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darklinaforever · 1 year

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DEATH OF DAEMON :

So my darlings! The debate is open ! Why didn't Daemon return to Rhaenyra's side (didn't hear from her) after the letter story, and why did he go fight Aemond? Simple suicide mission? Because he couldn't be with Nettles? If so, why bother with Aemond and wait 13 days for this?! Let's be real, there were other reasons than just dying in the lead. I'm waiting for your ideas, in the meantime here are mine:

To believe Daemon killed Aemond just because he wanted to die and / or couldn't be with Nettles is pretty stupid in my opinion.

Other details, if Daemon were to join Rhaenyra after the affair of the letter, it would only serve to directly prove that there was treachery towards her, essentially endangering the one to whom Daemon owes the life of Nettles, (whom I think he is grateful for) and partly his hosts who, from Daemon's point of view, have never seen this letter. (Surely doesn't want to be the direct reason for all of them falling)

And yes, I know that in the end, to avoid any risk, his former hosts decide to change their banners in favor of Aegon II. However, Daemon doesn't know, convinced that they simply haven't seen this letter, and in fact, he doesn't know either how long it will take for them to find out about "Maester Norren's betrayal".

Essentially, the goal here for Daemon is to pretend the letter never got to its destination and just continue with its original task. Task we all know.

Let's also not forget that Daemon is likely to think that Mysaria manipulated and still manipulates Rhaenyra to some extent. Remember this line when Nettles asks Daemon what Rhaenyra's letter contains:

“Queen's words, a work of whore. - Daemon Targaryen.

This sentence may indeed sound like a simple insult to Rhaenyra, but for us readers who know that Mysaria is the one who disclosed to Rhaenyra the supposed affair of Nettles and Daemon, Mysaria who is a former prostitute, well recognize that the coincidence is quite disturbing. This would suggest that Daemon might not have full confidence in Mysaria, though she was working for his and Rhaenyra's cause. After all, let's not forget that Mysaria is the greatest spy in the kingdom. Trusting him completely would be a mistake. Moreover, I recall once again, that we cannot even be sure that Daemon has really renewed an affair with the latter, because of the source reporting this, namely Maester Eustace. He may have been telling the truth, of course. But he might as well have been lying, or presenting as true what were in fact only rumors out of a desire to slander, or because he firmly believed in them himself. After all, the guy was pro-Green/Aegon II, and openly anti-Rhaenyra. So it wouldn't be unlikely on his part, especially when you know that the maesters generally didn't carry Rhaenyra and Daemon in their hearts.

By the way, back to Rhaenyra. If the latter was still plagued by a certain manipulation (by Mysaria), in addition to her deplorable mental state (due to being overwhelmed by the weight of the war and the mourning of her children), as well as her paranoia in addition excessive, this one would obviously not be prompt to a real immediate conversation. Daemon probably wouldn't have been accepted on those terms either, especially after allowing Nettles to escape. Obviously, to avoid Rhaenyra's wrath here would require some substantial positive act to regain her favor and full trust, prove her loyalty, and hope to be listened to without immediate retaliation falling on anyone. And we all know what act could specifically serve that purpose.

Kill Aemond.

From the outset, the hunt was ordered by Rhaenyra. It was in his name that Daemon and Nettles hunted him relentlessly every day. He was a consequent, unpredictable and active danger. Regardless that Rhaenyra wanted Daemon by her side at the time, Aemond (and Vaghar) were a tangible threat that needed to be stopped no matter what. This is what they were originally sent for.

Not to mention that Daemon had direct revenge to take against him. Son for son, remember? (son who was Rhaenyra's biological son incidentally) There is also no doubt this desire to preserve the Targaryen heritage of his house and his family. Let's also not forget that Daemon still has 2 daughters and a son whose protection in this world must be ensured. If Aemond lives, it won't.

But we also forget that Daemon had a history with Rhaenyra. They have always had love for each other, first family, then that is silent in something else. Consider the fact that he was one of his, if not downright, his most loyal supporters. Think of their rushed and scandalous secret marriage, the early birth of Aegon III, their 10 years of marriage, the fact that he always stood up for his stepsons, to the point of falling into outright revenge at the Luke's death. They formed a family for 10 years! Do you think it leaves no trace? To think that Rhaenyra had absolutely nothing to do with the decision to go kill Aemond, whether Nettles is her lover or not, is frankly fatal. Rhaenyra has been a full part of Daemon's life, and he has always fought for her and her birthright.

Encore une fois, je ne nie pas que Daemyra se soit détériorée et que Nettles ait pu être l'amante de Daemon. Et si elle l'était (et même si elle ne l'était pas), oui, elle a probablement joué dans la décision finale d'aller combattre Aemond. Mais cela n'a JAMAIS, au même titre que simplement mourir, les seuls facteurs uniques et/ou principaux de cette décision. Daemon voulait probablement tuer Aemond dès la mort de Luke, bien avant que Nettles, et/ou ses pensées suicidaires (si elles existaient vraiment), n'entrent dans l'équation.

Daemon also seems to have come to the inevitable conclusion that as long as he was accompanied, so not alone, he would never be able to corner Aemond. At least it would still take some time to get there, and Daemon and Nettles have already wasted a lot of that in the initial hunt. Yes, Daemon knows there is very little, if any, chance that he will survive this confrontation. That's why he had Nettles by his side. However, if he lets things drag on, Aemond could well wreak havoc.

Because yes, as I said before, Daemon had an undeniable revenge to take on Aemond since the latter had killed Luke. To think that Daemon killing Aemond was nothing like an act of revenge and just suicide, is stupid. "An eye for an eye, son for son. Lucerys will be avenged." Daemon killed Aemond by literally planting Dark Sister in his remaining eye. The grudge is evident.

But also, Aemond was the Greens' greatest asset, the greatest threat to Rhaenyra's cause. That's a fact. By killing Aemond, not only his greatest threat but also his son's murderer, Daemon undeniably died serving, in his own way, Rhaenyra and her cause.

Now let's move on to the most debated question.

Did Daemon want to die? If we only and simply take into account the last exchange of Daemon, especially in the first degree, then yes the latter wanted to die.

“You have lived too long, uncle. - Aemond Targaryen.

“On this point at least, we agree. - Daemon Targaryen.

Do not forget that Daemon lived long enough for a man of his time, that he had to endure a horrible war, the beginning of which was marked by the death of his brother, the death of his daughter Visenya, and the death of his son-in-law Luke. He saw Rhaenyra, his niece, his wife, the mother of his children, his family, his queen, gradually sink into paranoia and visibly a certain madness. One by one he lost his stepsons and is now convinced that his second biological son, Viserys II, is also dead. Now Nettles, the person he seems to have become closest to (in any way) in this whole ordeal, has also been snatched away from him by one of the people he probably loves the most. Because yes, don't forget that beyond being his wife or his queen, Rhaenyra is above all Daemon's niece and the mother of his children, so he cannot, (and given the link that they have always maintained also) no longer have any affection for her. That Rhaenyra asks for Nettles' death must come as a shock to him, whether or not an affair took place with the young woman.

So judging by his last words, Daemon was obviously okay with the idea of having lived too long, hiding, maybe, yes, suicidal thoughts/urges as some fans suggest. Maybe, yes, he wanted to die, thus making his last act a kind of suicide.

However, even that cannot be sure either.

Daemon would have (and I insist on this word would have) said that, okay, but is it certain that he really wanted to die for that? We can have suicidal impulses and phases of depression without really and definitively wanting to end our days. Maybe, then, even though the odds were less, he had hope for a way out, but when he finally saw Aemond riding Vaghar coming, reality slammed into his face, hence this replica. Daemon had 13 days to think about it after all, and we don't know what specifically went through his mind during that time. Exactly, maybe he had hope to get out of it, because his goal was to bring Aemond's head back to his queen? We'll never know. After all, remember Daemon's possible suspicions about Mysaria, and his possible desire to win back Rhaenyra's loyalty and love.

Also, a very important detail that I never see anyone questioning: Are we really certain of Daemon's last words? Had he really confirmed that he had lived too long? Let us not forget that there were very few witnesses to this event, so few indeed, that a considerable time elapsed before history full story of Daemon Targaryen's Last Battle is known. Is it possible Daemon's last lyrics were altered, fictionalized, or even made up? That, I guess, we never will be either.

The only thing we can be sure of is that Daemon died (because yes, there are no other options, to think he survived like the singers is pretty crazy) fighting Aemond. Aemond, who I remember, is Luke's killer, her stepson, Rhaenyra's son, but also the greatest threat to Rhaenyra and her cause. This is not nothing, and certainly not a coincidence.

So to say that Daemon only went to kill Aemond because he wanted to die, and / or because he couldn't be with Nettles, is pretty ridiculous to me. Yes, Nettles probably (again) had an impact on Daemon's decisions at the time, but she wasn't the only one to enter into the equation, including the possible "want to die/suicide mission" aspect. from Daemon, which, you'll understand, I don't really believe in. Otherwise, in my opinion, it's pretty reductive, significantly undermining our favorite rogue prince's last living act.

Let's not forget that Daemon is a man proving his affections, his loyalty and his love precisely through acts, sometimes even really excessive according to what the series has shown. So to think that to prove his loyalty and fidelity to Rhaenyra, the latter is able to go on a suicide mission instead of going to join her and talk to her directly, is not improbable. It is even highly plausible. Just think of episode 3 of the series, where Daemon almost goes on a suicide mission by serving as bait/distraction for the entire enemy army! This was obviously meant to prove that he could handle and conclude this situation on his own without the help of his brother, thus proving his worth. But let's face it, it was also clearly (and mostly) meant to make his brother proud and win back his affections and trust. So, going to kill Aemond, alone, although there's a good chance he'll be there and never come back, all for the very purpose of winning back his wife's affections, trust and love, is totally Daemon Targaryen-like. If he finally does the same for Rhaenyra at the end of the series, it wouldn't surprise me that much.

#house of the dragon #daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon and rhaenyra #rhaenyra x daemon #rhaenyra and daemon #house targaryen #maison de targaryen #nettles #nettles x daemon

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circle-bircle · 2 years

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And you do, but not without a forced hug to give him. You don’t know why you have the sudden urge to hug him - he is cold and clammy and not-at-all nice to hug, but Mateus seems to falter for a moment and wrap his bare arms around your chest. He smells of sweat and blood, though you bury your face into his nightclothes and hug him tighter anyway.

“I love you,” he tells you softly, and you believe he truly does.

Crying, sobbing, throwing up - all in positive way though! I loved this even more after re-reading it for a second time, with the course of the ending still present in my mind.

He laughs, and his hands wrap around your shoulders - they still ache from the pain of the previous night, but it is not as excruciating as you originally thought it might be. “You have yet to see my power. Tonight, would you stay with me? I have much to show you.”

What could he mean by that? Your heart feels as if it’s about to burst out of your chest - you’re sweating , but you aren’t warm. Why are you nervous?

Um, exactly, what does he mean? Is it something related to perhaps turning Y/N into a being of his kind or is it just the Emperor’s sheer power that scares the poor reader?

"You answer your sin with violence upon violence," he continues, voice and breath coming in labored pants. He still has the air of haughtiness. "How pathetic. Kill me faster, why don't you? It's been far-too-long for my liking."

What does he exactly mean by ,,sin’’? Is it just a human/man related thing? Or maybe he finds Y/N guilty of making him fall in love with her…? Or something of that kind.

" Darling ," you begin, in the sweetest voice your pious body can muster. "Darling," you repeat, baring his neck just as he has done so to you dozens and dozens of times. While the blood seeps down one side, it is only fair for a man to match his style. You lean forward, feeling the wetness of his lap as you do so. "It's only fair if I take what you have taken from me, right~?"

When I saw cannibalism in the tags I did not expect this, for sure, but…revenge in the form of not only murder but doing that as well? Brutal, but in a great sense tbh. 11/10

Within the manor through the viscous fluid and blood and smeared, shattered glass, a man drags himself through the mess of death to continue his undying task…

Is it Leon? If yes, does it mean that despite Mateus dying, he is still forced to serve in the manor?

YEAAAH! mateus throws around the L-word quite easily though... whatever is easier to control poor y/n I suppose!

I was mostly going for Mateus being supar-awesum-magickal and to show that he can make her happy and healthy and satiated living with him? Obviously, those events didn't transpire orz

"You answer your sin with violence upon violence," is actually a line from the ff2 extra story Dawn of Souls! Because y/n is... y'know, definitely not winning brownie points in any of this, I felt like I wanted to shoehorn in a line or two from the game. It's mostly self-indulgent!! I'm gonna ramble about Dawn of Souls (and the quote) for a second, feel free to skip this paragraph if you don't care (or if you already know the quote):

In Dawn of Souls, Scott and co. mercilessly insult the Light Emperor after he asks them to forgive him. So, the next handful of lines from the Emperor are as follows: "I expected you'd say as much. Reluctance to forgive has long been a human failing. It is in man's nature to sin, yet you answer sin with violence upon violence. Is that not itself a sin?" ANYWAY, I love Dawn of Souls sooo much. It's such a good addition to a (in 2022) middling plot. I could ramble for hours about it but I'll just continue w/ the questions...

Yeah!!! In the ending there is Leon. I left it vague on purpose, but the either two options you can believe are: Leon is bound to the manor until the Emperor revives himself (through weird vampire shenanigans or otherwise (or he doesn't at all), make your guesses), OR he is free to do what he wants (probably search for his sister six feet under, but...y'know)

I liked writing INI. It's horribly self-indulgent, rife with plot holes, and nothing makes sense in the slightest, but it made me happy! I'm so happy that it made YOU happy, too! <3

#overly specific ask tag #ini #thank u so much anon! i love you!!!

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in-defense-of-loki · 2 years

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I think the worst thing about Ragnarok is being that movie that was almost okay. And what I mean is, after being a fan of Loki since Thor 1 (which opened me up to the wonderful comic world, and Norse mythos), I was excited for the next movie that featured Loki. I felt a little off about him not dying in TDW only to show up on the throne he didn't actually want, but I could move past it. And now realizing that Loki was supposed to die, and the next film was going to take place in Helhiem, I'm so disappointed about what we could have had. It also makes it glaringly obvious Loki on the throne was such an afterthought.

But I went to the theaters with my band of movie-goers, and sat through Ragnarok feeling....off. It was enjoyable for what it delivered, I wasn't bored or disinterested, and it kept me distracted enough I didn't immediately realize it's fatal flaws. And I imagine nor did most people, and most those people continue to ignore it (at this point I think maybe on purpose). After it was over, and my band of peeps discussed what we watched, I was left feeling...empty. Something was bereft. And then going on to talk to my other friends who watched it, but not with me, expressing their like of the movie, I felt even more awkward. Because I didn't really enjoy it. I didn't understand why, at first, but I didn't want to be left out, so I pretended it was great.

And maybe a lot of others did this, too.

Then I went online with my feelings, only to find a massive amount of posts about how much it actually wasn't good, how much of the original movies were erased, replaced with soulless replicas, continuity gone, problematic themes afoot, trauma erasure, and how out of place it actually is by taking a 180° on style, atmosphere, and characterization.

I felt seen, heard, and then I started reading metas being critical of the movie and all it's elements....and then the truth behind what Waititi did to us fans on top of admitting his skewed perception. And my feelings were realised, I found what was bereft, a name to all that which I experienced with the film. And what was wrong with Ragnarok wasn't as blatant or immediately obvious as with the Loki show, least not to me, and that's part of the problem with the movie. And before anyone goes, well at least the story wasn't bad, I read a side by side comparison of Thor 1 and Ragnarok and they are identical, with some elements differing. But that's just saying it was Sakaar instead of Earth type shit. I am gonna guess that Love and Thunder is gonna be a redo/copy of what happened to Thor in IF and EG, because Waititi hasn't shown he can be creative by himself, but maybe that was the writers, Pearson, Kyle, and Yost, fault? Dunno.

But Ragnarok has a great fake-out, and I'm sure it's vivid colors and new characters helped fool us at first. I think most people get hung up on that, and that's why they don't find issue with it, willing to pretend it doesn't have any flaws. I'm sad and angry we were handed such a film and expected to sit pretty and take it, like a loyal dog, and that many people fell for it. To continue the analogy, perhaps the rest of us are more like cats snuffing the new food because we liked what we were served before. It's why I will not be watching Thor 4, I'm sure I'll get to know what happens anyway via posts on here.

But I'm done, I'm done with the MCU, I'm done with Waititi, I'm done with the direction they're taking things. I've stopped consuming their media, and I won't support them in other endeavors, OFMD is not the only thing I'll be skipping. I don't care how many times people will tell me this new Marvel show is actually really great, it's like they're listening! It's bait, and I'm done being fooled.

I'll still engage with meta on here, though, it soothes a bit.

#anti thor: love and thunder #anti thor love and thunder #anti thor ragnarok #anti taika waititi #anti loki show #anti disney

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 3 years

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Do you happen to have any fics to help restore ones love for the irondad fandom? I'm suddenly afraid of loosing interest. Perhaps I haven't read a good fic in a while.

Oh, there is so much variety in the Irondad fandom that I guess it depends on what you enjoy. Here are a few of my favorites from across the board.

Whump with Feelings:

Of Flying and Falling by @polaroid15

Peter hums as if in deep thought. The blood on his face is bright and unrelenting in the glow of the fire, like some permanent reminder of Tony's failures. “Did you know my parents died in a plane crash?”

Tony jolts, the response hitting him like a freight train. He rubs Peter’s arm as his throat tightens. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“They must’ve been really scared.”

“Are you scared Peter?”

---

Or, on their way home from a fancy conference on the coast of Vancouver, Tony and Peter's helicopter crashes, ending what should have been a perfect weekend filled with maple ice cream and sea water in a desperate battle for survival.

A Mermaid AU:

Petey and the Hermit by eccentric_artist_221b

Three years after losing his wife and child to a fatal car accident, Tony Stark courts his darkest thoughts at the top of an old, abandoned lighthouse. Preserved at the last second by the supposed screams of a drowning victim, Tony leaps into action. Finding an injured merboy trapped in trawler lines between the crevice of a rock, he can only assume this is part of a whiskey induced dream. As he brings the creature home to nurse its wounds, he soon discovers this is more than he signed up for when it begins to form a bond with him.

Age Regression:

close to my heart, never to part by @parkrstark

During patrol one night, Peter comes across something that leaves him and Ned dumbfounded. The next morning, Ned is dropping off a now two-year-old Peter at Tony’s. Not only does he have to figure out how to turn him back, but he must watch him. Tony wonders what he’s supposed to do with the now toddler-Peter for the next two weeks…until he slowly starts to wonder what he will do without this boy after the two weeks are over.

Amnesia Victim Peter Parker:

Do You Know Who You Are? by loubuttons

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For forgetting. I’m sure I didn’t want to forget you.”

Amnesia Victim- Tony Stark:

Identity [REDACTED] by @obsessionoftheday

Dissociative fugue is one or more episodes of amnesia in which an individual cannot recall some or all of his or her past. Either the loss of one's identity or the formation of a new identity may occur with sudden, unexpected, purposeful travel away from home.

When Tony goes missing, Peter and Rhodey team up to find him.

Migraine and Injury two for one:

Keeping Company by @whumphoarder and @xxx-cat-xxx

While attempting to look after his migraine-riddled mentor, Peter manages to injure himself badly enough to need Tony’s help.

Lots of Fluff:

t-shirts by KiwisAndTea @kiwisandtea

A collection of one-shots centered around Peter Parker's favorite shirts. They serve only two purposes:

1. to embarrass Peter

2. to make Tony Feel™ Things

Humor:

Sole Heir by GotMyInkPen @gotmyinkpen

Tony Stark has officially decided that Peter Parker is his sole heir and will one day inherit Stark Industries. Here's how Peter prepares for that day.

Kid Peter Parker- Hydra :

darkness will be rewritten by @marveal

"Richard Parker was studying Cross-Species Genetics, but struggled with the ethics of it, because it required he use human DNA, which no ethics board would agree with. So he used his own. His work was successful based off of his own DNA, and every human has a unique DNA,” Bruce explains. “So, naturally, when HYDRA wanted his research, they knew they would never get his support, so they took the next best thing they could to his own DNA. His son."

Or, Tony finds a tortured and experimented-on Peter Parker in a HYDRA base and decides to help him because who else will?

Adoption AU:

I told you I had issues by Bergen

Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and right now, a little exasperated. Because some guy is swinging around New York, shooting webs and making trouble, Fury is breathing down his neck, and his latest intern took off with his coupon for a free coffee.

Thank god for Pepper Potts.

...or, a Spider-Man AU where a set of bad circumstances begin to push Peter Parker down a wrong path, and where Tony is probably not the best person to deal with it, but he does anyway.

Kid Peter Meets Tony :

i promise you, kid, you'll be home soon by bstarship

If there was one good thing to come out of Tony's ultimate death at the end of the week, it was the ability to forget for a short period of time. He spent his time surrounded by strangers who idolized him and friends who sometimes gave less of a damn. But it was a kid who grounded him—who made him wish he had more time because he reminded him that there were good things to live for. One kid did all that.

Truly, Tony didn’t know how to make sense of it. A part of him told him to be unabashedly humble. Another part said to leave the kid and drive to Miami with the top down until his eyes fell out of their sockets.

A kid who had a shopping bag tied around his wrist with the Stark Expo logo on the side. A kid who was silent for a while until he finally said, “I have to use the bathroom.”

It was just a kid. A kid.

Peter is eight-years-old and loves everything about Iron Man. Tony is dying and helps a lost kid find his aunt and uncle.

Sickfic:

Sick and Lost by @kittybellestark

Peter’s sick and took the wrong bus. He meant to go to New Jersey but ends up in not New Jersey and calls Tony for help. He isn't having a great time but at least he has Tony on his side.

Okay, I could go on ALL DAY so I think I’ll stop here. If you find something you enjoy and want more things like it, let me know!

#asked and answered #marvel fic rec #awesome reads!#don't forget to kudos and comment #tony stark #peter parker #irondad and spiderson #marvel #iron man #spider man #mcu #marvel fanfiction #irondad fandom

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chacusha · 3 years

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I just want to talk about one of my favorite Quodo scenes. You know, as I do. So S2 E18 Profit and Loss, for all that it’s focused on a one-episode love interest for Quark (and a romance with Natima so intense that it makes Quark very uncharacteristically be willing to risk his life and even give up the bar for the sake of pursuing it), it has some really amazing Quodo scenes. In particular, it has a really lengthy conversation between Quark and Odo that features some great things like (1) establishing important aspects of both of their characters and their relationship, (2) lots of intimate leaning over each other and casual touches, and (3) a flirtatious and shippy dynamic.

Let me walk through the whole scene because there’s a lot to analyze here.

The scene opens with Quark coming to talk to Odo about the urgent need to release Natima rather than handing her over to the Cardassian government who will execute her. Quark tries multiple tacks, all of which fail:

First, he tries to make the appeal that releasing the Cardassian dissidents would lead to a better, brighter Cardassia, which obviously Odo doesn’t buy. Quark doesn’t care about that.

Quark immediately pivots to spinning that change as one that would lead to him getting more profits -- more plausible, at least, but Odo is still skeptical. In response, knowing that Odo doesn’t find benefiting Quark financially to be a worthy cause, Quark impishly says, “Now Odo... don’t allow my greed to keep you from doing the right thing.” Here he’s making a small appeal to Odo’s moral system rather than Quark’s.

But that’s not the reason why Odo was skeptical. He’s skeptical because Quark isn’t being honest about his motivations.

“I know you better than you think, Quark.” - Moment #1 in this scene where the long history and enefriend relationship between Quark and Odo is highlighted.

Odo prompts Quark to bring up the third and more honest consideration: that Quark is in love with Natima. Odo asks Quark why he didn’t just say that from the start, which prompts Quark to go into a long rant about how Odo is incapable of understanding his feelings while Odo listens awkwardly: “What was I supposed to say? That I love her? That I would do anything for her? That without her my life would be meaningless. Sure, I could say those things, but what good would it do? How could I expect you to understand? You’ve never had those feelings. You don’t know what it means to really care about another person. You’ve never been in love. You’ve got all the emotions of a stone. (pause) No offense.”

None is taken, because that is the image that Odo has carefully crafted for himself, which doesn’t in actuality line up with who he is, but he’s happy for others to believe that is how he is like. So even though Quark realizes how harsh his words are and walks it back, Odo is not offended, but nor does he find it entirely convincing either. It’s one of this scene’s many ways of illustrating the conflicting moral codes between Quark and Odo: Quark may view doing things out of love as legitimate, but he knows that Odo can’t enter into that mindset.

(It's not text, but Quark's speech could also be read as Quark expressing his frustration that his own attempts to court Odo have ended in failure -- Quark angsting that he is barking up the wrong tree, so to speak.)

Quark then tries a fourth tack: Making an exchange instead of putting forward logical arguments and appeals. He begins to offer information on the various deals he’s involved in ("Listen to me, Odo. You do this for me, and I promise there'll be no more secrets between us") -- this momentarily catches Odo’s interest -- before Quark chickens out and instead offers information on Rom’s activities instead, which is, well, worthless, lol. Odo isn’t interested in your brother, Quark, he’s interested in you. Quark does have something of value to Odo but he’s not willing to offer it up because, well, he's just not THAT good of a person.

Seeing this fourth try has failed, Quark then makes a fifth appeal:

Quark’s fifth try involves directly leveraging Quark and Odo’s relationship and involves Quark asking Odo to do this as a personal favor to him. Here is moment #2 where Quark and Odo’s longstanding relationship is highlighted, with Quark turning what Odo said earlier back on him:

(Technically, Odo didn’t say he knew Quark better than anyone else; he said he knew Quark better than Quark thought. But Quark is speaking the truth in any case.) Quark actually just spells out their relationship a bit anviliciously: “Sure, sometimes we’re on opposite sides, but that doesn’t mean that we aren’t close. I never told you this, Odo, but I consider you as dear to me as my brother.” Again, Odo is unimpressed given that Quark literally just tried to sell out his brother. One can’t help but feel like Quark’s fifth appeal failed for the same reason his fourth one failed: Like with the fourth appeal, Quark began to show some vulnerability here which actually interested Odo, but chickened out at the end. He did have something valuable to bargain with (his relationship with Odo) but wasn’t willing to pay the price it would require (being fully open and vulnerable with Odo about the value of that relationship) -- instead, he deflects at the last moment with something joking and ironic.

Finally, Quark makes his sixth and last appeal. “Odo, look at me. Look at me. I’m on my knees. I’m begging you. I don’t care why you do it. Pick any reason you want. But please, let Natima and the others go.”

On his knees, he makes the Ferengi gesture of supplication. With this attempt, Quark does two things: One, he sacrifices his pride for the first time by openly begging -- in his other appeals, he protected his pride by couching it in logical appeal, anger/disapproval at Odo, irony, or jokes. But here, for the first time, he displays humility, desperation, vulnerability, etc. Second, he lets Odo pick the reason, which allows Odo to also intervene without having to lose his own pride.

The reason Odo picks in the end is (what else) justice.

"Justice," Quark says. "That was going to be my next suggestion."

And then (after being on his knees begging, etc.) Quark slowly gets to his feet, and it’s framed like this:

THIS. IS SO. SUGGESTIVE.

I’m... I'm dying. Definitely a "getting shit past the censors" moment.

Anyway, moving swiftly along, now that Quark has gotten what he wants, it's back to the old light-hearted and flirty dynamic they always have. Now assured Odo definitely isn't doing this as a personal favor to Quark, Quark gleefully declares himself debt-free to Odo. He hugs him and Odo pretends to dislike it.

The scene ends with Odo asking how Quark plans to sneak the dissidents past the Cardassian warship hovering outside DS9. By the way he asks the question and is able to guess just by Quark's mischievous smile, Odo already knows the answer, bringing the episode back full circle from its opening where Odo was investigating Quark for having an illegal cloaking device.

Yeah, bickering, casual touching, their cat-and-mouse relationship, flirtatious dialogue, even Odo grudgingly letting Quark get away with crimes because they're a reluctant team with aligned interests now -- it's all here.

Anyway, I love this scene because it's an extended look at how Quark's moral system and Odo's don't really line up with each other (Quark valuing things like love and profit and not valuing abstract things like justice or order, and vice versa for Odo) to the point where it's actively hard for Quark to convince Odo to do something he's inclined/sympathetic to doing anyway. At the same time, they also have some shared interests (in Quark's dealings, in their relationship with each other) while being engaged in a complex dance where neither of them can quite acknowledge it. For example, Odo says he will release the prisoners solely out of his own sense of justice, but if so, why did it take Quark begging him to move him to act? Before Quark came to his office, he was reading a detective novel, suggesting that Quark's appeal is at least one part of Odo's decision to act, despite what they both say. But it serves Quark's purposes to let this slide ("So, you're not really doing this for me?" "That's right." "Then I don't owe you a thing. Thank you!") and let Odo keep his pride, so he does.

Anyway, I just love how much Quodo there is in an episode that's entirely dedicated to Quark's love for a different woman entirely. That's how powerful the relationship between these two is.

#quodo #star trek: deep space nine #ds9 #ds9 quark #ds9 odo #quodo meta #oh god I wrote an essay #I meant to write this earlier but I wanted to make a gif of that moment #👀

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passable-talent · 4 years

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reader exclusively refers to Anakin as Skywalker and teasing nicknames and never Anakin because they have that totally rivals who Do Not get along/would die for each other/kinda "I'm down if you're down but I'll never admit it and neither will you" dynamic. Reader *only* calls him Anakin in emotionally heated moments, e.g. he just got hurt REAL bad and reader is panicked. rivals/reluctant partners to lovers, maybe friends in between. this is hella specific so feel free to take some liberty w/ it

cute. very cute. that kinda dynamic is what I feel like everyone has with anakin

yall came THRU with the anakin requests and im HERE for it

So, uh... stealth missions with Anakin Skywalker tend not to stay that way.

He’s impulsive, he’s quick to decisions, he’s unpredictable. It’s irritating.

“Was there not a plan?” You shouted at him over the firing of droids. You stood side by side with him, deflecting them, allowing Ahsoka and your combined droid units to get to the side. “Or did I hallucinate the entire mission briefing?”

“You actually listen to those?” He shot back, then tearing down the hallway after his clones. You followed, saber held behind you while you ran, frustration ringing in your ears.

“Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have so much head trauma!”

“I don’t have any head trauma!” You snorted incredulously, dodging another group of fire by shoving him further from a hallway’s corner so you could slide in beside him, the red bursts of energy ringing past your ear.

“You think so, Quick Fire? Memory loss- that’s the head trauma.” He rolled his eyes briefly, but his attention was taken from your banter by Rex, giving yet another update as to where you were supposed to be heading.

Unlike the Jedi Knight beside you, the one you loathed to be on a mission with, you knew the point of this mission, and you knew the plan that had now evidently been thrown out the window. You were meant to infiltrate a separatist listening post, and dispose of the droids running it, all without drawing the attention of Grevious.

“Now that they’ve sent up the alarm, we’ll need to destroy the base, to make sure they can’t use it again,” Skywalker said, his saber sheathed and at his hip while he gave his piece.

“We can set up detonators and explode them remotely,” Ahsoka offered, and Captain Rex quickly pulled something up.

“If we place them around the heating system core, it should amplify the explosion,” he said, and Skywalker nodded, igniting his lightsaber again.

“Then into the basement we go,” he said, rounding the corner to droids who had gotten much closer, and quickly tore through most of them. You followed, side by side with Ahsoka, clearing the way for the clones. It didn’t take long until the path was clear, even though alarms still rang through the halls.

The base was small, which served your purpose well. It didn’t take long to descend into the heating system, but it took long enough that more droids had amassed. Why so many damned tin cans were needed for one listening post, you didn’t know, but still you stood between them and Anakin, drawing their fire to allow him to concentrate.

“There’s one more,” he shouted, coming to your side, saber in hand. “It’s all the way at the bottom. Lead the clones out while I distract them, and once you’re out, I’ll place it. Then we’ll blow the place.” You grit your teeth as you deflected another blast.

“I’m not leaving you here alone,” you said, and you meant it.

“It’ll be easier for one to escape than twenty. Go!” Destroying the last droid in front of you, you turned to him, eyes narrowed. You could hear another wave approaching.

“Am I sensing nobility in you, Skywalker?”

“Am I sensing hesitance in you?” Humor was a distraction, especially with more droids coming closer, and you needed to use this break in waves to escape.

“You better make it out,” you told him, “you’re not dying on my watch by anything other than my hand.”

“Oh, I’m not dying, either way.” You shook your head, turning to the rest of the men.

“Clones, with me!” Skywalker ordered Ahsoka to follow you as well, and you ran up the stairs, blasting your way from the post and into the snowy landscape of the asteroid it was positioned on, your escape giving Skywalker the distraction he needed to place that detonator.

Hidden under a rock ledge, you and Ahsoka gathered around Rex’s communicator, keeping you aware of Skywalker’s movements.

“It’s placed, and the droids are almost here,” he said, running up the stairs you had traversed not long ago. “Get ready to blow it, Rex. On my word.”

“Copy.”

“He should be here, by now,” Ahsoka said, and your gaze shifted to her. You hadn’t realized it, but she was right- if Rex was going to blow the base, Skywalker needed to be at least as clear as this embankment, or he’d get caught in the blast.

“Rex, now!” Skywalker shouted, and you yelled ‘wait!’ but Rex had already followed orders. You shot to your feet and launched to the top of the cliff which had meant to serve as your protection from the blast, just to see Skywalker open a door, fifty feet back from the outer wall of the base. Your gaze connected to his, and you saw panic in his eyes, not for himself, but for you.

“Get down!” He shouted, and such an order needed to be followed. You stepped back and off of the cliff, holding yourself from a fall by your fingertips, and you felt the blast of heat on your knuckles when it blew. When the rumbling of the stone beneath you faded in time with the light and sound above you, you waited just a moment to hear him reach you- but he didn’t.

You pulled your torso up, trying to find purchase for your toes, but the view you found nearly shocked you enough to send you plunging downward.

He was pinned to the snow by a piece of scrap metal double his size. And he wasn’t moving.

“Anakin!” you shouted, the name leaving your lips without a second thought as you pulled yourself the rest of the way up, so you could run to his side. A combination of your desperation and your Force powers lifted the metal from him, and it revealed where it’s upper half had impacted his head and its lower half had impacted his lower back. Both had drawn blood, but his back was much worse. It had torn through his robes, and you couldn’t tell how deep the cut was.

“Ahsoka, get up here,” you ordered through your wrist comm, and in the time it took for her to reach you, you’d piled snow onto the wound on his back to slow the bleeding. You had nothing else at your disposal.

“We’ve got to get him back to the ship,” you said, though you hated to move him, after a head injury. You didn’t know if a neck injury was involved too, and that would be so much worse.

“I’ll call it as close as I can,” Rex said, and the clones set to work while you and Ahsoka worried over him. Really, there was nothing you could yet do but keep pressure on the wound, and keep from moving his neck. It looked bad- you hoped that it was just melted snow making it look like there was so much blood.

“General! It’s as close as we can get it!” You threw a look over your shoulder at Rex, and the ship they’d landed a hundred yards away, where the debris was fewer and further between. You snarled, wishing anything could be done other than what you were about to do.

You lifted him from facedown in the snow by his arms, and threw him onto your back, dragging his toes through the snow as you ran.

“Let’s move!” You shouted, and Ahsoka put herself in front of you so that as soon as you boarded, the ship’s door could close and they could lift off. Yularen’s cruiser wasn’t so far, where he could get better care, but until then he certainly needed to be monitored. Luckily, there was a small medi-droid on board. It wasn’t even a surgical 2-1B, just a tiny J6-P that warned you in the most irritating droid-basic you’d ever heard:

“ᴳᵉⁿᵉʳᵃˡ ˢᵏʸʷᵃˡᵏᵉʳ ʰᵃˢ ʳᵉᶜᵉᶦᵛᵉᵈ ᵐᵘˡᵗᶦᵖˡᵉ ˡᵃᶜᵉʳᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ ᵒⁿ ʰᶦˢ ˡᵒʷᵉʳ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ.“

“We knew that!” You roared, kneeling beside where you’d laid him lengthwise across little seats meant only to carry clones into battle. “Give me something useful!”

“ᵀʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ˢᵘᶠᶠᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᶦⁿʲᵘʳʸ, ʰᶦˢ ⁿᵉᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᶦⁿᵃˡ ᶜᵒʳᵈ ᵃʳᵉ ᵘⁿᵗᵒᵘᶜʰᵉᵈ.”

“Good,” you said, looking aside to Ahsoka. “Find me some fabric, and water, if you can.”

~~~

Once you’d docked into Admiral Yularen’s cruiser, Anakin was rushed to a med unit and placed into the medical wing. A wound like this wasn’t uncommon for a Jedi, especially one as reckless as Quick Fire, but still you worried for him. You sat beside Ahsoka on the two extra chairs given to the room, staring out the small window at the endless space and stars beyond it.

When you looked at her again, she was fast asleep.

“Ahsoka,” you said softly, nudging her awake. “Go to your chambers, get some sleep. I promise I’ll call you when he wakes up.” She stifled a yawn and shook her head.

“You need the rest, too, master.”

“You more than I. Go, love.” She gave you a grateful, tired smile, and retreated from the room. Once she was gone, you rolled her chair over to the window, tossing your feet up and onto it. You rested your head on the wall, and closed your eyes. Meditation came easily in moments like this, almost between sleep and wake, and so you could reach out to the Force, and feel it. Skywalker channeled the Force like a magnet, and so like always when you were around him, it felt like pushing into a magnetic field. His presence was as strong as ever.

He was an idiot for ordering Rex to detonate before he was clear. He wasn’t far off- if he’d waited thirty seconds, he wouldn’t have had to go through this. Not that it was such an ordeal, he was already healed by the med unit and now just sleeping off the exhaustion, but still. Quick Fire didn’t need any more head trauma.

A small groan came from the unit and you opened your eyes, waking yourself from what was almost sleep to find him awake.

“Anakin-” you said, throwing your feet to the floor to stand at the foot of the bed.

“Did it work? Is everyone alright?” He made to sit up, and you rounded the bed to shove his torso back down.

“Everything’s fine. We’re on the Admiral’s cruiser, I just sent Ahsoka to bed. We made it out.” He nodded, his breathing falling to level, satisfied.

“You’re still an idiot,” you said, after a moment. “You’re lucky I was there to carry your, once again, head-trauma’d ass off of that asteroid.”

“Maybe I’d stop taking risks if you’d stop covering for me.” You shook your head and pulled a chair over so that you could sit at his bedside.

“No, you wouldn’t,” you said, almost fondly. He smiled. You like when he does that.

“You’re right.” Abandoning your better judgement, you reached out and brushed back some of his hair- it’s curl was quite pronounced, with all the sweat and smoke it had absorbed. His gaze stayed on your face, even as you watched his hair move through your fingers.

“I told you you couldn’t die by anything other than my hand,” you reminded him.

“And I told you I wouldn’t die.” You closed your eyes, not having quite the energy to roll them.

“I hate when you pull things like this, Anakin,” you said softly, and you didn’t turn your eyes to his face as a smile grew on it. So rare a treat it was that he got to hear his name from your mouth, and he appreciated it every time to its fullest.

“But I love waking up to you.” You fixed him with a disapproving but lighthearted look, leaning your elbows onto the bed beside him.

“There are easier ways to do that.”

“Promise?”

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #angst #imagines #star wars anakin #anakin imagine #poor anakin #why does that tag fit every single request #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars self insert #star wars #star wars prequels #fics

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miioouu · 4 years

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So I'm not the Demon!Bakugou x reader anon, but since you offered I would like to see that situation play out without the smut lol. Only if you feel like it though. Have a wonderful day

Well um👉👈 I turned it into a part two because I thought it was fitting. So this part isn't going to be nsfw, but maybe if you guys like it that much, I might make a 3rd part and it may or may not be steamy sooo.... Anyway thank you for requesting!! ❤️💜❤️

Oh y/n, you're in big big trouble. You shouldn't have went down, you should've listen to all the people calling you crazy and insane. But you didn't, and now you have to pay the price. Cold breezes making you shiver, goosebumps littering your skin at every crack of the doors and wooden floors. Painted eyes following your every move, burning into your soul and squeezing your heart so tight, you wonder how you're still alive. But the worse is that damned burn on your thighs, every once in a while burning like your whole body is on fire, making you cry and doublr down in pain. And at night, it becomes worse. With the intensity of the burn, the chilly breath hitting your face and pointy, invisible daggers cutting through your skin all in addition to the insupportable dizziness that come from the caramel odor filling your room. You wanted to get rid of it, just have a normal life again. And you had no idea how to do that.

Meanwhile, Bakugou was having a blast. The pure terror that shakes your sweat covered body, the fear that pools in your eyes and your constant frantic movements that keeps him entertained throughout his days. Your ambition to stay in his house is something that caught his attention, seeing it as a challenge as he tries to turn your life into a living hell. The funnest part was seeing your pain everytime he was near you, knowing it will make the mark burn and yearn for his touch again. Teasing you and testing your sanity, watching it slowly fade with each passing day. Though he didn't stop here, he even followed you in dream land. From just appearing and not changing anything within it, for the sole purpose of seeing you shift in your sleep, to going full in, making you have realistic nightmares, cold sweat oozing out of you and damping the sheets, shockingly waking up with blown out eyes as you tried to regain your breath. What a sight for him, really. He never once showed you himself, but he makes it clear that he's here, with all the furniture shuffling around, all the random scratches left on your body. His only goal is to see all senses slowly and painfully leaving your body, leaving you at his mercy.

Though you seemed more courageous, hopeful to let that happen. Finally giving in you decided to go back to the basement, trying to find a solution to your problems. As you stepped in, it felt like your soul was leaving your body as pain shot right from your inner thighs through your whole body. Feet dragging you by themselves to the middle of the room, right before the big pentagram burned on the floor. You weren't quite sure what to do now. So many books, so many written pages littering the floor, empty and molded bottles and jars all over the place. Eery air making you tremble and weak, almost giving in and let your body fall numb on the floor. Key word, almost. Though your need to get rid of whatever is haunting you far too strong to back down now. Using all your force to move around and grab the closest book you can reach.

Hours after hours spent reading the witchcraft books, looking through million of sites to get rid of it. Googling the only name that has been running in your head ever since that day. Yet nothing came out. You were about to give up, when a childish, unprofessional site came into view. You wantes to click out of it, when you read the big tacky title. "Bakugo: Demon of lust and warth." As you skimmed through the paragraphs, you discovered that most who summoned him were looking to get closer to his anger side, sealing a pack with him to anger someone so much that they'd die because of it. Really a demonic way of dying. While also rare, some wanted to feel sexual pleasure from the ever so good looking hell creature. Whatever scenario they chose, he always left a mark on the summoner, burned pentagram that's supposed to leave, unless you kept Bakugou around, which only served to pain you, and make him gain more power. With that you realized that the demin is still around. Wanting nothing but get rid of him, yet you knew you could do nothing as you weren't the one who created the portal. But you tried to get to his good side.

Pathetic attempts making him roll his eyes, almost laughing. Did you really think that those spicy smelling sticks will make him like you more? Did you really think those golden colored roses will get you on his good sides? Having enough with your silliness, he finally decided to reveal himself. Not by showing you his physical appearance, but by dipping his finger through your burn, collecting your ever so sweet blood and leaving you a message on your mirror, making sure to sign it and then licking his fingers afterwards.

Opening your eyes the next day and going to your bathroom, a sight making you question if it's reality or still a dream. Blood letters covering your mirror and dripping into the counters. "Y/n, I need more than just some silly presents from you, I need more than any physical thing from you. I want your soul, I crave for your soul. Give yourself to me you'll feel so good. Demon Bakugou."

Tags

@loxbbg @lysawayne @Jolly-q @mykuronekome @luna-bloodrose

#bnha headcanons #bnha imagines #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #demon au #Demon bakugou #request

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firebirdsdaughter · 4 years

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I'm honestly not too shocked that Aruto is going to work together Gai now. He always rubbed me the wrong way when it came to his views about Humagears, esp his reaction to Raiden & Subaru. That was a huge red flag for me. Also, if he's really so concerned about the well-being of Humagears, then he should offer counseling for the destroyed & revived Humagears to deal with the trauma. But I guess that would be too much to ask. As long as they serve humans who cares about Humagears' feelings.

I def agree w/ you, he’s rubbed me the wrong way in many of the same ways.

It’s hard to believe he sees HumaGear as people when he’s all pleased w/ Raiden talking about how he’ll be decommissioned soon and even calling the two of them ‘just like real brothers.’

You know, like he keeps saying Horobi is ‘trying to be like Jin’s father.’

And don’t even get me started on ‘a caring brother can’t be a spy,’ ‘if only you had been different,’ ‘why did you hurt Izu?’ ‘I’ve never treated them differently’…

AUGH.

To me, Aruto’s ‘dream’ can be summed up in a line from a song that was cut from Frozen (ya’ll thought I’d forgotten about this, didn’t you, but no) that goes ‘It’ll be just like it was, except for we’ll be best friends.’

This got long, so I’m cutting it here. Or. I’m trying to.

He doesn’t see HumaGear as equal to people, he just wants them to stay right where they are, and ‘be happy’ there. ‘Good’ HumaGear are the ones whose development is convenient for humans. Raiden was ‘good’ when he saw no problem dying bc his ‘purpose was served,’ Naki was ‘good’ when they just wanted to support other HumaGear’s dreams as long as they were steered towards HumaGear w/ dreams of benefiting humanity, Jin is ‘good’ now bc he’s not trying to get HumaGear away from serving humans anymore and is also willing to kill his own father or due himself to do something that will benefit humans. The morality of the show has always been very much centred around humans, how HumaGear benefit humans, and HumaGear are expected to be these perfect little angels who exist to help humans and never think of themselves. Horobi is ‘bad’ bc he has resentment towards humans and has been so deeply under the Ark’s control for so long that he can’t think outside of her (esp not after being possessed) so obviously he doesn’t ‘want’ to be ‘change.’

I said it in the tags of my other post, but there’s something wrong w/ the picture when you’re holding a literally mind controlled AI who hasn’t had any concept of free will or self thought in his entire life aside from small snatches that were quickly stomped out, more accountable than a human w/ full autonomy and knowledge and power who deliberately did things that caused death and harm (and shot someone in the head). It’s not a good message. I’m supposed to feel bad for Gai bc he’s ‘sad,’ but Horobi deserves to die? I’m sorry, what?

The message has very much been ‘humans are special special and HumaGear are expendable/need to be carefully moulded into a ‘singularity’ that’s at the least convenient for humans.’ ‘Good’ HumaGear aspire only to properly serve their humans, to be like them, they are pure and angelic creatures who never feel anything ‘negative,’ and if they do, they need to be purged.

I could rant myself in circles about this for ages. I think for me, the really glaring example is Aruto’s treatment of Jin, a relationship that could have been an interesting learning experience for both of them (though, honestly, I was also hoping to see Fuwa also help Aruto realise the issues w/ his attitude, bc as he started coming down from his prejudice and aggression, Fuwa actually treated HumaGear more like equals than Aruto did, one of the many things I loved about him and Horobi as a pair), but instead ends up being a glaring example of Aruto’s… Whatever.

So Horobi has his first moment of clarity and genuinely fears for Jin, so the Ark steps in and ‘tells’ him to protect his son, so he does and it hurt, and Jin is hysterical. Izu proceeds to walk right up to the still-transformed, clearly emotionally volatile and very uninjured Jin, and announce w/ a smile that Horobi has been defeated. Jin, hysterical and lost, reacts in the only way he knows how, violently, which she should have bloody seen coming, wth. But then, Aruto is demanding to know ‘why did you hurt Izu’ like she did nothing wrong and Jin just attacked her randomly (which was a thing that could have happened and would have made his emotions make mire sense, Jin lashing out at Izu as ‘revenge’ for Horobi), and then Jin gets treated like the total bad guy. Then, on top of that, Aruto finds out during the fight that Jin doesn’t actually know what’s going on, he’s just been raised into this. Instead of immediately trying to change tactics and reason w/ him, Aruto just spews his ‘I want HumaGear and humans to smile together’ line (what does that even mean?), and when Jin rejects that, Aruto just… Gives up and says ‘if only you had been different.’ doesn’t try to prompt Jin to think about what Jin wants, what Jin is feeling, doesn’t bother to try to find out why Jin is so hysterical. It gets even worse when he quickly gains the firepower advantage and learns that Izu will be totally fine, but he still doesn’t bother trying anything else. He just kills Jin, bc… What? Jin didn’t immediately bow to his ‘love’ for HumaGear? Of course once sentence wasn’t gonna do it, he just watched humans kill his father! Aruto didn’t need to kill Jin at all, it would have been easy to disable him—alternatively, if they really wanted Jin to go down there, there were ways to do it that didn’t make it come off as Aruto quickly erasing a HumaGear for having any negative feelings or resentment towards humans, esp when you follow it w/ a scene of him and Izu being all pleased about other HumaGear ‘behaving’ themselves, and then never mention Jin again.

Fast forward, and when Jin comes back talking about wanting to free HumaGear from humans… Aruto actually asks him what he wants, finally? Then Aruto gets the boot from Hiden and decides to go to Jin for help. This should be a turning point where Jin get to properly confront Aruto about what happened and Aruto reflects on what he did, but no. Jin gets to shout a little, but then Aruto claims he never treated humans and HumaGear differently and says ‘I watched my HumaGear dad die’ and Jin just… Says nothing? doesn’t shoot back w/, ‘so did I, humans killed him.’ Then they get interrupted and Jin runs off… Only to… Rescue Izu later? But then after he does he… Grabs her hand and runs away and tries to convince her to be free? After… Literally buying his father time to reconnect to the Ark? And this is Izu? Who he stabbed? Okay… Anyway, then we have more stuff w/ poor connotations of Jin saying he ‘learned something’ from Aruto killing him and Izu ‘choosing’ to keep being Aruto’s secretary like a ‘good’ little HumaGear (her liking him and wanting to stay on his side would be one thing, but this… Esp w/ him claiming that he thought she should choose, going by his later insistence that Jin can’t take G-Pen bc he’s a human’s ‘partner’), and only then does he take a bullet for her. This apparently means something to Jin, although I feel like the implications of ‘she’s worth protecting bc she decided to keep serving humans and I killed you bc you didn’t want to do that’ should not have been lost on him (also wtf did Jin start caring about Izu?). The we have the next ep w/ aforementioned G-Pen incident which for some reason Aruto defending another HumaGear choosing to serve humans makes Jin decide to ‘believe in his dream’ or whatever. But then later the Raiden scene makes it seem like Jin was playing along bc that conversation w/ Horobi about HumaGear needing guidance to break free gave him an idea or something, I dunno, but naturally Aruto reacts like this is some huge betrayal, despite the fact that they hardly have any relationship—okay, so this friendship is something Aruto made up in his head, given his character, and apparent assumptions that all HumaGear actually adore humans, that makes sense. That could work. But then episode thirty fucking six happens. Jin apparently cares more for Yaiba, a human he’s barely interacted w/ who had yet to show any sign of no longer considering HumaGear to be tools, who had previously represented all the things Jin hated about them, then his own father. Acts all protective of her, throws himself in as a shield for her, moons about while she’s in the hospital. Then we learn he decided he trusted her (?????) enough to conspire w/ her to… Use his own father as a sacrifice to kill the Ark. Aruto seems to be more worried about Horobi, but merely yells a bit about how Horobi should ‘remember who he is by now.’ Come ep 37, Jin fucking takes a hit for miss perfect HumaGear Izu (note: aside from her grabbing the idiot ball in ep 15, my annoyance w/ Izu isn’t really something she as a character has done, it’s the way they’ve written her as the ‘pinnacle of ‘good’ HumaGear for her devotion to her human’), and tells Aruto to leave. Now that Jin is behaving in a way that benefits/is convenient for humans, though, Aruto is a like ‘oh, we totally were best buds, I was right!’ and is so worried and distressed about him, forgetting Horobi (who is so ‘bad’ for not being able to break through more than a decade of mind control! forget him, Jin must be saved!). Then we have that incredibly forced scene in 38 where Aruto tries to ‘get through to Jin’ and Jin ‘breaks through the Ark’s control bc of Aruto’ (see my draft horse pack on a shetland pony analogy) and ‘tells Aruto to kill him!’ which continues in to this ep. In which we also have… Gai. Who Aruto quickly puts effort into ‘reasoning w/’ and ‘showing the light’ bc ‘oh no he had a bad childhood’… Okay, but… You killed Jin for that, and he literally didn’t understand what he was doing. Gai had full autonomy and knowledge of his actions. People were hurt bc of both of their actions, but it’s Gai who gets a big speech and Jin who gets blown up. I said it back when it happened. If Jin had been human? I bet they would have made Aruto approach that much differently.

The fact that Aruto is willing to do all that for Gai but killed Jin, and only now considers Jin worth any effort bc Jin is behaving in a way that benefits/is convenient for humans even at the expense of HumaGear (being willing to sacrifice Horobi, even himself, to stop the Ark, while that goal is technically ultimately noble, the context gives a bad connotation), and not trying to talk HumaGear out of being subservient to humans and telling them to think for themselves, or wanting to revive a HumaGear that Aruto was content to leave deactivated bc he didn’t have a ‘use’… But Horobi only gets a few shouts and then ditched bc he ‘won’t listen’… Leaves a really bad impression.

#Anonymous #Asks #Firebird Salt #Spoilers #wow #I'm #I'm so sorry #apparently I just…#really needed to go off #sorry about that

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floret1 · 4 years

Text

FALLEN (SOUL EATER FANFIC): CHAPTER 1

THE PINK ANGEL

An hour later, the bus pulled into a parking lot and I had seen the Death City sign posted in front. A wiggle of hunger stirred in my stomach. I shifted my gaze around, almost surprised the place didn't have a high fence and a locked gate. Even after the events of practically a war months ago.

This was, after all, considered to be full of "troubled" teens.

Oh, I haven't introduced myself.

I'm A.C. Heard of me? Good. You're not suppose to anyways.

Well look. It's not, my thing, to come into this kind of world. Being surrounded by younglings whom pursue to abolish corrupted souls with their fighting abilities and magical Weapon-friends.

Anyways, back to A.C.'s first day.

While walking through the large city, I made it to a strange building with large candles, large skulls, and large spikes coming out of it. I'll give it some of my amazement, I think it's a unique architecture. I made it up the stairs and the front of the school was crowded with more human tee-....Lordie, can you say freaks?

One girl wore nothing but red -- red lipstick, red eye shadow, red pants, and a red long-sleeve shirt. Hadn't Red Riding Hood gone out of style? Where was this girl getting her fashion tips? Hadn't she read that colors are in? Like black is the new red? And then there was a boy near the front of the entrance. He had both his eyebrows pierced. There was even that one girl in the bus, her hair dyed three different colors - pink, lime green, and jet black.

They belonged together for sure. They all wore name tags that said 'Meister' or 'Weapon'.

But even in this supernatural part of the world, the stares started to grow. Not at Red Riding Hood. Not at the member of Big Hero 6. Not even Gajeel Redfox 2.0. Just ole me.

I couldn't blame them really, not everyone has long layered pink hair and blue-ish, grey eyes. But maybe that's not why they were staring at me, maybe my inhuman beauty. And I'm not being narcissistic or anything, it's just natural for my kind.

It grew distantly quiet but I didn't mind or care, I started walking into the entrance of the building and everyone murmured and murmured, getting out of my way. Whistles were heard and mouths dropped just a little, and I rolled my eyes in return.

Inside was like a great big private mansion, made of creamed-colored stone but had a line of red and black here and there. Ivy grew up one wall, and they'd let an OCD gardener have his way with the grounds. Extremely tidy.

I looked down on the map of the building that was in my hands and made it to the Shinigami's "office", called the Death Room.

Peachy.

"Hey kiddo!" The friendly voice was not welcoming in my ears, and the skull-masked creature with a cloak didn't make me laugh.

"Death" appeared as a being covered in a tattered piece of pitch black cloth with many jagged edges, decorated with a cartoony skull mask, which seems to serve the sole purpose of imitating an otherwise absent face—a means of rendering Death more humanoid and thus making him more comfortable for humans (particularly children) to communicate. He also appeared with large, foam gloved hands from his side, in which seemingly materialize.

Those enormously huge hands that could have been used more as weapons, "Good morning!

Welcome to DWMA! Today is the start of our new year, so sorry for the crowded entrance there."

“Hmph.”

"I'm guessing this is a urgent message? Enough to ask me to come to this place." I said. He chuckled a little, but my ears focused on the sound of wheels behind me.

I turned and a scientist (so it seemed) was a tall man, even by sitting on a chair, and had a handsome face. But then again....

He rolled through the long walkway and then collapsed, tripping over a crack. There was a moment of disbelief and Death must have felt the same way. Stitchy here scratched his head and stood up like nothing happened.

"Good morning Lord Death." He said and bowed to the Shinigami, I stared at him and read him like I did to the girl earlier today. Like how you would look at any person really. I looked, and then it happened again.

I call it Index Mode, when I can feel a thrill in my skin. Finding out his ability, his name, and his personality.

His most notable trait was likely the large screw-in bolt going through his head. He often turned this screw, a means to focus his thoughts or as he prepares to attack an opponent.

Another notable detail about Stein's body, as well as his clothes, are their zig-zag stitches. He has sewn stitches all over his body and clothing; even his house is covered in stitches. His most notable piece of clothing is his doctor's lab coat. He is also surprisingly well built for a man his age, due to a large portion of his time being devoted to combat training.

"Dr. Stein." I said and nodded, signaling a hello.

He looked at me with a mischievous smile, "So this is the special new student. I'm only able to see the personality and wavelength of one's soul."

"Did I miss something here?" I said and felt threatened by his conning, but the Shinigami laughed and no surprise there.

"Oh yes! We haven't made a deal did we?" He said childishly.

“Urgh, Shingamis are unbelievable.”

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. We did make one. I come here to help out with this new situation you're having and I get the benefit of having all the souls I need to hunt and eat." I said in my steely voice.

"Oh yeah!" He said and I face-palmed, "But to legally fulfill your desires, you must become a DWMA student." He said.

I sighed and crossed my arms, "Fine." I said, the Shinigami handed me a list and a rule book immediately after my approval.

"We got rules here that requires uniforms. Shibunsen has a huge variety of uniforms, you know? We let you mix and match any top or bottom, even mixing your casual clothes. Just as long as you have the DWMA emblem on you." He chuckles, "Sorry, but I guess you'll have to do school again. Well, if you ever have...haha!" He laughed quite barbarically, but I rolled my eyes in response. What else could I say to a no-brainer Death God. "Oh, and there's one more thing- "

—

Maka’s POV—

"Soul! Come on!"

“Stupid guy! He's always slacking off and can't keep up! Urgh!!!!!!”

"We're going to be late!" I exclaimed.

He regarded me calmly and silent like always. Sometimes he can be like a dark shadow come to life. Reserved yet aloof.

We made it up the stairs and all the freshman students were scurrying up and around.

"Newbies." Soul said with a grin, I grinned with him too.

"It was only a year ago, we were freshmans too." I said, feeling nostalgic.

With the city rebuilt and in order, I guess things are a whole lot better now.

"Yahoo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Look at me my future slaves! I'm going to surpass God cause I'm the one and only star...Black Star!!! MUWAHAHAHA!!!!"

A hard slap on my forehead was an effort to wake myself from believing that Black Star was up on the spikes, again.

"G-good morning Maka-chan." Tsubaki came up to me while scratching the back of her head, embarrassed about her master, "He's going at it again." She gasped when we heard a large crack.

"BLACK STAR!" Tsubaki, worried for him as always and ran towards him

"Falling off the spikes again. Nothing changed..." I said, Soul snickered and laughed a little.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?!" Kid came into the scene and was pestering with Black Star.

"Come on Soul." I said, he wasn't behind me and was joining Black Star. "Soul?! Guys!!" I stomped on the ground with frustration, "Urgh!!!"

I was ready hit someone with my textbook, but I felt a finger tap on my shoulder and I quickly turned around, Crona looked very nervous and held onto his arm.

Author Note: *rolling eyes* YES. I'm going to make Crona a boy!

"Crona! Ready for your sophomore year?" He smiles and nods as usual, but because of this year's new rule of uniforms, he wore tight pants and the boy's collar shirt and jacket. "You look great!" I exclaimed and gave him a smile, he blushed and smiled back. I rubbed his head and patted his back, he can be really cute at times.

"Hey guys. What's everyone getting all wild about? They're murmuring to each other." Liz pointed out.

"Maybe about my awesomeness!!" Black Star started leaping.

"Maybe your stupidity." I muttered.

"Shut up!" He said and pouted.

"Have you guys heard! There's a hot chick that came around this morning!" We heard someone exclaim.

"A new girl?" Soul said.

"What?! Someone is taking my spotlight!!" Black Star said.

I thought for a minute and rubbed my chin, “A new student huh?”

"9:30 A.M.: Meister and Weapon". I wrote on my planner while sitting on my row of Dr. Stein's classroom.

"Hey Soul, I wonder if that new girl is in our class." I said putting down my pen, I turned and he wasn't listening. I sighed and took out my ultimate-weapon-of-waking-up-idiots. "Maka Chop!!!" I strategically slammed my large, green book onto his head. Leaving it sizzling.

"Ow!!!! That hurts!" He said, I stuck my tongue out to make fun of him.

"Did you hear me or what?" I said, he fell onto his palm and lazily leaned on the table.

"Yeah yeah. Who knows?" He was uninterested, and did a terrible job of acting like he was paying attention.

"Have you seen the Pink Angel yet?" Some kid said.

"No, but I heard she's a sophomore! So she might be in our class!"

Some girls and boys kept talking about the new girl and made me curious.

"I haven't heard the students gossip so much since Kid's arrival." Tsubaki whispers.

"WHY WONT ANYONE TALK ABOUT ME?!" Black Star exclaims.

"Cause no one wants to." We all said in unison.

The door opens and Dr. Stein comes into the room, no one ever talks while he comes in cause, well, he's a nut-job.

"Morning class." He said with boredom and swivels on his chair with his usual, slump posture. I looked around and I didn't see anyone out of particular. New kids obviously, but not the description everyone talked about.

"Stein Sensei?" I rose my hand but he flicked his hand up first.

"I know you guys are dying to know about the new sophomore student, as I heard she already has a nickname. But she's not in this class and I don't want to hear anything else about it in front of me. This is class, not a social gossip club."

I immediately placed my hand down and everyone murmurs, “That's weird, she's a sophomore but not in this class? Doesn't she have a partner?”

—

Soul Eater POV--

"Come on Soul, it's lunch now." Maka orders me again, and I nodded and lifted my head up off the table.

"Alright-alright." I placed each hand in my pockets and walked behind Maka. She walked happily across the hallway with Black Star, Tsubaki, Kid, Lizzy, Patty, and Crona.

She was, what I call....her "temporary" good mood. She was in her favorite place in the world: class.

"I'll meet you guys later." I said, moving myself to a different hallway.

"Where's he going?" I was still able to hear Black Star because of his projectile voice.

"To the music room." Maka said and their footsteps died down.

Maka and I can't afford a piano back at the apartment, or have enough room, but whatever. I sighed and scratched the back of my head.

Music room was written lazily on the black, foggy glass door and I stopped walking when I heard a violin coming out of the room. Yeah, a violin.

It was unusual for someone to be in there, the room was vacant and I was the only who had a key to it. But I heard a violinist without an accompanist, her tone was dark and light at the same time and was actually soothing into my ears. With strong chords and a lot of minors, it was intense music with a lot of intention.

I couldn't help but lean my back agianst the door, closing my eyes. My fingers couldn't help but tap rhythms on my lap and my mind imagined a perfect piano part for the piece. I had the urge to go inside and see who was playing, but I also didn't want the music to stop.

But what the heck, I'll go in quietly.

I opened the door slowly and peeked inside the room, the song perfectly finished and the last chord echoes. Huh, it was over. Might as well see who was playing.

"Hellooooo?" I called out. When the door was completely open, I jolted back with fear as something was thrown towards me, aimed just a few inches away from my skin.

"Shit!" I turned around and a violin bow was pierced against the wall. Like a arrow, it kept vibrating from the force.

"What the hell man?!" But there was no one in front of me, or in the room.

The lights weren't on and the room look untouched, it was like no one was here.

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alchemisland · 5 years

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The Moors Mutt IV: Old Stone

Lar had set plates of milk and egg on the exterior ledge in tribute to the fae folk said to inhabit the ancient mounds. Ah, how rugged tradition. Despite innumerable era-defining events happening daily across the world, for the village of Sperrin it was just another day when the sun rose and, with luck, set again in the evening. They hadn't time for dullards in tailed suits dictating tastes, but they had still team to tend the interspecies relations their ancestors cherished. By all accounts I have heard, to spurn the giving of tributes and gifts incurs great penalty from these entities, with many a workman rising with thorns in his bed after rooting out on the old Hawthorns, which are so revered entire networks and key routeways, which I say should serve to modernise this place a bit, are diverted from their course to leave the old fairy trees in peace. Even now I puzzle at this strange practice, at the contrast between past and present evident in all things once you leave the big cities. The fae, I have since learned, are a race of otherworldy beings driven beneath the furrows as the plague of mankind spread; its boils gaping swordwounds, its pus the belch of industry, and always fatal. Thackeray's 'Sketchbook 1842' spake thusly on the practice; "Crude as their barn religion seems to the imperial beholder, there is yet intricacy in this practices and archaic wisdom therein. If a faith's claim to true institutional status is the number of adherents, there are more worshippers in these bog towns, who bear saints names, than ever had Patrick driven toward the tide." Thackeray made no mention of an egg dish though.

A scarred moggy had the scent hot on his nostrils, thought he what fine folks we to leave a sup for me. I watched him furtively take the decking and slink toward the dish. First he tapped the rim to glean what consequence he might incur, but seeing the clear craned and began to lap its contents delightedly, soaking its whiskers. Fergus thundered out the door, beelining towards the cat which he had spied through the window. He lifted a knee with all grace of rusted Talos and swung the appendage toward the hissing feline. Bold, but not careless, the moggy bailed, zipping from sight before Fergus' hobnail hit. I supposed it a tad overreactive, but when one considers the fae as a true belief system, that cat was essentially gobbling up our good faith, and I thought with another opportunity I'd have done the same.

Lar seemed smaller inside. The barframe served to deemphasize his ample stature, a kingly six foot one stood stock straight; more kingdom keep than tavern keep, and a fur mantle he wore most Heraclean. He took great stomping strides, as in a childhood tale my mother fireside imparted of a giant who wore seven league boots. His ever-bailed fists hung like cudgels by his side, two loyal hounds never stumped for purpose. In his great shadow, one felt a gratitude for civilisation; a concept voluntary for men like Lar. Every second a short man, like me, spent not being torn limb from limb by a man like him was a second lived by his decree.

I swanned to his side, eager for revelation, suddenly taken by the spirit of adventure. Not quite the long walk to the docks before an age on the high seas, for indeed the only thing Sperrin had to resemble the rippling sails of farbound triremes were the sad slanted fabric roofs in the central square still hanging from the Christmas Market, but it was no less a proud moment and a little death; the death of office and oath, of duty, of tedium; for that day I was no longer a swaddled urbanite, good only for council meetings and book reviews, I was reborn in renown; I set off toward the unknown with all the zeal of a whorebound sailor, as of old heroes had.

'Lar, a moment if I could. In the house yesterday I found a bill of sale for an old church somewhere in the demesne. Do you know it?' I asked.

'Know it? Took my first communion there. As did he.' Lar nodded toward Fergus who jostled delightedly, pulling the second of three bags across his vast flank. 'Everyone did. Before she got her toxic claws in.'

'You're joking? I didn't think to ask last night, I thought you wouldn't be interested. This is most fortuitous. Oh, lash me for assuming. What age were you when it closed?'

'After first Communion.' Lar said, concealing his question.

'I'm not Roman Catholic. Happy? My father was a man of intense private faith. Very distrustful of institutions. He encouraged us, and others, to think for ourselves, not to puzzle overmuch the mysteries of man's making.'

'That explains a lot.' said Lar, papist to the root.

'I'm no heathen.' I exhaled my irriation. 'I know my bible well as any bishop; better even. My father wanted to join the priesthood, alas it was not to be. A noble ambition, even unfulfilled. Does that satisfy your piety?'

'What stopped him?' said Lar, unsatisfied. I saw glinting around his neck a pendant freshly clad, its chain lightly linked, an effigy of holy Saint Anthony sun-crowned acentre against a gold rondure.

I shrugged my shoulders. 'Insitutions? He didn't talk about it. So enlighten me if you will; what age is Communion? Twelve - or is that Consternation?'

'It's Confirmation.' Lar spat through gritted teeth. 'Communion is the unleavened bread. Usually the ceremony takes place when the child is seven or eight.'

'Right. And Lady Sizemore, you would not deny she was a woman of means?'

Lar scoffed, loosening phlegm. 'I would not.'

'I had presumed so. Her estate is vast, her house lavish, its contents irreplaceable, its memories priceless, but she was not ostentatious in herself. Lar, I know we're out for the beast and don't worry, I still intend keeping up with the thing, but my heart is really set on figuring this church business. See, I have had cause to see her financial records, public and private. Aside from maintenance costs and the occasional queenly feast, she seemed positively a pincher of pennys, a scrimper.' When our eyes met Lar squinted suspiciously, waiting for more. 'I mean to say Lady Sizemore seemed modest despite her earnings, yet enormous costs were incurred purchasing the church and moving the cairn. I want to know why it's so special.'

'You'll soon find out. Where do you think we're going?'

'Truly? An angel. Art thou an angel? Thou art, truly. Who else so cherubim in cheek and lobe!' I nearly clicked my heels. 'How serendipitous I should inquire. Let me ask another question; what's there now?' We had slowed, each of us, in anticipation of local colour. If trips to the outdoors had purpose, twas this, tramping blind and giving life to what has passed, and perhaps in gratitude, if a higher place exists than this, the dead will bid us good fortune.

'Nothing much anymore. There's been a church on that ground since before any Bishop in Rome ever lied. The first Christians arrived, little more than farmers, armed with twisted staves. Stone by stone they built a temple for their desert god, refuse from the cold of the islands. The Gods of ancient Albion were not of the sun, blithe were they to effulgence. Came they from beneath the clod. Slithered out from eel bores and swam the narrow estuaries like boneless longships. Worshippers twisted as their idols took every chance to spurn the advances of the interlopers, but such savagery cannot be upheld. Hate is not enough. Hate is the infernal speed, the thud of knuckles, the thunder at the antler crash of rutting stags, but it is a fickle thing, a false security, sapping and parasitic. By generations, these savage men became curious. They had killed so many, sundered their doings and mocked their skygod, yet still the missionaries adhered his tenets. Perhaps, they thought, this God is some powerful thing. And with that, the spell of the old ways was broken. Already as the tribesmen made their first ginger steps up the slopes, the slopes we ourselves will ascend, the suckered whips and shadowed protrusions of the old ones retracted to the otherworld, down into the deep dells and dark delvings and the dwindling darks of earth. Came they curious and unarmed, bid the missionaries impart this wisdom worth dying for. This site was not alone chosen for its useful vantage and strategic defensive position. The arriving zealots had observed natives worshipping standing stones, more ancient than the predeluvian cultures of hyborea and Tartaria. Such megaliths were known to hold great arcane power. The priests need only convince the tribes that power was theirs, a demonstration of their gospels infallibility, done easily within a generation. Priests controlled education, taste, oversaw cultural changes, discarded blasphemous and mysterious rites. Soon the brood knew nothing of the traditions held by their forebears. An epoch of strife began.'

'Ah. So the priests came, withstood the assault and incorporated existing idols into their own pantheon? How cunning, deceitful and a tragedy I should say too.'

'All-seeing though their God was, people will always do as they please. The old ways survive unchanged, even to this day the older townsfolk meet for the mysteries. When Fergus and I were bairns enormous crowds travelled from far afield to celebrate the imbolc, until she rooted out the cairn and left the church to rack and ruin. It shouldn't have been allowed.' Lar nodded, the ire of its sundering still upon him fresh, running like new fire in his veins and I saw with each clumping step he drove the point of his boot into the soft ground, like a knight's lance in a fallen pikeman's back, spending his annoyance in this manner.

When I saw his shoulders raise with tension lifted and gait restored, I probed further. 'Do you know the priest?'

'Er - yes. Tarbuck I think his name was.'

'What about Talbot - as in Talbot Church?'

Lar raised a suspicious brow, like a furtive otter arching from the swell, they were thin, brown and sleek, I'd say manicured if I didn't know him better, but I suppose I did not know him well at all. His mouth began to turn and I watched him, trying to clear my mind in anticipation of inquest. At last he spoke most considered, rising to be heard over Fergus' hyucking. 'Yes I suppose that sounds right. Talbot. Couldn't tell you more. Why are you asking if you already know? If I didn't know better, I'd say you're withholding information, partner.'

'You wouldn't believe me if I told you.' What could I tell him? That I had seen a faceless priest with mucky vestments out for a midnight walk? Where did I see him? Funny you should ask, in bed. In bed? Well, yes. I was in bed, but my mind was to the church called be the peal of silent bells. No, it was best to withhold until I knew more, and still all this time there was the beast, presumably furious at having been picked second.

I was met with silence. More space came between us. Knowing Lar and Fergus would soon disappear from sight, I was forced to shout over the wind, 'Why did she move the Cairn?'

Lar shrugged again. True to his word, he could not tell more than that. 'Winter.'

I had thought much since waking from the dream, about the church and lady Sizemore, about the familiar priest and the sympathetic plight implied in his step and dimmed blue eyes. I had forgotten much of the dream's stark imagery. Only this impression of the man burying his secrets and his spade daubed in clay remained. I found most curious the cairn's relocation. Lar had not seemed confident imparting the reason for its transfer, that Lady Sizemore was told the house wouldn't stand another winter despite having done so two hundred years; to me, that seemed a spurious motive and something worth inquiry.

Dawnflame pulsed in seductive ruby, splintering to a prism that dazzled in its royal array, from bold scarlet to princely vermilion, and in that sanguine bank we found hopeful portent. Other larks stirred from roadside redoubts to wave passage. Husbandmen mostly, any whose labours were bound to the rueful star's whim. Breaking from the road we made for pasture, cutting due Northwest across the plain. Dawn's jewels, stars of morning which are night's silver sisters, sundered underfoot, brittle things past season returning to aether.

Lar and Fergus scouted ahead, rudely parading superior vigour. They whispered among themselves. Fifty years old the pair of them, they still moved like Herne the hunter through all terrains. Fergus gave credence to the theory empty vessels howl loudest, guffawing at every ribaldry Lar conjured from the sewer he called a brain. With spare breath I might have cursed them, but my fury came a decliate whisper, peeling like nighttime bells; loudly and to no one. I wished barren the bellies of the sows that held them.

Ego as engine, for a furious mile I kept pace, propelled solely by a need for petty victory. Predictably, for those bones had long been cast, I quickly slowed back to a sad trudge, slower than my previous languid pace.

Themselves ramblers taking long walks for leisure, Lar and Fergus waited at each fence feigning to check their watches, teasing with so many rests between arrivals a man might never tire. Gladly I obliged, quipping Aesop's lessons were lost to them. What else had I but meek agreement. Nod and smile, chaste to make a Roman wife blush, icily injecting scorn where possible unnoticed.

At length the naked path yielded to thick woodland more typical of the region. We pushed through the system of unbowed oaks, which cast snake haired shadows where light could penetrate. Further the branches enclosed to a dome, stealing our brave shadows. Little rest we took in the maze's darkest sectors. Badger, fox and mole strode brazen, unfamiliar and unafraid. At the helm, Lar thought himself Alexander in Hanyson, immortal thirst his guiding star. I remembered how ended that tale.

How hard it seemed rising after only a moment stilled. How quickly a hard-earned graceful step replaced by rhythmless clomping. It was not until several minutes treading passed that semblance of form returned, and soon after, the next reluctant stop, the mossy bank where last we halted still visible shortly behind.

For a time there was sun. Golden fire, faint and pale beyond a tattered veil. The aperture seized before our eyes until only A crescent of light remained, the golden torc of Ulaid.

This terse land existed long before man's dominion and would reign unchanged in the wake of our expiry. Here she gave no quarter. Gaia dressed for war in all her plate. All twisted briar and stinging barbs, long tunnels of night giving to treacherous muddy groves where a man might be taken by the bog and the old things therein.

'Where in jezebel's saucehole are we?" I planted myself. Thought I of Ephialtes leading Persians through the pass, cursed by the gods to wear his inner treachery outwardly.

Fergus deferred to Lar's judgement. Solomon-like, Lar waved our wagons halted. He tossed the empty skins to Fergus. 'Fill these' he said, miming drinking.

While the Giant fetched pales Lar prodded the scant briar. 'Say Lar.' He bid me sit upon a raised bank.

'You look like shit.'

'Not so bad yourself' I wheezed. 'Truly do we have to go so fast? Is it so far we can't mosey, even just for a mile? I've done walking but this is hoplite stuff.'

'Deal.' Lar wanted to sit but he didn't. He stood, knees taxed, breath compromised, but he stood. Nothing to prove and still at attention. One could not deny his character.

We watched Fergus' return, arms extended like some horror out of Jotunheim. Wet cloth clung to his forearms like setting plaster, arousing suspicions he had endured some minor aquatic tragedy. My dry mouth prevented inquiry. I snatched the skin and quaffed generously, muttering thanks. Quite unsympathetically, I had to force myself not to ask 'Water we going to do now?' or comment that it was growing colder the further we went up, in fact 'ri-very cold.'

I produced a flask. Cursed with muteness, Fergus could not explain what manner of calamity had befallen him. Louder his teeth clacked. A mirror pool formed about his feet, spreading wider until he stood aft a glass plinth. I offered a lash. The whiskey shot fire through his veins. His eyes bulged as the water of life reignited the dampened kindling of his passions.

Lar, hitherto predisposed with watering of a different sort, emerged fastening his trousers and immediately noted something awry. He lifted his chin an inch, gave us the once over and bounded towards Fergus. He took a clump of wet tweed and squeezed until it wept through his clenched fist. 'Christ. What happened?'

Lar claimed little of Fergus remained. A friendly shade of what once he was. He assured me what others perceived as emotion was mere instinct. Nerves and twitches, mimicked gestures. Still I swore he had recognised his own foolishness at having fallen into the stream. How shyly he stared to his feet, if only for one moment of divine clarity.

Lar was concerned about Fergus' garments. Wet clothes would spell disaster for the burgeoning expedition. I offered my scarf. Lar followed suit. Like a freed condemned, he slipped the coarse rag from around his own neck. Flattened parallel, they formed a hugging shawl around his sodden shoulders. Gently, by degrees, we warmed Fergus. He took another swig from the flask. In his gargantuan hands, fingers like rolling pins splayed across its scratched surface, the flask appeared little more than a doll's trinket.

Upon imbibing the second drop, revelling its minor anaesthetic quality, his cheeks flashed pink, rouge to blush a whore. When great cities crumbled and ancient wisdoms were lost, when mankind regressed to a baser form, bestial and philistine, beloved of ignorance, the denizens of ancient Ireland had brewed this potent potable, and on its warmth resisted the great debasement. Fire exhumed ice in his veins. The fire of life; the fire of the elixir I had given him, which of old the anointed ones consumed seeking arcane knowledge, devolving their mind to its primal state, therein discovering secrets lost to time.

Ahead the vanguard, Lar spied him first. A shambling form moving quick through the trees. With a limp wave he halted us. Behind we mimed his stoop. On haunches he held the order with a trembling hand, for which we never blamed him. Everyone had reached the same conclusion; the beast was upon us. We had wished without proper consideration. Now our twisted desire was made flesh. From the underworld the beast reeking of acrid smoke had clawed, toxic miasma from the foundries of hell in heady tendrils about its paws.

Gradually the amorphous form revealed contours most corporeal; those of an older man, sweeping towards us at a markedly unsupernatural pace. He moved furtively, shoulders raised to his ears protectively, eyes deep set and impatient. Closer he came until he stood before us on the crest of a mossy embankment. He stood still for address, unsure if we were brigands, bounty hunters or worse. He cast a long glance over each of us in turn, tracing our brows, testing the mettle behind our eyes, down the chest to the navel, to our stained feet and upward again. He shoved a letter into his pocket and I saw on his ringfinger he wore an enormous golden signet, though I could not discern any detail in the dimness.

With his green gillet stained polkadot and wild sideburns adjoining beard and hair, he appeared more victorian eccentric than hiker. I soon learned that his name was Dalliard, a local with roots deeper than those from which his wiry gruaig sprang, a mad albino nest atop his wisened head. He spoke with a thick lilt, a strange medley of gaelic and slang, almost saxon sounding if I didn't know the name Dalliard wasn't Northon. He was assuredly a kill-your-son-and-live-with-your-wife-in silence-for-twenty-years-over-the-lend-of-a-spade type.

Beneath his snowy bristles lay zit red cheeks. I imagined his mouth when it moved as a bubbling postule, his tongue glorious pus emerging like a curious worm's head. As he elbowed past I caught his eye, or rather disturbed him rudely staring. Next I wondered whether the creases on his brow were newly formed, ever present or mere projections of my exhausted, possibly delirious state. No, unmistakably this Dalliard recognised me. Something he saw worried him. Probably some pervert up to no good in the old churchyard, worried we would stumble upon his vile derelictions. Perhaps some looter of antiquities, wondering if I'm here for the same. All this passed in a moment, soon he was long passed and speaking overshoulder.

'Up ahead' he panted, mopping his brow with an overworked handkerchief, 'it levels out. Push on. No more'n a mile. If the kirkyard is left, you've got it. If it steepens again, ye've strayed.'

'The light fades quick. Careful on your way. Don't dally.' Lar called after sardonically.

Emboldened by closeness we came on fast to devour the remaining track, leaping from ledge to mossy shelf with educated precision like trained fleas. How quickly one became accustomed to difficulty; it was not hard to see how we proliferated across every inch of the globe, until even the secret and sacred places of the world were sullied by our refuse; their tranquility strangled by our inanities. Without fire to christen me, mine had been a baptism by stone. Keeping in pace, I turned to Lar and Fergus. 'Know that Dalliard chap well, do you?'

'We don't send cards at Christmas. Lives on the other side of the valley. Different schools, different everything, same parish. Posh eccentric sort. Had some affiliations with the good lady. Why? I'm sure he'd love to take a lovely lass like you for a stew any evening of the year.' Lar bellowed.

'No, it's nothing. Curious

is all. Seemed a bit sketchy to me. Is he all there?'

'Oh yes, quite. Seemed sensible the few times we chanced to meet. Put it from your mind. We're almost there. I've thought of a question all of my own, fancy that, what's your name?'

'Aha.' I smiled. 'I thought you'd never ask.'

'Thought you'd never tell.' Lar smiled, for once unteasingly.

'It's Bastable.' I answered with surprising pride.

'What Bastable?' Lar asked.

'Mr. Bastable will suffice, thank you.'

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