonial thing.”

“Could fetch a lot of dough if we melted 'em down.”

Angus looked at him knowingly. “Or make a nice piece of statement jewelry.”

Taako’s eyebrows rose. While he reexamined the key in this new light, Silvia came up alongside Angus.

“So what’s the first thing you’re gonna do, now that you’re out of the hospital?” she asked.

Angus looked up thoughtfully. “I guess put an ad in the paper. 'Help wanted. Light office work. No murderers need apply.’”

“Make sure to underline that last part,” said Kravitz.

“Double underline,” Silvia added. “In bold.”

“Yeah, because the last guy was so forthcoming about his personal history,” Taako said sardonically.

Angus laughed. “Maybe I’ll swing it solo for a while.”

Silvia quirked an eyebrow. “Solo?”

He turned to her and grinned. “Well, not all the time.”

While the two of them made goo-goo eyes at each other, Taako slipped his wrist through the key and let it dangle from his forearm beside his umbrella. He leaned against Kravitz’s shoulder. Kravitz stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned back.

“Young love, Krav,” he drawled. “Ain’t it sweet?”

“Sickly so, dear.”

A loud horn sounded from the down the street. All of them turned to stare at the very large, very fancy wagon with the ornate side-plating and silver-capped wheels puttering down the street. It came to a stop in front of the hospital doors, and the driver, clad in fancy longcoat, goggles, and driving gloves, jumped down onto the sidewalk.

“A gift from the Lord High Steward,” he said, bowing to Taako. “With much appreciation to you, sir.”

Taako stared at the driver and blinked. He looked at the wagon and blinked again.

“You know,” he said, “I’m really starting to come around on that chick.”

“Brilliant,” Kravitz sighed. “Now we have to take the long way home.”

“Who said anything about home?” Taako wrapped an arm around his neck. “We need to take this baby on the road!”

“Taako, please. I’d really prefer to—”

“We could head to Goldcliff,” Taako suggested, wiggling his eyebrows, and drumming his fingers against his husband’s shoulder. “It’s not more than a week out. There’s nice hotels, fancy restaurants—”

“Really, dear?” Kravitz said flatly, unimpressed. “Restaurants?”

“—and a casiiiiinooo,” Taako finished in a sing-song tone.

Kravitz opened his mouth and froze. Nothing about his expression changed, but Taako saw the red in his eyes light up.

“You know, it has been a while since we’ve had a proper vacation.”

“Hell yes it has!” Taako stepped back and pushed Kravitz forward. “Now go and figure out how to drive that thing. I’ll be right there.”

He turned around. Angus had stepped back with Silvia, and was stowing his key in a bag of holding on his belt. As Taako sauntered over, Silvia touched Angus’ shoulder.

“I’ll, uh. Wait over here.”

Angus smiled and squeezed her hand. She turned away and walked back towards the hospital.

“Well, Ango,” Taako said with a tip of his hat. “Wish I could say it’s been fun.”

“Yeah,” Angus replied with a chuckle. “Me too.”

“Was good to see you, though.”

“You too, sir.”

They stood across from each other, within arm’s reach. Taako felt like there was something else he should say, but he wasn’t quite sure what.

“I told you I’m proud of you, right?” he asked, stroking his chin.

“Yes, sir.” Angus smiled and adjusted his glasses nervously. “It meant a lot.”

He nodded absently. “Right. Good.”

“And I’m glad you came. I… don’t know if I could have done this without you.”

Taako scoffed. “Please. This idiot wizard? All I do is drag you down.”

“That’s not true, sir,” Angus said firmly, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

Taako ignored him and waved dismissively. “C'mon, boychik. Don’t play. We both know it’s the truth. I taught you a few tricks, sure, kept you fed and clothed and shit, but everything you are now — every good thing, at least — that’s all you. Don’t know where you got it from, but it wasn’t me.” “Sir!” Angus exclaimed, gently taking Taako by the shoulders. “Stop.”

Taako shut his mouth and looked away for a moment — the boy’s gaze had gotten very intense. When he looked back, Angus was fighting tears. Taako felt a tightness build in his chest.

“Sir.” Angus spoke firmly, squeezing his shoulders. “You didn’t just teach me how to cook and cast spells. You taught me how to look after myself. You taught me about loyalty, and responsibility, and how there’s meaning in our mistakes. You were there when I needed you, every time. And all that because an eleven-year-old kid asked to come with you, and you didn’t hesitate for a second. I wouldn’t be half the person I am if it wasn’t for you.”

Taako stared at him. The tightness in his chest got worse. He blinked. Blinked again. His lip began to quiver. He sniffled, looked away, looked back. There was no escape.

Angus blinked back tears, smiled, and said, “I couldn’t have wished for a better dad.”

Ah, fuck.

Taako sobbed. Angus pulled him into a hug and held him as he cried into his shoulder. Taako shuddered and shook, clutching tightly at the back of Angus’ jacket as he rode out this despicably visible display of emotion.

“I love you,” Angus said quietly.

Taako sniffed loudly, and so softly he barely heard it himself, whispered, “Love you too.”

He spent a minute there, sobbing into the boy’s shoulder. As he got a hold of himself, he took long, shuddering breaths. Taako gently extricated himself from Angus’ embrace, and shook his head.

“Fuck you,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Ruined my makeup, you little twerp.”

Angus reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Taako snatched it from his hands with a scoff.

“Of course you have a handkerchief,” he said snidely, drying his face. “What are you, eighty?”

Angus grinned. “Next time you can conjure one yourself, Mr. Wizard.”

Taako laughed, brief and watery. He wiped his cheeks and then pocketed the handkerchief without offering it back. Angus chuckled and pushed him gently in the shoulder.

“So,” Taako said, avoiding eye contact. “See you at Candlenights?”

In his periphery, Angus nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Cool… cool.”

He sniffed loudly and exhaled, forcing himself to look at Angus one last time. He looked as upsettingly vulnerable as Taako felt, but he was smiling, and that made Taako smile back.

“Take care, kiddo,” he said.

“You too.”

Taako tipped his hat, and turned away. He climbed up into the driver’s bench alongside Kravitz, who rubbed a hand across Taako’s back.

“We good to go?” Taako asked.

“Good to go,” Kravitz replied slowly. “Unless… you’d rather stay?”

Taako barked out a humorless laugh. “Hell no. I’ve had more than enough of this fuckin’ town. Let’s get goin’.”

He looked back while Kravitz started the arcane engine. Angus and Silvia stood on the sidewalk outside Neverwinter General, holding hands. Taako took off his hat and waved it.

“Adios!”

The wagon kicked on and started puttering down the street. Angus and Silvia smiled and waved as they left. As they turned a corner, Taako sighed and leaned against Kravitz’s shoulder.

“Good kid.”

Kravitz kept one hand on the controls and wrapped the other around Taako’s shoulders.

“That he is.”

Taako closed his eyes and smiled privately.

I did good.

“So when’s the ceremony?”

“We’re not getting married, sir.”

“Really? Because it sounds pretty serious to me, is the thing.”

“Sir.”

“Alright, alright, jeez. She’s coming up for Candlenights, though, right?”

“Yeah. She’s excited about it. So am I, actually.”

“She hasn’t met any of the Bureau before?”

“Nope.”

“Poor maydl.”

“I don’t know, I think she’ll get along great with everyone. Especially Magnus.”

“Yeah, sure, him and his rustic fuckin’ hospitality. But you know he’s gonna be asking about that ring too.”

“…shit.”

“Yep. Done fucked yourself, boychik.”

“…well, at least Merle will be there to preach about the evils of marriage.”

“Ha! If you’re lucky, he’ll be half-cut on Redcheek cider before dinner.”

“You’re cooking, right?”

“No, I’ll be there cheering Magnus on — of course I’m cooking! What kind of question is that?”

“Just asking! Thought I’d get there early and help. Make sure I’m not getting rusty, y'know?”

“I wouldn’t turn down my faithful assistant.”

“Apprentice.”

“Sure, sure, that’s what I meant.” “Right. Well, I’ll call again before we leave.”

“Cool. Keep it real, Angarang.”

“You know it. Love you!”

“…yeah, yeah, you too.”

#the adventure zone #thezonecast #taako #angus mcdonald #fanfiction #post campaign #mystery #adventure #found family

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therightprometheanfire · 7 years

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valkyriesuits answered your ask “I saw your tags on the post you reblogged from me and I would LOVE to...”

Sorry I didn’t answer this sooner, I have a bunch of deadlines right now, but I currently need to not think about it and love bitching about this movie with people, SO.

I haven’t seen this since the theaters either, but I’ve thought about it a lot, and oh boy. There’s so much, man.

First of all, you can’t do Civil War when that’s the third movie where you see almost all the Avengers (minus Thor and Bruce who have fucked off for plot reasons and I can’t help but feel that they’re super lucky) interacting with each other. Especially when you’ve added a couple new characters the last time round and won’t focus on them very much for again bullshit plot related reasons, and therefore have not seen how they work with the team as a whole. Also, trying to frame it as this heartbreaking thing that is Steve and Tony fighting doesn’t work, because all they’ve done in the past two movies is argue. They bicker, they clash. In the comics, Steve and Tony’s relationship can be combative, but there is a lot of mutual respect and love (friendship or romance, whether you ship them or not, however you take it, it is incontrovertible that there’s a lot of love there) there. In the comics, they genuinely like being each other’s friend and teammate. In the movies, they don’t seem to be friends at all, being teammates seeming like more of a chore than anything else. Steve and Tony fighting isn’t that sad at all, because that’s all they’ve done, and Tony says he was Steve’s friend, but we haven’t seen a lot of evidence of that.

And good god, you’d think that someone at Marvel would know that you can’t make Civil War into a Captain America movie. Because at the end of the day, Cap’s the hero of the movie. He’s got to be. This is Steve Rogers’s movie, and just like how the protagonists are the heroes in the Iron Man movies or the Thor ones or any of the others, Cap has to be the hero. So he’ll be shown to be in the right, or doing something heroic. And yes, he beats the shit out of Tony at the end, but he’s still portrayed as solid morally. Him breaking the others out of the Raft, taking Bucky with him after his arm gets ripped off, these are all framed in a vaguely noble light. Which for Civil War, you cannot fucking do, because it doesn’t end with a hero. Everyone loses in the comics Civil War, which is just plain not how they did it in these movies.

I don’t mind Steve and Sharon in the comics (I don’t know enough to have very strong feelings either way), but good god, they mishandled the Steve/Sharon thing in the movies so badly. He hits on her right after Peggy’s funeral? Seriously? And when they kiss (which was so awkward to watch that it got to the point where you felt kind of uncomfortable), one of them says something about how it was a long time coming, and no??? It wasn’t??? Steve didn’t trust her in the last movie and in this one he didn’t even know her well enough to know she was related to Peggy. It’s a relationship so painfully forced that I had serious secondhand embarrassment and couldn’t watch the scene when we were in the theater.

Additionally, I may not know much about Steve/Sharon, but I know enough about Sharon herself to know that she is a goddamn badass, and she was so underdeveloped in this movie it was frustrating.

I have many things to bitch about in the MCU’s portrayal of Clint Barton, but this movie ranks high, because it proves that he has no character consistency. I hate Age of Ultron, and especially how they depicted Clint, but that movie set up a very specific character. He is so devoted to his family that he’s taken their farm and very existence so far off the grid that even SHIELD doesn’t seem to really know where they are. He retires for them. And then Steve calls him and Clint joins his side. Even though he has no stake in it, because he’s retired. The Accords will not affect him whatsoever. By fighting, he puts himself and his family at risk. But he still fights, because apparently fuck his kids and wife.

And you’re right, what’s the goddamn deal with those multiple Winter Soldiers? Because I was so sure that was setting up for future movies, it had that feel to it, and it was a concept I actually really enjoyed. And then they were like “nah” and killed them all. I understand they needed a lure for the trap, but the Winter Soldiers being killed like that is a waste of a good idea.

(and I’m forever going to be pissed that we have everyone’s tragic backstory with details except for Natasha’s, who has barely been fleshed out, I wonder why)

I’m also inclined to give Spidey and Ant-Man a pass.

I hate the “choose your side” marketing campaign not just because it seems like kind of a lame way to promote your movie, but it’s also divided the fandom and it is exhausting. Die-hard stans of either side refused to acknowledge the possibility that their fave did something wrong, when in reality, this entire movie was people fucking up and making bad decisions.

For example, yes, Tony shouldn’t have enlisted Peter in this fight. But the teammates on Cap’s side would have heard his voice and known that this guy was pretty young, and they still fought him. Hell, Steve even calls him “kid” at one point. Tony shouldn’t have essentially blackmailed a teenager into this, but the people on Cap’s side, including Steve, should have figured out something to do where they weren’t fighting this child.

Each Avenger in this movie made, at one point, a terrible decision. To act like whatever side you’re on did nothing wrong is ridiculous, because everyone did something wrong in this movie. I’ve seen people say that Tony is a son of a bitch and terrible human being for trying to kill Bucky after seeing that footage of his parents dying. The man just found out that the death of his parents wasn’t an accident! And the man who did it is right there next to him! I would probably try and kill him, too, cut Tony some slack.

If this movie was a little further down the line, after we saw the team dynamics properly, this movie might be better. If we’d had more time to get to know these people not just as characters but as a team, so that them fighting each other would actually sting. But Marvel Studios knows that Civil War is a big name in comic books and that fans of that arc everywhere would flock to theaters to see it. Per usual, they saw the cash and not the quality and importance of the story, and so we get this.

TL;DR, fuck this movie, it’s nonsense bullshit.

And also fuck Age of Ultron, I didn’t talk about that very much here but I still hate it.

#valkyriesuits #kate talks #kate replies #superheroes #i have strong feelings about things #writing

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aiupenn · 6 years

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“Please”

A/N: Please forgive me for posting this again. The original post never seemed to show up on the tag and I’ve had two people looking for it. Thank you for your patience. m(_ _)m

It’s impossible to say ‘no’ to Ama when he says 'please’ with those begging eyes of his. Zinn can only hope he can turn that weapon against him just once.

Or Five times Ama said 'please’ and the one time Zinn did. [based on the exorcist seeds.]

“Please.”

The word tumbled so easily from Ama’s lips, as if he didn’t even know the power it held. His eyes got just a little bigger, just a little softer, and Zinn was putty instantly. After that one simple word, there was no turning back. He could only give one answer. “All right! Fine!” Zinn threw up his arms in complete frustration, “I’ll come! Just finally leave me alone for half a day after this, alright?”

Ever since Obscur’s second defeat, Ama kept on visiting and insisting over and over that he just had to meet this other Exorcist bud of his. Zinn was completely against this, of course. He knew how much trouble Exorcists were first hand. But Ama just kept coming the fucker. What a pain in the ass. It wasn’t just messing up his daily routine, his presence was genuinely off-putting. Every time he was around Ama, Zinn felt like he was just gonna keel over without any warning. Heart beating right out of his chest, breaking out in a cold sweat, blushing at the worst possible times…

Zinn wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what all those symptoms meant, but he sure as Hell was not going to admit it. An Exorcist, for God’s sake! He must be insane…

“Thank you,” Ama said, completely unaware of the emotional turmoil Zinn was going through, “It’ll be worth your while I promise.”

Zinn waved his hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Please.”

Zinn groaned. He couldn’t believe he was hearing that magic word again so soon. Lord knows he’s only just recovered from meeting Ama’s friend. (Who was a real ass, for what it was worth. Ama said Bougain was doing his best to be more 'accepting’ of non-humans, but he was not trying hard enough.)

Now, what was he pulling out this oh-so-treasured word for? To get him to walk with him to the station. Ama had added on some excuse about making an enemy that Zinn could practically smell was a lie. The Exorcist wasn’t very good at lying and Zinn couldn’t even imagine the use of lying for such a simple thing.

It wasn’t that he minded walking with Ama, though. A large part of him was overjoyed to get the extra time to spend with him. But the logical part of him realized that it was dangerous. He was falling for him faster and faster the more he saw him. Everytime Ama came to his doorstep, he felt his heart grow heavier, more in love with him. If he kept seeing him and spending time with him and falling in love with him…

Would that be so bad?

Yes, he told himself, it would. Because maybe his feelings would never be returned.

But maybe Ama would.

Zinn shook his head to clear his cobweb of thoughts and then let out a half hiss, half huff through his teeth. He made a big show of grumpily snatching up his coat. “Fine. I have school work to do you know.”

Ama picked up the handle of his suitcase. “Thank you for taking time out of your busy day.”

Zinn huffed again, this time half amused. “As if you care what I’m up to. I swear you come barging in here just to mess my life up.”

“That’s hardly my intention,” Ama assured him.

“Whatever,” Zinn replied, “Just this once.”

“Please.”

This time, it was just ridiculous.

“You want me to… Walk down to the river… with you?” Zinn was forcing the words out through gritted teeth.

Exactly what kind of superfluous nonsense is this?! Now he understood why Ama had lied the first time. Without it, Zinn looked at him like his head had been cut off. What exactly did he hope to gain other than annoying him!?

“Yes. I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Ama said with a small, apologetic smile.

Zinn’s legs went weak and he could only hollowly say “Fine” for the third time. This was becoming flat out ridiculous…

“Please.”

This time, the word caught Zinn completely off guard. It was the same pleading statement he’d heard many times before, but this time it rang very differently. It was desperate.

He wanted to say 'no’. He knew this was going to be more torture than it was worth. Pretending to be the husband of a guy you already have a pretty suffocating crush on was a disastrous idea. Something unfortunate was bound to come of this. Plus, going this deep undercover probably meant that the “party” they were going to was truly dangerous. Desperation was not something Zinn had heard in Ama’s voice before, so that only echoed his suspicion.

“Tell me one thing,” Zinn said for the first time and Ama nodded solemnly, “Are you going to be safe?”

Ama’s jaw clenched and Zinn’s stomach dropped into his shoes.

“Oh, Christ, Ama…” he said, breathless.

With a shaking hand, Zinn grabbed Ama’s shoulder. “Of course. Of course I’ll come, alright?”

Ama mouth opened as if to say something, but it closed without any words coming out.

Zinn gave his arm a soft pat. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you…”

His thanks didn’t make Zinn feel any better at all.

“Please. Trust me.”

Ama’s hand held Zinn’s with a death grip. Both of them were shaking with adrenaline and pure terror as they stared down the cliff.

The truth was that Zinn knew almost for a fact that they could not physically survive this. It was too high a drop into too shallow a river. There would be no one to save them when they lost consciousness under the water. They’d drown if they didn’t dash themselves on the rocks first.

But, there was that word again. The word he’d crumbled to every time before. He was still just as helpless to it as before. He still could only say one thing in response. “I trust you,” his words sounded far more confident than he felt.

He squeezed the other man’s hand and together, they jumped.

Zinn held onto Ama’s pulse beneath his fingertips like it was the only thing that mattered. Becuase it was. It was the only thing he cared about. It was the only thing he would care about until he knew he was safe. Or until the beat stopped.

Ama’s wrist was terrifyingly still and cold, empty and lifeless. The hospital was being purposely vague on details. It was only through Bougain of all people that he was even allowed in the room, vouching for Zinn’s flat out lie that they were married. But he knew what it meant when doctors were vague.

It meant that hope was slipping through their fingers.

It meant no one knew if Ama was going to live.

Tears he’d been holding back for two days spilled out when he admitted that last part to himself. His eyes squeezed shut, trying to hide from the reality of it all, but it only made him more hyperaware of Ama’s slow pulse. A sob rose in his throat and he was hopeless to hold it back. His voice was broken and hollow to his ears as it echoed back to him in the white room. It felt like his body was collapsing in on itself as he huddled around Ama’s limp hand–his only lifeline to his dying friend… no. Love. His dying love.

He heaved in a shaky breath, his lungs feeling torn and ragged. Ama’s hand was soaked in tears by now, but Zinn didn’t have the time to feel bad about it.

“Please!” he yelled to the empty air. The horrible, wretched sound pierced him to his core, even though it came from his own mouth. He brought Ama’s hand to his forehead and all the loud panic he felt before quieted, and his voice became a shaky whisper, “Please… Just… Wake up.”

“I won’t ask for anything else,” he said between sobs, “I just want you to wake up. Please. So I can tell you everything that I didn’t tell you before. And so that stupid Bougain can annoy me again. And so that you don’t upset Father Lian… Wake up…”

“Please…” he repeated the word one last time, desperately, as if it would summon Ama back to this world magically.

There was a song of fabric moving and then, “I thought…” a heaving breath, “You said you’d trust me.”

Zinn could not believe his ears. His head snapped up to see Ama looking at him with the softest look in his eyes possible, hardly showing any of the pain and exhaustion he must feel.

The tears only came fell stronger after this. Zinn completely forgot all decorum and all concern for Ama’s current injuries and collapsed onto him with a suffocating hug. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t manage it through his exhausted lungs. Instead, he just sobbed into Ama’s chest.

The Exorcist rubbed his back comfortingly until Zinn’s tears dried up and even after that. They lay like that together for a long while, until finally Ama mentioned, “I’m having a bit of trouble breathing.”

Slowly, Zinn brought himself up, wiping away all the snot and tears on his face. He was no doubt a puffy, red mess. “I–I’m sorry. I broke my promise…” he said. Ama chuckled lightly and the sound made Zinn so happy he felt lightheaded.

“What was it that you wanted to tell me, Zinn?” Ama asked after a moment.

Zinn panicked immediately. “Wa–wait! I have to call the doctor in here! We need to make sure you’re stable.” This was only partially an excuse.

“I’m fine, Zinn,” Ama said, “Can it at least wait one minute? If you don’t have something to say, I have something to tell you.”

Zinn swallowed, casting an uncertain look at Ama’s injuries. “Al–alright.”

Without a pause, Ama said, “I love you.”

That was simply too much emotion for one day. Zinn collapsed back onto his chair, stunned and out of breath.

“I–I’m sorry?” he managed after a very long time.

“You’re very sweet and kind,” Ama said, “and you’ve got that annoying temper… and you always protect me, you like dogs, you smile whenever you want to, you cry when you’re sad, you yell when you’re angry… All of that I love you for.”

“That’s stupid.” It was a reflex response on Zinn’s part, simply because it was so inconceivable.

Ama let out a hum. “Probably, but I’m afraid there’s not anything either of us can do about it.”

They sat in silence for a very long time as Zinn gathered all the loose threads for the last couple weeks they’d been together. “Then… Was that why you kept dragging me around with you?”

“I thought I was being rather obvious, especially by the third time. After all, the first time it was basically a double date.”

“I’m sorry, it was a what?”

“Well, it was supposed to be. Bougain said Lian was supposed to come but he got caught up with some non-human mess.”

“I’m lost…”

Ama let out a soft, gentle sigh. “I don’t mind if you don’t reciprocate, so don’t feel pressure from that end. I just wanted to let you know after you almost died with me.”

“I never said anything about not reciprocating!” Zinn protested.

Ama’s eyes slowly locked with his, a bewildered look in them, as if he hadn’t considered this as an outcome.

“I–” Zinn started and then trailed off, his eyes darting away from Ama’s, “I lov–like you… quite a lot, too.” He couldn’t say love. It felt too intimate and scary of a word. 'Like’ was the wrong word for what he felt, but it would have to do.

“Well,” Ama would have sounded composed if his voice hadn’t cracked just the slightest bit, “I don’t see a problem them.” He let out a shaky breath.

Silence again, then Zinn got up a little bit of courage. “Can I kiss you, then? I mean… if I like you and if you like me…? We can do that right?”

Ama didn’t seem to know how to respond to this either. “Well… I’m not really up to going over to you, so you’ll have to come here, but… I’m very far from opposed.”

Zinn stood up on unsteady legs and walked over as Ama’s darted around shyly, looking just as nervous as Zinn felt. He couldn’t help but tease the exorcist for that, “You look scared.”

“To be honest, this wasn’t how I imagined the scenario playing out,” he blushed slightly and considering this was the first time Zinn had seen him flustered, he recorded this face into his memory.

“What? Did you think I just went along with your antics for fun?” he asked.

“I don’t know…” Ama averted his eyes again.

Zinn sucked in a breath and put on hand on Ama’s pillow, forcing the other man to look at him now. A bolt of excitement went up his spine and he couldn’t help but smile.

Ama gave his soft smile back, “What?”

“I’m just excited, that’s all.”

Ama flushed at this, and then Zinn dove in for the kiss.

#mandrake boys #crossing my fingers it shows up this time?#amazinn #exorcist seeds #5+1 things #mutual pining #first kiss

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