#seems to me that the moment the guy is bald there is speculation that it's caesar
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Archaeologists, digging up a bust of balding Roman man dated to the first century BC: Caesar, is that you?
#there are so many heads proposed to depict Julius Caesar#seems to me that the moment the guy is bald there is speculation that it's caesar#ancient rome#gaius julius caesar#this is nothing against archaelogists#at one point i wanted to be one
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2/3 Eren Yeager (Smut Warning!)
(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucka!
The screenshot sound was pretty loud as your back went up and down like a roach sprayed with raid. The male on the other side of the phone laughing his ass off. Well, he wasn't the only one.. but he's the one who took the screenshot.
"Delete that shit, don't put it on Instagram Connie!" Your pretty face was immediately in the camera's view. Your eyes a little wide at the fact that you were caught off guard. But at the same time, you let yourself go in front of the group. That's your wrong doing. But it made them smile nonetheless.
The people who were on the call at the moment were Connie, Jean, and Sasha. The rest were either too bothered to be in such a crackhead group, or they were busy.. probably the first one. Anyways, everyone in first period happened to be your friend, they were all different but they adored you nonetheless... even Annie... she just hides hers pretty well. Anyways, It's almost the end of senior year already and the bond is hard to break..
"That's my favorite song, you can't be catchin a hoe off guard.." you scolded the bald male who still happened to be laughing. His controller in his hand since he was playing nba2k. Jean was also playing but at the moment he was trying to figure out what you were doing.. and he's mad he didn't see..
"What did she do now?!"
"She was throwing her back out of place!" Sasha muffled out as she was stuffing her cheeks with a Hershey chocolate bar. She was also watching Hell's Kitchen on her tv, you could hear it.
"Daddy Jean aint need to hear all that.." you playfully spoke as you bit your lip at him. It was obvious he liked you, not to the point where he wanted a relationship though.. he's just a bit of a man whore.
Though everytime you mumble a 'Daddy Jean' , he's all for it. That's yo bitch.
After a bit of a pause of talking, Connie had picked up his phone and you were now cleaning the table that was in your room. The last time you were in this room, you didn't even have time to clean... Your father was screaming for you to hurry.
Let's explain, this weekend, you are visiting Hange, your mother . She missed you so she invited you to stay for a few days. Today is Friday so you have the whole weekend with her. She had planned Saturday and Sunday. Not to mention, Monday is a holiday so no school.
"Hey guys... uh Armin and Eren having a party.. y'all comin?"
All while Sasha said yes, along with Jean.. you were still jamming to 2-pac spitting his shit. Your hand movements not going unseen by the three on your phone. So in result of not having a response from you, Connie screamed oh so suddenly which caused you to jump pretty high.
"What the Fuck is yo problem!? You bein held by gunpoint nigga?" Your voice showing 1% concern as you moved closer to the phone on your dresser and you stared into it.. quite surprised still.
"(Y/n)... you makin my hair fall out..." Connie spoke as he gave a sarcastic smile and... wow it was hard for everyone to suppress their laughter... your face would turn purple instead of red though..
"Ight~... watchu want?..."
"Eren-"
"Oooh, Eren.." you spoke in interest, your long eyelashes fluttering. This however made Jean and Connie 'throw up' at the same time. All while you rolled your (e/c) eyes.
"Yall do too much-.. and Jean, stay in yo game ight?.. befo I come through the screen and punch-"
"Eren havin a party.. are you going..?"
Tilting your head in slight disbelief that Connie interrupted you. Your eyes rolled as you looked to the side. Obviously leading them on, but at the same time they knew that Hange will let you go...
"Fine. But somebody pickin me up.. and Sasha cuz boo-boo can't drive worth a dime.."
(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ
As much as you hated it, you sat uncomfortably in the dodge... Ugh... It's just something about you and dodge's. The cars radiate fuck boy energy, and guess who happened to be driving this car? Jean..
Though he let you sit in the passenger seat just because. Your eyes staring out the window as you messed with the stockings you had on. They were in a bit of a web, that was the design. You also had on a plaid skirt and this crop top with some white platforms. Oh you looked scrumptious.
The person who put this outfit together in the first place was Hange.
"Baby Jean, you need a new car... cuz-"
"It radiates Fuck boy energy.. you said it the first time you ever saw it... I know.." Jean pouted as he continued to drive to Eren's house. Who was shared with Armin. The two always lived together, some speculated that they were... sparkle sparkle.. gay.. but they aren't.. not that you would've minded.. it just would've been a bummer.
"(Y/n)... Didn't Your father take your car away...?"
Glaring back at Connie, who was wearing a white shirt with black pants and some timbs. You rolled your eyes and looked through your window again.
"Yeah but my car is a Mitsubishi.."
The neighborhood around these parts were quite pretty. Just like where you lived with your dad. But at the same time you were confused as to how Eren and Armin could afford such a place. The first thing popping in your mind being. Drug dealer and then you thought about what Sukihana said about dating them...
That's probably why Levi didn't want you around him... Yeah.. This whole senior year has been Levi making sure Eren doesn't sit beside you... nor have a project with you... It's like he barely existed at first. Though you always had these ways to talk to him. He's not even that bad.. he's quite the hottie and he knows what to say... he's just a flirt, and you edge him on every time...
"(Y/n)! Can you come with me to find the food?"
Snapping out of those thoughts of Eren, you didn't even realize Jean had already parked. A small 'mhm' coming from your throat as you opened the car door. Everyone else doing the same. Lord it was a bunch of people out here. People were outside and inside which was baffling honestly.
A soft hand touched your wrist and started to drag you towards the house door. It was Sasha, her mouth almost watering for something to eat. She told Eren to make sure there was extra cheese in the fridge for her. Hidden... and lo and behold when you both shimmied through the crowd, the cheese was in the fridge. Her eyes beaming as she grabbed some chips as started eating like it was her last meal, nothing out of the ordinary.
"This music actually hits..." you spoke out to nobody in particular as your hips started to move ever so gently. Though as nice as your body was, it looked more seductive than anything. Popping one of those chips into your mouth as your hips continued to wine ever so gently.
The looks you were getting, not only lustful but want... The way your long dreads just complimented your look had only made it worse. The second you decide to stop, it seemed like everyone stopped looking at you. In slight despair that you'd stopped. Though one individual in particular was continuing to stare...
His hand, wrapped around the cup as he'd sipped at the liquid inside. The black ring on his middle finger caused his hand to look hotter than it already was. He had these prominent veins that would just look so pretty on your brown skin...
"She likes you too..." the blonde that was a tad bit shorter spoke to his childhood friend, Eren.
"What makes you say that..." lord, somehow over all this music, and his low tone... you could still feel the vibration of Eren's voice. Just glancing from the kitchen as Eren was sitting on the couch in the living room. Leaning back like he owned the place... well he did.
Fine ass..
Giving him a bit of a stare, your glossy lips curved into a smirk as you glanced at him up and down. All before turning your attention back to your friend who was having the time of her life eating...
"So Sash.. what's up with you and Connie...? Yall gon date.. or-"
"(Y/n)!"
"My bad.. my bad.. I just wanted to know"
The party was a bit lively, more than anything since this is a longer weekend. So everyone was happy.. including you because they were playing your favs. So of course your body started to move again. That skirt of yours being a paid actress in helping you look more hot. Though, what you did not expect was someone coming up behind you...
Now that's nasty..
You whipped your head around about to give them an earful... though... you saw that smexy... face and you looked kinda shocked...
"Oh..." you choked out before turning your head again.. Eren's evil little smirk had caught you off guard. It boosted his confidence even more that you didn't feel the need to even move away from him. His hands slithering onto your full hips.
Man, he was really risking everything this time... considering your father is.. Levi...
This however was thrown out of the window because of the fact that you could feel Eren's... crotch against that thick form of yours. That little smirk on your face only widening as you started to gently rub against him, your back bending over somewhat.
His long brown hair then started to ever so gently fall in front of his face as his greenish eyes stared hard into your body. That harsh little grip on your waist made you feel all different types of high. Gawd.
"You like that huh...? I know.." your cute, but seductive voice made Eren chuckle just a tad. It causing you to almost choke on those words.. This man didn't need to TRY to be hot... he was already smexy.
His hands then started to travel up your body to your arms and he gently pulled you up towards him, your back against his scrumptious chest. All you could do was open your mouth a bit, quite surprised that he wanted to be this close with you.
"Eren... You a lil close... you needa tell me sum?"
The way you spoke, the way you carried yourself... it was new to Eren when he first met you.. but he got used to it real quick and he noticed he wanted something he never knew existed.. and that was you.
"Can't tell you here... but I can tell you in the bedroom..." Eren purred out, his voice smooth as a babies skin, smooth as butter. It caused you to tingle, the female between your legs wanting that more than anything.
Biting your glossy lips, the room started to become hotter than it already was. The people who were in the house started to pile out of the main and started to go outside. It was quite cold outside as well, but the party continues.
"Where the hell is (Y/n)..." Jean spoke to himself as he watched Connie and Sasha become drunks in two seconds. It was obvious he himself could not drink since he is the driving parent tonight.. but he now had nothing to do... he's just wondering where... you are..
(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ
"S-..Shit Eren~..."
The (f/c) nails you had were now digging into Eren's muscular arms as his lips caressed your neck. The seductive kisses making dark marks on your brown, beautiful skin.
Your head being thrown back onto the soft black pillow as your pretty toes curled. Feeling Eren's slender fingers inside of your pussy. His intimidating green eyes watching your every expression, every move. Seeing that your crop top was already rolled up over your pretty chocolate mound breasts that were covered with your bra.
"E-Eren, s-stahp..." choking that out, you could hear the loud rip of your stockings when Eren moved his hand out of them. The wetness of your brown pussy lips being known pretty well when Eren's fingers slid your panties to the side.
"You don't want me to stop... huh...?"
"N-No.."
The electricity shocked through you when you watched Eren stare down into your eyes. Lust and want, all in them as his key necklace dangled in front of your face ever so gently.
His shirt immediately being discarded as he watched your pussy pulse from his fingers being pulled away from it. It was amazing to him how much you wanted him.. it was amazing... it ran something through him...
All you could see was his muscular frame, his hands to match as he easily tore through your bra. Watching the way your breasts fumbled out of the cups. He never seen a black woman's breasts before.. but it couldn't get any better than this though.. is what he thought.
"Daddy~... don't stare at em..." you pouted playfully before licking your glossy lips. Just running your fingers up Eren's arms as you eventually made your way up to his luscious hair. Running your fingers through the locks. Pulling him down ever so gently to finally get that kiss you wanted.
Eren's eyes glowed when he felt your soft lips, the lip gloss giving him this taste of lovely. His lips tasted of some sugar, kinda made you wonder what was in his cup before this.
The wetness of Eren's tongue touching yours as the both of you withered in this naughty, sloppy kiss. Something you both weren't supposed to do.... It was fun, crazy... scary..
"You act all bad outside of the bedroom huh... but you ain't ever have someone touch you..." Eren teased gently, in a whisper against your lips. His hand gripping your chin as he stared at your innocent looking face. Gently spitting all nastily into your mouth and you moaned out seductively. Swallowing it so easily..
"Show daddy you'll be able to take it..."
Eren's cock was so hard in his pants, it being unzipped by him and his underwear was now restricting his release. His eyes staring at your pretty pussy, the wet, pink insides were bright and untouched. Though his pale cock was eager to invade it.
"I-.. I can take it daddy..." your whimpers echoed In Eren's ears as he pushed his underwear down. Your knees being pushed to your chest as you felt Eren's stare. The plaid skirt you had was still on, so you tried to cover your pretty pussy with it.
"Stop... don't hide now.." Eren scoffed out as he gripped under your thighs, the underside of his cock rubbing up and down your wet and gooey pussy.
"Hold your legs... don't move.."
It was so demanding, your pussy clenching already as the wetness dripped down to your other hole. Your pretty, long nails visible to Eren as you held your legs as tightly as you could. Knowing Eren's cock was a monster. You could see it... right between your legs.. right between your brown pussy lips.. the contrast was unbelievable..
"F-Fuck!! Eren~~ ow~" the way your painted toes curled gave Eren a shiver of excitement. Your back arching ever so slightly as your virgin hole was taken away from you. Squeezing tightly around Eren's experienced cock.
"Shh.. it's Ight.. take it babydoll.." Eren's whisper was gentle and sincere as his thumb started to gently rub at your clit. Causing you to swallow your spit, though it spilled out. What also spilled out is your loud whimper. Your legs staying wide open for him as your hand slowly slid up his muscular structure.
"It's .. i-it's so big..."
Hearing these whimpers and words spill from your throat, Eren couldn't help but take his hand and wrap it around your throat. Causing your breath to be taken away oh so suddenly when Eren snapped his hips forward even more.
"Fuck!" Your moan could probably be heard outside as your breasts bounced from the impact. Eren's smirk wide as he felt the tightness of your insides. His necklace going back and forth ever so gently as his pelvis started to clap against you. The feeling was so foreign to you, having someone ram into you like this. But it was Eren... it wasn't just 'someone'..
Your (f/s) scent was powering against Eren's own scent. The feeling of Eren's cock was starting to really take a toll on you..
"A-Ahgh..."
Eren's cock was being enclosed so tightly, you just wet up his Dick so well.. he was starting to become obsessed.. more than he already was.
"Daddy's. little. pussy..." his deep voice echoed in your ears as he started to get a bit faster. Your breasts bouncing even more as Eren made sure that skirt was moved out the way. He wanted to make sure to see everything. His hand squeezing harder at your throat. It was keeping you firm against the bed, like a little fuck doll...
"I-it's your pussy Eren~"
Curling those pretty toes again, you could feel the bubbles in your lower region. The craziest orgasm you've ever experienced... just tip toeing to the tippy top. All you could muster was a pathetic whine. Your eyes watering up behind your long eyelashes.
"I'm-.. I'm cumming..." Your voice was so weak, it sounded like you were passing out almost. Just rolling your eyes back as the bed frame started to hit the wall. Your pussy gushing more than usual as the white cum started to coat Eren's cock a little.
"Shit... yeah~..." Eren growled under his breath, watching you come undone on his pale cock. Your thicker form was just so adorable, looking all bent up. Your locs scattered around ever so softly.
It was like he was fucking a goddess...
Eren was between harsh and soft, his manhandling ways were shown easily by the way he pulled out quickly and turned you over. Your plump ass shaking like jello as his cock easily slipped inside once again.. filling you up for the second time. God you just couldn't wait till you could feel his cum...
"Imma Fuck you till you turn dumb..." Eren spoke harshly as his long fingers gripped at some of your locs. Pulling them and wrapping them around his wrist somewhat. Gaining all control over you and your own body...
He wasn't playing either...
(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ Masterlist 2
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Have you ever taken a look at One Punch Man's TV Tropes page? In particular, at Garou's character trope? Do you agree with some of the comparisons/theories/general trope assignments there?
Yup I have in the past for the lulz. :D Cause I find the tv tropes entries/speculation/ymmv stuff more entertaining/interesting to me than the fanwiki, which seems to have most stuff referenced for powerscaling feats, instead of theory/analysis based info, which is what I personally find more useful. Anyway, it's been a while since I've been there (since the site's become one of those that dings you for using adblocks, gah!) so if more recent stuff's been added then hold on, let me check...*one moment please*
Oho~ It’s actually pretty accurate! :O I can see it’s been well-maintained since some old ones were removed (like Walking Spoiler when most stuff was still wc-only). And what’s written in the hidden spoiler parts clarifies stuff well. What I also like is how you can tell whoever wrote the entries is passionate about it as a fan of him. :3 Good! However, there’s a few points I don’t quite agree with.
The biggest one is them assigning him the trope Anti-Villain, which is what the lads on reddit often say (and jump on anyone who thinks otherwise to ‘correct’), so I think one of the guys from there may have written this entry, which sounds good/logical enough, except for one glaring problem, Word of God, ONE himself, has already debunked that in the s2 interview booklet:
(Transcription)
Let’s discuss the anti-hero Garou. How was his character created?
Garou is an “anti-hero,” but I thought he should be more “anti-Saitama” – otherwise, he’d be the same as the other monsters. I didn’t want to show the limits of his potential. He might not be able to win now, but I wanted people to think that if he continues to grow as a monster, he might just be able to fight on the same level as Saitama. The anime emphasized his viciousness, his youth, his whimsical kindness, and his recklessness, which made me look forward to his future.
Just look how ONE describes him! :’3 So I think the tvtropes writers need to recheck/edit this entry, or even just use this, as the evidence to show how ONE himself categorizes him as an Anti-Hero. (And in opm’s specific context, an Anti-Saitama.) :O And ironically, not once does he ever use the term ‘villain’ for him. This becomes the biggest eye-opening piece of info that can completely change one’s reading of him, so it’s important to get right. Without the entry enforcing/spreading misinformation. Thankfully ONE answers the age-old question for the fans and describes Garou in a way I can trust. :’3 (Aka I will take ONE’s word over any fanwiki/trope entries.)
Some other entries are just a matter of semantics, like calling him a Hero Killer, when...yeah, he doesn’t. He’s not Stain from b/nha. However, the hidden text clarifies this so it’s cool.
Another one that kinda makes my eyes twitch is when they describe his wc monster form as ‘going bald’ with horns, when eugch, no that’s a Saitama thing! :O Garou’s ‘hair’ remains (as the horns) so this is also why I’m glad Murata’s new version keeps his iconic hair intact! (At least for now?) To distinguish their characters from each other.
There’s also more entries I would add (it seems the list used to be longer and was edited shorter?) like Big Damn Heroes, which is literally the precise trope Garou performs when he busts through walls at the perfect timing to rescue Tareo from Royal Ripper. :’D Many moments like that! Which it seems his page doesn’t fully capitalize on or mention to make reading thru it even more fun (like Mr. Fanservice is there and pretty funny, heh.)
Anyway, there’s my take. In general the whole thing’s pretty good and worth checking out for fun, but yeah there’s just a few details I’d probably change. :’3
#opm#garou#anonymous#replies#ONE pls#the only problem is it seems so few fans are aware of ONE's interview about s2#when it discusses and clarifies a lot about garou!#so i wish the reddit dudes and the tvtropes writers realize this at least..as it affects how fans portray and get a read on him in general
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If he wanted you, he'd ask for you
A/B/O fic for Cherik Week! Set post-XMA, or... almost-post-XMA. A little over 2k words.
Erik thought things had been going well.
He, Charles, Jean, and a team of architects were elbow-deep in plans to rebuild the mansion, with certain enhancements; it would all happen very quickly once it began, but had to be planned down to the centimeter, first. All the students who could be sent home safely had gone; the remainder, along with Charles and Erik themselves and a smattering of other adults, were staying in a camp of startlingly luxurious tents down the hill from the mansion site, alpha and omega students kept separate by the larger section of betas in the middle. No one had commented on Erik and Charles sharing a tent; everyone was sharing with someone, and if Hank McCoy had muttered something under his breath about keeping enemies closer, Erik had chosen not to hear it. He knew he had plenty to make up for.
But he was making up for it, he thought, in some small way. Helping with the students, helping with the mansion, helping Charles. It wouldn't bring back the entire city of Cairo, but nothing else would, either, including his death. Those were Charles's exact words, over a chessboard in the privacy of their tent, when they talked about the diplomatic efforts Charles was making on his behalf, and the scars inside Erik's mind where Apocalypse had used some form of persuasion power to steer Erik, Storm and the other horsemen in the direction he wanted them to go.
Erik had thought that too much had happened between them for him and Charles to ever return to the easiness, the deep understanding and connection they had once had, before everything went wrong. Instead, he was shocked speechless sometimes by how much of it was still there—and how much more of it he could feel waiting, behind scars and defensive walls, inaccessible now but still there, if they could find a way to bring it out of hiding again. They slept in their separate beds on opposite sides of the tent, but small touches were beginning to reappear—fingers that brushed as they passed a dish, hands clapping shoulders to celebrate a good joke or small breakthrough. Three days ago, Erik had dared to swipe his palm across the newly bald expanse of Charles's head and call him Professor Eggsavier. Charles had laughed and pushed him off, letting their hands linger together.
The next day, Charles moved into another tent, alone.
He hadn't explained it beyond a casual mention that they had a spare now that the Letson twins had gone home after all. He hadn't reacted to Erik's surely visible dismay and hurt, had acted like he didn't hear his stammered questions. He had simply disappeared into the other tent, and not come out since.
"You don't think someone should check on him?" Erik demanded, at the little outdoor kiosk that mostly served as Hank's office.
"He's fine." Hank sounded baffled by Erik's anxiety. "He's keeping in touch," he gestured at his temple, "any time I need him. He just wants a day or two to himself. Heaven knows he's earned it."
"Of course he's earned it, but you don't think it's out of character? He's not the kind of man that just takes a day or two to himself, he's always up to his eyebrows in everything that's going on—"
"What would you know about it?" Hank said irritably. "When have you ever been in his life for more than a month at a time? Leave him alone, Erik. If he wanted you he'd ask for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to get done."
Talking to Raven was just as frustrating.
"Let me get this straight," she said, barely looking up from the math tests she was grading, because somehow lessons had to go on. "The man you've nearly killed multiple times, who is putting his neck all the way out trying to get you pardoned by multiple governments for the unforgivable shit you did in fact do, and that we can't prove Apocalypse manipulated you into doing—this guy has made himself somewhat less accessible to you, and you consider that some kind of emergency?"
"He's not 'somewhat less accessible,'" Erik snapped, "he's basically disappeared! He hasn't come out of that tent in three days now, not for anyone or anything. Not for Storm's nightmare, not for Carlo's broken arm, not for a potentially disastrous supply problem with the construction—"
"You make it sound like he's ignoring everyone! We've heard from him whenever we needed to." Telepathically, she meant. And they had, everyone had. Except Erik. Erik hadn't heard a word. "Leave him alone," Raven said, pinning him with a gold-eyed glare. "He'll come out when he's ready. You're the last person in the world who should push him."
She was probably right. But Erik was an old hand at ignoring good advice.
The fourth night, he dreamed that Charles was calling for him, calling for help. When he woke, there was nothing—no psychic echo, nothing—to indicate that it was anything but his own dream. He got out of bed anyway, and slipped through the camp to Charles's tent.
He felt resistance as he approached, a telepathic shield trying to turn him away. But Erik was too accustomed to the feel of Charles's telepathy; he wouldn't say he was immune to it, but he had the ability to question it, counter it. He clenched his teeth and pressed forward, into the tent.
It was silent inside. Erik stood still, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, more complete here than out under the stars. Nothing seemed strange or out of place; the tent held all of Charles's expected belongings, his wheelchair waiting by the bed where Charles lay still and peaceful.
Too peaceful. Too still. Absolutely nothing unexpected. And telepathy was still buzzing at the edges of Erik's mind.
"You're altering my perceptions," Erik said. "Stop it. I don't know what you're hiding, but I'm not leaving until I find out."
"I could make you leave." Charles's voice, his physical voice, hoarse and strained; so the image of him asleep in the bed was definitely an illusion.
"Do it, then," Erik said, and waited.
After a moment, he heard a sigh—half-agonized, half-relieved—and the illusion melted away.
The tent was a shambles, Charles's books and papers randomly piled if they weren't thrown around the floor. The bed was a mess of tangled sheets, Charles sitting up against the headboard with his face flushed and chest heaving, and everything was heavy with the smell of—
"You're an omega," Erik breathed, staggering back against the wall of the tent.
He had never once considered that Charles might be an omega—and wasn't that strange in and of itself? Charles clearly wasn't an alpha like Erik himself, but Erik had always assumed he was a beta; betas were more than twice as common as either alphas or omegas, and his scent had never hinted at anything else. It wasn't as if Erik really cared. His feelings for Charles would have been the same, beta or omega or fellow alpha, and anyone who wanted to argue about it could meet the sharpened point of Erik's favorite paperclip. It didn't matter, but—some deep instinctive alpha part of Erik was thrilled beyond words, was already thinking about things like bonding and scenting and children, they could have children—
"I once hoped that my paralysis might at least mean being spared this," Charles said, panting and dashing sweat irritably from his eyes, "but it only makes it harder to ever—be satisfied."
"You're in heat."
"Yes, thank you, I am an omega in heat," Charles snapped, "do you have any other obvious facts to share with the class?"
"Why did you hide it? You've hidden it all this time—or do the others know?" They'd been so unconcerned with his withdrawal into solitude…
"Only Raven," Charles said. "I keep the rest from suspecting…" He tapped his temple. "As for why I hide it, I think you have enough of a brain to speculate."
"There are certain disadvantages, yes," Erik said slowly, stepping closer almost involuntarily, "but to go to these lengths…?" It had been hundreds of years since omegas were treated as chattel, decades since they faced serious prejudice. One might still encounter the occasional tasteless joke or even raging bigot, but that hardly seemed like enough to make an out-and-proud mutant live a lie.
"These lengths," Charles said bitterly, "ensure that no one tries to take advantage of my heat. No one can abuse what they don't realize exists."
Erik stopped, only a few steps away from the bed now. Charles's scent, sweet and smoky, was intoxicating—but his words had a dampening effect on any desire Erik felt. "Take advantage," he repeated. "Charles, who took advantage of you?"
Charles didn't answer, not aloud, but images flickered in Erik's mind of a stocky, brutish young man with greedy eyes. Erik had never seen him, but if it was who he suspected, Charles had once described that young man as having a mind that had never once thought of anyone but himself, in all his life.
"Your stepbrother," Erik said.
"He was an alpha," Charles whispered. "He knew what I was before I did. Only my powers kept him away—mostly. Usually."
"So you learned your only safety was in hiding." Erik didn't realize he had come closer again until he saw his own fingers trail across Charles's hand. He tried to pull back, but Charles caught his hand, held it tightly. His skin was fever-hot, and Erik's body wanted desperately to answer that fever with his own. He swallowed, forcing himself to stillness.
It was still incredible to him that he'd never known this. He'd shared Charles's bed for weeks, before Cuba—but an omega experienced heat only two to four times a year. Luck, good or ill, had kept Charles out of heat during that time, and during their brief reunion in Paris a decade later. His scent should still have given it away, but Charles was uniquely situated to disguise that, not in physical fact but in everyone's perceptions of it.
"So you've never had anyone," Erik said, "to help you through a heat? No one?"
"No."
"That sounds miserable."
"It is." Charles laughed blackly, writhing half-consciously against the headboard. He was, of course, naked—Erik couldn't imagine his skin tolerating clothing right now—and in a state of arousal intense enough to make Erik wince even as the sight made his mouth go dry. How much could Charles feel, there, now? He knew Charles did have some little sensation in that area, and with the increased sensitivity of heat…
"You're staring," Charles said.
Erik forced his eyes away. "Yes. I'm staring because you're beautiful."
"Beautiful? This is beautiful?" He had never sounded more bitter and broken, not even in the plane on the way to Paris.
"It could be." Erik looked down at their joined hands, where his thumb was stroking the back of Charles's hand, gentle as breath. "You have someone to help you now. If you want me."
"If I want you? You could be anyone right now and I'd want you! You understand that, don't you? Of course I want you, someone, anyone—but I can't trust anyone—"
"I can't do anything to you that you don't want," Erik said, tapping his own temple. "Everything's in your hands, Charles. You can even wipe my memory afterward. You could even wipe my memory right now, send me back to my bed with no idea this conversation ever happened."
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't."
Because you took my hand. It was too delicate to say aloud; Erik knew Charles would hear him regardless. You let me see the truth, and you let me take your hand.
Charles pulled him down and kissed him.
In the morning, Erik woke sore and exhausted and contented down to his bones, at peace in a way he couldn't remember ever feeling before. The windows in Charles's tent were tied shut, but sunlight peeked around their edges and glowed faintly through the material of the tent itself, giving the space a sepia haze of morning. Charles was breathing slow and even, nestled against Erik's chest. His heat had peaked and broken, sometime during the frantic passion of the night. Charles had been overwhelmed enough to cry with sheer relief. That had never happened before, apparently; he'd always had to endure days of the heat slowly withering and trailing off, unsatisfied.
Thinking of it, Erik couldn't help tightening his arms around Charles and brushing a kiss against the crown of his head. He hated that Charles had suffered so much, so unnecessarily. Hated that he might suffer just as much again, next time, without Erik…
"That's up to you, love," Charles said sleepily, and Erik looked down in surprise.
"What?"
"Whether you're here next time," Charles said. "That's up to you."
"You're not going to wipe my memory and send me away?"
Charles snorted. "I don't think it would work now even if I wanted to. Or haven't you noticed we're bonded?"
"Is that what that is?" He could feel it now, the subliminal hum between them, the way their scents mingled together, the deep rightness of Charles's skin against his. Bonding wasn't the be-all and end-all that the poets tried to paint it as, Erik had known that for years. But… everyone agreed it was nice. If this was what it was, it felt nice.
"Look at that smile," Charles murmured, tracing fingertips over Erik's mouth. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see that smile again."
"You can see it anytime you want," Erik said, and drew him in for another kiss.
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Breakdown of the short TV promos for The 100 season 7
with screenshots and speculation!
While we’re waiting for the trailer to come out (which should happen by the end of this week, “hopefully” today according to Jason Rothenberg’s latest tweet), and after we’ve secured Eliza the victory she deserves as E-Online’s Top Leading Lady, I’ve watched the two short TV promos that CW has aired during other shows, which are both now on YouTube. Although both versions of the promo are pretty short (the second one is slightly longer and more interesting), there’s a surprising amount of various scenes.Although some of them are blink and miss it, there are a lot of dramatic shots of random people fighting or getting killed or taken captive, and all of it is out of context.
However, the press release with the descriptions of the first 4 episodes helps figure out what some of the scenes may be. It looks like there are many shots from the season premiere, but also scenes from 7x02, 7x04 and the backdoor pilot (7x08).
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Bellamy crying seems to be the continuation of his last scene in 6x13. He even still has the same clothes and is crying over Octavia disappearing from his arms into thin air. This is definitely 7x01, maybe even the first scene.
The second scene also seems to be Bellamy - Octavia would've bled onto his arms before she disappeared.
Also outside Sanctum: this shot in the woods. I have no idea what's going on here, a person is crouching on the ground - Bellamy? Someone else? Is this Anomaly-related?
Speaking of the Anomaly...
The person sitting on the ground looks like Gabriel. But why is he just sitting there? It wouldn't be surprising if he went into the Anomaly. He's certainly nowhere to be seen in Sanctum scenes.
These people, who look very SciFi and are obviously connected to the Anomaly, are likely to be new antagonists - and this may be from 7x01 From the Ashes, when, according to the press release, “ a new threat rises in the woods”. Their masks have a design similar to the title card of S7 opening titles.
Meanwhile, in Sanctum:
“Clarke (Eliza Taylor) and her friends attempt to rebuild Sanctum “ (press release for 7x01 From the Ashes) but “As Raven (Lindsey Morgan) faces an unexpected threat, Clarke (Eliza Taylor) must keep the peace among opposing factions in Sanctum” (7x03 False Gods).
The Children of Gabriel (we see Nelson among them) vs Earthkru? Is that the conflict now? What's going on with the Sanctumites who still worship Primes and those who hate them? Are Wonkru and Eligius prisoners going to be in conflict, too?
Raven (who's back to her pre-S6 look, and even has a red jacket - not the one she had in S1-2) tells Murphy and Emori (looking normal, not like fake Primes) that "This place is a powder keg.” “It always ends the same..."
Also in Sanctum - Indra (still in her warrior gear), saying "New world, same problems"
and Clarke talking to Gaia (in front of an idyllic looking house with a fence, maybe where she lives with Madi now in Sanctum) - "I used to think fighting is what we do... now I worry that fighting is what we are." We aren't done with the S6 angsty soul-searching!
And in a different mood -my favorite moment in the promos, Clarke punching Russell! I thought it wasn't him at first, so I thought "I wish she was punching Russell" but it is. It’s his clothes, and they are in the Sanctum shrine. (It's just obviously not JR, but a stunt double, which is unfortunately pretty obvious, LOL.)
s he still Russell or Sheidheda as Russell? He's certainly yelling the same way he yelled "I want REVENGE!" in 6x13 (f*ck you, Russell). Now it's "I want DEATH!". His death? I wish. We're not that lucky. And it looks like he's talking to Brainwashed!Jordan. (sigh)
Outside Sanctum, at night, Clarke (with a great new leather jacket) is pointing a gun at someone in the 1st promo... And it becomes clear in the 2nd promo that she's pointing the "Mysterious outsiders (who) arrive with news of Clarke’s missing people" in 7x04 Hesperides.
The mysterious strangers are led by the bald white dude who says: "You are the key to winning the last war mankind will wage". Wow! Color me intrigued!
Since she only has Gaia, Niylah and some guys with her, it's safe to say Bellamy, Echo (+probably Gabriel) are among the missing people.
Which, however, doesn't mean Bellamy, Echo and Gabriel are in the same location.
The trailer only shows Bellamy in the early scene of crying over Octavia, and he's not mentioned at all in the press releases, so it seems his storyline is too spoilery and they’re keeping it under wraps.
In this interview, Jason said about Clarke in season 7: “And as we’ll see going forward, she is now definitely determined to not lose any of her family again, in a way that is almost obsessive. Her family being Madi of course, and Bellamy and Raven and Murphy; these are all people that she loves and is not going to lose. “ Which I have (mis)interpreted as Jasonspeak for Clarke obsessed with saving Bellamy. ;)
Unlike Bellamy, we do see what Echo is up to. Here she is with short hair as one of those new masked Anomaly people, on some kind of mission? Possibly undercover?
(Remember when the fandom decided Echo was dead because Tasya cut her hair? LOL I always thought the drawing such conclusions from BTS things made no sense. Likewise, it’s now clear how silly it was to decide some characters must have died early because actors were off in LA for a while. I don’t know why so many people think the cast are glued to the set 24/7 for 6 months, and we now know that episodes were shot out of order - because there are multiple locations, with different characters/actors, so an actor could take a few weeks or even a full month off while they are shooting on another location and a storyline they aren’t involved in. For episode 1x08, the backdoor pilot - which was shot late and is production number 7x13 - that would have probably meant the entire regular cast had a few weeks off. I’m sure the cast took the chance to go and audition for new roles - at least one of them, Lindsey, got cast in a new show while the shooting of The 100 was halfway.)
We also see one of these new Anomaly soldier people here, looking pretty threatening as they pull out some kind of a weapon.
Definitely the Anomaly here and - wow, that's Diyoza the way we've never seen her before. Looks like a "garden of Eden". Probably Hope's flashbacks from the episode 7x02 The Garden (according to the press release: "Echo and Gabriel learn more about Hope and her mysterious past").
And here’s Octavia and young Hope, who's nodding her head. Looks like they are in some kind of danger. Third time lucky for O, after Ethan and Rose.
I don't know what this person is looking at, but they seemed shocked... and I think the large green eyes are Hope's. In fact, this is probably again young Hope.
Now here's the truly weird stuff. Octavia, in her season 1 tank top, in a sterile white laboratory that looks a lot like Mount Weather, being experimented on under the supervision of someone who looks like Dante Wallace? (We see this same shot in both promos, but mirror flipped in one of them.)
Whatever this is, I'm sure it's NOT the actual MW. And it sure as hell isn’t a simulation by Dante and the Mountain Men. They’re super dead.
What I think is going on here - it could be another trippy sequence for any reason, but I like the theory that the Anomaly somehow shows people alternative realities, things that might have been, What if? scenarios.
Unlike the other scenes in Sanctum, this one is likely to be from a later episode. If this is even in Sanctum, have no idea where Emori is and what's happening to her... but probably nothing good.
Nothing good is happening to this guy, either. The way the lightning goes from sea green to red/purple suggests that something Anomaly-related may be happening here?
Probably somewhere on Alpha: A body (unconscious or dead?) being dragged.
(A bunch of people are convinced it's Bellamy, which is weird, because this person's build looks absolutely nothing like Bellamy. Or that it’s Gabriel, when this person is clearly nowhere near his height. This can only be him if they picked a body double extremely poorly. Though to be fair, there was that hilariously badly photoshopped season 5 promo image of Bellamy where they stuck Bob’s head on a body of some skinny guy with narrow shoulders, so IDK,)
Someone on a motorbike outside Sanctum.
Please someone remind me who else can ride a bike. I know many of the people from Sanctum can and Clarke can because she picked up the skill from Josephine. Anyone else?
An unknown man taken captive by someone. He has similar Anomaly symbols on his forehead as Hope.
I’m pretty sure this is from the backdoor pilot (7x08 Anaconda) and these people dying from radiation are probably Second Dawn members who weren't among the chosen ones and went to Cadogan's decoy bunker.
Finally, this person must have died a sudden, instant and grisly death and quite a while ago. It could be another scene from the backdoor pilot - when the survivors got out off the bunker and saw the victims of the death wave.
Or maybe someone who was caught in a temporal flare on Alpha, which almost happened to Octavia in season 6 before she hid in the live sand. But I don’t know if the temporal flare would have instantly killed them, or just aged them a lot until they die a little later. Death wave seems more likely.
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Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 239 “Discharge”
So… well, Noda continues with a chapter whose sense of humor makes me feel what Kikuta is feeling.
Yeah, really, sorry, but this is not my sort of thing.
The cover is…
… well, it’s apparently based on this video from the movie “She Hate me” by Spike Lee. I warn you, watch at your own risk.
So we go back on the story that see Usami and our wannabe ‘Jack’ that after just a moment of standoff… pardon, jack-off attack each other with the ‘weapons they have at hands’ (I’m sure you can figure what I’m talking about without having me to spell it out), Usami yelling to a shocked and grossed out Kikuta that guy is the killer before… well, ‘firing’. In a “Matrix” like scene ‘Jack’ avoids and fires back only for Usami to avoid in a beyond spectacular manner.
Jack then runs away, only for Kikuta to pull out a more conventional weapon, one of his many Nagant M1895 and fire at him multiple times before chasing him with Usami, the two going to two separate ways to try to encircle ‘Jack’.
Too bad that Jack as a horse and, with it, slams against Usami, sending him flying.
Kikuta manages to hit both him...
and his hat, which falls.
If the image we’re shown is reliable Jack has short hair. Kikuta then tosses his now completely discharged beloved Nagant away (his eyes aren’t shown to better deliver how this pains him... will he managed to recover her later?)...
...and runs to ‘Jack’, managing to grab on him and climb on his horse. He then grabs another of his Nagant (honestly, if this was another manga I’ll expect Kikuta to have a hammerspace filled with them but more ‘realistically’ he has just more than one holster under his coat) and point it to Jack’s head.
Unluckily for him ‘Jack’ still has a good hold on his ‘very personal peculiar weapon of choice’ and is reading it to fire.
Kikuta, who might face an army of Russians trained to kill him but not THIS (and I don’t blame him that’s a job solely for people like Usami though I think Ushiyama might do good as well) starts sweating and, instead than blasting our convict’s head away, tries protecting himself with poor results.
In fact ‘Jack’ gets him in the eyes and causes him to fall off the horse (I guess congratulation are in order to ‘jack’ for his ability to accurately aim behind himself while riding on a horse with such weapon).
Usami reaches Kikuta, whcih complains ‘Jack’ managed to get his eyes (trust me Kikuta, you aren’t the only one who was screaming ‘my eyes!’ through this chapter), then the two resume running after ‘Jack’ but they’re neither Koito nor the Tsukinator and so ‘Jack’ on his horse, can easily distance them. They hear a woman screaming but get there too late, only to find her dead.
Kikuta wonders if he did this while in the middle of running from them. The scene switches to a running and panting ‘Jack’ who evidently has discharged the horse and, with his already bloody knife attacks another prostitute, murdering her as well.
I wonder if he’s panting also due to the shoot he got from Kikuta. He doesn’t seem to be blending though. On a sidenote our ‘Jack’ confirms himself to be left-handed. The first time he killed he used his left, he took care to… ‘charge his gun’ with his left and now he’s stabbing again this woman with his left.
It’s worth to point out that Japan at the time wasn’t a left-handed people friendly environment, with people being discriminated and people were afraid they wouldn’t get married if they were left handed and only from 1989 the percentage of children undergoing correction steadily began to drop -- although still around 60%... and it’s also worth to remember Japan isn’t the sole country which had bias against left-handed people.
I’ll quote Wikipedia on this just to give you a general idea as I find meaningful they even have a page devoted to this:
‘In many religions, including Christianity, the right hand of God is the favored hand. For example, Jesus sits at God's right side. God's left hand, however, is the hand of judgement. The Archangel Gabriel is sometimes called "God's left hand" and sits at God's left side. Those who fall from favor with God are sent to left, as described in Matthew 25: 32–33, in which sheep represent the righteous and goats represent the fallen: "And he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats. And he shall set the sheep on his right, but the goats on his left." In 19th-century Europe, homosexuals were referred to as "left-handed". In Protestant-majority parts of the United Kingdom, Catholics were called "left-footers", and vice versa in Catholic-majority parts of Ireland and Irish America. Black magic is sometimes referred to as the "left-hand path", which is strongly associated with Satanism.’ [Wikipedia: Bias against left-handed people]
… so, if ‘Jack’ is from another country there’s a huge chance he moved from an unfriendly environment to another.
It’s worth to mention that the original ‘Jack the Ripper’ was originally assumed to be left-handed when they speculated he would kill his victims standing in front of them. Later they figured out he first would render his victims unconscious by strangling them and then kill them while they were on the ground, likely positioning himself behind them so that blood wouldn’t fall on him.
So either our ‘Jack’ isn’t the original ‘Jack’ or Noda is constructing him according to earlier theories on his modus operandi (he doesn’t strangle, he kills the victim as she’s standing in front of himself, he uses his left hand).
Now, back to the story… I got the impression Kikuta managed to hit ‘Jack’ when he shoot him… but ‘Jack’ doesn’t seem to be leaving a trail of blood as he walks so it’s hard to say if he’s panting and running that way due to a wound whose bleeding he managed to stop or just due to fatigue.
It’s the day after.
Takuboku Ishikawa, our journalist working for Hijikata, is on one of the crime scenes,
still pesteringon details about the murder the weird policeman we met in chap 239 (remember him?)...
...while the latter is ignoring him. The policeman has the hat lowered on his eyes.
There’s another known face and it’s the photographer.
(Remember? He was there too and lol, in the exact some pose it looks as if Noda has copypasted him there.)
He doesn’t seem to be left-handed but since left-handed people were corrected, in everyday life ‘Jack’ probably can’t use his left hand so it might be useless to search for a left-handed guy using his left hand in a normal situation.
Everyone else among the bystanders seems to be a new guy... okay, maybe the old and partially bald guy might be the same in both pictures but I’m not sure. In this chapter he seems curious but, who knows, he might be a different character just drawn for background. Besides his hair seems too long to be ‘Jack’s’.
Well, to be honest there’s another guy who’s not a new guy but we’ll get to this in a moment.
Kikuta comments ‘Jack’ this time killed two women and wonders if he was just trying to create chaos to escape or was merely doing it to taunt them. According to ‘sperm detective Usami’ it can be just something he decided in advance.
It’s worth to mention the canonical victims of the original ripper were:
Mary Ann Nichols, found on the 31th of August 1888
Annie Chapman, found on the 8th of September 1888
Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes, both found on the 30th of September
Mary Jane Kelly, found on the 9th of November 1888
So yes, on his third murdering attempt Jack killed two women so we can speculate this is a copycat or, if he’s meant to be the real Jack, his backstory would include a reason to murder 2 women at his third attempt (in the real Jack’s case it was speculated he murdered 2 because he was interrupted during the murder of the first woman so it wasn’t planned).
Anyway Kikuta wonders if Jack will come back and how it’ll be troublesome for them to track him now that he has 4 ‘sacred places’.
However Kikuta now tells us something relevant. He managed to get a look at the side of his face… and at his dick. I hope he doesn’t plan to go demand people to show them to him so he could identify ‘Jack’…
Usami suggests they’ll go check the other crime scene so that Kikuta might try to spot him. Kikuta though, has spotted something else so he tells Usami to go ahead that that he’ll join him later.
What Kikuta has spotted is the ‘fail master of disguise’ Private First Class Ariko Rikimatsu, which starts sweating as hell as Kikuta speaks to him and who tells him not to turn around and that basically he could recognize the sexy bulky build of Ariko’s body everywhere.
Okay, Kikuta didn’t exactly said that but really, there are PLENTY of men with a bulky build so, unless Kikuta is a bulky build bodies expert, his words sounds a bit… unbelievable unless it’s Ariko’s bulky build body itself who’s special to him.
And anyway, really Ariko, don’t get so nervous. You fail at deceiving people it seems.
Kikuta says he never heard Tsurumi talking about Ariko being there so he asks him if he came there with Hijikata.
We don’t get to hear Ariko’s reply but it’s likely he confirmed it. Still it’s interesting it was cut as well as the fact Kikuta wanted to speak with Ariko away from Usami’s ears.
Did Kikuta want clarifications on why Ariko betrayed him? Or just make sure Usami won’t attack him again? Or has Kikuta his own plan?
We’ll see.
And is Ogata overlooking that meeting from somewhere? I bet he knows Ariko isn’t trustworthy so can it be he’s keeping tabs on him? Or is Hijikata who’s doing so? Or both?
Anyway the scene switches to the coast of the sea of Okhotsk…
and I find this interesting because we see that there’s a city there… but we aren’t given its name. As long as they weren’t Ainu villages Noda had always given us the names of the places in which the characters were from big cities to minor spots like, for example, the village of Fukagawa, regardless of them spending a lot of time on the place or just a chapter, like the coal mining town of Utashinai.
When this first happen in chap 225
I though it was because Tsurumi was on the move, from coastal city to another, although it really didn’t persuade me… and maybe it could also be Noda for some reason didn’t have material on that part of Hokkaido so the whole thing would be edited in the volume version with the name of the place. However quite a while has gone from chap 225 and we still don’t have an EXACT idea of where he is, not even through a map.
There are big cities on that coastal area, from Wakkanai, the city ship on which Asirpa rode was supposed to reach, to Okoppe to the well known Abashiri… but also various small cities.
They could have said he’s still in the Wakkanai area instead…
Is there a reason to leave us in the dark even when Tsurumi clearly is in Japanese cities?
Is it a Watsonian reason or a Doylist one?
Anyway Tsurumi informs his men he received a telegram from Kikuta (who therefore knew in which city he was and this means either Tsurumi warned him where to find him day by day or he’s not exactly moving around a lot).
He doesn’t tell us what Kikuta said but that he’ll only leave two men behind to continue searching for Asirpa (meaning he hadn’t figured she has long moved from the coastal area) and the rest will go with Tsurumi to Sapporo.
The final page shows both Tsurumi and Hijikata (who’s apparently outside the city looking at something… Ogata practicing with the rifle? Ariko secretly meeting with Kikuta? Sugimoto’s group ALSO coming to Sapporo?).
The implication seems to be that Ariko has tattled out Hijikata’s presence in Sapporo and Kikuta has relied the information to Tsurumi therefore Tsurumi plans to go there and have a faceoff with Hijikata.
Tsurumi didn’t see the need to move for just a convict but if it’s Hijikata, who might have the remaining tattooed skins as well as info... well, the thing becomes much more interesting.
So with everyone being or going to Sapporo, I wonder if Sofia (currently in Hokkaido), the candy seller convict (last time seen in Utashinai) and the still missing convict (whereabouts unknown) will also go there.
Only 3 more chapters are needed to end volume 24 but I wouldn’t dislike it if, before the end, Hijikata and Ogata were to have a chat. This volume showed us some of Sugimoto’s past.
More on Ogata’s past would also be appreciated but, if I’ve to be honest, I’m also looking forward to more info about Kikuta and about Kadokura.
When Hijikata finds the room in which Inudo kept all the material he had collected about him in his fangirlish obsession to get Hijikata, we can see on the wall a list of all the convicts that had been cellmates with Hijikata but also Kadokura’s name.
Or better ‘Kadokura Tanuki’ (門倉タヌキ), Tanuki being the nick Inudou gave to Kadokura.
Let’s start with this.
A Tanuki (狸 or タヌキ) is a Japanese folklore animal, commonly associated with the Japanese raccoon dog, which in folktales often played the part of foolish animal, often with really big testicles (that’s why Inudou said he pictured him as pathetic Tanuki with big balls in chap 118)… however if we compare it to the Kitsune (fox), which are the epitome of shape-changing animals, one saying is "the fox has seven disguises, the tanuki has eight (狐七化け、狸八化け)". The tanuki is thus superior to the fox in its disguises, but unlike the fox, which changes its form for the sake of tempting people, tanuki do so to fool people and make them seem stupid. Note that 8 is a lucky number, which might tied to how Kadokura is actually lucky. However it’s also worth to mention the kanji used to write Tanuki (prior to the linguistic reform of 1947) was "貍", and referred to all the middle sized mammals, especially to wild cats.
So… why all this rambling?
Well, not only Inudo didn’t write down Kadokura’s name, just the surname plus his nick but near Kadokura’s name there’s also written ‘real father’ and then what look like 4 kanji, none of them similar to the kanji used to write Kadokura’s surname.
So basically not only we don’t know Kadokura’s name but also Kadokura’s surname and we’re facing someone who, for association, is compared to an animal much more expert at disguising than the fox (Inkamart).
Now I wouldn’t question Kadokura’s loyalty to Hijikata. In vol 18 he was willing to die to save him. He also seems confident he’s unlucky… and he might have been forced to change surname because his father was on the losing side of the Boshin and therefore carrying his father’s surname would have been bad for him.
The point is if not even his surname is… well, his surname, Kadokura is a men shrouded in mystery, about whom we know nothing except he moved to Abashiri 7 years ago, with Sugimoto commenting he’d been looking over Nopperabou by 7 years… meaning he moved there when Nopperabou moved there (note that Asirpa said the gold incident happened 5 years before but then everyone when with the 7 year thing so maybe there was a retcon).
In short maybe this is all for fun and the truth behind Kadokura is nothing special… but it can also be there’s much more to him it looks like. We’ll see.
#Golden Kamuy#Usami Tokishige#Ariko Rikimatsu#Hijikata Toshizou#Tsurumi Tokushirou#Asirpa#Golden Kamuy Ramblings and Theories#Ishikawa Takuboku#Michael Ostrog#Kikuta Mokutarou
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The place I belong
Summary: After a botched heist, Matsunaga Ise has to do her best to keep her involvement hidden from anyone that tries to find out more about it. That includes Aizawa Shouta. Will she be able to keep it from him, or are there new, unexpected happenings that will bring the two closer together despite their conflicting interests?
Genre: Slice of life, Drama, Romance
Main Characters: Aizawa Shouta (BnHA), Matsunage Ise (OC)
Read on Ao3 / Next Chapter
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a/n: Finally got around checking this through. Please enjoy and let me know what you thought!
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Chapter 1 - The Heist
“Hey, Rookie! Stop dreaming!��
Flipping the shutters back into their original position, Ise sighed inwardly. Turning around, she looked back into the face of a mean-looking guy, grinning ear to ear as he checked her out. Disgusting, she thought, though she only gave him a wry smile back, before going back to her position near the entrance. The air was so suffocating, she couldn’t help but want to break out of the sealed shut bank-building, but maybe it was just the subliminal panic rising in her.
Ise didn’t have the same knowledge in a robbery as the people she worked with. Still, if she had anything to guess about their situation, then it seemed rather bad. The force field she emitted crackled in her mind, erasing all the quirks that were around her. It let her know about all the whereabouts of both her colleagues in crime, as well as the heroes that were spread all around the bank, which her group had settled in. The sheer amount of quirks collected in one spot was agitating for her, and with every second passing, she wished it was over.
Thanks to the guy from before, she hadn’t been able to count all the police cars outside, but she was sure there were more than enough to take everyone here into custody. It was a hopeless situation, and Ise regretted ever agreeing to this heist. Even if she could prove herself useful in this exact moment, the view at getting caught and jailed wasn’t too pretty for her. She found her mind drifting off, slowly fading into bad situations like the interrogation, prison, maybe solitary confinement.
A hefty ‘thud’ tore her out of her overthinking, her body jumping lightly as a big sports bag fell to the ground next to her. The black bag had a shoulder hold, as well as two grips to carry it in one hand. “That’s yours,” a deep voice said. Nervously swallowing, Ise looked up at the man whom the voice belonged to, taking in his features. The bald, scarred male was unmistakenly the man who hired her. Unlike the one before, this one screamed horrific vibes at her, and Ise wasn’t sure what to reply at first.
Instead, she picked up the bag, wincing quietly under the weight. Though her legs were strong, she couldn’t compare to all the muscular robbers that were her accomplices here. Though she managed to prop the bag over her shoulder, all she got in return was a click of his tongue, before he left her alone again. Even his back screamed ‘thug’ at her, as well as his black clothes.
Ise adjusted the bag on her shoulder, feeling the weight pulling her down the longer she stood there. Moving became increasingly harder too, and again, she wished she hadn’t accepted the work. Sure, it paid decently well, but the risk was all the higher. Breathing heavily, she moved a little closer to an air conditioning spot, feeling increasingly hot by the second. Looking around, she inspected the other robbers, finding them to be quite comfortable in tank tops.
With her black leather jacket and shirt underneath, however, she was at a significant disadvantage, having wholly underestimated the heat from the sun getting stuck in the bit of room they were all trapped in. Though, hearing the hostages wince behind her, she figured she wasn’t the only one troubled by the heat.
Admittedly, she almost felt bad for them. They had been just passing by, visiting the bank to get some money to shop for the day, and now they were in such a situation. Maybe they were the reason there had been quite that much of a police force build and heroes contacted, but that was all just Ise’s speculation in the end. The whimpers and sniffs hurt her a little, and from the corner of her eye, she could see parents cowering with their children in their arms, trying to hush them. It really seemed heartbreaking, especially for Ise.
Sighing, she passed the hostages, feeling as if she couldn’t stand to look at them anymore. Was it empathy, or was it jealousy? Jealousy that even in these dire times of need, the children had their parents still to care for them? Maybe, but either way, it hurt. Moving towards one of the backdoors, Ise made sure no one was looking as she turned the knob, taking a glance outside. She silently cursed the fact that no one had given her any blueprints. She knew the other robbers had them, but since she wasn’t an insider, no one had wanted to let her see them.
Ise inspected the barren walls in the little hallway. Just from her imagination, she figured it may lead to the back of the bank, after all, money would have needed to be transported securely, away from the views of everyone - or so she thought. Leaning back, she took a deep breath. Her whole body was tense, jittery even. She wanted nothing more than to leave. From all around her, the noises grew restless, robbers arguing about how to pack all the money, hostages crying. Ise wanted to be anywhere but here right now.
A gasp escaped her, as an arm wriggled around her shoulders, touching her unoccupied arm, and she looked up, towards the tall man suddenly standing next to her. “Hey, little Miss. Is there-” he purposely stopped his sentence, his large mouth curling into a smile. Next thing she felt was a small zap, even through the layers of fabric on her body. She flinched, looking back and forth between the man and his hand. “-a problem with your quirk, I wonder?” he finished his words.
Through his black locks, framing, and covering most of his face, Ise could see the flashing of red eyes. Their icy expression was a contrast to the smile on his mouth, with Ise feeling her blood draining from her whole body. She hadn’t realized how her quirk had slowly dissolved in her lack of attention while she was too focused on her thoughts.
The next thing she knew, the ground was shaking from the outside, heroes and police forces alike inching closer to the bank than they were before. “Guess we should make a run for it,” the man giggled, violently pushing the door to the back hallway open and tugging Ise with him as they slipped out. All while the police made their way into the bank. Ise didn’t trust the man that led her along, one of the few that wore a long black cape to hide his body. His hand was way too tight on her wrist. But she had no idea where to go, so she had no choice but to let him lead.
Behind the two of them, loud shouts and commands could be heard, a great commotion unfolding indeed. Secretly, Ise hoped everything went well for the hostages, but her main focus laid on running. The money bag over her shoulder was still heavier than anything she had ever carried around, and it didn’t help that she was pulled with even more force on the same arm by the man. Ise could only hope they’d reach the exit soon and get out swiftly, without being caught.
Just then, another thought came up in her mind, and though she was already out of breath, she gathered all her courage to voice it. “What if they secured the back exit?” she yelled forward, waiting for a reaction from the man. For a few seconds, there was nothing like that from him, no hum, no words. Ise already believed he might not have heard her, but before she could repeat it, he made a sharp turn at the next intersection, and she had to focus on keeping her balance.
“Good point, Dove,” he giggled back, taking on more speed as she finally caught a grip on the ground again. By now, her breathing was ragged, and she had trouble keeping up with him. If not for him pulling her, she would have collapsed right then and there. Now, Ise was good at running. Really, the only subject she ever excelled in. But combined with the heavy bag and the panic, still stuck in her throat, she had a hard time reaching her peak.
Catching a glimpse from the end of the corridor, Ise saw big, dark-blue doors. They looked more like the ones people had in front of their garages, and suddenly it dawned on her where they were going. “They’ll catch up to us unless we make them open,” she shrieked, panic overwhelming her. In fact, she could already hear footsteps from far behind the two, aside from the clacking of hers and her partner in crime’s.
“I don’t think so,” the man laughed, maniacally by now. She could see him stretch out his arm, little sparks emitting from it. With a loud roaring, just like thunder, he threw his arm forward, a bright tail of electricity hovering over the air, eventually hitting the shutters before the two were even in arm’s length to them. With loud, mechanical groans, the shutters opened to about the height of a man as the two reached them, letting them pass without any problems.
She didn’t see the man activate his quirk again, but the moment they were out, the doors began to close. There was no time for Ise to give this phenomenon any attention as she finally lost her feet in the air, plummeting down to the ground with a hard thud. Her head was ringing after hitting the ground, and she groaned loudly as she came back to her feet, driven by the adrenaline. The moment she put weight on her right foot, however, she felt the sting of pain, the bag having buried her ankle under it at the fall. There was no way she could make out if it was a severe injury, but to her, it was more than evident that it hurt like shit.
Finally, as her mind grasped the whole situation, she realized she could still hear the commotion from the front of the bank. Though much to her relief, she and the strange man were alone still, finding themselves in the money transport docks. Ise could barely stand, yet, she reached for the bag, trying to lift it from the ground again. “Ouchy,” she heard from her accomplice, followed by a light giggle. It looked slightly wonky as he got up again too, but once he stood tall, he had no problems to stride back to her position, after he fell a bit further than her.
“What a fall, right, little Miss?” Biting her lower lips, she wasn’t really interested in answering that. It sounded equal as if he was making fun of her as well as if he had bumped his head hard. Something was absolutely not right with him, and Ise was more than sure of it now. But her efforts of lifting the bag were to no avail, though once he reached her, he had no problems to take it - covering it with his cloak - recreating the hold he had on Ise before too and tugging her along into the direction of the park that was spreading out behind the bank.
His hand still felt uncomfortable around hers, and she could have sworn some sparks of his quirk tingling over her skin still. Every step hurt like she was walking on needles, and in her mind, she was already thinking about how to treat her ankle later. It was sure to swell for the next few days. “Now, for the grand exit,” she heard him mumble, refocusing in the situation she was still in. Before she could protest, he led her right into the bushes, wild leaves and branches brushing all over her body, making it hard to see.
Though no matter her struggle, he wouldn’t let go, unerringly making his way through. It didn’t seem to bother him that branches got stuck in his clothes, as well as some plants tangling into his hair, Ise almost felt jealous of him being so carefree. Once they came back to a bit of a path, she looked over her shoulder at the way they had come from. She was barely able to make out the blue shutters anymore through the thicket, and a small hint of relief washed over her. Though no matter that, she still felt the ominous vibes he gave her, canceling most of her relief immediately.
“Where-” She stopped her own words for a moment as his head turned immediately to eye her over his shoulder. “Where are we going?” Biting her lower lip, she tried to maintain the eye contact as best as she could, though even with all the locks in his face, the piercing red seemed almost abnormal to her. “Far, far away, and never to be seen again.”
His answer gave her the chills.
If not for the fact that there were people around them and a police investigation maybe a hundred meters away - which ultimately would have led to their arrest anyway - Ise would have immediately started to throw a big fit. Who in the world said such things? That he wasn’t in his right mind, that much she had figured till now, but was he really… She didn’t even want to finish the thought. Instead, Ise mustered all the strength she could find in herself, clearing her throat quietly before speaking up. “You mean like, we’ll be hiding for a while, right?”
The glare he shot her was almost grim, another dark contrast to the broad smile on his lips. “Whatever you want to call it, Dove.” Nodding slowly, Ise took a deep breath, hoping he’d stay true to his words, even if she couldn’t help but imagine all the bad things he could have planned. Especially, when - after a while of trotting over the path of the park - he pulled her off the trail, back into the thicket. She readied herself to scream and kick if necessary, hoping her foot would hold up for another run.
But when the two of them came to a halt between the bushes, she was surprised to find her hand to be released, the man leaving her behind as he searched the ground for something. “Hey, here,” he mentioned, pointing downwards after stopping at a particular spot. What he was looking at? She didn’t know. Did she want to know was the other question. It could have been something repulsive, in the worst case, a skeleton. Suspicious, Ise inched closer, but when she saw what he was pointing at, she felt as if he was trying to make fun of her.
Aside from mud and dirt, there was nothing. She shot the man a questioning look that he reciprocated ever so calmly. “Dig,” he said sweetly. In an instant, he had her in goosebumps, his voice nice, but the order absolute. Still a little reluctant, she settled down, hoping that obeying would get her the least unfavorable act from him, though she couldn’t help but wonder if it would be her own grave she was digging.
Not wanting to make it too easy, she only carved out a small hole, maybe big enough for a doll to fit, but not a body. Though when she looked up, he gave her a dissatisfied click of his tongue and shook his head. So she continued. Sweat pearls collected on her forehead, which Ise quickly brushed off with her arm. She dug and dug, making the hole deeper, yet not larger, hoping it would suffice in convincing him not to bury her in it.
She couldn’t help the flinch going through her body when she came up out of the hole again, brushing some hair out of her face that got glued onto her skin through the sweat. Something inside the bag let out a hard thud as it plummeted into the hole, just seconds from when she had her head still in it, making her realize just how hard it would have been if it had hit her. Hearing the sound of his hands clapping off dirt on them, now that he had discarded the bag in the mud, she gave the man an exasperated and confused look. He just shrugged in return, using his shoe to brush dirt back over it, unbothered by the fact he could have hit the life out of her if the heavy bag had fallen on her neck.
Squatting down to her height, he clasped his hands over his knees, staring intently and uncomfortable at her. Ise hadn’t have the chance to see him quite so close until now, a considerable amount of scars covering his face. The unnerving thing wasn’t quite how red the iris in his eyes were, but how red his skin seemed to glow. It was like blood flowing too much through all his veins. His lips were chapped, and now that he was so close, she could see the greasiness of his hair too. And he smelled. Like nicotine and three days of not showering, Ise had a hard time not to gag.
“So here’s the plan…” he mumbled, another huge smile crossing his lips, teeth yellow and crooked. And despite his ridiculous appearance, she had never been more scared of hearing about a plan than she was right then and there.
#aizawa#aizawa shouta#shouta aizawa#aizawa x oc#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#bnha oc#bnha fanfiction#BNHA Headcanons#bnha scenarios#bnha imagines#Bnha writing blog#x oc#oc story#canon x oc#aizawa fanfiction#OW
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i have a friend
he is called Leg
i was feeling down and he wanted to cheer me up
and so, bexo was born
i sent him a photo of exo and he got to work with ‘guessing’ what they’re like
it took off, with some.... surprisingly deep lore (with some fanfiction tones too which is... really weird.... he is the equivalent of a local ..?), and i think its hilarious so im going to make you read it all too
he knows literally nothing, especially about exo, and so he is completely making these ‘guesses’ insert: ‘characters’ from the photo alone
(hence this is all done in lighthearted tone with no offence intended)
alas here is the deep lore that is the first part (?) of BootLeg (?)
~~~
BEXO
Lineup (from left to right): Paul, Ryan, Jayson, Daniel, Terrance, Brayden, Hamish, Lazarus/Gunther
Paul (Chanyeol)
hates that hes called paul
always trying to act like hes not a paul
if he were a spice he would be flour
summary comment: “it says ‘dude’ on his jacket like c’mon. hes trying so hard to not be a paul and its just not working out for him, lets me honest. but yeah idk what else to say about paul really. because he is fairly plain deep down”
Ryan (Kyungsoo)
hes the only one that thinks hes cool
everyone else just keeps him around to laugh at how short he is
only ever finds out about 50% of the parties
summary comment: “hes the guy where like everyone will be just chilling out and then he’ll like throw something in a bin from across the room and go mad about it. and people are kind of sick of it but not enough to tell him to stop”
Jayson (Kai)
"this fucker is the kid whose parents bought him a ps4 and let him play 18s while everyone else was still on pokemon and wii sports”
never stopped flexing on everyone in school
“nobody liked him but some people decided to hang out with him for the clout and its still true”
“like the ringleader but people really just like the vibes he gives them”
summary comment: “im trying to think of a name but all i know for sure is that its not spelled the normal way”
later
“JAYSON”
Daniel (Suho)
his mum always said he was cool so he just went with it
his dad is a painter “idk why thats relevant but its just a fact”
wanted to be a baker
pleasant if you catch him by himself but more cold and a dick when with “the crew”
bffs with paul since childhood and kept pushing each other until they were in way over their heads
in an alternate au they would be florists
and leg says he knows nothing of fanfiction
daniel is deep with the kpop now, and despite his true nature, manages to keep up appearances much better than say paul
summary comment: “sometimes they sneak away for a picnic”
Terrance (Baekhyun)
always was the smartest but few actually knew because hes really quiet
despite seating plans in school he was somehow always in the back corner
“someone is pretty sure they saw him in a field surrounded by miscellaneous vegetables and dead rats once but it seems to strange for even them to believe”
nobody in the group knows his last name and no one is going to ask
they pretend theyre not scared of him but tbh he can probably smell fear
can also teleport probably so theres no point running. root vegetables only slow him down.
summary content: “all i know is that if i wasn’t fated to die at the paws of your cat then terrance would get me for sure”
Brayden (Xiumin)
has a side gig as a drag queen
“he loves it, but kpop makes him more money. but that money lets him improve his drag. so he sees it as a really good cycle”
he was the one that chose the “black & white checkerboard thing going on [in the photo]”
Paul went with it because he thought it would make him cool
nobody knows why terrance went along with it and it will remain a mystery
“brayden actually auditioned for a girl group while in drag
and was accepted
...but then he realised the time commitment and so bailed after their debut
people have speculated about That MV™ but nothing has been confirmed”
summary comment: “besides he does like the kpop too. he just honestly loves being worshipped”
Hamish (Chen)
was going to be a builder because his dad is in construction
he often worked with daniels dad weirdly
“small world”
the two dont know it yet but they will find out and it will be a “sweet bonding moment”
he is mostly bald
“everyone really likes him so they keep around and go through the trouble of using photoshop and cgi hair in mvs”
they once did an anonymous vote for who their favourite person in the group was
paul & daniel voted for each other
i cant believe hes actually got a ship going in a fake ‘parody’ kpop group i cant
ryan voted for jayson because he thought everyone else would
and everyone else voted for hamish
well there was one vote that was blank
everyone knows whose it was but like... you think they were going to bring it up?
hamish voted for paul bc he felt bad for him
the main problem is the fact hes allergic to wigs
this means that he has been “sick” for every live show ever, bar once
as in his first one
the one where he realised hes allergic to wigs
didnt go well
summary comment: “his hair looks photoshopped which means it obviously is”
Lazarus/Gunther (Sehun)
he called himself lazarus bc he thought it sounded cool
nobody knows his real name—meaning: nobody as told him that everyone knows his real name
he joined bexo late and really wants to be considered just like everyone else
kind of the errand boy, nobody has made a coffee since he joined the group
he is genuinely cooler than some of the others but no one takes him seriously
partly because of ‘gunther’
also because no one has seen him in a tshirt that doesnt say lazarus on it
super confident, not at all justified
summary comment: “the reason he is positioned like that [in the photo] is because hamish’s fly was undone and it got stuck when he tried to zip it up, so they covered it up with gunther. he was told to do it because it would make him look cool. so he didnt have a clue”
~~~
please spare my soul and lmk if leg is cancelled
(i realised too late that there was no lay :(( but tbh its probably better off that way lmao he doesnt have to suffer)
#exo#exo crack#getting locals to name exo members#dumb kpop#leg#bootleg#bexo#bootleg exo#exo meme#locals and kpop#friend naming kpop idols#friend naming exo#tw cussing#tw reference to dead animals#tw dark humour#parody kpop#kpop parody
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Frostbitten (Chapter Two)
Y/N L/N is a child of a Jotun and an Asgardian. She spends her life hidden in the dungeons of Asgard, with no one to talk to other than one of the princes- a man who seems completely incapable of leaving her alone and entirely unable to give up on helping her. Y/N and Loki Odinson have always been inseparable, it seems- even when there is a cell wall, or a village, or an entire kingdom between them.
Even when he disappears, even when you run away, and even when his world falls apart; you are inseparable.
Previous Part
Heads up!! You may look at some things in this chapter and be like: what the heckity sheckidy how is that even possible, or you may think it’s perfectly normal. Just know that if you do see something strange, it’s probably something I did intentionally. Maybe it’s not. When this series is over, if I’ve yet to answer a question you have, message me.
"Your magic is so beautiful," you murmur, watching as the illusion of a dove soars overhead before coming to a swift stop on your shoulder, batting its wings at the air to slow down. "It's so real."
You reach a hand out to touch the bird, and it fades to nothingness in a flash of green light. Loki smiles at your compliment, gazing softly at you through tired eyes. "You don't seem like one to think that reality is beautiful," he murmurs, tilting his head. "Your reality is pretty awful."
"I'd like to think I won't be here forever." There's no ice beneath you. No frost at your hands and no damp cold on your clothes. In this place, with this man, this sort of calamity takes over you, and all the ice inside you stays where it should, awaiting command. "They locked me up because I couldn't control myself, right? You help with that." In a demonstration, you clasp your hands together, building up a small shape in your palms with the ice. When you remove your hands and set the ice piece on the ground, it's a semi-accurate ice sculpture of the very same dove Loki had created seconds earlier. He looks over it, sighs happily, and then returns his gentle eyes to you.
"Your magic is a reflection of who you are. Mine showcases my ability to lie- to convince anyone of the absolutely impossible. It's flashy, flexible, and absolutely fake. Yours...” he contemplates, then smiles again. “Yours changes with your emotions- it can be completely under control or can buzz around with the strength of an anxious lion. It’s powerful, disguised, almost, and, well,” he leans forward, reaching out to touch the sculpture, his hand pausing just before the energy barrier, as if he thought for a minute that the world didn't separate the two of you, that there would always be a wall of energy or a cage of ice between you, “beautiful.”
Your lips curve upward as you watch him, his body relaxed and oddly soft compared to how sharp and sleek he usually dresses. He must have been too tired to change.
"Other than complimenting me, what brings you to the dungeons so late at night?" You ask, capturing his eyes in yours and reveling in the little burst of fluffiness that grows in your chest at his comments. "It's awful late. You look exhausted."
He rubs his eyes. "I've just been a bit restless lately. Besides, it's always good to see you.” The genuine care in his words lightens the weight of your heart. “Have you been reading lately?”
“Only every minute you’re away,” you respond nonchalantly, shrugging. “I feel better after each book you bring. Smarter. Like my eyes open a bit further.”
He nods. “That’s why-”
He’s cut off by a sharp blow to your ribs that knocks you off your bed and out of your head, onto the floor.
“Damn- thing-!” Someone swears as you open your eyes, bracing yourself on your arms and lifting yourself to your knees. The man yelling, a bald, bearded, armored man, has a dark blue, swelling wound on his hand- assumingly where he grabbed you. You have just enough time to process what’s happening that you plunge out of the way when he charges, shooting to your feet and swaying clumsily toward the back of your cell.
“What are you doing?!” You manage through weak vocal cords, hands trembling from the adrenaline. Your head is whirling from the sudden wake-up. Everything looks a bit blurry and everything feels a bit heavy. “I didn’t- you can’t touch me!”
“You’re being relocated, and I sure as hell can.” He commences toward you again, and you carefully put your hands up in surrender.
“I’m not trying to fight,” you say shakily. The spot on your ribs where he hit has already begun to ache, but you disregard it for the sake of the circumstance. “I’m a frost giant. My skin will burn you if you touch me directly.”
“Make it not!” he commands. “I’m not thick-skulled, I know that Jotuns can control that ability.”
Before you can counter that, another man strolls into the chamber, looking troubled. “What’s taking so long?” Thor grunts, gazing between you and the man impatiently. “Is she being hostile?”
You note the sword at Thor’s belt, and try to keep your breaths uniform and steady. “I’m not-”
“See what she did to my hand?” the man answers first, holding up his evidence. “She burned me, your majesty.”
“I can’t control the temperature of my skin!” You assert loudly, earning a raised eyebrow from Thor. “Most Frost Giants can, but I’ve been locked up in this cell for most of my life, and for that reason, it can be difficult for me to control. I’m not trying to be hostile!”
Thor stares at you and then holds his hand out to the other man in the cell. “Give me the cuffs,” he grumbles quietly. The man does at once, and then Thor fords the room to you. He seizes the bedsheet off your bed and wraps one hand in it several times over before grabbing your wrist and closing the first cuff around it, repeating the process with the second. He looks to the other man, almost scowling at him when he says: “I realize this is unfamiliar ground for you, Hogun, but we’re on a schedule. My father will have us all beheaded if we don’t keep up.”
Hogun looks at you, then at Thor, and then sighs, nodding. “Yes, of course.”
He drops the bedsheet, now layered in frost, to the ground, looking to you. “If you try to run, I’ll kill you,” he states simply, and he’s not lying. You offer a simple shrug, and he turns around, walking straight through the barrier. Hogun follows, and when you see that they’re clearly waiting for you to follow, you walk into the yellow film- and for the first time, come out in one piece on the other side. It’s a pity that you’re too busy wondering what in Hel is going on to appreciate your “freedom.”
They start up the stairs, and you follow in their wake, trying not to think about the fact that this is the first time you’ve climbed up stairs in fourteen years. You keep a steady pace with Thor and peer over at him while you’re walking, clearing your throat.
“Where am I being moved?” You ask him, and he responds with an uninterested sideways glance. “Or, don’t even tell me that. Just tell me why.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he returns, scoffing.
“You don’t have to,” you confirm, and he raises an eyebrow, “and if you’re not going to answer, why don’t you tell me...” You purse your lips. “Oh! How’s your brother? The greasy, green one? Loki?”
The three of you appear over the edge of the stairway, stepping through a doorway with guards on either side. The room you walk into from there is mostly marble, with large, towering columns looming above you and murals displaying the kingdom’s history on the ceilings. It’s beautiful, and maybe even tear-jerking. You’d be sobbing if you weren’t too busy trying not to freeze the ground under your bare feet. Instead of marveling at the beauty of the castle, you lower your eyes and continue walking, listening carefully to your breath. You can’t afford to go into sensory overload. The Royals never “relocate” prisoners, so you have a feeling this is a high-stakes situation.
“Loki is...” Thor studies you, confused at the question, like he’s surprised you even know who his brother is. “Loki is fine.” He takes a slightly wider step than you, pushing ahead, a subtle assertion of dominance. “Sleeping, probably.”
“Actually,” says a familiar, comforting, unbelievably beautiful voice from behind you. You spin around, maybe a bit too fast, and that’s the thing to really push you over the edge. You have to bite down on your tongue to keep from crying out with joy, and you have to lock your knees to stop from sprinting over to him and tackling him to the ground. “I’m wide awake.”
Loki is wearing battle armor instead of more casual attire, missing only his helmet to complete the ensemble. It’s a complicated assembly of green, black and gold, fit with metal in all the right places and leather in all the right places, if you want to think that way. For what is not the first time, you wish to touch him. To shake his hand, or kiss his cheek, or try that thing that the Asgardians call “hugging.” You have a strong, almost killing urge to seal the gap that has kept you apart for all this time, and you’re so close. No barrier. No guards- other than his clueless brother and that Hogun guy.
It’s a shame the ice is still there to keep you back.
He gives Thor a polite but obviously condescending smile, not looking even for a moment at you, to avoid speculation. Thor tenses, looking his brother top to bottom, and then steps in front of you.
“Brother.”
“Yes, Thor?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
“That’s funny. I knew full well that you’d be here.” Loki nods to Hogun, earning a terrified wave in return. “Hogun,” he greets, and then finally, finally looks to you, “Y/N.”
“Your Highness,” you respond, and he comes way too close to smirking. Your heart gives a friendly little tug.
Thor looks very confused and very threatened. “You know the prisoner?”
“Of course I know Y/N. Don’t you?” he frowns sarcastically, tilting his head. “We visit the dungeons at least once a year.” Then Loki takes a stride to his brother’s side, sending you a quick wink when no one is watching. “Where are we going?”
“I believe there’s a bit of a misunderstanding, brother. You’re not going with us. Father said-”
“Oh, I’m not?” he gives the fakest, most mocking look of disappointment ever, and you stifle a laugh with a fake cough into your arm. “Damn. Alright, then. I was really looking forward to going with you to...” he looks over the group, sizing everyone up, “...march into war?”
This is a really good way for Loki to figure out where Thor is going, you realize. Lokis coming on this trip, one way or another.
Thor straightens his armor’s chest plate. “No, we’re going to Jotunheim. Please move out of the way, Loki.”
You, Loki, and Hogun all do a double-take at once, and both of the men say, in unison:
“Jotunheim?”
“That’s incredible,” Loki says, but you see something in his face that lets you know he does not find this situation incredible. You certainly don’t find the fact incredible. Your blue goes suddenly a shade paler. “Does this have something to do with Laufey’s belief that she is his child?”
This is a really good way to figure out why Thor is going where he’s going, you realize. Again, a genius move by Loki. God, he’s good.
Wait, what did he say?!
“Come again?” You say out loud, probably a bit too loud, staring wide-eyed between the two princes. “My father was a war prisoner.”
“That’s enough!” Thor yells, taking a large step toward Loki and staring him down. “Know your place, brother. Leave us.”
Loki pauses before leaving, giving Thor his signature oh, I’ll be back smile and turning swiftly down the corridor, sparing you a short glance as he walks off. It gets very quiet. Hogun clears his throat, shuffling between his feet.
“Are we really going to Jotunheim?” asks Hogun, sounding borderline terrified.
“We are,” says Thor, signaling to you, then himself. “You’re staying here. Let’s keep moving.”
He heaves a sigh of relief, and you continue walking. You don’t even try to stop the trail of ice that follows you. It’s useless. Your thoughts fly and spin and bounce off the walls of your head, sending tremors down to your hands, which clench tightly into fists to stop the shaking.
You turn out into a palace courtyard, and the two men stop at the stables. Thor knocks twice, and out come three horses, one of the three unmounted- the other two occupied by Lady Sif and a man in armor of blue and silver. His eyes, a light shade of brown that nearly match the hue of his hair, scan quickly over you, then go to Thor, who is mounting the unused horse.
“Did any of you put any thought as to where our cargo will reside on the journey?” he asks, and his voice is deep- just a bit gravelly. “Because, judging simply by the trail of ice that seems to be following her, there weren’t any other frost giants to teach her how to control her emotions.”
He knows that the ability is linked to emotions? Then he must be a scientist. A researcher. That’s good, because Hogun and Thor clearly are lacking in this field of expertise.
“Oh. No, not really,” says Thor, as if it’s just now occurring to him that this is a problem. “Won’t she kill the horse?”
The man dressed in blue grunts, rolling his eyes, and then sweeps himself off of the horse. “Hogun, fetch a clean blanket from the horses’ stables, would you?” He approaches you, his eyes lingering on the ice beneath your feet for a moment. “Oh, and some boots, while you’re at it.”
Hogun rushes off.
“Arvid Eirikson,” he says, and you stare at him with blank eyes for a moment before realizing that he’s introducing himself. His hand is outstretched to you. He’s wearing gloves. “I’ll be leading this entourage. And while it won’t be a particularly long one, I feel you should at least know whose hands your life is in.”
You hesitate, lifting your cuffed hands toward his, and he shakes it before you can decide to back away. Frost sparkles on the outside of his glove when he pulls his hand back, but it melts in an instant. “Y/N,” you speak in return. “I’m not Laufey’s child,” you add for good measure, and he laughs aloud.
“Yeah, no shit.”
“Shit?” says Thor from atop his horse, raising an eyebrow. “I am unfamiliar with this term.”
“It’s-” Arvid makes a face, then stops speaking, shaking his head. “Odinson, have you not taken Midgardian Culture lessons?” Thor blinks, then tilts his head. “How can you not be educated on a planet you’re one day to watch over? Midgardian culture is fascinating.” More awkward silence."It’s a deprecatory term. A curse word.”
Thor then understands. “You’ve cursed the prisoner?” Or not.
Arvid rolls his eyes, looking to you and quietly muttering: “For the record, he and Lady Sif are only here so it looks like we care about this ordeal. I’m here to keep everyone alive. If either of them takes the lead, ignore them, and follow me. Me only. Understand?”
You blink twice, glancing at Thor, who looks actually terrified, and then back at Arvid. You straighten your back, glaring at him. “If you thought I was going to follow him into battle before, you’ve underestimated my intelligence.”
To your surprise, he grins instead of cutting your hands off. Then Hogun appears again, striding out of the stables with a blanket and a pair of oversized boots. He hands them to Arvid, who drops the boots at your feet and tosses the blanket over your shoulder. “Cover as much of your skin as you can. If you kill Orpheus, I’ll have you hung.”
“Orpheus?” Thor questions, once again confused by the man’s language. “Of what origin is this name?”
“Greek,” he says, and when Thor continues to act confused, he adds: “Midgardian. It is the name of a mythological being.”
“Ah,” he nods, grinning at the prospect. “I see. So you named your horse after the god Orpheus, who I assume is a very powerful being, to put on display his great strength and nobility.”
Arvid laughs at this. “No. I named him Orpheus because Orpheus was a dumbass, and my horse is a dumbass.”
Orpheus snorts as if offended by this remark, and tosses his head.
You slip into the much-too-large boots and, with quite a bit of effort considering your hands were cuffed, throw the blanket over your shoulders, surrounding your upper body and much of your legs. The little skin which the blanket and boots do not cover is on your knees, which stand out starkly against the black material of the cloths. Arvid doesn’t hesitate to sweep you up as soon as you’re done, ignoring the quiet yelp you release at the sudden contact. He carries you bridal-style over to Orpheus before beginning to mount you onto his back. You expect him to climb on along with you, but instead, he strides over to Thor’s horse, lifting himself onto the steed. Thor, puzzled and quite alarmed, begins to shuffle and stir in the front of the saddle. “Arvid, I’m not sure I understand what you’re doing-”
“I’m mounting your horse, obviously,” he responds briskly, swinging his leg over the horse and giving you a strange hand symbol from afar, which involves him making a fist and leaving the thumb straight upward. “Is everyone ready?”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you on Thor’s horse?” asks Sif, who has been mostly silent so far. “Does the prisoner even know how to ride a horse?”
“Those two questions come to- uh- come to mind for me, as well,” agrees Thor, who looks equally panicked at the fact that you’re on your own horse and Arvid’s on his horse. “I hardly think I’m the one who needs help riding-”
“She’s supposed to be royalty, is she not?” Arvid looks at you, and for a moment you consider the idea that he may be Loki in disguise, but that possibility exits as quickly as it comes. Loki always complained about Midgardian studies. He’d be completely uninterested in their curses or cultures. “And I’m supposed to be a weak old man. We have to play the part.”
“Prisoner, can you ride a horse?” asks Sif, still concerned.
“Anyone can do anything if they believe in themselves," you answer with a wink, lightly digging your heel into the horse's side. This was a mistake, because now the horse is galloping at full speed toward the forest. "I LIED," you yell as Orpheus jumps over a rock. "PLEASE HELP."
"Orpheus, you son of a bitch, get back here!" Arvid yells through strangled laughter, watching the horse whip angrily around and stomp back toward the group. You hold stiffly onto the horse’s reigns as he stops beside the other horses, seemingly glaring at his owner. “Follow,” says Arvid, meeting the eyes of the horse, before looking back to Thor and Sif. “Alright, kids. You know where we’re headed.”
And with that, Thor makes a strange sound of aggression, flicking the reigns and sending his horse into a quick, swift gallop. Sif does the same, falling in behind them, and Orpheus follows after, hooves tossing dust on either side of the dirt road you travel on. The movement of the horse jostles you and you find yourself being tossed repetitively up and down with each bound. It’s uncomfortable, but not enough to make you move.
“Arvid, you locked my brother’s stable, correct?” Thor calls over the clopping hooves, staring straight ahead.
“Of course. I also locked every other stable, plus the main exit. Why? Does he seem to be considering escape?”
“He’s going to try,” Thor says. You try not to smile at the fact. “I fear he may succeed.”
“Loki can’t go anywhere without a horse,” Sif calls, her horse galloping up beside theirs. “I wouldn’t worry. He hasn’t the key.” Then she adds: “Why isn’t he allowed to come, anyway?”
“Father wouldn’t say.”
The horses make a smooth transition from the dust onto the hard ground of the Bifrost, the gentle clopping escalating into rough, clacking sounds. Orpheus accelerates slightly, falling into line beside the others as you near the end of the Bifrost, a golden dome-shaped structure with doorways on every side. The horses slow, then stop completely, halting at the center of the room. A dark-skinned, golden-eyed man turns to face us, looking over each face and each animal before giving a stiff nod.
“Hello,” he says. “I see that the Allfather and Allmother sent the five of you?”
“That is true,” says Thor proudly, puffing out his chest. “We’d like a safe passage to Jotunheim, Heimdal.”
“Of course,” he says, and then draws a sword from his belt, shoving it into a contraption beside him. “Be aware that I will only reopen the Bifrost if it does not put our homeland in imminent danger, or if the Allfather says otherwise. I will not leave the Bifrost open, as it will destroy the realm it is left open into. Is that clear?”
“It is,” says Thor, and Arvid rolls his eyes. “We will not disobey.”
Heimdal nods, thrusts the sword sideways, and steps back. A gateway on the far end of the room whirs, then opens, revealing a glowing, spiraling circle of.. uh, death. You assume it leads to Jotunheim.
Holy mother of all realms, you're going to Jotunheimen.
"Alright. Dismount." Arvid slides of Thor's horse and Thor follows after, Sif close behind. You swing your leg over Orpheus and fall clumsily to the ground, quickly picking yourself up after. Arvid grabs hold of your arm and takes the blanket from you, dragging you toward the portal with said blanket tucked under his arm. “Is everyone ready?”
“Yes,” says Thor, grinning widely, clearly looking forward to whatever is on the other side.
“Yes, sir,” says Sif, nodding stiffly and taking a deep breath.
“My opinion is likely not relevant, but no, I’m not ready at all,” you say, terrified.
Thor ignores you and steps into the glowing death spiral. Sif follows behind, squeezing her eyes shut. You look to Arvid, who stares patiently down at you.
“Go,” he says. “I’ll follow shortly.”
You’re not waiting for him, you’re waiting for Loki.
Still, you stare forward, close your eyes, and step in after the others. The trip is short, but like falling upward. You shoot through space in a tunnel that appears to be made of crystal- strong, but seemingly fragile. Your boots fly off your feet in the journey, and your hair whips around your face, all the way until your not-very-smooth landing on the cold, hard terrain of Jotunheim.
Before you get up and look around, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder.
“I got the stable key,” Loki murmurs smugly, just before Thor catches sight of him.
You can’t help it. Your face splits into a grin.
Frostbitten Tags:
@natalia-rushman @what-inspirational-name @jessiejunebug@fandomdestroyer @a-new-schematic @iris-suoh @pandacookieowo @givememyskittlesback @awesomefandomsunited
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Well Cairn, going off established precedent, you have to start by slowly accruing some highly symbolic gemstone prosthetics. Just pretend that this is part seven of jojo and start competing with Phos to see who can obtain the most religiously significant body parts. Whoever has the most by the time the seventh meteor hits wins!
So about this chapter…
The part of this chapter that really merits discussion is one I kind of have trouble parsing—so much so I ended up rewriting this essay a couple times. Neither Cairngorm nor Aechmea are very forthright characters, which means you have to chase after subtext in order to guess at what’s really being communicated, and this chapter seems to really lean into that approach to dialogue. Which is to say, I’m kind of unsure of my interpretation of this chapter. But if I just throw in the towel now out of fear of misinterpreting my favorite problematic rock, then Ichikawa wins, and I can’t let her and her vaguely menacing self-portrait get the better of me.
At the start of the second half of the chapter, Cairn seems quite content, but the longer the (rather one-sided) conversation goes on, the more distressed they become. While it’s not made explicit what’s upsetting them, my take is that Aechmea’s attitude in this scene makes it harder for Cairngorm to manage their cognitive dissonance toward him. I’ve mentioned several times before that a number of things Cairngorm says and does indicate that they realize that Aechmea is shady and perhaps not operating in their best interest, but they don’t want to admit that to themselves. As long as Aechmea remains ambiguous, they can pretend that everything’s fine. I think that Cairn’s steadily increasing dismay over the course of the chapter is because pretty much everything Aechmea says here threatens to clarify those ambiguities, and said ambiguities resolve themselves in a way that Cairn isn’t terribly pleased with. Let’s take it from the top.
First, let’s address the initial stretch of the conversation. Aechmea implies that he doesn’t actually see any value in the gender roles he’s been encouraging Cairn to adopt, seeing them instead as simplistic tools to keep the other Lunarians occupied—mere bread and circuses. But while Cairn may not understand the implications of said gender roles, the fact that they made Cairn feel special and loved was enough to make them invested in the whole concept. So, for Aechmea to imply that it was all an act designed to provide fleeting, cheap entertainment for the other Lunarians probably feels like a slap in the face to Cairn.
In the same breath, he gently tells Cairn that he plans on isolating them in a compound on the most remote of the six moons, and that that’s his idea of granting Cairn freedom. This makes it completely clear that what Cairn said to him in chapter 71 went in one ear and out the other: Cairn wants to finally have agency and can’t abide doing nothing while everyone else is struggling, and Aechmea responds by making a drastic decision about their life without their input, one which will cut them off from the conflict they want to help resolve. As one might expect, Cairn doesn’t seem happy to hear this.
This next section of the conversation in which Aechmea tells them he’s loved them before they came to the moon also follows the pattern of being full of understated subtext that I apparently require two weeks to untangle and draw a conclusion from. It’s seems clear from their distraught expression, trembling, and the fact that they incredulously bring it up again a few minutes later that what Aechmea is saying upsets them. If I had to wager a guess, it’s because the implications are concerning regardless of whether or not Aechmea’s words are true. His claim is ludicrous and Cairn doesn’t want to believe that he’d try to feed them a bald-faced lie, but if he’s not lying then the implications are equally unsettling. I think Cairngorm is most comfortable believing that their meeting with Aechmea was a happy accident, because the alternative is that he was romancing them all while hiding ulterior motives. (Not that it really needs to be reiterated at this point, but these pages make my skin crawl, especially when you look back on Phos’s first day on the moon—with Aechmea trying to butter them up by them by telling them how special they are.)
Anyway, let’s assume for the sake of argument that Aechmea’s statement wasn’t complete bullshit, and that he had some sort of interest in Cairngorm before meeting them. The fact that he kept their old arm indicates that there’s something to what he said, as does the fact that he feels the need to distract Cairn with creepy makeouts when they try and press him for answers on this topic a few pages later. There are a couple of ways I could see it going, so I’m going to go on a tangent for a minute, and try to speculate on what might have piqued Aechmea’s interest in Cairn. I don’t feel that predicting future plot-events is really my forte, but sometimes I can’t resist trying to decipher a good puzzle.
Everyone connected to Phos is of interest to him, including Cairngorm. Several pivotal moments in Phos’s development have happened in front of the Lunarians, (I’m specifically thinking of the drama with Ventricosus and Phos’s gold arms.) It’s quite possible that Aechmea took an interest in the fact that one of the seemingly static gems was rapidly changing, and I think this line in chapter 54 alludes to this. As a result, he predicted that Phos’s path would cross his sooner or later, and didn’t dust their captured partners. I’ve said before that it is really suspicious that he happened to have a “fake” piece of Antarc on his person when Phos got to the moon. Even if it was artificial, there was no reason for him to have it made in the first place or for him to be carting it around unless he already had Phos on the brain. The fact that he apparently kept Cairngorm’s original arm makes me think that that piece of Antarc may not have been artificial at all, and that maybe he didn’t dust Antarc, Ghost, or Phos’s head in order to have some leverage over Phos later.
Another possibility is that he took interest in Ghost and Cairn’s unique condition on account of those mysterious gem experiments that he was running before Phos got to the moon. Since he was apparently trying (and failing) to create new gems by combing pieces of shattered gems with synthetic material, the fact that there was a gem who was a complete person despite being essentially a thin sheet of quartz may have been of interest to them. The main reason I think this might hold some weight is because the Lunarians were rather particular about nabbing Ghost instead of Caringorm in chapter 37. By the end of the fight, Cairn was completely wrecked, and the Lunarians could have easily taken them both before the other gems made it to the vessel. But instead, they pushed Cairn off as soon as they had collected Ghost. To compound this, they don’t usually try to sheer off the gems’ bodies in layers; they just try and shatter them. Which makes me think that they were specifically trying to get Ghost in this scene and leave Cairn behind, and that Aechmea later decided to keep their arm on a whim along with the pieces of Ghost. If this ends up being the case, then that begs the question of how the Lunarians could possibly know that Cairn and Ghost are two separate people; it’s not really something they could observe at a distance, especially since Cairn apparently rarely had control of their body. If this ends up being the route this subplot takes, you guys on team Obsidian-is-a-Lunarian-spy may be able to add this to your pile of evidence.
Following this is the triumphant return of the Highly Symbolic Arm, the importance of which I’ve been harping on for a while now. It’s also at this point in the conversation that Cairn is most visibly distressed. I’m of two minds regarding what this sequence is communicating. They are clearly quite opposed to reattaching their original arm at the expense of their replacement, but it’s not clear which replacement they’re holding onto. It’s possible that this is the same replacement arm they’ve had since their introduction, but it’s also possible that they got rid of that arm the night they came to the moon—it is after all a physical representation of their involvement in Phos/Ghost/Lapis three-ring circus. This page in chapter 69 would seem to imply the latter. That being said, Ichikawa has already established that Cairn’s replacement arm acts finicky whenever it has to be reattached—so it’s also possible that they still have the same arm they did before; the sequence of events is hazy enough that it could be read either way.
Needless to say, the sentiment behind Cairn being almost violently opposed to getting rid of their replacement arm changes significantly depending on whether or not that’s the arm Phos gave up their head to save, or an arm Aechmea gave them when they arrived on the moon. At the moment, I really can’t say one way or another. But I’m pretty sure this isn’t the last we’ve heard of Cairn’s left arm, so for now I’m content to wait and see.
All that being said, I think the emotion behind the action is clear: desperation. Whether that arm is one that Cairn associates with Phos or Aechmea, they are clearly desperate to cling to the connection it represents. Keeping in mind that just about everything Aechmea says in the chapter up to this point drives a wedge between himself and Cairn, I think that in this moment Cairn is forced to grapple with the idea of being truly alone, and out of all the characters, they’re the most ill-equipped to deal with that. I think I touched on this in my essay focused on them, but to reiterate: in spite of their desire for autonomy, Cairn cannot seem to envision themselves outside of another’s shadow. Whether they’re acting like Antarc for Phos or like an anime-waifu for Aechmea, they’re never really acting like themselves—whoever that might be. This is a bit of a tangent, but the way they’ve conceived of themselves in relation to Ghost is also kind of off-putting. They referred to Ghost as their “other self” in chapter 67, and if you’ve gotten the official translation of volume 6, you can see that they also refer to Ghost in similar terms in chapter 38. This has a rather concerning implication about their self-image or lack thereof.
The point is, they find a sense of stability and self-worth in tailoring themselves to the desires of others, and they see reattaching their original arm and discarding the replacement and everything it represents as tantamount to abandoning the (terrible) coping mechanism that’s keeping them somewhat functional.
Which makes this a very ironic moment for them to decide that they want to disappear along with Aechmea. I don’t know a whole lot about Buddhism, but I do know that one is supposed to let go of all attachments in order to attain nirvana. But in this scene, Cairn is conceiving of nirvana as a means to an end in order remain forever attached to Aechmea (and in the short term: relevant enough to his interests to avoid being banished to the farthest moon.)
The way I see it, if and when Cairn becomes enlightened enough to have any hope of disappearing, they’ll probably have grown past the desire to follow Aechmea off a cliff like a lemming in the first place. So I don’t see them getting what they want any time soon. What I am concerned about is the pattern of self-destructive behavior that lies behind this. While reading this chapter, it struck me that whenever Cairn is presented with a stressful or upsetting situation with no obvious solution, their first instinct is to—as Aechmea so succinctly put it—relinquish themselves. When a poor decision on their part ended with Phos losing their head, they wanted to give up their own head. When Phos didn’t wake up, they wanted to throw themselves into the ice floes. When Phos ends up devastated in chapter 67, they want to renounce their own personhood and pretend to be Antarc. This chapter also follows the same pattern: when faced with the upsetting possibility that Aechmea wants to set them aside like a toy he’s grown tired of, Cairn panics and responds with the most self-destructive possible solution to their problem. I think that until this underlying malaise is actually dealt with, they’re just going to keep circling back to the same “solution” over and over. It doesn’t matter so much that Cairn is currently about as enlightened as a cornflake; when the chips are down, they probably won’t let that stop them from essentially trying to kill themselves once again.
Well that was harrowing to write, but with all the melodrama out of the way, let’s delve into the real meat of this chapter.
We know that gems don’t have teeth or tongues, but I’ve also wondered for the longest time…do gems have nostrils? This shot from the anime makes it seem as if Phos does not have nostrils, but it’s hard to tell when everything is so stylized.
Thankfully, best boy Barbata has given us the answer. Here we can see that light is pouring out of the orifices on their heads, but conspicuously, there is no light coming from their noses; ergo, gems don’t have nostrils. No nostrils allowed in fanart from now on you guys, it’s now officially as much of a faux pas as drawing them with pores or teeth.
#houseki no kuni#land of the lustrous#sorry this is late#iirc ichikawa once said that she tries to have at least one lighthearted comedic moment per chapter#because a spoonful of sugar helps the horror go down#she sure utilized that technique to its fullest this chapter amiright
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fic: Ron and the Snatchers
Well, a while back I was speculating about the snatchers, and how Ron was gone for 12 hours or so after he left Harry and Hermione. According to Ron he wanted to get back to them immediately. He describes the confrontation with the Snatchers as no big deal- but if so, where was he for all that missing time? What would keep Ron ‘stand on a broken leg’ Weasley missing for all that time?
I asked because I was writing him telling Hermione what happened in that Romione Australia fic I keep meaning to edit and post- but then I just sat down and wrote it all. This is dark. Very dark.
Input always valued, good or bad.
An account of Ron’s solo run-in with the Snatchers in Deathly Hallows. Whump. Very dark fic.
A03 FF.NET
Rated R/NC-17 --- BIG thank you to @diva-gonzo for being the best beta ever!
trigger warnings: self loathing, painful physical assault, torture, whipping, assault, unwanted sexual touching, graphic threats of r***
“Ron! Ron!” Hermione called after him, rain pounding around them.
‘I need to think! I need to be by myself for just a moment!’ Ron thought as he apparated.
The seething hot anger that had roiled inside him faded within seconds.
For the first time in his life he apparated without leaving any bits of him behind. Well, physically. He realized in horror he’d left his heart and soul behind. He’d left Harry. He’d left Hermione screaming his name as she chased him through the rain. He swore he could almost hear her, still.
“Oh fuck, what have I done?” he moaned to himself, and his wheezes from running turned into a scattering of sobs. His skin prickled and his very insides began to feel cold.
It took a moment to orient himself in the mist and stifle his sobs, but he was in Ottery St Catchpole. He was next to a familiar old stump he’d used as his secret sanctuary so many times. There was a little bunch of reeds next to the big hollowed stump he had hidden in as a child, long before he had his own room. He’d run away to this hiding spot in the village quite a few times.
The cold began to tear at his lungs and the voice he’d heard with the Locket cam back loud in his ears.
You’re worthless.
The sensation of choking to death closed in on him. The helplessness of never breathing again he’d felt when he’d been poisoned cloyed at him. Brain’s tentacles choked him. He hadn’t thought of that in ages, but the hopelessness was filling him up, almost as unnaturally as the cold around him. Wait, unnatural cold?
Ron snapped his eyes up and two eyeless dementors were not meters away from him, their scabbed hands reaching towards him as their tattered robes whipped about.
He thought of Hermione and cast the charm “Expecto Patronum!” and his Jack Russell Terrier burst forth, tenaciously chasing them away into the distance. Any relief he might have felt was immediately quashed by the sound of a shout.
“Oi! Who’s there?” cried out a small portly man down an alley. “Look! Look, ‘e looks school age!”
He wasn’t alone, and they all began to smile with excited glee at the sight of Ron. They didn’t wait to find out his age before immediately bombarding him with spells. Ron threw himself to the muddy ground, and rolled behind the stump as jets of light flew from their wands.
Ron hurled a few spells, even disarming one of the several figures, but was finding it difficult to hit a target without exposing himself. He blindly cast an ‘Expulso!’ around the edge of the stump, and a corresponding explosion and horrible scream let Ron know he’d met his mark. He tried again to blindly cast a spell, but a flash of orange slammed into his hand.
A horrible scream ripped out of him as his arm broiled and scalded like it had been thrown upon a bed of coals. His wand slipped from his fingers as they twitched in blistering pain. He felt for his wand with his left hand, and saw his right was free of any signs of injury, even though he felt it burn so thoroughly he expected his skin should be charred and falling off. He tried to move his right hand to grip his wand, but hissed in pain at the slighted twitch it gave. It was now useless to him.
He had to use his other hand. Ever since his left shoulder had been splinched he’d had trouble using that arm. He couldn’t move it smoothly, or grip things as certainly as he had before, but he grit his teeth and hissed through the pain as he angled his wand around the stump again. He heard the corresponding thump of a body hitting the ground. If he could just get one more, maybe he could run for it and apparate away! Each curse he shakily cast was slower and more poorly done, and the angle was making his shoulder sting with pain.
There was a pop of Apparition behind him, but he was unable to turn his wand in time to stop the forceful blow to the back of his head.
He woke up slowly, his head pounding and even though he wasn’t moving, the whole world seemed to tilt on him. Nausea and dizziness made his brain feel like it was swimming about his skull and hitting the sides. Rough ropes bit into his wrists, and uncomfortably tied them to his sides. He was on his side, and felt the cool earth on his cheek. He attempted moving a bit and realized there were ropes tying his legs together as well. He could hear his captors talking and didn’t want them to know he was awake. Through his lashes he could just make out their forms. A motley crew of five men stood around the body of a sixth man on the ground. The prostrate man’s face was so bloody and swollen he looked like a spoilt pumpkin.
“‘Can do a Patronus, so ‘e’s probably not a mudblood,” said the short fat one. He held Ron’s wand in his hand. “Them mudbloods couldn’t do a spell like that if they ‘ad to.”
“Fucker nearly took my bleedin’ head off!” the burly bearded one complained and there was a chorus of grunts and sighs.
“You’re all better off than my brother!” rumbled the largest one, pointing to the bloodied man on the ground.
Ron felt along the ground for something to possibly cut into his ropes, but nothing was there. All he had on him was the deluminator in his pocket, digging into his hip.
None of the men were wearing Death Eater robes, but he didn’t know any good guys who would attack someone so fiercely just for casting a Patronus and looking school age.
“You can Apparate your brother to St Mungo’s later, Crowthers,” said a thin one with a snide reedy voice. His tone showed little concern. “We’ll need to see what Galleons we can get for the ginger first.”
“Not worth whatever galleons are on his head, Smythe,” muttered the bearded man, mopping at a bloody wound on his head.
The gaunt bald one spat, and it landed just next to Ron’s head. Ron closed his eyes all the way, but it was too late. He’d been spotted.
“Oh! Look who’s waking up!” Smythe gleefully sneered at Ron, his reedy voice somehow making his delivery more grating.
Ron gave up his ruse and opened his eyes to look at them. Opening his eyes all the way made the pain behind his eyes blast forth and he struggled to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head. The five of them were staring at him, all looking a bit roughed up, a few of them bleeding.
“What are you doing out here tonight?” the big one asked. He was hulking like a gorilla, and had a sloping brow to match.
“I was out on a walk,” Ron said, struggling against his restraints. “I can get back to that if you let me go.”
“And ‘ave you curse us all bloody again?” the short one snorted.
“You cursed first.”
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” the bearded one asked. They all examined him curiously.
“Graduated,” Ron grunted, looking between them all. They were not two miles from his home. If they found out he was Ron Weasley, his parents would immediately be in danger.
“How’d you cast a Patronus?” the reedy voiced man asked. More bloody questions… His head was pounding and he had little patience to hear more of them. “Where’d you learn that?”
“At school.”
“What school?”
“A school for wizards.”
“You better answer our questions better than that!”
“What do you want, an essay?” Ron bit out, head hurting. He regretted his sarcasm the moment he saw the looks on their faces.
“Think you’re funny, do you?” the big one growled. “Let’s show him what we do to funny ones!”
Sadistic smiles formed on their faces as they approached Ron. He struggled against his bonds for a moment before a hard boot was kicked into his stomach. He let out a deep gasp. He was bound in such a way he couldn’t double over much, and it was a struggle to replace the air he’d just had kicked out of him. All the air left his lungs as more and more boots and fists began to rain down upon him.
They pummeled him, crashing into his head, chest, stomach, back, legs and bound arms. One of them gave a punch to the back of Ron’s still tender head and he saw stars in front of his eyes. He couldn’t catch breath to scream. Tears burned his eyes from the pain. Hardly any noise left him at all. He had no idea how many times they had struck him, or how long it had been since he could breath when one of them called out:
“Ok, that’s enough.” It was Crowthers, the big one whose brother still lay forgotten on the ground. The other four shuffled back and Ron took the opportunity to gasp for breath, every bit of him aching and hurting. Crowthers stooped down and grabbed Ron by the hair, forcing his face up at an odd angle.
“Think you’re real clever, huh?”
Ron groaned in response. The man smelled in every way, body odor rolling off him like the troll Ron had faced in first year. Crowthers continued to wrench Ron’s head back so far, he felt his neck might snap. His wand poked into Ron’s cheek and clacked against his teeth.
“Nothing to say, ginger?”
Ron closed his eyes and tried to exhale to keep the horrible smells of the man at bay.
“Oh, we’ll soon have you screaming or apologizing before long,” he growled, suddenly dragging Ron to the stump. He threw Ron onto it chest first, his bound legs scrambling for balance, his throbbing head so dizzy that the task was made doubly hard. Crowthers painfully lodged a hobnailed boot onto Ron’s back, crushing the air out of him. Ron struggled for breath, and his ribs ached, feeling like they might splinter as the weight of Crowthers increased.
“Apologize for cursing us.”
Ron was scared out of his mind, but he wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t give them the satisfaction. Ron determinedly looked ahead.
“Fine, screams it is,” the man growled, conjuring some more ropes to tie Ron in place to the stump. “Smythe, make him scream.”
Ron couldn’t move, except for his pulsing head. He stiffly turned his neck and saw Smythe, the thin reedy voiced man, step forward. A horrible satisfied grin cutting across his thin face.
“Verbero!” he cried out, and with a flourish of his wand a sharp skin splitting pain lashed across Ron’s back. The spell had hit him like a bullwhip, even through his clothes, and a bloody gash was flogged across his skin. Smyth whipped his wand through the air again and again. With every slash of the wand came another stinging pain through Ron’s back. The pain was becoming unbearable, his whole back aflame. Ron grit his teeth and dug his cheek into the splinters of the stump, putting every fiber of concentration into not making a sound. Then it finally stopped. Ron was in so much pain he couldn’t even sigh in relief. All he could do was bite his lip and shake.
“You should do that Calefacio again!” The short one gleefully shouted. “I think you got ‘im with that when we were dueling ‘im.”
“Calefacio!” Smythe intoned. The agonizing sensation of fire ripped through his nerves, wrenching a throat tearing scream from him. The very skin was being flayed from his legs by a raging inferno. His bones were being burnt to ash. Or at least it felt that way. It was the same spell from earlier. It didn’t do any physical damage this time either, but the sensation his limbs were being burned off continued to painfully flare, even as the spell slowly faded in intensity. He was awash in torment.
His legs gave out on him completely, and were it not for the ropes holding his body to the stump Ron would have collapsed to the ground. The stump had once been a safe haven for him. It was now a dais of torture.
The men laughed in triumph, and Ron fought to keep his whimpers quiet as the spell continued to burn down his legs.
Crowthers stepped out from the group, and hulked over to Ron. He sat himself on the wide stump, and a large hand patted Ron on his injured back. Ron gave a hiss in pain.
“Aw, shhh, poor little boy on a holiday from school,” he said, rubbing Ron’s shirt into his covered injuries with painful accuracy.
“M’not f-from school!” Ron blurrily insisted through gritted teeth.
“You know what?” Crowthers whispered so low no one but Ron could hear. “Maybe I ought to give you a good rutting in the arse, see if we can fuck the truth out of you?”
Cold dread froze Ron’s throat. He could barely think to move. Crowther’s hot breath was pungent and metallic, making Ron want to gag.
“Got you to scream good and loud for me, didn’t I? Bet I can do that to you without a wand, pretty boy,” Crowthers breathed into Ron’s ear, his hand rubbing lower on Ron’s back than it had before, travelling just centimeters below the waistband of his jeans. Ron shut his eyes tight and he started to shake. Fear clenched at him as it had never before.
“Alright, we need to find out who he is,” Smyth said, still trying to suppress his giggles.
“Tell me your name, pretty,” Crowthers practically crooned at Ron. Ron searched his mind for a name, any name. His mind was horribly blank of thoughts, frozen in pain and fear. If only he could get out of there. He didn’t care how. He’d even take the Knight Bus if he had to! If only the Knight bus could be hailed without a wand… The Knight Bus!
“Stan!” Ron exclaimed, surprised at his own clarity. “I’m Stan Shunpike!”
“And what’s your blood status?”
“Pureblood!”
“Check the list,” Crowthers said before muttering a severing charm on Ron’s belt, making his jeans begin to sag. “I’m going to tear that arse up so you can’t sit down for weeks.”
Ron trembled, and willed himself not to start crying.
“Shunpike’s not on the list,” said the short one.
“And he could do a Patronus charm. What if he’s pureblood like he says?” the bearded man said, suddenly looking afraid.
“Doesn’t matter, he’s probably a truant,” said Smythe.
“He’s definitely young,” Crowthers said as he pulled Ron’s jeans a bit further down, but the ropes tying him to the dais kept them from going much lower on his hips. “I like raw meat like you, ginger.”
“But what if he’s not a truant?” The bearded man began to protest. “I don’t want no trouble for attacking someone who wasn’t on the list.”
“Then what should we do?” Smythe said, looking between them. No one was really in charge, and they all seemed equally clueless.
“I know what I want to do,” Crowthers said, fingers pressing into Ron’s hips as he lined himself up and did a few thrusts at Ron’s clothed ass. A few of the men laughed, and Ron shuddered as the man’s hardness pushed against him.
“Yeah, we all know you want to bugger him,” the bearded one growled out. “That don’t work out well for us if he’s not on the list.”
“We can always kill him,” the bald gaunt one said, speaking for the first time.
“And not get a bloody galleon after all this trouble?” Smythe scoffed.
“Still might not get a galleon either way.”
“He’s not on the list. It’s not worth it,” the bearded man said, untying Ron from the stump.
“No, we take him to the Ministry. See if he’s who he says he is,” Smythe said, grabbing hold of Ron’s wrists to pull him to his feet from behind. Ron had trouble standing, but he was finally free of the ropes. If they got him to the Ministry, it was all over for Ron and his family. He needed to finish this. He had to get out of there. It didn’t matter if he was alive or not at the end of this, as long as they couldn’t find his body and identify him as Ron Weasley. He had to think fast.
The bearded man went for Ron to free him, but Crowthers gave him a push.
“We’re not letting him go either way!”
“You want to keep him so you can bugger him like some pouf!”
“I ain’t a bloody pouf!” snarled Crowthers, his giant hand swinging at the bearded man. The two of them began to blindly punch at one another. The gaunt bald man lurched out of their way as the two of them nearly barged into him, and the short one was laughing at the sight. This was Ron’s chance.
Luck was on his side that the best dueler was currently holding Ron with little physical force. Ron braced himself, for he knew it was going to hurt like hell, but he took his left elbow and jabbed back into Smythe’s stomach as hard as he could. His back and shoulders screamed in agony from the sudden twist, but Smyth let out a breathless grunt and doubled over, giving Ron just enough slack to break free. He grabbed the wand from Smythe’s hand, pointed it at the short one, growled “Expelliarmus!” and caught his own wand.
The four all turned, gobsmacked. For a moment they and Ron all stared at one another, all equally surprised at what he had done. Crowthers was the first to move to attack him, but it was too late; Ron turned and apparated away on the spot, not caring where he went as long as he was as far away from them as possible, and could be with Hermione and Harry again.
His body twisted and turned through space and with a thud he landed on his back, the pain so great that he immediately passed out.
Ron slowly woke up, the steady burning pain stinging him to consciousness. His head still felt as foggy as his surroundings. The sun hadn’t quite risen, so there was still a tinge of dingy blue to the misty woods surrounding him. He was damp and chilled with early morning dew, and every inch of him hurt. He needed to move, but he knew the second it did it would be excruciating.
With teeth gritted he let out an agonized moan as he turned over, and put his right hand to the ground to balance himself. He gave a hiss as his fingers pressed into the ground and saw his hand was covered in blood. He didn’t remember his hand being all that injured, since it had been bound in ropes as they beat him and whipped him. He held it up and saw, to his chagrin, the same telltale missing flesh of a splinching. His middle and index finger stung, and the tops of his fingers, where fingernails has one grown, were gone, leaving nothing but raw open flesh behind. He awkwardly severed the hem of his t-shirt and wrapped it around the tips of the bloody digits, hissing as it made contact with the freshly peeled nerves
Ron tried to picture the exact place they’d camped so he could apparate to them, but the moment his eyes closed he began to lose his balance and lurch to the side. He couldn’t apparate yet, he was too dizzy and disoriented to do it. He might splinch his head off, then what use would he be to them? His eyes began to tear, and he forced himself to gulp down a few breathes. He didn’t have time to cry. He needed to get back to Hermione and Harry.
He’d been in so much pain he hadn’t thought to take stock of just where he was located. He was in the woods, and they looked awfully similar to the ones he’d been staying in just yesterday. If he could get to the top of the hill he was on he could orient himself and know for certain. At their campsite there had been a low mountain in the far distance with a funny looking spot on its peak. The spot had sort of looked like a deflated fish. If he could see that, he could find their camp spot. He gathered the two wands, placing the extra in his sock, and began his trek.
The climb up the hill was excruciating. Every step was painful, and he had to will himself not to begin shaking and crying again as he panted and limped up the hill. The top of the hill had less and less trees, but the fog made visibility remain low. He’d have to wait for either his head to stop feeling so disoriented so he could apparate, or for the fog in his surroundings to get burned off by sunrise.
He wanted to pace, to do something, but his body wouldn’t let him. All he could do was woodenly stand, shiver, and wait.
The sun traveled higher and higher, and Ron’s head still swam.
He stared ahead at the distance, willing the outlines of the landscape to come into focus.
Finally, not so far away, he could see the mountain ahead of him in detail. It was the same mountain he’d seen as they camped!
He got out his wand and excitedly cast the “point me” spell. The mountain had been almost perfectly south of their location, making it all too easy to head north.
‘Just hold on a little bit longer!’ Ron silently plead, willing himself to hold on until he got to Harry and Hermione.
It amazed Ron how quickly the hike was sapping him of his sense and abilities. Little rocks and brambles left each step unsure, and a few times he caught himself before falling and getting a mechanical injury. The wind was cold and harsh as he pushed north. He could barely move his hands and arms, and his back and legs burned in pain as he doggedly pushed on. He could barely think or concentrate on anything other than the pain, and the thought of reaching Harry and Hermione.
Hours passed. The north wind numbed his hands and face, his head pounded with every step, but the sight of a river made his sore face split into a mad grin. His pace quickened as followed along the river, just barely avoiding roots as he excitedly forged ahead. He kept looking back to the mountain, which was looking more and more like it had the day before.
Finally he reached a bit of riverbed that had to be the same one they’d been at. The sight of Ted Tonks and Dean’s campfire, complete with fish guts from their meal prep, confirmed it.
“Harry? Hermione?” He said, cautiously wanting to avoid being loud as he walked to where the tent had been the night before.
There wasn’t a sound.
“Harry! Hermione!” He asked a bit more insistently.
He went to the patch of dirt where the tent should be, and was able to walk across it easily.
Panic coursed through his veins. They couldn’t be gone, could they? That meant he’d never be able to find them again! Where could he even hope to be able to find them? They had no plan in place for their next site.
The tears he’d held for hours began to openly flow down his face. He kicked up the dirt where the tent had been. It wasn’t there.
A horrible thought struck him. What if they were there, and they didn’t want him back at all? Were hiding from him.
“Please!” Ron cried, not caring who heard him as sobs began to rack his body. “Please, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have left for even a moment! I’m a worthless wanker, I know. Please let me come back!”
All was still. The only sign of time moving at all was the river’s steady movement, and the tree branches creaking in the wind.
“Please…” Ron croaked out, collapsing into the mud. Tears steadily fell down his long nose as he rocked back and forth. He’d done it. He’d abandoned the two most important people in the world. He’d left them. They were well and truly gone. He was all alone, and every bit as worthless and stupid as the locket had said.
Hours passed, and Ron continued to sit in the mud, unable to move. Ron’s hands were beginning to go as numb as his soul. He was shaking from cold, from grief, and from the pain he felt in every part of him.
Despite all this, his mind was beginning to clear enough to plan and think again. As soon as his brain was clear enough, he was going to Apparate to Bill’s. He’d start there for any sign of anything that might lead to Harry and Hermione’s whereabouts. He’d find his way back to them, even if they didn’t want them. He had to help them somehow, even if it was just to stand in front of a killing curse for them.
The world didn’t need a Ron Weasley. He was just a piece on the board you’d use to sacrifice for the more important pieces. He’d known that since he was kid in his first year, on a giant chess board. He had sacrificed himself for his friends, and from then on he knew that was his only real worth. He’d stand between them and any threat. The world needed heroes like Harry. It needed intelligent world-changers like Hermione. And he needed to protect them, if not for themselves and the love he had for them, then for everyone else. The world needed them.
The world didn’t need a worthless git like himself.
Mind finally focused, he stood.
With every brain cell he focused on the three D’s of Apparition.
Destination: Bill and Fleur’s home of Shell Cottage outside of Tinworth. He clearly pictured the beach home he’d been to once. The dunes. The blue door. The sea weathered wood panels. The smells and sounds. He could see it.
Determination: He had to get there. He would. It was the only way to get to Harry and Hermione. He would do it.
Deliberation: He centered his mind, and slowed his thoughts. He carefully considered it, steadied his nerves, and stood with certainly.
An exhaled breath. The wood of his wand pressing into his fist. The turn. And with a small ‘pop!’ he was gone.
The river’s rippling waters were replaced by ocean’s waves turning over.
He opened his eyes, and sure as he stood, there was Shell cottage. He was one step closer to finding Harry and Hermione, and nothing would stop him until he did.
If you have thoughts on this piece, leave a comment please.
#ron weasleyfan fictionsnatchershillnerdfanfichillnerd writingharry pottertrigger warning#ron weasley#fan fiction#snatchers#hillnerdfanfic#hillnerd writing#fanfic#harry potter
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HNAH headcanon: Several years later Peter does a press tour (movie about his life?). Only, he is ill prepared for Graham Norton ('s alcohol). 50 Cent is on the coach and they are asking about him being shot 9 times, and Peter ends up saying "knows what that is like". It just slipped out! But he has to tell an (edited) story about how on a mission he got shot 10 times and dug the fragments out with tweezers. Everyone is horrified and Peter just shrugs and says he was 12 it was a long time ago.
Peter, Tony and Pepper wouldn’t let a Peter Stark movie get off the ground. Maybe a documentary, though. Alternatively, he’s just graduated university and the world is emotionally attached to him so he does interviews to keep them happy. Also, Peter wouldn’t have survived that at 12, before the spider. But anyway:
Okay, Peter hadn’t meant for it to come out, but a) hedoesn’t really hold his alcohol well (that’s a bald faced lie, his spider powers make it incredibly difficult to get drunk,so he pre-gamed a lot to even gettipsy) and b) he’s overly used tobeing casual about his HYDRA days.
The world had found out aboutPeter being more than a prisoner to the terrorist organisation a few yearsbefore, and while it had taken some time for them to get over it, the worldeventually had. Still, he never talked about his time there, and the press hadstopped asking. The public speculated he was just a regular agent working inthe tech and science departments and Peter was happy to let that lie continue.
But then Graham Nortonhappened. Peter loved the guy, honestly. He always watched the UK’s showing ofEurovision (which Ned had got him hooked on) and Norton was the best commentatorhe could ask for.
So when 50 Cent said, “Yeah,you know, being shot nine times – it hurts,”with a laugh, Peter forgot to stop himself from agreeing.
“Oh, yeah, I know what that’slike.”
Graham raised an eyebrow. “You’vebeen shot at, Peter?”
“But you’re so small,” 50 Cent(Peter was unsure if he was supposed to call him his real name, Curtis, or not,so he stuck with the stage name) said with a frown. “Who’d want to hurt someonewith that kind of baby face?”
For a moment, Peterhesitated, mentally picturing the conniption Pepper was probably havingbackstage. Then he shrugged and resigned himself to it. “Okay, picture this:you’re on a mission in Southern Latvia and there’s eighteen enemies, only threeguys left alive on your side, and a dog that might just have rabies.”The room was filled with both blank and shocked looks as Peter described (asvaguely as he could) taking down all eighteen guys and then carrying the twoinjured men from his unit back to safety.
“And you got shot,” Grahamsaid, deadpan.
“Yeah, ten times,” Peterreplied. “Or – I mean, nine and a half. One of the bullets just scraped throughmy arm, no biggie.”
“No biggie,” 50 Cent said,like he was either about to collapse or fall apart laughing.
“Yeah, I mean, I dug most ofthe fragments out with tweezers on the ride back to base. They gave me a twoweek vacation for saving those guys’ lives, though.”
Graham takes a long, deepswig of his drink, the audience laughing. “How Tony Stark is not grey I willnever know.”
“He dyes his hair,” Peterreplied without hesitation, smiling at the audience’s laughter. “But, anyway, Iwas like, 14. That was a long time ago.”
50 Cent proceeded to choke onhis drink and Peter slapped his back until he seemed like he was breathingagain. “And you, uh, you did that sort of thing a lot?” he asked Peter,blinking through the pain.
Peter shrugged. “Not all the time. Sometimes we abductedforeign royalty – that’s a totally different ballpark.”
hydra’s not a home | buy me a coffee
#hydras not a home#peter parker#spiderman#marvel#bethany talks#mmmmm had to write it couldnt help myself
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I dunno if this is the type of prompt you're looking for, but could you perhaps do a little one shot of a conversation Snowing might've had about naming their son please? Like, them squabbling over names they like, dislike, know someone who had that name who *insert action here*, suggestions from the rest of the family, etc. This would be when they've had the baby so there's no speculation of girls' names. Please and thank you.
I am going to ask that if anyone dislikes Neal Cassidy/Baelfire to not read or leave any negative comments about him or the name Snowing chose. I’m not exactly a fan of them naming their baby after a man they barely knew (even though I loved Nealfire), but this is canon.
Takes place shortly after David brought the baby to the hospital.
Also on AO3
Snow looked down at the baby in her arms, letting outa content sigh. Her son was back in her arms. She could hold him properly andnot worry about a wicked witch stealing him from her. Here he was, her sweet,perfect little boy. All this time she had been convinced that he was a girl,but David had been right this time around. She leaned down and kissed thecenter of his forehead.
“I bought so many bows,” she whispered. “Sorry aboutthat.”
David chuckled from his spot in the doorway. Regina hadtaken Henry and Emma to get something to eat, Hook went to the docks, they werefinally alone. “This is why most of what I bought was neutral.”
Snow rolled her eyes. “Shush, you were convinced it wasa boy.”
“True.” He walked closer to her. “We could’ve foundout, you know. There are ways in this realm.”
Snow shook her head. “The surprise was much more fun.Though, knowing ahead of time with Emma meant I had a name.”
“I always meant to ask how you chose that.”
“It means universal, whole. That was how I felt when Irealized that George’s curse on me was broken, like I would finally be wholesomeday. I finally had you and then we were going to have a baby.”
David nodded, carding his fingers through her pixiecut. “It really does fit her.”
“That’s why I think we need something just as powerfulfor this little one.”
“Does this mean you’ve given up on Leopold?”
“That went out the window as soon as I learned what heand my mother were really like.”
David bit his lip, trying to fight off a frown. “I’msorry. I know that’s not easy, finding out that our parents weren’t what we thought.”
“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not…especially not how they treatedCora and Regina, but I’m finding a way to move on.” She let out a deep breath. “Wecould always name him after your dad.”
“Robert? No. He was a weak man, I don’t want that puton our son.”
He moved his fingers to stroke his son’s cheek. He wascompletely bald, but had the brightest blue eyes. Most babies had blue eyes,but he secretly hoped that these would stick. Maybe he’d be the opposite ofEmma, with Snow’s hair and his eyes. He couldn’t wait to see who he’d turn outlike, what his personality would be.
“What about Joshua?” He suggested.
Snow instantly shook her head. “I knew an arrogantknight with that name. Silas?”
“Sounds like another name he’d get made fun of over.”
She rolled her eyes. “Walter?”
“Do you actually like our child?”
“Hey, Walt Disney is a pretty amazing guy.”
“He screwed up our story.”
Snow cuddled her son closer. “ Right. Not naming our sonafter him.”
David laughed, perching himself on the bed. “Emma suggestedBeckham.”
“I don’t like that. Henry gave me a list of literary ones.”
Snow pointed to the piece of paper on the bedsidetable and David scanned it. He found a few that would be potential middlenames, but none really stood out to him as the first name for his little boy.
“You know, Emma’s middle name is Ruth, after mymother. Maybe we could name him after someone too.”
“Ruth was the reason why Emma could exist in the firstplace, this little guy too. It’d have to be another hero, someone that withoutthem, we all wouldn’t be there.”
They were quiet for a few moments, the only soundscoming from the baby. Snow realized it was time for him to eat and adjusted himso he could feed. He had been gone for an hour and she worried it would messwith his schedule, but man he could eat. She wasn’t sure that she’d need thelactation consultant that Whale had recommended.
“Neal,” David whispered.
Snow tilted her head. “Huh?”
“A hero, the person that without him we wouldn’t behere. It’s Neal. He sent a message so Hook would go to New York and get Emma.He gave his life so Rumple could tell us who the Wicked Witch was.”
Snow slowly nodded, looking down at her son. He didkind of look like a Neal. “He is Emma’s ex, though.”
“An ex she loved. I know he hurt her, but in the end,he turned out to be a pretty amazing guy.”
“His real name was Baelfire. Neal was a name he madeup when he came to this world.”
“And, in my opinion, for a pretty good reason. I likeBaelfire, but it doesn’t seem like a name that really fits in this world.”
“Neal,” Snow whispered. “Neal David?” David smiled abit and then nodded. He had never saw a child being named after himself, but itdid have a nice ring to it. “I like it.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “I think we have our name.”
“Should we tell Emma? Or Rumple?”
Snow pondered that for a moment. She had come up withEmma’s name shortly after finding out that she would one day have a daughter.She had kept it to herself for over a year. This time, David knew and she’dhave someone to confide in.
“Nah, let’s wait. We’re having the naming ceremony atGranny’s soon, just like we would back in the Enchanted Forest. It can be ourlittle secret for now.”
“Whatever you want.” He pecked her lips and then gentlytook his son back into his arms. “Hello there, Neal,” he whispered. “Welcome tothe world.”
#snowing#charming family#daddy charming#mama snow#neal charming#neal nolan#prince neal#baby neal#stark-park#asked and answered
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Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation
(back to masterpost)
There is a lot going on in this chapter that is both immensely satisfying and extremely creepy.
And this arc is so tiny! Only two parts, I believe.
Chapter 61: Evil (Part 1)
Alright, this is not quite as gross as the Xuanwu chapter for me, but just in case anyone forgot, this novel is not for the faint of heart. The levity distracts from the heaviness of the rest of the content for you to also forget about the gross bits until they come up again and hit you in the face. This novel strikes a nice balance between all of these elements, which is nice.
“It’s been three months since I threw him into Burial Mound. Why are you still having dreams of him? Just how many times has it been?!”
IT SERVES YOU RIGHT!!!
Up until the icky stuff happens, that ^ is what I was whispering fiercely the entire time.
“How could it be possible? Before this, how many cultivators have our sect sent to clean Burial Mound up? Did any one of them come back alive? Now that he’s been thrown inside, his corpse has probably rotted away already.”
Whose bright idea was it to create a great big mound of CORPSES. It got so bad that everyone you sent to clean it up dropped dead. Seriously, you would think cultivators would not let something like this get that bad. Obviously they had wanted to do something about it a while back, so why didn’t someone clean it up before it became a literal hellhole...
“The people who died in Burial Mound, all of their souls would be shackled there.”
Apparently this is a thing, too.
“What Sunshot Campaign? Some Sunshot it is. Want to shoot down the sun? Dream on!”
YOUNGEST SHIDI YOUR LEGACY IS HERE.
“Wang LingJiao felt wronged, but she felt hatred as well. She put down the teacup. Fixing her hair and her robes, she walked outside with a smile.
Just as she went out the door, the smile on her face faltered.”
I’ll take this opportunity to say that I appreciate the small attempt to humanize Wang Lingjiao here. I appreciate the disintegration of hers and Wen Chao’s relationship even more, but. xD
She was one of those typical bitchy villains, but hey, at least she wasn’t totally dumb and naive enough to believe without a doubt that Wen Chao would continue adoring her. She hoped, but when it was clear that he had enough of her, she also decided it was best to derp off.
ooh the pieces are finally falling into place! Wen Xu being beheaded was mentioned during Nie Mingjue’s flashbacks.
“When they emerged under the banner of the ‘Sunshot Campaign’, nobody took them seriously.”
I wish we could’ve seen this thing form instead of after the three month time skip, but oh well.
“However, three months later, the circumstances didn’t turn out the way they expected them to at all!”
and they managed to turn the tables without demonic cultivation meddling! though that probably helped immensely, later in this chapter.
“There was none of her beloved treasures, only a pale-skinned, curled-up child!”
I’m actually wondering what the hell this was. Was she hallucinating? But it ends up in the room later...
What matter of demonic cultivation is this?? xD
it’s delightfully creepy though a bit cliche. want horror? go straight for the creepy babies.
“A white-colored child lay prone under her bed, staring into her eyes.”
what is happening, seriously
“Wen Chao shouted. He unsheathed his new sword and sliced at her, “Go away! Get lost!”
“new sword”
I appreciate that the author remembered he lost his back in the cave. xD
“Wang LingJiao’s shoulder had been gashed by the sword. Her features were even more twisted as she shrieked, “Ahhhhhh… It hurts, ahhhh… It hurts, ahhhh!!!”
the, uh, creepy and disturbing part is that she’s not actually dead, yet acting almost like a corpse being controlled (we know this isn’t going to happen yet though, since mr. Ghost General was the first).
“On the ground, Wang LingJiao had already picked up one leg of the stool, frantically stuffing it into her mouth, laughing as she did, “Fine, fine, I’ll eat it, I’ll eat it! Haha, I’ll eat it!”
I’m wondering what and how she is compelled to do this by...? It’s definitely something to do with demonic cultivation, and it’s a no-brainer who is responsible.
However, getting her to literally eat a chair leg is pretty impressive.
“Wen Chao was almost dead from the shock.”
hahaha I was also all ??? at this point. what is going on, how-
“Each carrying their cultivators, they flew on their swords in silence.”
notice that? notice it?
a certain someone who lost their golden core can suddenly fly again...
we should all wander a nameless mountain blindfolded for 7+ days
“Two months ago, the Two Jades of Lan cooperated in a surprise attack with Jiang Cheng.”
That’s pretty impressive with just three of them.
“Jiang Cheng looked at him, as if surprised that he had suddenly asked about Wei Ying. He answered, “No.”
hahaha we all know why he asked about Wei Ying...
To Jiang Cheng though, it probably is a little random.
awww Jiang Cheng is toting his sword around though...
imagine if things didn’t work out and he never got to give it back hahahaha. well, Jiang Cheng, things have pretty much been shit for you, but at least that worked out.
Like, I guess these are objectively gross. xD not enough to squick me, but yeah, pretty nasty.
However, having recently read a novel that truly had a gratuitous amount of violent, bloody, and disgusting deaths, GDC has a good balance. It’s not exactly for the shock factor, nor gratuitous. Gross, yes, but not to a pointless degree.
I’m wondering how they all died in a different manner though. We’ve never gotten to see demonic cultivation used in this way yet.
I like the bit of mystery behind it.
“She had killed herself by forcing herself to swallow the stool leg into her stomach.”
So yeah, it has to do with controlling people. They’re not dead yet when they controlled though.
“Jiang Cheng turned the corpse’s twisted face over. After he had scrutinized it for a while, he gave out a cold laugh. Holding the stool leg, he shoved it into her mouth, somehow managing to stuff the half that had been outside into her body as well.”
We’ve reached the point that Lan Wangji didn’t comment on this. Yeah, he was inspecting the talismans, but you can’t say he didn’t notice Jiang Cheng shoving a stool leg down a corpse’s throat.
this, was kind of a yuck moment.
But can you blame Jiang Cheng after the shit these people put him through. and she’s dead anyways.
“These brushstrokes were the ones that entirely changed the pattern of the talisman. Now, looking at it, the talisman stuck to the door seemed to be the face of a person, smiling eerily.”
someone has been busy~
“Jiang Cheng was shocked, “Talismans… could attract evil? I haven’t heard of anything like it.”
yes you have, once, in speculation, two years ago!
“Jiang Cheng, “Then who could this person possibly be? Amongst all of the renowned cultivators, I haven’t heard of any who can do such a thing.
Immediately after, he continued, “But no matter who they are, it’s fine as long as their objective is the same as ours—to kill all of the Wen-dogs!”
oh, jiang cheng.
“Jiang Cheng snorted, “Dark? In this world, could there be anything darker than the Wen-dogs?!”
Oh, you say that now, Jiang Cheng...
It is quiet funny and such a part of human nature for this to occur though. “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” and once the Wen sect is no longer around as a common enemy...
“This person had to be Wen Chao. But how did Wen Chao’s voice become like this? So thin and so sharp, it didn’t seem to be Wen Chao at all?”
I mean, this is terrible and all, what happened to him but you can’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction as well. that’s what you get for terrorizing everyone and murdering basically an entire clan!
I’m amazed Jiang Cheng managed to find people to recruit at all in those three months, actually.
“Wen ZhuLiu appeared to be indifferent, “Perhaps.”
those are some words of encouragement, Wen Zhuliu.
never go to Wen Zhuliu for comfort, ever.
“Wen ZhuLiu, “You need ointment. Or else you’ll be dead for certain.”
Practical, though. And oddly loyal. What is with this guy? Though, at this point, even if he abandoned Wen Chao, his life would still be on the line. All he would have is some more time to run.
“Wen ZhuLiu peeled off the bandages layer by layer, revealing the skin of the bald man. On the face, scars and burn marks scattered without order, making him look as if he’d been cooked. Ugly, hideous, they couldn’t see at all the shadow of whom he used to be!”
What in the world happened???
We better find out what demonic art thing is responsible eventually. xD
“Don’t cry. Or else the tears would make the wounds fester and worsen the pain.”
Well that sucks. They are burn wounds, though.
“Suddenly, Wen Chao shrieked, “The flute! The flute! Is it the flute?! I heard him play the flute again!”
Wen ZhuLiu, “No! It was the wind.”
I guess his flute can do more than control corpses.
“Seeing this, Jiang Cheng remembered what a plight he and Wei WuXian were in the day when they fled. The didn’t even have any food. Such a situation was karma indeed!
Heart filled with joy, the corners of his curled lifted and he broke into mad but soundless laughter.”
can you see the current Jiang Cheng in him now.
after what happened to his sect, it was just a downward spiral from there....even though he’s got his cultivation back, the experience and trauma altered his personality forever.
Everyone is unhinged in this chapter omg. Lan Wangji and Wen Zhuliu are the only sane ones.
“He threw the bun away and screamed, “I’m not eating meat! I’m not! I’m not! I’m not eating meat!”
Geez, what happened to you??
“No no no, Wen ZhuLiu, Brother Wen! Don’t go, don’t leave me behind. If you can take me back to my dad, I’ll let him promote you to the highest level guest cultivator! No no no, you saved me, so you’re my brother—I’ll let him recognize you into the main clan! From now on you’ll be my elder brother!”
what an asshole. this is the only guy who is willing to stay by your side and strong enough to do so, he could have just ditched you and taken his chances running but instead he is lugging your sorry ass around for some reason.
Come to think of it, Wen Zhuliu has a pretty abhorrent ability that is NOT classified as demonic cultivation. But perhaps that’s the reason he ended up with the Wen Sect. Who else would want to be associated with such a horrible ability? Only those with the power to suppress all opposition and no care for morals.
“Wen ZhuLiu stared in the direction of the stairs, “There’s no need.”
Once again, never go to this guy for pep talks.
“The pair of palms, on the other hand, was bare, without a single finger on it!”
It’s amazing he’s still kicking (...well...) actually.
“The person slowly walked upstairs. He was covered in black. With a slender physique, he had a flute at his waist, hands behind his back.
However, when the person strolled up the stairs and turned around, smile on his face, Lan WangJi’s eyes opened wide, having seen those bright features before.”
GUESS WHO.
(quotes from ExR’s translations)
← back・onward →
#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#founder of diabolism#mo dao zu shi#魔道祖师#mdzs novel#gdc aka the liveblog of TEARS
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The Legend of Ollie McPollie (Part Two) by SkylaFotia
Uncle Feller spoke those words to me that will forever give me goosebumps.
With a solemn and almost grieving tone, he spoke.
“You’ve been marked.”
“Marked?” I asked curiously, not sure what that would even mean in this situation.
At this point, my aunt & uncle were pretty distraught, but were able to muster up a response.
“Yes… you have been marked.” Feller took a deep breath and began.
“It’s said that Ollie McPollie never has spoken to anyone. I won’t be able to explain all the details to you right now, but I know someone who can.”
He took another breath. “All I’ve heard is that when it speaks, it chooses someone.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Fuck...
“Don’t… Move… A muscle.” Aunt Lisa whispered.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“He-he-he-he.” The muffled sound came from outside the door.
Shivers shot down my spine, with each trickling sensation amplifying my terror.
We continued to wait for 20 minutes before we hear the slow footsteps finally leave our front door and lead onto wherever it’s next destination went.
“It’s time to sleep... That thing... it WILL follow you. You must listen.”
I retire for the night, though I didn’t get much sleep.
Images of his creepy, forced smile every time I closed my eyes prevented any sleep I should’ve gotten that night. Early that next morning, Uncle Feller shakes me in an attempt to wake me up, though I was up already.
“It’s time to go.”
We hopped in his truck and started to head towards the middle of town. I have to say that the scenery of Maine is quite beautiful. Enthralled by the trail of trees, I soon noticed that we were pulling up next to the post office and behind that was the Andover Library.
The Andover Library was founded in 1795 as a private library & has been around since the early time of the town’s creation… and when Ollie McPollie was alive. Today, it is publically owned.
We drove down the road and pulled up next to the post office. Behind the post office in a secluded, wooded area was the Andover Library. The place used to be a religious building in the earlier days of Anglo settlement, but was then converted to a place for documents and books in 1795. The octagonal-shaped library actually baffled me, the structure of the building almost looked Pan-Hellenic.
As we walked in, I noticed that the library was pretty small. A large concentration of books were stuffed into shelves all around the octagon building, though the actually structure isn’t that big from the inside.
I noticed a large, burly man with a balding comb-over sitting next to a window in the corner.
“Gregory. Thank you for your time.” Uncle Feller reached out to shake hands.
“Not a problem.” The man replied, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he began to look me up & down.
“This the one?” He asked. I interrupted his analysis of me.
“Hey dude. Are you going to fucking help me out or not?”
I was already tired of this guy eye-fucking me.
“Well aren’t you the feisty one. Not a way to talk to somebody who could potentially save your life… Now, follow me.”
I cursed at myself.
I didn’t need to be acting like that if he can somehow get this thing away from me for good. I did not want to have it come every night, cause then I won’t ever get any sleep.
He lead us down some stairs into a lower sector of the library, until we found ourselves in the basement.
“Sit down. I’ve compiled all the information from past accounts of the town’s founders up to the present. In these documents is where I will give you the truth of the story of Ollie McPollie."
This is the true story of what happened to Olivia McEvoy & how it haunts this town to this day.
I’ll be paraphrasing the background information that Gregory gave me.
The story all starts with the disappearance of Olivia McEvoy, the daughter of the town’s pub owner.
Back in the late 1780’s, the family of Irish immigrants took part in building Andover in exchange for a new opportunity in life. The United States had just won it’s independence from Britain and the influx of people escaping religious persecution in Europe was in full effect.
The McEvoy’s saw an opportunity and jumped on it.
The McEvoy family was well respected amongst their townsfolk and many a night would you find most of the townsmen at the pub drinking. Olivia McEvoy was the oldest daughter of the pub owner and was said to be a very beautiful girl at the age of 16. She would wait tables in the pub & help her father run the successful business that they had. The drunkards one time slurred her name, and accidentally called her Ollie McPollie and it had stuck with her ever since.
Olivia was an adventurous soul and loved to be outside, despite most of the women in that time who were home cooking and raising their children. She would often go to the forest to draw images of wildlife and other plants/creatures in the woods.
Her father would constantly warn her on the dangers of that forest. The Native American tribes called the Abenaki resided in the woods and were known to despise the white men ever since they took their lands.
Nevertheless, Olivia would do what she loved and would trek out into the forests. Many women in town did not like the fact that she had such independence and freedom that they would began to whisper about her visits. It was rumored that she was performing witchcraft in the woods with the Abenaki. Soon, many rumblings of witchcraft were floating around the entire town, with Olivia being the #1 suspect.
One night at the pub, the townsfolk had enough of the speculation and acted on their accusations. They marched with pitchforks and fire to the McEvoy Pub to burn Olivia alive. With a valiant effort, a fight broke out between the McEvoy’s and the people of the town while Olivia made a run for it into the forest. But to no avail, the family was brutally killed, while others pursued Olivia in an attempt to catch her.
Olivia was long gone, not to be seen again for another 2 years.
Now this is when the story gets downright creepy.
In 1806, the townsfolk of Andover were pretty much back to living their normal lives. The fishing, tanning and hunting industry in the town was flourishing. People were happy.
That winter though, things would change.
One evening, a child of one of the townsfolk families had run home hysterically weeping from the edges of the forest. She claimed that they had seen Ollie McPollie walking out of the forest & headed in their direction with a box in her hand and a deranged smile on her face. Accounts say that the other children did not follow her back, but approached Ollie McPollie.
She never was able to say what happened.
Soon, the townspeople lit their torches and took to searching the edges of the woods. Some documents state that they heard children screaming in the depths of the woods, but some say they heard hysterical laughter from a crowd of children. Regardless, nothing was found.
Families had lost their children, people were beginning to blame others for the disappearances. Every one couldn’t trust each other.
Until they saw her a month later. This time though, the adults witnessed Ollie McPollie walking to their homes.
Crunch. Crunch.
Crunch. Crunch.
Deranged grin. Small box in hand.
As she slowly, but surely got closer to the townsfolk’s homes, most of the families ran into their homes and boarded their doors up. Many believed she was a witch still and believed her to want revenge for the death of her family.
All except one man.
A town drunk wandered in the streets of Andover, with his growler in hand and a knife in the other.
He approached Ollie McPollie in an effort to kill her, I assume.
Accounts say that he was yelling belligerently, attempting to end her life or something on the lines of that. Nothing exact is known of what had happened to him, besides from the fact that the account of the townsfolk noted that something was said to the man, and that he had screamed bloody murder into the night, eventually fading away deep into the forest.
Now here is the part that gets me.
One month later, the drunkard was seen with that ominous slow pace, walking out of the forest with a deranged smile and a box in hand. People knew something was odd about this and out of precaution, would always board up their doors in an effort to avoid letting what happened to those poor children in 1806, happen to them.
The man would go door-to-door, knocking and sitting there for a moment to catch somebody who would open his or her doors.
The townsfolk new it was somehow Ollie McPollie playing her tricks on them, so they called the entity by her name from that point on until now.
I can’t seem to call ‘it’ Ollie McPollie because the man I saw did not match the description of an 1800’s drunkard…
Something is going on that most of the town has not been able to figure out or has deliberately ignored, but I had decided to dedicate myself to discover what really happened to Olivia McEvoy or whenever somebody opens that box.
Or when ‘it’ decides to speak to you.
Something that was mentioned, but was skipped over quickly was the fact that there were old Native American tribes of the forest. Who were these tribes and what involvement would they might have in the case of Olivia McEvoy? Right then, was when I knew what I was going to do next.
That’s when learning about the Abenaki became my next objective.
Part 1
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Great Come Experience Part One
My Experience at Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812:
Disclaimer: I’ve sat in banquette seating four times. I’ve been able to see most of the theater, but I’m going to be a little heavy on the Marya D. and Hélène stuff because I’m super gay, and like… Grace McLean and Amber Gray, amirite?
Pre-Prologue:
· So it started with this jaunty music, and the whole cast comes out with the pierogi baskets, and you get dumplings if you wave your arms enough. Also each cast member has a section and converses with the audience for like almost five minutes. It’s great, because you can just talk to the people, and I was in Pearl Rhein’s section twice (fell in love both times, holy shit her eyebrows and wow is she tall). She said she loved my shoes and hair and I felt my soul ascend.
· Oh forgot to mention that while you wait for it to start there’s this upbeat Russian music going on, and it’s great.
· Also during the introductory no cell phones thing, this guy announces it in a heavy Russian accent, and after each thing, the cast goes “нет” and the ones like Pearl Rhein, and Sumayya Ali point to people with their bow strings and you don’t even think of disobeying because if not you’ll be given to KGB and sent off to Siberia.
Prologue:
· It starts once the air siren goes off
· Natasha cries out “No!” when Andrey leaves for war, and there’s this whole necklace exchange, that’ll be significant later.
· And Pierre is just up on the top level in front of the doors.
· He begins to sing, and usually before that there’s raucous applause.
· Pierre sings his verse, and then the whole cast joins in, and it’s a magical moment.
· Then the lights go up, and everyone has shot glasses.
· So each time someone is introduced via their lines, they get a spotlight and take a shot.
· So, during Sonya’s she and Natasha cross arms and take a shot that way, and it’s so cute.
· Whenever Marya takes a shot, she makes a face like “yes, that’s the stuff” and it’s such a beautiful facial expression. Also her hair is what I live for. The updo is so precise, and perfect. I want to do that. Also she’s got these streaks of lighter/greying hairs which I always go crazy for.
· During this, the actor who plays Andrey, is off changing into his Bolkonsky costume (for me it was Nicholas Belton twice, and Blaine Alden Krauss twice when Nick left for personal days three shows before it closed).
· He comes back on in that costume, with his instrument. And it’s really quite funny.
Pierre:
· Immediately they meld into Pierre just after Prologue, and it’s great.
· During this, they’ve all got their shot glasses still.
· When the line “il est charmant, il ne pas de sexe. He is charming he has no sex” the women all twirl around him. And Hélène is front and center spotlighted on the middle “balcony” and she’s just got so much attitude
· �� Also Marya’s expressions are amazing and I will continue to mention them. Even when she’s just sitting in the background, she’s got such a presence.
· When the line “how many men before good Russian men…” comes up, and Pierre speculates about who leaves tootless and bald, Anatole gets a spotlight and he just scoffs and saunters around stage as if to say “yeah right, not me bitch”
· During that last note, where everyone is going ‘ahhhhh’ it’s so much more intense than the cast recording and they hold it forever honestly. Everyone is gathered on the two “banister” levels of the main stage, and they’re all just intently staring at Pierre, and some are practically hanging over the railings. Hélène is especially like “ugh, this guy”.
Moscow:
· After a pause for applause, we go into Moscow. The ensemble mostly exits, or at least gets somewhere on the outskirts of the stage.
· Marya hands off her shotglass to someone. And as the music starts, she is wandering around inspecting things with a critical eye.
· When Natasha sings her name, she looks just so excited and thrilled. But reins it in to sing her name back.
· When Sonya does her thing, she like starts the “sofia” part like she’s almost forgotten her name. And it’s clear Marya does not like Sonya. There’s a whole backstory on why from the books so go read them.
· When she does the “Welcome, welcome to Moscow” she just goes for it, and both Natasha and Sonya visibly jump. The whole audience does honestly.
· She points to various audience members during “faded and fading princesses” “gossips and crybabies”. And it’s great.
· When she does her whole “bring in their things” the ensemble rushes around to grab the extra props and stuff, and they’re so terrified of and respect Marya.
· She goes off down the middle orchestra stage, and Natasha and Sonya do their impression of Marya’s growling voice. It’s so cute.
· When Natasha says “but I can’t bear this waiting” Sonya looks so sad and exasperated. She follows Marya’s path and they meet up in the rear of the theater. They reaapproach Natasha and Marya is leading Sonya by her shoulders, and she’s like over half a head taller than Sonya (Grace McLean is sorta tall, but she’s in heels to further emphasize her stature. And I want those shoes they’re fabulous).
· Oh both Sonya and Natasha are mostly in flats so we see them as delicate and innocent I suppose. It helps with the height comparison.
· When Marya and Sonya get to the top of the stairs that leads to the main stage, Marya sort of pushes Sonya away, and she braces herself against the banister while Marya goes to dote on Natasha.
· They drink tea (laced with rum).
· Oh and something you don’t notice are the Bolkonsky’s. During all of this, Bolkonsky is fiddling with a knife, and visibly trembling (probably some sort of dementia) and Mary is nervously watching, and trying to help but he keeps shaking her off so she reads her bible.
· She also crosses over when Marya mentions her in the song.
The Private and Intimate Life of a House:
· We start with Bolkonsky’s part of the song. He takes a really long pause before “people enjoy me” to stare to his left at the audience and waves creepily/awkwardly. It always gets a laugh.
· When he sings powdered wig, he pats his and a puff of powder erupts from it.
· During “such a majestic and agreeable spectacle” Mary stands from the stair she is on leading up to the mezzanine.
· Then she launches into her haunting part about there being 22 more hours in the day.
· When he starts ordering her around, she looks just so frightened, and does this trembling bow, and Gelsey Bell is an actual goddess.
· When she does her whole “and I have no friends no never go anywhere” she runs across and around the stage wringing and waving her hands tragically. Mary needs a hug. Someone please hug this poor woman.
· The whole “I can hurt you” is said by Mary with such fierceness that she quickly turns to reassurance to the audience that she never ever ever would. And she loves her father so much, but he’s such an abusive asshole. Like fucks sake I’m angry about this.
· So the difference between Nicholas and Blaine seems so much more intense when he sings certain parts like “worthless and dumb”. He really does the shouty, angry old man act well.
· So Mary makes an audience member stand and she pretends he’s her suitor. Then Bolkonsky turns to another audience member and kisses and nuzzles her and it’s hilarious for everyone involved.
· Then the servent (Paul Pinto) who walked hunched almost completely over, brings that table shot glasses.
· The whole “where are my glasses” bit is so so much more frightening live. The first time I heard it (and didn’t know the show at all) I was actually terrified for Mary. And she looks just so horrified, and upset by the entire thing.
· Also during this, the music is haunting, and Marya D. stands from where she’s been sitting and observing (with such a haughty and regal expression) to ominously play the cowbell. It’s such an interesting addition that I didn’t notice the first time.
Natasha & Bolkonsky’s:
· So the servant announces Natasha’s presence, and Mary is just so awkward the entire time.
· They do the chair thing in complete silence. Mary goes over to get her chair (that Hélène has been lounging on this entire time and Hélène moves to drape herself on the staircase. That’s another thing. Hélène even when off focus, just languidly and sensually drapes herself onto surfaces).
· They do their chair thing in the middle of the main table section of the audience. And it’s so tense.
· They both stand when singing their “I don’t like her” verse. Then two ensemble members bring them tea (one is Lulu Fall, and I think the other may have been Shoba Narayan. Pretty sure in fact.
· Then they move to another spot and fake laugh at each other.
· Then Bolkonsky comes out in his underthings and scares the shit out of Natasha.
· Then Natasha tearfully tries to leave and Mary realizes that they fucked up and tries to put it right, but Natasha intensely yells at Mary who jumps back and holds out her hands in defense, so you know this girl has been seriously verbally abused at the very least.
No One Else:
· The lighting changes to this beautiful blue (made even more beautiful by the fact that Dave Malloy is supposedly color blind and can see blue well, but not red so you just sob thinking about that)
· And Natasha looks so much like a princess in this moment. Everything is wonderful and heartbreaking.
· Andrey comes onstage and has a bundle of her letters. It snows over him, and Natasha reaches for him but they don’t touch, and he leaves again. She just looks so longing.
· When I first saw it the last lines about him maybe being in the drawing room and her just forgetting he was there was so emotional and heartbreaking, I just teared up.
The Opera:
· Cue dramatic music change. Marya does her whole “the opera the opera” part and she seems so excited to be sharing this with Natasha and even Sonya. Also the growl though!
· The Servent (Paul Pinto again) is in this emcee costume type thing and it’s so sparkly and extra with a top hat and everything.
· When everyone else comes out you are just so amazed by the costumes. Like wow. In an interview, the designer Paloma Young talked about how they’re meant to look opulent and splendid from a distance, but up close you see they’re cheaply made to represent the false splendor of 19th century Russia and I am so angry they didn’t win best costume design.
· So all of the women have their own unique costume and color scheme. Even the swings get their own unique outfit. It’s fantastic and fits each person so well. So like Lulu Fall is in red, obviously. And Shoba has this orange and looks so beautiful. And Cathryn Wake has a bright blue number, and don’t even get me started on Celia Mei Rubin’s costume. I love her so much and am so happy I got to see her swing on twice.
· Even the two opera dancers have like fancy clothing which they quickly exit to change into their actual opera outfits.
· Both Natasha and Sonya are so enchanted. And Marya gives Natasha that flower for her hair. And she adjusts Sonya’s headfeather thing.
· She’s also so judgmental about Anna Mikhaylovna’s headdress.
· Then Hélène sees Natasha and is instantly drawn in. (Side note: every woman in this show is so gay for Natasha except for Marya D. who is too busy being gay for Hélène sorry I don’t make the rules it’s a thing).
· When the servant does his announcement of the people, Dolokhov saunters around stage, and kisses a woman’s hand and then makes her kiss his. It’s great.
· And Hélène just flounces around twirling and displaying her body and outfit. She’s got two main dresses, and this one is like her main one sorta. So it’s black, with green underskirts, and fringes and it’s so pretty I want one now.
· Side note: Marya actually is wearing something not entirely red. Like it’s got red accents, but is mostly dark with gold patterns that sorta look tinged greenish. Nod to her romantic entanglements to Hélène? Coincidence? I think not!
· And Natasha is so taken with Hélène, it’s so gay!
· When Hélène starts talking to Natasha, Marya and Sonya are over to the side, and when Marya sees what’s going on, she quickly (nearly runs) over to intervene. She places herself between Natasha and Hélène, and looks so huffy when Natasha keeps interrupting. And her whole “woman you should stay far away from” is said without taking her eyes off of Hélène. Like, girl, you make out with her next act. I see your thirst don’t deny it.
· Then the actual opera starts and holy shit is it weird to see live. The two dancers prance about. And both Gelsey Bell and Paul Pinto are the opera singers. Their voices (Gelsey’s especially) are just so haunting, and the noises Gelsey makes are fucking weird, but wow are you just so impressed by it.
· Also, during on point the opera dancer (Mary Page Nance though the first time I saw it Celia Mei Rubin was swinging for Ani Taj) jerks her arms towards herself and pants comedically. It’s really quite funny.
· Holy shit I’ve got a lot to say just noticed. And we’re not done yet.
· Okay, so the opera pauses and we interlude onto Sonya and Natasha who look so bored and confused. And Natasha gets up and waltzes about the stage while Sonya narrates.
· So Anatole makes his entrance and the big doors open and this blinding light surrounds him. The entire cast turns to marvel at this wonder, and audience included they all shield their eyes. Yes it’s that bright. Anatole does this weird head thing to the beat of the music like he’s reveling in the attention.
· He walks down the stairs and starts kissing and nuzzling an audience member then pats the closest male member to her as if to say “good on you mate”
· He goes right to Hélène and taps his cheek for her to kiss him but moves his head to she kisses him on the lips instead. That’s her delighted laugh you can hear on the soundtrack. In the book the relationship is heavily implied to be incestuous. Suck on that George RR Martin. Tolstoy’s already done siblings being weirdly attracted to each other.
· The opera resumes and most of the ensemble has joined in on the show. There’s people on the stairs to the mezzanine wearing these creepy hooded costumes with long fingers. And others dresses as soldiers. And the Andrey actor comes out bloodied while the two dancers tear off his coat and pull long flowy sheets from him to resemble blood. He holds out a crumpled red ribbon towards Natasha who shrinks away terrified.
· During this stuff Dolokhov, Hélène, and Anatole are on the middle level banister part and applaud in slow motion. Marya is seated on the top level and does so as well. She just really loves the opera.
Natasha & Anatole:
· Okay so during this, it’s the two of them in the box together.
· So I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. But, when Natasha sings the part about there being “nothing formidable…not a barrier of modesty I’ve always felt with men” for some reason this makes her attraction to him so much more believable. Because see, she’s a young woman in 19th century Russia where men and women don’t converse this casually. So for her, this is probably the first time a man outside her family has spoken to her like a real person instead of just some woman they must be cordial to. And I hate their relationship so much, but it’s so understandable that this impressionable young woman be taken with someone who actually treats her like someone worth talking to. Like, Andrey has this distant smile and is probably really formal with her, but here this dude is being all approachable and shit.
· Like jesus Christ stop hating on Natasha. You fan girls will jump through hoops to defend Anatole; og fuckboi of the century just because he’s pretty, even though he’s literally at fault so much more in this situation. Like c’mon he’s a grown ass man. Fucks sake…
· So a few more things. He grabs her flower at one point.
· Also, the last line about there being nothing between them has a double meaning. So yes, there’s nothing between them in terms of like space, or something in the way of their mutual attraction, but like also they just met. This relationship is not build on anything substantial so there is like literally nothing really between them.
The Duel:
· �� Okay so visually I love this song so much. It’s such a fantastic thing, but I kept listening to the soundtrack and that’s what really got me.
· Before it starts Anatole is just upstage and mimes a head explosion motion. It’s great. Like, I hate this character, but Lucas Steele is just such a good actor for the part.
· Okay so Anatole comes back to the Bezukhov household all like ‘c’mon we going to drink tonight’ and Dolokhov comes in with a tray and spins it while pouring what I’ll assume is vodka, but who knows.
· The music gets intense and the seizure lights start. A rave scene in 19th century Russia. Sign me the fuck up. The first time I had to shut my eyes, but the next three times I actually kept them open to watch everything, and it honestly wasn’t bad at all.
· Side note: I love the whole drink with me my love part. It is just a great line.
· So just a few things I’ve seen. One of the ensemble members (I think it’s Josh Canfield) is wearing a leather crotch harness, and green speedo. (Side note: I’m probably going to mess up on who each male ensemble member is because I’m way better versed in the women. I think it’s a side effect of being a huge lesbian…) Mary is wearing these huge aviator/mad scientist goggles (and yes I’m choosing to believe Mary has finally gotten out of the house let me have this). During the chaos so much is happening. So Marya D. is dressed up in this latex catsuit, and a riding crop complete with like a mesh covered boob window thing because Marya is always in something highnecked even as a secret deviant in a druggy club. (So different cast sources claim Grace McLean is actually playing someone called Catya, but costume designer says that “secret deviant… Marya is part of the aesthetic so I choose to believe it really is Marya but she’s disguised with these huge sunglasses. Also she spanks multiple people with that riding crop so like… wow if I didn’t know I was gay before…
· To continue, during this Balaga is going down on Sonya (though technically it’s the actor Paul Pinto who plays a lot of roles, so it could be anyone at this point), someone does a line of “cocaine” (it’s sugar), Josh Canfield just slides across one part of the stage and almost into the table section. And everything is so sexual, and it’s the best. Like Grace McLean goes from humping Josh Canfield, to drinking with Dolokhov. During the climax (ha!) of the scene there’s that whole bit about “the health of married women and their lovers” and I just love this line so much. Hélène is so mocking of Pierre. Some ensemble members mime throwing up into the audience from drinking too much, and Mary is just hugging a banister pole and slumped on the ground. Girl doesn’t get out much.
· Just before the big duel, Marya pulls Anatole aside to give him an impromptu blowjob. Like they exchange the riding crop and hit each other with it, and she gets down on her knees while he unzips his pants but then everything stops and Pierre is like “bitch, don’t touch my wife” to Dolokhov, and everyone immediately turns their attention to that (Grace, Brittain Ashford (Sonya), and a few others slip out to presumably change costume. The ensemble take seats to see the fun, and I was sat right next to Blaine and Heath Saunders while they talked about the duel (everyone is always talking when off-mic too) and he nudged me when the announcer was like “as the adversary’s…” and Blaine said to me “no they have not” and I was just like “not at all” back to him. Wow.
· There’s that whole duel thing, and beforehand, Hélène is like “he will kill you” to Pierre and her voice just breaks. This part of the play is when you can really see just how much more complex their relationship is. Because Hélène’s actions show that on some level she really does care for Pierre’s wellbeing because when Dolokhov is shot she just gasps and you can’t even really hear it, but when Dolokhov shoots, she just gives out this bloodcurdling scream of horror and distress. And for the rest of the scene she’s just in shock, and exits by slowly walking up the stairs. I saw her expression up close, and she was just in shock, and devastated, and it was a turmoil of emotions.
· TL;DR Hélène is not the monster people love to make her out to be. And I love her and will defend her with my life. Fight me.
· While Anatole leaves he mimes finger guns at Pierre, who is so not in the mood.
Dust and Ashes:
· Transition to the big song. Okay, so I love this song so much. For one it’s a beautiful song full of emotion and some great lines (I love “bury me in burgundy”) but also because I have a lower voice (with terrible range I might add) so I can sorta sing along to this one without sounding horrible.
· So, for a bit it’s just Pierre silently in his office area. Then he starts hesitantly playing the chords on the piano. And while I’d agree that Josh Groben’s voice is more pleasing to hear, Dave Malloy sings it with such emotion, and I’d agree his voice is suited to play Pierre’s character better. But both men are fantastic and I loved them both.
· At one point he holds out a book and shakes it at the audience in desperation. It’s so beautiful and during the climax, the entire company is both standing side by side in the mezzanine, and down the two aisles in the orchestra. They sing the “ahhhs” and it’s the most beautiful and haunting thing. Like, if I could just have a picture even of that moment, I’d die happy. You’re so focused on Pierre that you might miss this, but it’s the most beautiful thing ever.
· The song ends with this blue light on Pierre (think back to the color blind thing and you’ll feel things).
Sunday Morning:
· Sonya and Natasha enter. It’s the next morning just after the duel so everything that just happened from Private and Intimate… to now was in like a twenty-four hour period. Maybe even Moscow, but I’m choosing to believe there was some time before Natasha went to visit the Bolkonsky’s.
· They do the candle in the mirror thing, and holy shit. So when Natasha is looking in the mirror, and she sees the man, Pierre returns to his office area, and crosses right behind Natasha so she can see him in the mirror and that is such a brilliant stage direction and I am so shook.
· Her future is Pierre! It’s right there!
· The scene changes so rapidly from Natasha’s distress at seeing someone lying down in the mirror to Marya’s “SUNDAY MORNING TIME FOR CHURCH” and thank you growl voice.
· Then after the brief church bit, Marya goes off to scold Bolkonsky for his behavior and I wish I could have seen Marya tear him a new one because it’s so funny in the books. Grace exits the big doors with such a flourish. She just like turns sidways, holds out her skirts and like floats out the door.
Charming:
· So for this scene Natasha is mostly in her corset and underthings and Hélène just waltzes in. This song is so gay, and Dave Malloy has said it was meant to be, so fuck yeah gay.
· Hélène has on her second dress. This one’s main color is green, with black underskirts. And the coat she has on is so extra. I want one.
· Hélène is so sensual and flounces around, twirling her skirts during this entire song. Amber Gray fuck me up. Her voice is so jazzy, and she’s got the growl down too. Jesus Christ I’m so gay. She just takes over the whole theater, and there is no one else.
· During this, Lulu and Shoba are maids in the household and have a beautiful dress for Natasha to try on. They hold it open and she just ducks into it. I need to be able to dress this easily.
· So, a few things about my favorite parts. “Now a woman with a dress is a frightening and powerful thing” is probably one of my favorite lines. Like fuck yeah woman power. Also, the fact that she effortlessly pronounces “Alliez dans le monde. Plutôt que de dépérir d’ennui!” which according to my French education means something like go into the word rather than perish of boredom, but she completely botches the entire title of the song. Charmante is not pronounced Charmanté. Even if it does sound so much better.
· So Natasha has on her dress, and Hélène just casually rips the necklace Andrey gave her off, and tosses it aside (Pierre catches it, symbolism anyone?) and replaces it with her own necklace. Then they go off to the ball together.
· Also the coat is passed to Natasha at one point and she just loves that coat as much as I do.
The Ball:
· Lemme tell you about the ball. This musical is so disregarding of gender norms like I love it. Like an ensemble member Katrina Yaukey has full armpit hair dyed hot pink it’s awesome. But, right ball. So everyone is in costume. The women all have different tops to their dresses, but the skirts are mostly the same. The inner skirt on most (dunno if its all) comes to mid thigh, and the outerskirts open up and are long and swishy. They’ve all got little lace coverings over their eyes, and mostly different headdresses. So, from what I saw there are a few cat ears, some antlers (Pearl Rhein has such cool antlers). A few are unique and I think the main characters have those. So Mary has this cute weird thing that I’m not sure what it is, but I like it. And Marya has this golden crownlike thing that also looks like it could be wings or something dunno. But it’s unique, and her dress is backless and wow. (Gay much?)
· So, there are no gender norms here. Here there are men dancing with men (They’ve all got mostly the same outfit. A green fancy war uniformlike jacket and bear mask (I think but I’m not sure might have just been the lighting, that Andrey’s is silver while everyone else has gold.) and women dancing with women. And different gender couples too, but sometimes the women are leading, and it’s so fucking amazing and normalized. The first time I saw that I may have teared up just thinking about how casually it’s shown. And in a play about 19th century Russia no less.
· Okay, so it has to be said, but Mary is wearing something so beautiful, and she looks like she’s having the time of her life dancing with Katrina. And I choose to believe it’s actually Mary (not some other role) who is finally getting the adoration and attention she deserves. Katrina spins her around, and dotes on her, and it’s just beautiful. Like she literally lifts her up at one point and spins her. During this scene, not all the women and men lift their partners but Katrina does, and Mary looks so damn happy.
· And Marya is dancing with either a female ensemble member who is Courtney Bassett I think. The veil hides her face, and they were farther away. But wow. Is Marya a good leader. She just sensually circles her partner, and like trails her lips over her shoulders and chest, and wow.
· Also it is a costume tournament and Hélène’s got on these dark angel wings like someone put her in the victoria’s secret show right now.
· But back to the actual plot. So, Natasha and Anatole are dancing and whatever. It’s all very sweet and whatnot, but back to the ensemble.
· So at the climax of the song, the dance couples life each other’s veils and masks and all grab wine glasses with different water levels to change frequency. They dip their fingers in the water, and literally trace the rim of the glass to use them as instruments like what the fuck why did this not win best score and orchestra?!??!?!?! It’s the haunting and soothing sound (yeah I know I’ve used these adjectives a lot, but it’s true). This goes on, and they all stop at the same time except for Hélène who keeps going with a spotlight on her for a bit longer before cutting off with a flourish.
· Oh and another thing, Sonya is not at the ball. Everyone else is in costume, but Sonya is still wearing her white dress, but she comes out to do the wine glass thing.
Natasha and Anatole pledge their love for each other, and scene. 6�1��
#natasha pierre and the great comet of 1812#great comet#natasha rostova#sonya rostova#marya dmitrievna#marya dmitryevna akhrosimova#helene kuragina#anatole kuragin#fedya dolokhov#mary bolkonskaya#andrey bolkonsky#prince bolkonsky#balaga#dave malloy#i love this show more than anything#more than life more than jewels
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