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kintatsujo · 3 years

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LOZ AU- The Courage of Running Away PART ONE

warnings: Parental abuse, fantasy religion, fantasy religious abuse

So the original grain of this concept was actually a dream I had once but we'll get to that.

A major aspect of this idea that makes it an "AU" as opposed to "just" a "game pitch as fanfic" concept is that it has a worldmap that looks something like this:

[Image Description: A map of a continent. In the center is Gerudo Desert, ringed by mountains that extend from the bottom to top of the continent. On the west side of Gerudo Desert, from north to south, are countries labeled "Termina," "Holodrum," and "Labrynna," while on the east side are countries labeled "Hytopia," "Hyrule" and "Lorule." Hytopia is indicated to be a sky island above a territory labeled "Drablands." Hyrule and Termina are more directly east and west of one another, as the Drablands are the northernmost country of the continent and Labrynna is the southernmost country. There is an indication of another continent to the east, and off the eastern shore is a sky island labeled "Sky Temple." To the south of Labrynna is a proper island labeled "Windfish Isle." There is a legend in the upper left corner that reads "Really generalized AU map. Proportions not to be taken too seriously and most of the sky islands besides Hytopia just aren't there because it would get too busy." End Description.]

Lorule as a physical country to the south of Hyrule rather than a mirror version of Hyrule is because I am weak for dumb puns. Also in general you can describe this as "this is my AU and I do what I want."

Also the map of Hyrule itself in this AU should be considered to be heavily similar to the Breath of the Wild map because that's what I want shh. Does this mean the other countries are similar in scope despite being based on countries from earlier and smaller games? Well, yeah.

I actually tried out making this worldmap in RPGMaker btw but to get something I was happy with I'd at LEAST need a nicer worldmap tileset for MZ. Do I have the skills to make that? Yep. Have I got the time to make that? Nope.

Anyway so as noted there's actually a NUMBER of floating sky islands in this version of the setting, and its version of Link was raised here, in the sky temple monastery/commune/abbey don't look at me:

[Image description: A floating island with a round temple, some sort of pillars arranged in a circle, and a few other buildings, one of which might be a dormitory. The temple has a statue of the Triforce nested in Hylia's wings on the roof. End description.]

A couple notes here since it's the only good place: In this Hyrule there are Loftwings because I said so. There is also a Rito run mail service and there are also balloon-based airships. Again, because I said so. The Rito are the main people who run supplies to the Sky Temple, but there's also a number of hylians with bonded Loftwings living there. The Loftwings are a little less mysterious in that they clearly roost nearby riders they've bonded with; note the large archways kind of indicated on the side of the dorm building. Link, at this point in the story, does not have a Loftwing, which is important for reasons that will become clear by the end of this post. Also, I'm not sure how obvious it is but I do intend that there's a cucoo/chicken coop set up near the dorm; this is for the eggs but the monk or whatever in charge of them is definitely a crazy bird person and probably also keeps messenger pigeons. There would also be a garden somewhere and as one can possibly tell there's a graveyard. Basically this Sky Temple is what I thought Skyloft was going to be a little more like until I found out it was literally a Boarding School Town. Anyway.

The thing is that this Link was discovered to be the Hero of the age sometime in his infancy.

And this is the person who discovered him:

[Image description: On one half of the page is an establishing shot of a hylian man in blue and white (light gray) robes and a hat, with long hair in a braid and graying at the temples. He's approximately middle aged by the lines in his face, tall and slender and moderately attractive. He is wearing heavy gold diamond shaped earrings to match the symbols of Hylia and the Triforce on his clothing. He is frowning, and he is labeled "Astramorus." On the other half of the page are a series of comic panels: In the first, a young Link is hiding from a Rito behind Astramorus's cloak. Astramorus asks, apparently fondly, "Come now boy, where's your courage?" while the Rito sheepishly assures him "Th-that's quite all right, Lordship." In the second panel, a very small Link dressed in the Hero of Hylia's traditional green outfit is wiping his eyes while holding a sword too large for him. There is blood on Link's clothes. Astramorus, standing so that only the hem of his robes are in shot, asks "Come now boy, where's your courage?" And in the last panel, lit as though by fire, Astramorus now has a much older Link by the back of the neck in a controlling manner, once again asking, "Come now boy, where's your COURAGE?" End description.]

By the way the manner in which Astramorus is holding the back of Link's neck in the final panel is a sneaky thing my dad used to pull sometimes; basically if you squeeze just hard enough to hurt nobody but the person you're doing it to can actually tell so you can even do it in public without people necessarily noticing. It took me ages to go "wait that was actually really fucked up that he used to do that." Shoulder touch is good, neck touch bad.

A note on Astramorus's costume: It's basically an evil version of the costume worn by the priestly guy from the Sanctuary in alttp. Astramorus himself, well, I had the idea for him well before Age of Calamity came out but yes he is basically named after Aster, so you can guess that he's more than just a terrible father.

Astramorus has been training Link since he could lift his sword, including trials he should have been too small for and acquiring things for him to fight-- and kill. Link isn't allowed to speak to anyone unless asked questions or told to by Astramorus, not even the other members of the monastery (although perhaps many of the people there have taken their own vows of silence.)

And he's not allowed to have opinions, and he's not allowed to back down in a fight or say that he's too tired to keep training, and this has been going on since Link was six. Astramorus tells him this is the ideal. That never backing down and never stopping is what courage means and what being the hero means. That starting from a young age is only proof of the hero's purity of heart.

And when Link is nearing seventeen, Astramorus tells him that he's going to present him to the royal family of Hyrule, and that at last the HARD part will truly begin. (Keeping in mind that he was putting a six year old through trials MEANT for a seventeen year old.) And Link breaks:

[Image Description: A comic. Link is putting together a paraglider not dissimilar to the one from BotW.

He narrates: Tomorrow we're supposed to set out so that I can meet the king of Hyrule. Which means that this is my last chance to run away.

Link grinds his classic hat into the ground with one boot, and leaves his sword stabbed into the earth behind him. He leaps off the sky island and toward the sun on the horizon.

Link narrates: I don't care if this is cowardly anymore.

End description.]

And THAT one page is what the dream that started the concept was about; some people might remember me talking about it as long as three years ago and it's just been stuck in my head ever since! (Also: I love the idea of there being a Link who starts out wearing the classic outfit and THEN switches to other costumes.)

This is obviously not the end of this AU, lol, stay tuned for where Link finally crash lands (spoiler: He makes it pretty far and you might be able to guess from the map >:3c)

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

Bonus:

[Image description: A headshot flat color sketch of this Link, who has short fluffy light blonde hair and green eyes. He is yelling, with tears in his eyes: "I am NEVER wearing that STUPID hat again!" End description!]

#Loz au: the courage of running away #au august #my art #Loz #Loz au #legend of zelda

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years

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@ ygritte hate post. In broad strokes, we agree Jon and Sansa are on parallel journeys, there is also plenty of parallels between Hound's sexual assault night with Jon and Ygritte (steel kiss, hand on face, and so on). (1/3)

Then Jon gets into it at the water pool, that is his "unkiss", no doubt. Notice though, the details about him getting riled up by sex red hair, she saying she is half-fish, debating fucking your own sister. I'm forgetting stuff of course. I'm sure that chapter is rife with that. (2/3)

Jonsa fans have speculated over Unkiss being a cover for another kiss (always with the cousins, the blood and fire cloak, and so forth). It could be that cave means much the same for him. Like said they are on parallel journeys and there's all those throwbacks to each other. (3/3)

So like Sansa, Jon is repressing something there. Something that happened in the winterfell pools. Bran remembers bathing with his sisters, but unlike Bran (who did saw OSHA getting out of one in that segment), Jon saw something that was a revelation. Like Florian when he saw Jonquil bathing with her sisters. Something red and then wanted to kiss, not downstairs but upstairs. Maybe he did... and maybe Ned caught him at it, because he later dreams of being caught there being innapropriate. (4/3)

In the dream he screams he will never father a abstard, he hates being one for they are lustful creatures born of lust and lies. Like lusting after their sisters. Its not like he is a Targaryen! Distraught, Jon decides to prove his nature wrong. He is not a deviant because he is a bastard lusting after his sister! So he decides to go to the Nights Watch, where he'll be chaste ever. Maybe. Kind of creepy but funny. It all comes together too, all those tidbits that are otherwise scattered. (5/3)

PS: Six maidens in the pool... Six Stark children. Not seven for once either way. And so Jon says in the show "we should have never left Winterfell" because it echoes the We shouldn't have left the cave. And Jon says they'll go back and Yggrite yaps You Know Nothing, but he was right. Jon will go back with the real redhead Sansa, back to Winterfell real pools. (6/3)

Thank you!! This ask really sent my brain whirring.

I already like the idea of the Unkiss drawing from a repressed memory, but I hadn’t noticed how the Ygritte memory-edit might interlock with that.

We have this confirmation that they were fairly natural and relaxed about nudity among children:

"Might be there isn't." She grinned. "What are you staring at, boy? Never seen a woman before?"

"I have so." Bran had bathed with his sisters hundreds of times and he'd seen serving women in the hot pools too. Osha looked different, though, hard and sharp instead of soft and curvy. Her legs were all sinew, her breasts flat as two empty purses. "You've got a lot of scars." (ACOK, Bran II)

Hundreds of times. We know Sansa associated hot water in a bath with Winterfell.

The hot water made her think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that. She had not washed since the day her father died, and she was startled at how filthy the water became. (AGOT, Sansa VI)

So does Jon:

It was short walk to the bathhouse, where he took a cold plunge to wash the sweat off and soaked in a hot stone tub. The warmth took some of the ache from his muscles and made him think of Winterfell's muddy pools, steaming and bubbling in the godswood. Winterfell, he thought. (ASOS, Jon XII)

Then we have the image of the Water Gardens.

It was Daenerys who filled the gardens with laughing children. Her own children at the start, but later the sons and daughters of lords and landed knights were brought in to be companions to the boys and girls of princely blood. And one summer's day when it was scorching hot, she took pity on the children of her grooms and cooks and serving men and invited them to use the pools and fountains too, a tradition that has endured till this day." (…)

As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection.

(ADWD, The Watcher)

And we know that the children of all ranks played together in the godswood, too.

He had watched wistfully while the Walders contested with Turnip the cook's boy and Joseth's girls Bandy and Shyra. The Walders had decreed that Bran should be the judge and decide whether or not people had said "Mayhaps," but as soon as they started playing they forgot all about him.

The shouts and splashes soon drew others: Palla the kennel girl, Cayn's boy Calon, TomToo whose father Fat Tom had died with Bran's father at King's Landing. Before very long, every one of them was soaked and muddy. Palla was brown from head to heel, with moss in her hair, breathless from laughter. Bran had not heard so much laughing since the night the bloody raven came. (ACOK, Bran I)

It’s fair to conclude that the Jon and the Starklings may indeed have not just played but also bathed together in the godswood.

There is an interesting association with Maidenpool, which is tied to the romance of Florian and Jonquil.

At Maidenpool, Lord Mooton's red salmon still flew above the castle on its hill, but the town walls were deserted, the gates smashed, half the homes and shops burned or plundered. They saw nothing living but a few feral dogs that went slinking away at the sound of their approach. The pool from which the town took its name, where legend said that Florian the Fool had first glimpsed Jonquil bathing with her sisters, was so choked with rotting corpses that the water had turned into a murky grey-green soup.

Jaime took one look and burst into song. "Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool . . ."

"What are you doing?" Brienne demanded.

"Singing. 'Six Maids in a Pool,' I'm sure you've heard it. And shy little maids they were, too. Rather like you. Though somewhat prettier, I'll warrant."

(ASOS, Jaime III)

Jonquil bathed with ther sisters, when Florian first glimpsed her.

The pool becomes filthy and spoiled. Like Sansa’s bathwater, but also like the muddy Winterfell pools. Choked with corpses?

When the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father's face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn't, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night's Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she whispered, her skin dissolving in the hot water, the flesh beneath sloughing off her bones until only skull and skeleton remained, and the pool bubbled thick and red. (ASOS, Jon VI)

The memory edit and the switch toward “love” in the cave is mirrored in this rather defiant dream, that recalls the pools at home, his father’s watching face, but also the laughter at home in the godswood. A pool in a sacred place spoiled with death.

A memory spoiled by trauma.

Dany, who I would argue is a character strongly foreshadowed in Ygritte, has her own association with sacred pools.

They rode to the lake the Dothraki called the Womb of the World, surrounded by a fringe of reeds, its water still and calm. A thousand thousand years ago, Jhiqui told her, the first man had emerged from its depths, riding upon the back of the first horse.

The procession waited on the grassy shore as Dany stripped and let her soiled clothing fall to the ground. Naked, she stepped gingerly into the water. Irri said the lake had no bottom, but Dany felt soft mud squishing between her toes as she pushed through the tall reeds. The moon floated on the still black waters, shattering and re-forming as her ripples washed over it. Goose pimples rose on her pale skin as the coldness crept up her thighs and kissed her lower lips. The stallion's blood had dried on her hands and around her mouth. Dany cupped her fingers and lifted the sacred waters over her head, cleansing herself and the child inside her while the khal and the others looked on. (AGOT, Daenerys V)

This recalls Ygritte in the pools and Sansa in her filthy bath. But the presence of the blood of a horse slaughtered for her to eat its heart, the presence of the Stallion that Mounts the World, the prophecy and the things we know comes after... all that is ominous and the kiss of the cold is unlikely to be tender.

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it," he declared. "Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it."

"Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

"A steel kiss," said Littlefinger. (AGOT, Eddard VIII)

or..

But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,

and a bite sharp and cold as a leech. (ASOS, Jon I)

or...

Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold. (ASOS, Catelyn VII)

The layers in this…

Anyway, there’s foreshadowing to Dany in the Ygritte mess, but it’s not exactly happy, while the Sansa connections in there tend to be positive. Sweet and foul all mixed up.

Sansa “remembering” the Unkiss in relation to kissing children (Margaery’s Girls, Sweetrobin) and with “awful” memories (Myranda’s wedding night) has that same air of mixing something rotten with something that had been perhaps sweet but confusing. I.e. covering a traumatic event with something else.

Then there’s another interesting association with the incest peach.

As she sat in the common room in her stupid girl clothes, Arya remembered what Syrio Forel had told her, the trick of looking and seeing what was there. When she looked, she saw more serving wenches than any inn could want, and most of them young and comely. And come evenfall, lots of men started coming and going at the Peach. They did not linger long in the common room, not even when Tom took out his woodharp and began to sing "Six Maids in a Pool." The wooden steps were old and steep, and creaked something fierce whenever one of the men took a girl upstairs. "I bet this is a brothel," she whispered to Gendry.

(ASOS, Arya V)

Right after this they meet Gendry’s half-sister Bella, a “peach” at the Peach.

“I’m named Bella,” the girl told Gendry. “For the battle. I bet I could ring your bell, too. You want to?”

“No,” he said gruffly.

“I bet you do.” She ran a hand along his arm. “I don’t cost nothing to friends of Thoros and the lightning lord.”

“No, I said.” Gendry rose abruptly and stalked away from the table out into the night.

Bella turned to Arya. “Don’t he like girls?”

While the bell recalls Dany, we should remember that

Sansa plays “the high harp and the bells” (AGOT, Arya I)

“Bella” translates to Beauty

this scene is an unsubtle shout-out to Jon stalking out of the welcoming feast after Benjen teased him about fathering bastards and knowing a woman. After calling Sansa radiant. (AGOT, Jon I)

So the Dany hints are joined by the Sansa hints. The Dany hints are negative (bells = battle), the Sansa ones positive (bells = music). Why are the Sansa hints there at all?

Before anyone goes “Jonrya!”, remember:

For half a heartbeat she forgot who she was supposed to be. She wasn't any peach, but she couldn't be Arya Stark either, not here with some smelly drunk she did not know. "I'm . . ."

"She's my sister." Gendry put a heavy hand on the old man's shoulder, and squeezed. "Leave her be." (ASOS, Arya V)

Arya is not a peach, she is a sister. Little sister.

And there’s this:

He liked the deep, sweet ache it left in the muscles afterward. He liked the way the air tasted way up high, sweet and cold as a winter peach. He liked the birds: the crows in the broken tower, the tiny little sparrows that nested in cracks between the stones, the ancient owl that slept in the dusty loft above the old armory. Bran knew them all. (AGOT, Bran II)

Jon only tastes the cold when silver-haired Val tastes sweetness in the air, but way up high the winter peach makes the air taste sweet, too.

"Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones." (ACOK, Daenerys II)

But foul smells might cover sweet ones, too. The Unkiss covers a bitter trauma, but perhaps it was drawn from a more innocent kiss in the past.

The naked red-haired girl by the water might trigger a rewrite of Jon’s perception of Ygritte, but it might draw that from a different kind of confusion, surrounding the same memories that feed Sansa’s editing.

The godswood is certainly a stage for kissing:

As she stood there, all the memories came flooding back to her. Her father had taught her to ride amongst these trees, and that was the elm that Edmure had fallen from when he broke his arm, and over there, beneath that bower, she and Lysa had played at kissing with Petyr.

She had not thought of that in years. How young they all had been — she no older than Sansa, Lysa younger than Arya, and Petyr younger still, yet eager. The girls had traded him between them, serious and giggling by turns. (…)

Robb got to his feet slowly and sheathed his sword, and Catelyn found herself wondering whether her son had ever kissed a girl in the godswood. Surely he must have. (AGOT, Catelyn XI)

Memories that flood back, young children, innocent games that have consequences much later on, a specific Connection drawn to the Starklings and the Winterfell godswood.

More kissing:

"I won't! I saw you kissing in the snow. She's just like her mother. Catelyn kissed you in the godswood, but she never meant it, she never wanted you. (ASOS, Sansa VII)

and yet more...

Theon Greyjoy was no stranger to this godswood. He had played here as a boy, skipping stones across the cold black pool beneath the weirwood, hiding his treasures in the bole of an ancient oak, stalking squirrels with a bow he made himself. Later, older, he had soaked his bruises in the hot springs after many a session in the yard with Robb and Jory and Jon Snow. In amongst these chestnuts and elms and soldier pines he had found secret places where he could hide when he wanted to be alone. The first time he had ever kissed a girl had been here. Later, a different girl had made a man of him upon a ragged quilt in the shade of that tall grey-green sentinel. (ADWD, The Prince of Winterfell)

Starklings, kissing and the hot springs all in a paragraph.

I would say there is material here. If GRRM wants to write about Sansa and Jon sharing a memory that involves the hot springs, kissing and references to Florian and Jonquil, he will have planted the hints. It would certainly be a bit poetic if both of them used the same memory soup to create their trauma responses.

Before anyone tries to accuse me of hypocrisy when it comes to age gaps, abuse etc. I do not think this was a case of Jon perving on his young sister. Cat was 12 when she played kissing games with a much younger Petyr and Lysa, and I don’t think we are supposed to consider this a threesome. It’s child’s play. That’s my angle here.

#jon snow #sansa stark #unkiss #anti-ygritte #kissing games #hot springs #pre-canon jonsa #mismemory #jonsa #asoiaf

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hit-me-with-a-ladle · 3 years

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This is Ch.2 for my creepypasta story.

Now this is the second chapter to my story and its description can be found in my blog, i manly update on wattpad does i still will be putting these chapters on tumblr (not as frequently doe :/). so yeah have fun and hope u like it.

A sharp pain was the first thing felt by the girl the moment she woke up from her coma. Laying on a dirty, ruined couch, she put a hand on her head and softly groaned. At that moment she heard the light murmur of male-sounding voices near her and tensed up. She was confused and dazed. She didn't know where she was or why she was there. Not knowing what to say or do she just overheard their conversation, hoping they wouldn't notice she was awake.

" I-I don't know what the-they were thin-king, bringing a young h-human girl to be the next middle-m-man. A-a-are the elite becoming that desper-des-desperate?" One of the men said. He sounded considerably young, around eighteen years old. The boy appeared to have a stutter. His voice was also soft, almost sounding more like a whisper than anything else though still audible. ' What is he talking about?' The girl thought to herself, her train of thought was abruptly stopped by another voice speaking up.

"I don't think it's smart to doubt the elite's decision Toby, even so, she seems to hold some attributes required in a middleman." A monotone voice spoke. A soft "yeah" was soon hear from one of the men and it sounded forced. Then a bone-chilling chuckle came from the same monotone man. "What's so funny?" One of the men spat, their voice was deep and husky. "Well if you must know," The other man said sounding amused "It's kind of funny that out of all of us you should know just how capable she is." He rudely remarked snickering. The other man seemed to growl under his breath "Wasn't she the one that knocked you down and stabbed you in the leg?" The monotone man finally said in a provocative tone.

"Well, now you're just begging me to kick your ass." The irritated man spoke in anger and stood up but promptly cringed from the shooting pain from the injury to his leg and sat down. "I'd like to see you try," The monotone man replayed amused by his comrade's actions. The irritated man was about to say something when another voice spoke up, "Can you guys stop fighting already, I mean there's an unconscious girl in the living room that we have to prepare for her inevitable death." A boy said, he also sounded young similar to the first man, but this time his voice was much louder and sounded naval.

When overhearing what the boy said, she loudly gasped in shock without thinking, that seemed to catch the men's attention and they quickly went quiet. The atmosphere was so tense you could cut it with a knife. An awkward and unbearable silence fell upon everyone. But soon it was ended by the rattling of chairs getting put aside and the pattering of loud footsteps approaching the room she was in. Not knowing what to do, panic was the only thing she could feel at that moment. As she laid there, not moving a muscle the first that spoke was the man in a white mask.

"So now you choose to wake up? Took you long enough." He said to her annoyed, she looked at his masked face and then looked around the room. It seemed to be a log cabin by the walls being constructed from wood, and by the general look of it, it was pretty big. The couch she was on was in a rather rough shape, and right across from it was a scratched up wooden coffee table. Then she noticed one of the men resting on an armchair in a similar state as the couch she was on. He seemed to be looking right at her, though it was hard to tell from the blue mask that covered his face.

"Where am I? And who are you, people?" The girl spoke in a harsh tone trying to seem strong, though, in reality, she was terrified, and the men appeared to notice. "Aren't you a snarky one? But don't try to act tough or else." The man in the feminine mask said boredly. "Now, as for who we are, my name is Timothy Wright, but you will call me Masky." He hardly spoke while pointing to himself. The girl scanned him from head to toe and noticed that one of his legs was wrapped in a now blood-stained bandage. 'Did I hurt him that badly? Well serves him right.' She thought while glaring at him. "That guy over there," He continued and pointing to the tall man sitting on the armchair with his legs crossed, "Is Jack or as he's better known, Eyeless Jack." The man, named Jack nodded his head in her direction. "That shorty over there." This time he pointed to a short boy whit blond hear leaning on the door frame to the room, "Is Benjamin Lawman or Ben Drowned." Ben waved at her and smiled, but the smile was more creepy than anything else. "And lastly," Masky said while pointing to a boy with orange-tinted goggles " That's Tobias Erin Rogers or Ticci Toby." The boy then spoke up, "Ju-just call me T-toby."

"You're in your new home." He emphasised. "Here you will live till the day you die. Now, as for your purpose, you have been assigned the role of a middleman from now on." He said while looking at her dead in the eyes. "You're kidding, right? Is this some sick joke? A middleman? What even is that? You must be insane if you think I'll believe you." She responded hysterically while frowned and glaring at the man even harder than before and crossed her arms. "Oh, but you will, you don't have a chose in the matter." The masked man responded, looking at the girl sternly, he then sighed "I guess I should explain your new job shouldn't I." What he said sounded more like a statement than a question, and he carried on explaining.

"You will be the middleman of this forest," He said while pointing to the windows and sure enough, on the outside, there was a forest ' How didn't I notice that before?' The girl asked herself. "You have the job as negotiator, judge, executioner, errand boy and among some other things. But that won't be as easy as it sounds, because in this forest reside evil monster, creatures, demons, killers and different mythical being. Things that you humans thought were only in legends and tales." He said that as if he'd said it a million time before and continued "Now, we four were ordered," He moved to point around the room, gesturing to the men. "To get you and bring you here. So in the range of the next six months, we can teach you everything you need to know about being a middleman and how to do it right. At the end of those six months, you will go thru a four-stage test that will prove just how much you have learned, but if you were to fail, you will get executed. Do you understand?" He finally finished while looking at her and tilted his head. The girl was baffled and couldn't believe what she heard, better said she didn't want to believe it.

"You can't be serious right? I mean do you expect me to accept everything you just said as fact" The girl protested while immediately standing, "I don't know who you think you are, but I'm certainly not staying here any longer." And as she was about to head for the door, Jack suddenly spoke up. "And where will you go? You don't have any clue where you even are. Do you think you can just go out of this forest like that? Well, I'm sorry for ruining your parade, but that's not going to happen." He responded to her in his usual bored voice that seemed to be laced in a thin veil of sarcasm. 'He has a point,' She thought while looking at him. 'But it can't be that hard to leave a forest, right?' She reassured herself. "Oh, and another thing, this isn't a normal forest. No, it's a portal between the human world and underworld." He smirked through his mask when he noticed the girls face turn pale, "Though it doesn't look like it, you are in a branch of hell, and the only way to get to the human world is by knowing where the portal is, and we certainly won't be telling you of its location anytime soon." He remarked this time in a way that was much more malicious, almost seeming like he wanted to make her mad or provoke her.

But the girl didn't budge 'Is what he's saying true? I hope it's not, but I can't afford not believing him.' Still not moving from the place she was standing, she glanced down, "Why me?" She said, defeated. Those two words seemed to catch the men off gourd. " W-well," The boy named Toby spoke up. "You we-were chosen b-b-by the Elite." He said softly. "Who are the elite? And what do you mean by they "chose me"." The girl was quick to ask. "The El-elite are four o-o-of the strongest creatures in the underworld, they are the on-ones that choose the midd-middlemen for every branch and reg-ion of hell." Toby said, "We were als-also told m-m-many thi-things about you, your n-n-ame, hobbies, what you aspired to b-be, your dark-est secret, and mu-much more." He finished. "Better said we know everything bout you, Y/N." The boy named Ben stated calmly while smiling. Hearing her name come out o his mouth sent shivers down her spine.

The girl collapsed on the couch in defeat and put her arms to her head, 'Is everything that they're saying genuine? It can't be, can it?' She was in a state of dread and didn't want to belive what they were saying. 'I need to calm down, there has to be a way out of here somehow, and I'll find it.' She kept reassuring herself." Now, as I was saying, we four will be teaching you everything you need to know," Masky spoke up again with his hands behind his back." Your room is upstairs to the left. You should get as much sleep as possible we will start training tomorrow at nine-thirty am," He said while looking into the girl's eyes, "Do NOT be late, or else." He finished while going near the front door of the cabin, "Oh, and don't even try to escape, someone will be standing guard to make sure you don't." And with that, he and everyone else left. She was left alone whit her thoughts in the empty cabin,

'I should go and check out my room shouldn't I, maybe I'll find a way out.' and with that, she went upstairs.

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ethospathoslogan · 4 years

Text

there will come a poet: chapter one (a vampire sanders sides fanfiction)

A/N: thank you all for the feedback on the prologue!! it all made me even more excited than i already was to post this first chapter :’) if you liked this, please considering liking/commenting/reblogging!!

summary: The vines, chains so tightly braided together that the knights of the Hartt Kingdom could neither slash them open nor burn them down, began to twist, and shift, and press inwards, and press outwards, and weave and unweave and tangle and shiver and, ultimately, open.

The Wall of Vine and Thorn, impenetrable for a century, had opened up a hole six feet tall, and just wide enough for a person to step through.

Patton, without hesitation, stepped through.

ships: eventual moxiety and logince

WC: 5,271

content: light injuries, light blood

read on ao3

read the prologue / next chapter

taglist: @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute , @glitchybina

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A twig crunched underneath Patton’s foot, and he tried not to startle too much.

It was silly of him to be so scared. He knew that there were worse things to be found in the Twisted Wood than a few misplaced branches.

Or maybe it wasn’t silly of him to be so scared, because he knew what lurked further in.

At least, he had been taught what lied ahead, but…

He shook his head, his curls bouncing with the movement, and pressed forward. It was barely dawn, the sunlight just beginning to look down through the darkened canopy. To stay and dilly-dally would only give those back at the palace more time to realize he was missing.

And it would only give him more time to think about turning back.

But… turn back to what?

(It also gave him more time to feel guilty about leaving Logan behind, but Patton would rather spend hours thinking about the route he could take back to the palace before he spent a minute thinking about his magical advisor, his best friend, sleeping within the palace walls, unknowing to Patton’s empty bed in the next room over.)

Patton swallowed thickly and forced his feet forward, one step after another, one breaking twig after another.

Besides, at least if he kept walking, he didn’t have to think about how tired he was. He just… he just had to keep thinking about the journey he was on! Just like in the stories he had read before! All those stories about dashing princes, riding in on noble steeds, sword at their hip! They… they had to mean something!

Right?

Well, Patton had no armor, no sword, and no horse, but he liked to believe that he could make do with his blue cloak, unused dagger, and the most comfortable shoes he owned.

Another branch snapped underneath his foot. A bird cawed overhead, and Patton looked up to find a crow perched on a branch not too far ahead. He tried to ignore the chill running down his spine as the crow cawed again, shooting its song up into the canopy, before turning its dark gaze onto him.

“H-Hello, birdie,” Patton stammered quietly, forcing a smile on his face. If he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that he was just being polite, and that the nerves in his chest weren’t bubbling into rambling. “What’cha- what’cha doing out here so early?”

The crow tilted his head left, right, and when Patton crunched another branch under his foot, flew away.

“Okay,” Patton said, mostly to himself, and ducked his head, watching his feet as he walked.

He wondered if the Twisted Wood was so unsettling because of the history stooped in it, or if it was just because it was called the “Twisted Wood.” A simple title change could do the forest a lot of good.

Patton would know.

He was, after all, Prince Patton, son of Titus Hartt, the Iron King. Titus the Great, or Titus the Valiant, or even Titus, Patton’s dad, would have had a different ring.

So the Twisted Wood could have instead been the Winding Woodlands, or the Vast Meadows, or the Guiding Grove, or just… The Forest. A forest. Doesn’t even have to have a title!

Patton sighed and, looking up, readjusted his glasses.

He just hoped he was going the right way, though he had a feeling that a wall of thorns standing a mile high would be pretty hard to miss.

Maybe that meant that they could see him from miles away, too. Whatever “they” were.

Okay, Patton knew what they were, but- but what if there was nothing there? What if it was all just a scary story told to princes to stop them from going and looking for themselves? No undead, no beasts, no monsters, just- just a vacant clearing! And then Patton could laugh and turn around and skip right back through the forest that was no longer scary! And maybe he could even sneak back into the palace without being seen, and then he could tell Logan this story that they would laugh at for the rest of the day!

Except-

Patton slowed his step and looked up through the leaves, the dull sunlight glinting off his glasses.

Except he didn’t know if he would be laughing.

He didn’t know what he was looking for. Not really. He just…

Something had to be better than nothing, right?

He was given enough time— just enough time —to debate that when, in the distance, the tall, thick trees began to blend in with the background, forming a wall of twigs and green- and Patton’s stomach dropped out of him when he realized that, after over two hours of walking, he had reached the heart of the forest.

Just like the legends always said, the Wall of Vine and Thorn stretched farther out than Patton could see. The Anguine Kingdom was rumored to remain inside, and the only reason it was rumor instead of fact was because no one actually knew what was left inside. Not since the barricade went up one hundred years ago.

(Patton had checked the date before he left, and today was actually the first day of the hundredth and first year.)

As Patton pushed himself forward, he could see more and more of the true… greatness of the Wall. It stretched upwards as if, one day, the vines could eventually reach out and touch the sky, but what he found himself even more amazed by were the trees that surrounded it. Almost like they had adjusted themselves to fit their new scenery, the trees closer and closer to the wall had grown, too: their trunks wider than Patton could reach around, their leaves blocking out the sun and, most curious of all, the trees bent towards the Wall. The branches and leaves all leaned over, and Patton could only imagine that they met in the middle.

He had heard legend that the Anguine Kingdom was thrown into eternal darkness the moment the barrier went up, but to see it in person…

He was close enough now that, if he just reached out, he could touch the vines thicker than his torso, or the thorns as long as his forearm.

Keeping his hands close to his chest, he took a step forward.

“H-Hello?” he called out, hoping his voice reached whatever was past the vines. “I- I don’t know if you can hear me? Or… or if there’s anyone there to hear me? But… I’m from the Hartt Kingdom. And I know what everyone… says about this place. About the princes. But I… I just want to know…”

He trailed off.

What did he want to know?

He had left the palace with an abstract desire and, if he was being honest, he had hoped that his subconscious would think of a question for him.

“It can’t be that bad, right?” Patton finally asked. “Whoever you are can’t be that bad, right?”

The moment the words left his mouth, it felt like a stupid thing to ask, like a child’s question.

But he… he needed to know.

For a moment, everything was silent.

On the second moment, Patton shifted and winced when he snapped another twig beneath his foot.

And, just when he was ready to shake his head and turn around, chastising himself for really thinking that he could get an answer, the vines shifted.

The vines, chains so tightly braided together that the knights of the Hartt Kingdom could neither slash them open nor burn them down, began to twist, and shift, and press inwards, and press outwards, and weave and unweave and tangle and shiver and, ultimately, open.

The Wall of Vine and Thorn, impenetrable for a century, had opened up a hole six feet tall, and just wide enough for a person to step through.

Patton, without hesitation, stepped through.

He had been right: the trees met in the middle to block out the sun, and the slivers that burst through never made it to the ground.

If he squinted, though, he could still manage to see enough.

And what he saw was… the Anguine Kingdom. In the early morning air, it was still. Ivy crawled up the buildings, choking them out through the windows and the chimneys. The forest floor had long overcome whatever stone or wood once laid, dulled by footsteps from a time long ago. Craning his head up at a bird’s song, Patton watched as a dark shadow swooped among the leaves, startling them only for a moment before they resumed their hold above the remains. And, as Patton’s gaze shifted downward, he could make out the dark spire of a castle— the castle—looming in the distance. Patton watched it for a moment, and a moment longer, and made out no flashes, no shadows, no figures moving past the peaked windows.

It was hard to imagine the kingdom harboring monsters for over a century when it was this… peaceful.

He let his feet carry him forward, trudging carefully through the overgrown weeds and bramble. It was only when he heard a shifting, a slithering, behind him that he looked back and, to his sudden horror, found that the opening in the vines was beginning to close.

“Wait!” he shouted out without thinking and, his feet nearly catching on the brush below, sprinted. It was, at most, with his short legs, twenty paces, but when he reached the Wall, the vines had already sewn themselves back together and, skidding to a poor halt and tripping, Patton hissed as his left palm sliced open on one of the thorns and his knees crashed to the ground.

Instinctively, he whimpered in pain before squeezing his eyes shut, willing back any sudden tears at the sharp pain that sprung throughout his hand. Pulling his hand away from where it pressed into the ground, he grimaced at the gash running from the base of his middle finger to the heel of his palm, and did his best to ignore the streak of blood dripping down his wrist.

“Well...” His voice, quiet, only petered out more as he looked back up at the barrier. “Oh no.”

Patton, for a moment, tried to decide which would be worse: the monsters were real and he was stuck with them, or the legends were fake and Patton was stuck alone in the graveyard kingdom.

At the sound of running footsteps behind him, his anxiety decided for him that being trapped with something was much worse than being trapped with nothing.

And, as Patton whipped around and scurried backwards, daring the thorns to piece his back, for the first time that morning, he regretted leaving the castle.

“Remus, what is all this-”

And Patton watched as, around the corner of the nearest building, a figure cloaked in black came bounding towards him.

It took a moment for Patton to place him. In legends, in paintings, in story books, he was always signified by his eyes: one untouched, one ruined. Some depicted it as gashed, others depicted it as glassy. Some chose not to depict it at all, instead leaving him with a gaping, black hole. That one was the one that scared Patton the most as a child.

Instead, though, the eldest brother, staring down at Patton on the ground before him with his one brown eye, had a black patch over the other.

And Patton, with his blue eyes, stared back up.

The eldest brother held his gaze for a moment in pure astonishment. Perhaps he, too, was not able to process exactly what he was seeing in front of him.

And then, all Patton had time to process was the anger twisting on his face before he was being yanked up by his collar by gloved yellow hands, his face now mere inches from the eldest brother’s.

“What-” His voice, gripping with malice, ripped through Patton and sent his body into a tremble “-are you doing here?”

“I- I-”

All he could focus on were the fangs where canines should have been.

That, and how close they were to Patton.

“How did you get in here?” The brother hissed, his grip tightening. “Answer me!”

“I- I don’t know!” Patton cried out. He couldn’t tell if it was tears or sweat streaking down his face (or both).

“What do you mean-” And the brother yanked him closer “-You. Don’t. Know?”

“They let me in! They let me in!” Patton rushed out, gripping the brother’s wrists with his hands as if he even had a fraction of the power he needed to deter him. “The vines! They- they opened!”

“They-?” The brother’s face was only twisted in confusion for a moment before he stilled. His one eye, which up until then had never left Patton’s, darted to his right hand, which Patton was clutching desperately with his left.

Together, they watched as blood seeped through the brother’s yellow glove.

A scream barely caught in Patton’s throat as the pupil of the brother’s eye became a slit, his fangs bared, and-

And he threw Patton back to the ground.

“You shouldn’t be here!” The brother growled, ripping off his stained glove.

“I can’t- I just-”

“You just what?” The brother shouted. It could’ve just been Patton’s nerves, but he swore the canopy above them shook.

To say that he just wanted to know felt… wrong.

“I can’t get back out,” he whispered.

The brother turned his steely gaze from Patton to the vines.

“You can’t,” he repeated, “get back out.”

Patton shook his head but, for the first time, the eldest brother’s attention was elsewhere; as if he was in a trance, he stepped forward, past Patton, and put a hand to the barrier of foliage.

“Who are you?” the brother asked quietly. It was the calmest Patton had seen him yet.

“P-Patton.”

“Patton what?”

The answer caught in his throat as the legend flickered through his mind, and it was only when the brother’s eye flicked to him again that Patton was able to force out:

“Hartt. Patton Hartt. Of the- of the Hartt Kingdom.”

The eldest brother, for just a moment, froze.

And then he began to laugh, and he kept laughing, and it chilled Patton to his core. It was bitter and pained and, ultimately, seething.

“Wonderful!” He managed between his manic laughter. “Another one of you! After a hundred years! Fantastic!”

“I’m not here to-”

“Well, might as well make yourself at home!” The brother reached down and, grabbing Patton’s uninjured hand with his still-gloved one, yanked him up. “Since it seems like a Hartt is here to- to-” He cut himself off with another bark of laughter.

“I don’t know what you’re-!”

“And of course this is how it happens!” The brother’s grip tightened on his hand as he dragged him along and Patton, wincing, struggled against him. “Why should I have expected anything different? How foolish of me when-”

“You’re hurting me!” Patton cried out, yanking back against his grip, and the brother froze.

His grip on Patton’s hand loosened and then, eventually, dropped.

“I- I’m-” The brother sighed and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Apologies.” He then continued walking, this time without Patton tugged along. “My brothers… will want to know about this. You.”

Patton nodded, the fear and the curiosity making an uneasy coil in his gut, and, keeping his hands pressed close to his chest, followed slowly behind.

The stone steps to the castle swirled lazily up, drawing large circles around the overgrown courtyard. It made Patton nauseous to look down, but it made his knees tremble to look at the large, wooden door at the top, a tattered orange tapestry hanging above.

Overall, if Patton had to be honest, he wasn’t having a great time.

When they reached the double doors, the eldest brother took one last look at Patton, his eye narrowed, before he huffed and pushed the door open.

“Welcome,” he said, “to the Anguine Castle.”

Patton, when he stepped through the threshold, could not help but marvel at the site before him. The Hartt Castle, steeped in white marble and silver, seemed dull in comparison, even if the room in front of him was still drenched in darkness. Rich, red curtains hung closed before the windows. Dark wooden flooring stretched out, only stopping when met with the black, bricked walls. Accents of gold bespeckled themselves throughout the parlor, found in the decorations seated on the end-tables, in the frames holding aged portraits, in the bases of the unlit oil lamps on the wall. The room had a chill and Patton wished he brought something heavier than his cloak but, even for just this moment, he could not be bothered.

“Wow,” he breathed, looking around. Now choosing to marvel at the grand staircase leading up (and up and up and up) to the second floor, he watched as the eldest brother walked briskly to the foot of it.

“Roman! Virgil!” He called, his voice carrying through the chamber. “Get down here! Now!”

With a quick turn, he began flipping the switches of the oil lamps, each one turning on with a burst of flame before settling into a flickering calm. As they did, however, Patton noticed the light catching something on the brother’s hand and, as his eyes finally focused, he couldn’t help but stare at the scales encroaching upon the top of his hand and fingers, curling inwards to his palm.

Patton averted his gaze when the brother turned back to him, but from the way his brown eye was fixed on him, he blushed at the realization that he had been caught.

Before he could stammer out something that would either embarrass him further or send him to an early grave, a figure began to descend down the shadowed staircase.

“Janus, what the fuck is-”

Having stopped, frozen at the foot of the staircase, Patton was able to get a good look at their new guest (well, technically, he was the guest). He wore a simple black outfit similar to the eldest brother’s— Janus’s —except without the yellow accents. He stared at Patton—who couldn’t help but take note of his gaunt features and dark circles pressed under his eyes—and flicked his dark brown hair out of his eyes, as if that would make the scene in front of him any different.

“Is Remus home?” Janus asked.

“Janus, what the fuck-” His voice then broke off as his eyes flicked to Patton’s hand and widened, and that was when Patton became aware of the drying blood down his left hand and forearm “-What the fuck did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Janus snapped. “So Virgil, answer my question, is Remus home?”

Virgil, lost for words, shook his head.

“Good,” Janus said. “I need you to take care of him, then.”

“How did- Who- What the fuck-?”

“Yes, I know,” Janus bit. “Apparently the wall opened up for him!” He then looked back at Patton, who sheepishly smiled, before back to Virgil. “His name is Patton Hartt.”

Patton tried to ignore how harshly he said that last part.

Virgil’s jaw, dropping just enough to reveal his own fangs, stared at his brother before shooting to Patton. He faltered a couple times before finally managing out, “Hartt?”

“Yes, Hartt,” Janus repeated. “Now, take care of him, while I-”

“I- wait, why do I-”

“Because I have things to do!” Janus shouted, throwing his hands up. “I need to- where is Roman?”

“You think I’m gonna be the one to get him up?”

Janus growled low in his throat and pushed his way past Virgil. “The fucking-” He whipped his head back over his shoulder to stare down Virgil “-Virgil, take care of him. Be smart.”

Patton watched as Janus ascended the stairs before turning his gaze to Virgil, who still stared at him, dumbstruck.

He was suddenly aware that “take care of him” could have a wildly different meaning here.

“I- I-” Virgil stammered “I have so many questions.”

“Me too,” Patton whispered.

“I-” Virgil eyed his injured hand again and swallowed thickly, turning his head sharply away. After a moment, he sucked in a breath and released it before turning back and, finally, stepping off the landing.

As he approached, Patton couldn’t help but stumble backwards, and Virgil held up his hands, slowing his step.

“I- I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured. It was the softest voice Patton had heard that day. “Just…” He looked over his shoulder before back at Patton. “Did he hurt you?”

Patton shook his head. “Not- no.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow.

“He was really scary,” Patton admitted. “But I- I tripped.” He showed Virgil his hand again, but when Virgil quickly shifted his gaze, he pulled it back against his chest.

Virgil sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, Janus isn’t really one for good first impressions.” Then, after a hesitation, he eyed Patton’s hand again. “But he wasn’t being… threatening when he said to take care of you. You have to get that wrapped up or- or something.”

“And you’re going to help me?” Patton asked.

Virgil shrugged. “Apparently.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Patton offered him a faint smile. Virgil averted his gaze again. “Are you bothered by…?”

“Not as much as some will be,” Virgil said with a chuckle, though there was little humor in it.

Patton, gut twisting, chewed his bottom lip.

Virgil caught his worried look and sighed. “Look- sorry, we just-” He broke off again and shook his head. “Just… follow me.”

He waved Patton down the hall to his right and, a few paces behind, he followed as Virgil switched on oil lamps as they passed by. They illuminated more portraits, those of men and women and families throughout the years, though all dressed in fashion that Patton hadn’t seen before. At least, not outside of the old portraits in his own palace.

The question on the tip of his tongue was soon answered for, as they entered into a dining hall, his eyes immediately fell upon the large portrait on the opposite wall.

Having only seen the King and his four sons drawn in storybooks, to see them human… it was unsettling. The King, his name lost with his perishing, sat upon his throne, orange cushions supported by what could have only been gold. Wearing a hard look on his face, Patton couldn’t help but let a chill run down his spine. Janus, his dark brown hair styled neatly and both eyes staring out at Patton, shadowed him. His hands, folded and unscaled, rested on the back of the throne, and, starkly different from the man he just met, his lips curled up in a smirk, paired with an arched eyebrow. To his right was Virgil, the same dark brown hair styled messily but, even from where Patton stood, he could see that his brown eyes had life in them. He looked more alive, his cheeks fuller and his skin blushed with pink, all put together with a small smile.

Then, on the opposite side, stood two red-heads. The second son and his duplicate, Patton could assume, though it felt insensitive to say it now. The one standing closest to Janus wore a beaming grin, his head tilted every so slightly. His hair was styled so closely to perfection, Patton wondered if it was artistic intent or reality. The twin to his left, identical to the twin to his right in all but the mustache, stared out and grinned, though something about it seemed much more… frantic. His red hair would have been perfect as well if not for a stray curl here or a fly-away there (again, Patton found himself wondering if it was reality or intent).

“So you’re the youngest brother,” Patton commented without even thinking.

Only after a long hesitation did Virgil say, “Yes?”

Patton blushed as Virgil motioned for him to take a seat at the dining table.

(Patton noted that it looked like it hadn’t been used in quite some time.)

“Sorry, sorry,” Patton said quickly. “It’s just-” He huffed and looked away as Virgil began rummaging through the drawers and cabinets. “We’re… taught… legends.”

Virgil let out another humorless laugh. “Can’t even bother to learn our names, huh?”

Patton decided to shift in his seat instead of saying anything more.

After a couple silent, tense minutes passed, Virgil finally pulled a roll of cloth out of the back of a drawer and dropped it in front of Patton on the table. “Sorry it took so long. We don’t get many… injuries.”

“It’s fine,” Patton whispered.

He watched as Virgil took a pot from another cabinet and filled it with water from the faucet. He must have shown some type of confusion on his face for Virgil explained, “We, uh- there’s a spring we managed to trap in here with us. The castle’s been connected to it for, well… centuries.”

Patton nodded. “Oh.”

Virgil sat a couple chairs away from him as Patton, carefully, started to clean the cut on his hand.

After a couple more minutes of silence, Virgil sighed and said, “Look, I’m sorry about the name comment.”

Patton, looking up, furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re sorry?” he asked. “I’m sorry! It was- it was rude of me to say that, and-” He faltered as Virgil raised an eyebrow. He sighed and shook his head. “I know what the legends say. We could’ve… we could’ve at least kept your names.”

Virgil stared at him for a moment, and Patton realized that there was no way of telling the difference between his pupils and the color of his eyes.

Finally, Virgil broke his stare and turned to look at the portrait. “Who are we?” he asked. “In your legend.”

Patton swallowed thickly and, with his uninjured hand, pointed first at the King. “The King.” Then to Janus, “His eldest son.” He hesitated when pointing to the twins, but finally stopped on the beaming one, “His second son.” He hesitated even longer when pointing to the other twin, “The… the duplicate.” Then, finally, he moved to Virgil. “His youngest son.”

Virgil nodded, staring at the portrait. Finally, he pointed as well. “Livius. Dead. Janus. You met him. Roman. Here, but I’m not gonna be the one that wakes him. Remus. Don’t let him hear you call him that. Me. In the flesh.”

“How old were you all?” Patton asked quietly.

“Does it matter?” Even as Patton focused on cleaning off his cut, he could feel Virgil staring.

“Perhaps not,” he murmured.

Another moment of silence.

“Shit, I’m not good at this,” Virgil huffed, and Patton lifted his eyes just in time to see Virgil drag his hand through his hair. “We were, uh- Janus was twenty-seven. Roman and Remus were… twenty-three. And I was twenty-two.” He shifted in his seat. “The kingdom fell a year later.”

Patton nodded. He didn’t know what to say to that. Anything he could think of felt… useless.

It was history. He couldn’t change that.

“And the vines really… let you in?” Virgil asked when Patton finally tied off his cut with one of the remaining bandages. Patton couldn’t even tell if he was scared anymore, but he still figured it wouldn’t be… wise to leave it just out in the open.

Patton looked up when Virgil said that, and Virgil, quickly, averted his gaze once more.

“They did,” he answered with a soft laugh and a sheepish smile. “I just… I spoke to them? And a little… doorway opened up.”

Virgil turned back to him, his eyebrows furrowed. “You spoke to them?”

Patton blushed. “Y-Yes, it was silly, I guess, but-”

“What did you say?” Virgil pressed, leaning forward on his elbows. Even from a couple seats away, Patton could feel his intensity.

With those dark eyes on him, it was as if Virgil was seeing through him.

“That it can’t be that bad,” he finally answered, his voice barely a whisper. “That… you all can’t be that bad.”

Virgil held his stare for a moment longer, and Patton felt like he was drowning in it.

And then, Virgil, with a dry laugh and a shake of his head, leaned back. “Well… shit. You really must be a good person, huh?”

Before Patton could even begin to question him, from down the hall and back in the parlor room, both their heads turned to the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

“I had just gotten into a much needed rest,” a voice was narrating—announcing?—as they came down the steps. “Something that a man of my caliber so greatly needs-” And he was coming down the hall “-Only to be so rudely interrupted by our cruel older brother because-”

And then, in the doorway, stood Roman, the second son. Donning the same grin in the portrait before him, completing his look with the same neatly styled hair and white button down (not buttoned all the way, the collar rumpled) tucked into black pants, he eyed Patton before finally meeting his eyes.

“Apparently-” And Roman cocked his head “-there is another prince in our home!”

“Uh, yes- yes!” Patton stammered as Roman sauntered over, taking the seat in between him and Virgil. “Patton- Patton Hartt!”

He stuck out his hand and Roman, adding a raised eyebrow to his look, took it with a hand chilled to the touch.

“Prince Roman Anguine,” he said, his brown eyes passing over Patton’s face once more. “Charmed.”

From behind him, Virgil rolled his eyes. Leaning forward, he fixed where Roman’s collar curled up.

Roman, in a movement faster than Patton could comprehend, smacked Virgil’s hand away. “It’s stylistic intent, Virgil,” he bit, the grin having slipped off his face. “I would be the one to know it.”

Still, though, he adjusted his collar.

Virgil’s glare hardened as he leaned back in his seat. “Is that what you’re calling it, Ro?”

Roman, ignoring him, turned back to Patton and put back on his grin. “Apologies for that,” he said, laughing. “Just some gentle ribbing among brothers.”

“Uh-huh,” Patton said quickly, nodding. He was partially unconvinced and partially intimidated.

“If you two are done-” Patton had to grip the arms of his chair to stop himself from jumping out of his skin as Janus appeared in the doorway “-Roman, where’s Remus?”

Roman, pulling a face, waved a hand flippantly. “How would I know?” he asked. “I’m not his keeper.”

Janus, shutting his eye for a moment, huffed before looking at Roman again. “And you have no clue where he might go?”

Roman scoffed. “You think he tells me anything?” he asked. “I’m lucky to know when he’s going! Besides, why does it matter?”

Both Janus and Virgil pointed to Patton, who blushed as Roman’s eyes shot to him, his lips forming a small o.

“Oh right,” he breathed out, nodding. “Right. Human.”

“Exactly,” Janus said, looking at Patton.

Patton then realized that all of them were looking at him.

“We don’t want…” Janus said slowly, as if he was choosing his words carefully, “To be caught off guard… when Remus returns.”

Next to him, Roman shifted in his seat.

“So,” Janus continued, “It would be best to make sure that Patton is not… left to his own devices when Remus-”

And, with that, all four startled at the sound of two heavy doors crashing into walls.

“Dear brothers!” A voice boomed through the castle. “Hope I’m not waking anyone! We all know how the dead can be!”

“Well,” Roman said, his eyes flicking to Patton and then Janus. “Found Remus.”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #stuff i write #it feels weird only tagging patton and virgil when janus and roman are there too #but i gotta play into tumblr's tagging system #vampire au 2.0 #i should really get a better tag for this askjdsjksd

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buirbaby · 3 years

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The Wardens: An Unlikely Ally

Notes: Benjen Stark is a bit of a fun project for me. There's not much on him given his disappearances in the books, which means he'll be a fun canon to have join along the saga who really didn't have the chance to shine through. I know this might draw questions about Coldhands and so forth, but it's never actually confirmed that that IS Benjen.

Rating: M + Mature content, language, and violence

Masterlist | First | Next

The last thing he saw was a shadow swooping down from the sky and knocking the Other away from him. Afterward, everything was disjunct, muddled, and out of order. The woman, Tabitha was it?-she'd grabbed him and put him on some sort of mount. They had fled. How, he could not say, but he could remember the fierce burning of fiery eyes, hidden beneath the midnight cowl of the female as she'd glared at him earlier. There seemed to be quite a few things that Benjen had not seen before that night, to include wights, an Other, and a woman with eyes of fire. A blazing beacon amongst the frozen boughs of the haunted forest.

Then everything went dark and the pain ebbed away. He was floating in an abyss, nothing and everything at once. It took him a while to realize that he was dead and that there was no afterlife as the Seven preached, just an emptiness in which he conscious could float within and wonder if the woman had survived.

There would be no answers here, just eternal gripes and curiosities.

Until the darkness was juxtaposed by a flame, burning and twisting like serpentine tongues. Erring close, Benjen could see within the writhing fire, three dragons sailing overhead, toward Westeros. Death, war, famine, misery. But the dragons were not the worst of it, just a part of the machinations as the undead stole one, wielding it against their master and destroying the wall to unleash the unholy army upon the unsuspecting. No one knew that they were real. They were wetnurses' tales.

When he reached out to grab the vision, he gasped, the fire consuming his flesh and burning him. No, not burning as it should. He could feel each nerve, muscle, and fiber of his being twinging back into existence. Death had come for him, but a flaming hand had gripped and pulled him from perdition.

The ambivalence of the void faded and as he turned over where he laid, he heard voices in the distance.

"Were you told to bring him here?" he did not know this voice, but it chilled him to the bone, so youthful and yet scarred by the wisdom of centuries.

"I did what I felt was right," it was the fire-eyed woman, Tabitha. "It does not matter. He has died regardless of my help. Just as-"

"Just as intended?" the other filled in.

"I don't know! It was never confirmed, there were only theories," she hissed.

"Do you hear that?"

Only the crackling of the hearth in front of Benjen filled his ears with noise.

"No, Fang-"

But the companion had departed, leaving the woman huffing in frustration. Her footsteps drew nearer and she passed in front of the hearth, lean shoulders framed by the light as she had put away her cloak within the warmth of the room.

"What do you think, Balerion?" she spoke to another, a great shadow unfurling and tensing his heart. The creature that had knocked the Other back came into hazy focus, a thick lion's mane of feathers and fur encircling an enormous eagle's face, intelligent eyes glistening with the same bright flames as the woman who commanded him. After a moment of silence, she shook her head. "We probably won't be able to stay here much longer. Not with the Others marching. Who knows how far behind the Night King is."

"How do you know so much about them?" Benjen spoke hoarsely, his voice sounding as if he hadn't used it in days.

The both of them jumped, Tabitha whirling with her hand on her sword as she gazed down intently where he was laying. "How the fuck- " she started, interrupted only by the slapping of barefeet against stone. Turning a corner, the other voice's visage came into view, and Benjen was shocked into silence once again, staring at a boy of legend. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so startled, but clutched in his tawny arms was a miniature version of the griffin that had fluffed up indignantly. Only the feathers of the fledgling was grey dappled with black.

"Another Warden has been born," he declared, feline eyes turning toward Benjen.

"Fang, that doesn't even make sense. How could he have been..." but she didn't finish her question, dark brows snaring together. "You're still Benjen Stark, aren't you?"

He didn't understand the question, but decided to humor her. "Yes."

"I am not here to explain how things work," Fang scowled. "He has been reborn as a Warden. That means he's been given insight."

"I should get back to the Wall. If what I saw was true, I need to warn everyone," Benjen decided, sitting up and pulling back the cloak that had been strewn over him.

"Your watch ended, Warden. You died and were reborn," the creature, Fang, asserted.

"I still have a duty to Westeros, to my people-"

"Tell me, Stark, what is it you're going to tell everyone that will make them believe you?" Tabitha inquired, leaning against the forge, so that he was able to really observe the woman's face. She did not look or sound Westerosi. If anything, he thought she appeared more Dornish, despite lacking their accent. Her skin was a faded olive from missing the warmth of the sun this far north, her bright eyes framed by dark lashes, and her lips curved in a mocking manner. Dark brown hair had been shorn to fall thick and straight to her collar, parted in the middle and slightly wavy from being pressed beneath a hood. There was a roguish charm to her, nothing quite soft and dainty or willowy as most men preferred in a lady, but this woman was no flower. She had wielded a sword well enough and was tall and lean. Perhaps comely could be used to describe her, the symmetry of her face, but her eyes were also haunting.

"The Others are real and that-" he was going to express his knowledge of the dragons, that they would be coming to Westeros and that there would be war and strife, juxtaposed by the fact that the long night was looming on the horizon. Yet, as he tried to put this knowledge to word, he found himself choking on air, his voice failing him.

"That's what I thought," she remarked smugly, lifting the hand she'd injured during the fight, which was now bound. "Whatever you know, you won't be able to verbalize it. One of the Wardens' most redeeming features. For everything we know, our words shall not serve us, our actions must."

"I can warn them of the Others at the very least," he groused.

"Can you? If you return to Castle Black, they will not understand your rebirth or your need to leave on a moment's notice. We are slaves to the will of the one who saved us, the Lord of Light, R'hllor. Would it not be better for you to be thought to be dead than to have to abandon your post when the Lord of Light commands it?" Tabitha challenged.

"I don't serve this Lord of Light," Benjen rejected, shaking his head.

"Then you'd be dead. It was He who revived you. Are the words not ' Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death '? Your watch has ended and a new one has begun," Tabitha stood up, pacing the length of the room to retrieve supplies from an alcove in the stone.

"Not as if I was given the choice to make an oath in this circumstance," Benjen grimaced, wondering what else would be expected of him as a 'Warden'.

"Don't sound so thrilled. I wasn't given a choice either. Burned to death and woke up here with Balerion," she jerked her thumb over toward the magnificent beast. "Trust me, it doesn't make much sense, but I've just learned to stop questioning it. Here, you must be starving-" she returned with a waterskin, jerky, and black bread. Sitting nearby, she placed her elbows on her knees and hunched forward.

"Burned to death?" Benjen considered, glancing over her once again. "This Lord of Light really knows how to pick his champions, hm?"

The woman snickered. "I didn't feel it. Was unconscious from the smoke beforehand," her eyes flickered over toward Fang. "But this little welp is yours, just as Balerion is my partner. A Warden is a guide, a keeper of knowledge, and wargs-" The griffin was set on the floor as she continued to explain their plight, waiting on the Lord of Light to task them with their duty before sending them on the holy mission to aid in altering the future. While she spoke, the young creature, no larger than a house cat, stumbled on weak feet and tumbled unceremoniously before him, head too heavy for the rest of its tiny body.

He could not deny that there seemed to be a connection between them, the excitement palpable and rolling of the griffin in waves. The features of the little one were unlike the large obsidian one across the room, lacking the immense mane. Rather, his fur was thicker, the plumage of his feathers not as defined or prominent. In a way, the griffin had more canine features, a thick tail, and broader ear tufts.

The Wardens themselves were a rather ambiguous group, something he'd never heard of and yet here he sat with one and their griffin. Had it not been for his own revival from death and the mythical beast pawing at his leg, he might've scoffed at the information being passed over to him. One oath down and a new job set before him, Benjen resigned himself to the fact that his life was eternally destined to be interlaced with servitude. Only now, the complexities of magic and the fantastic had their own roles to play. Everything he'd thought was little more than old wive's tales, turning out to hold substance. Even the legend of the Children of the Forest was worth its salt, Fang erring near the entrance of the warm hearth room as Tabitha explained that their days were numbered.

Finally, the short being departed, leaving just the Wardens and their partners in the room. By now, the griffin had found its way into his lap and had curled up, wrapping its tail around its talons. "They won't do us much good against dragons, but so far I don't regret having Balerion by my side. We wouldn't have made it out of the haunted forest without him."

Dragons. His interest piqued, wondering how much she knew about the topic. "Dragons are dead, aren't they?"

"For now, give it a few more months' time-" Tabitha snorted, brows snaring together as the comment fell from her lips. Confusion was blatant on her face, her spine stiffening as she sat up and stared at him, almost in an accusing manner. "Dragons are going to be reborn once Khal Drogo is burned on a pyre. In which Daenerys Targaryen shall acquire 3 dragons."

He knew that name. The daughter of King Aerys, who had somehow survived the sacking of Dragonstone. Her family wasn't as fortunate. "You know then... That they're going to come here and one will fall into the clutches of the Others-" His tongue was no longer tied, the future spilling from his lips unhindered.

"I... know a lot of things," Tabitha admitted darkly. "Wardens can share information with Wardens..." she muttered, rubbing her face thoughtfully before glancing back toward him. "Makes sense, I guess... I suppose we'll also be able to tell when there's an eavesdropper or intruder."

"So Daenerys Targaryen is going to come to Westeros with 3 dragons," Benjen pieced together, the images he'd seen not possessing a narrative to go along with it.

"Yes, with intentions of taking the Iron Throne for herself. She will realize she needs to help destroy the army of the undead, but there's still a lot of unknown... how dominoes might fall now that you've survived," Tabitha sighed.

"I wasn't supposed to survive?"

"You were supposed to disappear and be presumed dead," Tabitha told him. "As far as I know, you never returned... but then again, all I know is script, not images."

"Then... if we're to be successful, I need to understand everything."

"If I tell you everything, you must understand that we have to adhere to what we're assigned to alter, because a lot of it has to deal with your family," Tabitha warned.

"I've taken oaths before and sworn myself to other causes. I think I can handle what you have to tell me."

That is what Benjen thought before Tabitha sighed and started from the beginning, recounting things that she was not around to witness, speaking in poetry like a prophet that had written the lines of their lives on parchment. She was right, he was not prepared for the intricacies of the world that he would have been better off being daft to. His derision and distrust of the Lannisters deepened, his breath quickening as he learned that it was they that hurt Bran and wished his death. But that was only the most minor of the plights to face House Stark. From the death of his brother at the hand of the Lannisters, to the rise of his nephew as a king, the betrayal and hurt was too much to bear.

Yet, Benjen sat, as it was his duty as a Warden. The web was not only woven with the Starks, but many other faces and names, some of which he was familiar with and others he was not. For as snarky as the woman seemed, Tabitha had an impeccable memory and a talent to retell this all like a story.

When she stopped, he lifted his head to gaze intently at her, his chest aching, but wondering why she'd ended so abruptly. "What happens after? With Jon, with Arya-"

"I can only speculate, that is where my true knowledge of the events of the future ends. You tell me that Daenerys will come to Westeros and lose a dragon to the Night King. Jon will likely be revived by the Lord of Light... Arya will continue her trials to become a Faceless Man, but the others--if we change the future, none of this is certain," Tabitha pointed out tenderly, remarkably softer than she had been previously.

He shouldn't have expected for all of the answers, especially given how much she knew and the years between now and when she'd ended, but... he really wished he knew what became of them. Already, he knew that many of them would die, including Ned, Robb, and Catelyn. In his gut, he wanted to go to them, to free them of their fate, but as he'd had his duty to the Watch, he had to trust in the Lord of Light to give him the opportunity to save them.

"I'll... give you some time alone. I know it's a lot to process," Tabitha stood up, stretching her back like a feline that had lounged out in the sun for too long, before striding away, glancing toward her griffin companion before departing from the chamber.

Benjen sat in silence, wondering if he would have been better off dead than with the vast knowledge and pressure he now felt.

"You're leaving yourself wide open," Benjen chastised, smacking Tabitha hard on the side of her arm with the flat of his blade.

"Right, well, my sincerest apologies for not wielding a sword since I could walk," she combatted haughtily, frustrated by her inability to best him.

It wasn't that she was a bad swordsman. In fact, she was quick as a whip and relentless when she was on the offense. However, she seemed to forget that her advantage in speed was outweighed by a man's strength. She often put herself in positions in which she could be placed out of balance and then open for attack. The form was there, as was the finesse, but he had learned by now that Tabitha had a bit of a temper that he could play like a harp. Against most men, she'd win, but against true savants or those that had spent years honing their craft, they'd pick up on the same chinks in her skill as he did.

The Roost was not a bad place, nor his newest companions too disagreeable. It had taken him a little while to grow accustomed to Tabitha's frank attitude and lack of decorum, but he likened it to comrades speaking to one another, not a woman to a man. Putting aside the facets of gender, Benjen found that Tabitha was responsible, reliable, and someone he would have liked to work alongside in the Night's Watch had she been a man. Now, as two Wardens with the task of saving the future that they knew, he was glad that he was with someone as capable as Tabitha, who seemed to have an uncanny memory and been given a scholarly education.

"React less emotionally," Benjen challenged, unable to stop himself from grinning as he thought of the times he'd told Jon the same thing when he was just a young boy. Or perhaps even Arya, who would have loved to be given the chance to be a warrior as a woman. He did not know how Tabitha's talents would transition in Westeros, given the fact a woman wielding a sword was nearly always unacceptable. Trying to think of her in a dress was amusing, as he'd only ever known her in trousers and armor, seemingly somewhat of a permanent fixture for the woman in place of what he'd grown up knowing females should wear.

Her nostrils flared and she came at him again, twisting Fate around in a counterclockwise motion before he parried the blow. The weight was light, barely a kiss of steel against steel, warning him that he'd fallen for the feint. Still, the man was quick enough to see as she redirected herself. Twisting his wrist to counter the next, he was astonished when she dropped beneath his blade and swept her leg beneath him, hooking a boot behind his leg and jerking him right off his feet.

Benjen slammed down hard on his back, collapsing into the remnants of an old nest, muscles groaning in protest from the hard, stone floor than embraced him. Tabitha loomed over him, pointing the triangular tip of her longsword down at him.

"How long?" he muttered, sitting up and accepting the glove she'd offered him to pull him back to his feet.

"How long what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"How long were you pretending to cross?"

Tabitha scoffed, as if offended that she'd play that game, but sheathed her sword. "I figured it out a couple of days ago. You always pointed out my anger, so I decided to set a trap."

"It took you a couple of days to set the trap?" Benjen poked.

"Well, there'd be no fun in closing it right away. Especially when you were being wary of me calming down enough to give you a run for your coin," Tabitha shrugged. "Still don't think a trick like that will be enough to defeat an Other, but it's progress."

"Probably not," Benjen agreed.

Tabitha's head whipped toward the grin in the mountainside where the griffins could come and go as they pleased. She had a better sense of when Balerion was arriving, her warging abilities more finely tuned over the years than his own. While he might be a better swordsman, Tabitha had him in the category of magic. "Look who's brought back quite a catch," she whistled, placing her hands on her hips as Balerion flung an elk corpse in through the opening. "Let's carve it up before it decides that we're supper."

The powerful griffin landed soon after, followed closely by Torrhen, who was a little uncertain on his wings, but managed to keep up as he grew into a gawky state where his talons were becoming too large for him to know what to do with. Dropping his own prize of a fat rabbit, he glanced expectantly toward Benjen, waiting for praise.

“Better than last time,” he remarked, bending down to brush the thick ears of the griffin down affectionately. “You’d better eat it quickly.”

Torrhen glanced from his rabbit and then to the elk, poising the silent question as to if they needed to share his catch too.

“No, you’re growing. Eat that yourself. Balerion brought plenty enough back to share.” No sooner had he said that did the massive beast dig its talons into the back of the carcass. Twisting, it snapped the spine and helped divide the elk in half, leaving the left side of the body for them to dress. Dragging the rest away, Balerion threw an expectant look at Torrhen, the tiny counterpart hobbling after his much larger brother.

“Ruined the pelt,” Tabitha chastised Balerion, who let out a huff in disdain at her dismay. She drew her knife and began working, Benjen crouching beside her to assist. It was dirty work, but the griffins were keen on the organs and head, so there’d be no reason to dispose of the waste, instead leaving the mess clustered in the roosting area of the mountain as they divided the remaining elk and dragged it toward the Hearth.

Sitting by the warmth of the eternally burning forge, they worked in relative silence. There wasn’t always a need for conversation and Benjen was unbothered by the woman’s company. Salting and hanging large haunches in the back of the room, the work took a few hours, but would result in a couple weeks worth of food for the both of them. The griffins had been retrieving food as of late, Fang citing that it was too dangerous for them all to go out and hunt after hearing the harrowing tale of their encounter with the Other.

Tabitha sat up on one of the benches, rubbing the arm that he’d taken the flat of his blade to absentmindedly. Her eyes were fixated on the twisting wreath of flames within the forge. A forge that neither of them knew how to use, nor why it was in this mountain. It gave them warmth and protection from the darkness of the frozen north, but otherwise its existence was a mystery. Her brows pressed together and she stood, taking a few paces toward the fire.

Benjen tilted his head, gazing toward the hearth in an effort to notice what she was transfixed upon. Tongues leapt out at him, images burning a path across the fire, a dragon’s shadow lifting to reveal a beautiful city and a crowd of impressive, queerly dressed people as they gave gifts to a young girl. A rotund, greasy man opened a chest and presented three calcified eggs.

“It’s been decided,” Tabitha muttered.

Did she see what he saw?

“We are flying to Pentos.”

#game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #reincarnation insert #added lore #freeform #the ability to change the future but with a twist #romance is not the main theme #BAMF female OC #benjen stark #buirbaby writes #the wardens

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baddyzarc · 4 years

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5/7 Ruins: Legend of the Cursed Royal Palace

1 2 3 4a 4b x 6 7

we like Vector. we’re not going to try to convince anyone that hes, like, a good person. Because he isn’t. But we do think he is a good character. Also we got the blog deleted while prepping this section so vector is cursed and we hate him

Vector is a spectacle. But he’s is a bit of an awkward character, at least for an Emperor. Unlike the rest of the Barian Emperors, who are morally gray at worst, Vector is pure evil for the sake of it. And generally, villains who are evil for no reason are considered weaker among the cast of villains. Yet he shines through in how yikes he is, and he does have one valid(ish) reason for his appalling behavior.

Vector’s story is one of the most fun out of the Emperors due to how unhinged he is. He is the only Emperor with a near-complete tale. But his story also mixes deeply into Nasch and Merag’s Legend, which creates some problems in how to organize this thing.

To begin, let’s go to his ruins.

Vector’s ruins are located in a dilapidated castle on his island.

Personally, I have nothing to say about this location since this post already did an in-depth analysis on it.

The advanced machinery and layout is interesting. It reminds of the Winchester Mystery House, but that's about it.

Vector’s story is divided into two categories. First is the story of the Legend of the Cursed Palace. This consists of only the text provided within the palace. The second is all the additional information we obtain through Vector’s memories, Nasch’s memories, and Abyss’ intervention. Because of this, Vector’s past is the most vast out of all the Emperors. But is is also the most confusing due to conflicting information.

The Legend of the Cursed Royal Palace is told to us by Rio, and it is rather simple.

Long ago, there lived a cruel prince in a palace. The prince was so cruel that everyone died. The end. Vector was a childish king who lacked faith in humanity. He executed anyone he doubted by beheading them as he watched. According to the legend, when he was “the last one standing” he took his own life by stabbing himself with his sword.

That’s all the information from the ruins. This legend gets complicated with the rest of the story, so I’m gonna recount it as briefly as possible without any additional analysis.

Starting all the way at the beginning, Vector was born as this little uggo peanut right here, and he was the herald of peace.

He came from two persons that are complete opposites of each other. One is a kindly mother who desires peace and the other is a ruthless warlord who wants war.

While sleeping in his crib, the Mythyrian Card “Number 65: Split-Decision Djinn - Judge Buster” fell onto him from the sky. Vector absorbed the Number into his body.

Years later, Vector’s father fell ill. Vector took over the kingdom, and he promised his mother and his citizens that he will bring peace to their kingdom. He did this by signing a peace treaty with the nations his father was warring against.

Angered by this, his father pulled out his sword and attempted to kill Vector with it. His mother shielded Vector with her body to protect him, resulting in her death. His father then collapsed from his illness and died on the spot.

Vector mourned for a brief moment before Don Thousand approached him. Don Thousand embedded the Over-Hundred Monster “Number 104: Masquerade Magician - Shining” in him to make him believe he killed his parents, thus saying the lovely line “You shall not be the prince of tragedy, but a prince of madness” and Vector followed suit, becoming cruel and sadistic.

An unspecified amount of time passed before Vector ran into Nasch, Merag, and Durbe.

Vector attacked Nasch’s kingdom with his fleet of ships and “Gorgonic Guardians”, which are Medusa-like monsters. Nasch counterattacks by using mirrors on them. As he was close to losing the battle, Vector performed a blood sacrifice to summon a god, which also happened to be Nasch’s Mythyrian Number “Number 73: Abyss Splash, the Roaring Waterfall Deity”. In order to purify Abyss, Merag sacrificed herself to summon another god, which is her Mythyrian Number “Number 94: Crystal Zero, the Princess of Polar Ice”.

Nasch gained control of both gods and used them to force Vector to retreat. Vector ran as Nasch and Durbe pursued him, destroying villages and kingdoms as he did so.

Eventually, Vector was cornered in a Labyrinth, where he tricked Nasch into sending his army to their death via a Shadow Game. Regardless, Nasch defeated Vector again.

Vector fled back to his kingdom this time. In a fit of rage, he murdered everyone in his kingdom. Nasch followed him to the palace and found Vector surrounded by the dead bodies of his people.

They had a final showdown; Vector lost once more. Upon losing and in Nasch’s words, “... those you murdered... dragged you into Hell”.

And that’s Vector’s story.

Now, the only thing that is up for debate is how Vector died. The Legend of the Cursed Royal Palace stated that he committed suicide while Nasch’s recount said that the souls of his victims killed him. This may be a plot hole, but in the prior episode, both sides of this story were mentioned. Vector had a nightmare where he was being chased by the restless souls and Astral mentioned that the mad prince took his own life. Vector originally denies Nasch’s recount of his death at first, but quickly the souls manifest (because they were dueling on the field where Vector held his executions) to prove that this scenario did happen. This means that the writers are semi-aware of the situation, but they don’t state which is the true fate.

Since it is unknown who scribed the legend onto the ruins, Nasch and Vector’s shared memories + the final scene in the Vector vs. Nasch Duel outweighs what is written in the palace.

If anything, it’s possible that the tormented souls drove Vector to the tipping point of his madness, resulting in Vector taking his own life to escape them. Although, that is just my interpretation.

But from here, we can finally discuss Vector because he is just full of it.

Firstly, I want to talk about genetics. Specifically these lines right here.

I find this extremely fun because there are two things at play here. First is that Zexal specifically states that his cruelty derives from his father—on the other hand, his kindness should derive from his mother—and second is that Don Thousand is able to kick this into overdrive. I doubt that the writers were thinking about any of this when they made this story, but this is a fun observation that I noticed (but if they were, kudos to them).

Forcing some real-life concepts onto yugioh again, let’s talk about heritability. Heritability measures the variation between a trait of a parent (such as hair length, body size, temperament, ect.) and the traits of an offspring within a population of individuals. High heritability means that the phenotypes (physical characteristics) of the parents correlates to the phenotypes of the offspring, and vice-versa with low heritability. In humans, personality is a heritable trait, and in our species, one of the most heritable personalities is neuroticism. High neuroticism attributes to emotional instability and plays into emotions such as jealousy, loneliness, anxiety, anger, ect.

There are four other major personalities, but for this, I’ll focus on neuroticism. Honestly, you could put any trait here since any of them loosely applies to this concept.

Okay. So does this mean that Vector was doomed to a life like his father. His genetics oughta leaned him that way. But NO, no because humans are far more complicated than that, and genetics is not the only thing that affects a person's behavior. But it does influence it some, and this is the basis of it’s influence.

What this says is that within a population, (genetics + environmental influence) = variation of a trait. Some phenotypes are heavily controlled by genetics while others are not. A simple example is if you have tall parents produce an offspring who have the genes for being tall (assume that it is moderately controlled by the environment). If the offspring grew up in a poor environment (less food or something) it will be short relative to the rest of the “tall” population. But if the offspring grew up in a good environment (more food), then it will be tall relative to the rest of the population.

For the five different personalities in humans, each of them varies in how much it is influenced by genetics and how much of it is influenced by the environment (this is stingy since studying the effects of environmental influences on humans is very difficult and hard to replicate). But neuroticism is one that may have significant interactions between genetics and the environment.

But enough science, let’s go back to Vector. Vector is really fun because his situation allows him to exist on all of the spectrums. He went from incredibly kind-hearted and peaceful to just not. This is possibly due to his inherited neuroticism and the environment he was exposed to.

It is likely that the “current” Vector’s neuroticism is rather high. Scoring high in neuroticism means that an individual tends to have low emotional stability, which attributes to frequent mood swings, high irritability, insecurity, and emotional volatility. This trait is more complex than that, but that’s the general gist of it. Most of this could be seen when it comes to how he treats others and how others treat him.

With Vector, he hates it when other people mock him or control him. This is why he despises Nasch for being better than him and why he betrays Don Thousand for toying with him. He is someone who needs to be in full control of the situation; this could be because of his insecurity (like, he got really pissed when Merag gained the upper hand and began to insult him during their duel). Vector is also described as being incredibly untrusting of other individuals, hence why he kills anyone he doubts. These traits are similar to that of his volatile father, whom he also shares a similar vocabulary with when describing people they hate, or anyone against war.

On the other hand, scoring low in neuroticism means that an individual can handle stress very well. Often, they are calm and composed. This could only be seen in Vector prior to Don Thousand’s interference; i.e. when he was handling the kingdom after his father got ill. He also maintained his calm composure while his father scolded him and pulled a sword to kill him.

His mother was kind and his father was not; Vector likely inherited some mix of neuroticism from them. Kindness and evilness was always inside Vector. And this allows him to exist as the kind “Rei Shingetsu” and the cruel “Vector” depending on the environment he was exposed to.

So what were the different environments? I think it was the Mythyrian and Over-Hundred Numbers.

Genetics played a role in shaping the core of Vector (“the same cruel blood as the king is running through you” and all) but it was the environmental influences added onto his core. Here’s a simple graphic.

Vector is a baby who inherited his father and mother’s neuroticism (perhaps he has an intermediate; I do not know the mode of inheritance of this). The Mythyrian Number card pushed him hard into the low neuroticism section. The Over-Hundred Number pushed him into the high neuroticism section, and this was where he stayed until his death by Don Thousand.

What I’m getting is that the “gentle prince” persona is not the actual Vector, but a Vector under the influence of a Number Monster (albeit a kind one). You could say the same with the “Prince of Madness” Vector, that he is also a false Vector influenced by an evil Number Monster, but there’s some glaring evidence that this evil Vector is closer to the actual Vector than the kind one. I’ll get to this later when I talk about his Guardian.

It’s highly possible that a “Vector” untouched by the Numbers would have existed somewhere in the middle since his mother and father would be the environmental influences in that case (or maybe they would’ve pushed him to one side too). The closest we get may be the one at the very end of the show, where Vector is “not evil” but still a trickster, mischievous type of guy.

Overall, Vector is a character who had great potential for kindness, as stated by Don Thousand, but he also had the greatest potential for darkness as well. Don Thousand took advantage of this and gave Vector the environmental influence he needed to become the cruel, lovable character we know today.

I just think it’s neat that Vector has a plausible reason why he went from baby to killer.

Alrighty. So about those dang Number cards.

Both of these cards and their respective Chaos upgrades represent the two sides of Vector. “Number 65: Split-Decision Djinn - Judge Buster” to “Chaos Number 65: Split-Decision Demon King - Judge Devil” and “Number 104: Masquerade Magician - Shining” to “Chaos Number 104: Masquerade Magician - Umbral”. There is one specific play with these two that makes me enjoy Vector so much.

But before I get to that, I need to talk about the influence of each monster on Vector and his Guardian.

As stated previously, these monsters altered Vector’s personality. “Masquerade Magician” is the more obvious of the monsters. It’s a masquerade; it hides under a mask and fools people. That’s just a normal Vector. A neat factoid is that the “Shining” to “Umbral” at the end of “Masquerade Magician” is related to the reveal of Shingetsu to Vector. Shining obviously means light (hence the light-attribute) while umbral means shadow (hence the dark-attribute). Number 104 and its Number c104 were first played when Vector revealed himself to Yuma during the Sargasso Arc. Light to Shadow, Shingetsu to Vector.

“Judge Buster” is more difficult due to its relationship as a Mythyrian Number. It is a monster who altered Vector to be as good as he can be. It is supposed to be a fair and truthful judge, the polar opposite of “Masquerade Magician”.

But this is where things get very complicated. Despite being Vector’s “good” card, it is no different than the Over-Hundred that infected him. From the perspective of his father:

Vector is a “cursed” child because he lacked any of the ruthless characteristics of his father. The way the Numbers “65” flashed on the screen is also similar to when other characters use or get possessed by a Number Monster. Vector was cursed, or possessed, to be a kind and gentle prince. In this case, despite being a very positive force on Vector’s life, the curse of a Number is still a curse. Eventually Vector loses his initial curse to inherit Don Thousand’s curse.

But the story of “Judge Buster” doesn’t end there. It continues into the story of Vector’s Guardian and it’s ascent into a Chaos Monster.

The Guardian of the Cursed Royal Palace is a very interesting one. Vector is unique because his Guardian is completely unrelated to his Mythyrian Number, unlike Jinlon and Abyss for example. Vector’s Guardian does not speak and can only be described as a feral, bloodthirsty beast.

This guy is based off of another card called “Minotaurus” or (“Battle Ox” in the TCG). Despite not being related to the Mythyrian Number like the other Guardians, Minotaurus is completely related to Vector’s story. It’s flavor states “A cattle monster with tremendous power. It mows down anything with a single axe swing.”

Now, there are several things to note here. An obvious one is that the Guardian is a Minotaur. In real life, the Minotaur derives from Greek Mythology. It is a beast that commonly resides in Labyrinths waiting for sacrificial maidens. With this detail, there is a direct connection to Vector’s story in two ways.

First is that Vector describes his palace as a “Labyrinth of Screams” and second is that he lured Nasch into a Labyrinth to kill him. Two very prominent settings in the Vector’s story.

Minotaurus is a deliberate choice made by the writers to tie this theme together, but this is just a neat easter egg. It is the actions of Minotaurus is what counts.

The other thing is that Minotaurus’ weapon of choice, its axe, is located on the execution slab where Vector beheads his enemies.

Finally, and the one that I think is the most interesting and peculiar, is that the axe has Vector’s Mythyrian Number embedded in it.

This is highly significant because if we look at all the other low-grade Emperors, their Mythyrian Numbers were abandoned when Don Thousand infected them (and they died shortly afterwards while Vector lived a part of his life with his Over-Hundred inside of him). In the end, most of the Mythyrian Numbers we see are held on a pedestal, or given some type of reverence in the afterlife.

Vector’s card has an axe going through it, like he was trying to get rid of it.

There’s a lot of assumptions to be made here with the most basic argument being that this detail bears no significance to Vector. BUT my theory is that the spirit of the card manifested to him at some point after he became a ruthless warrior. “Judge Buster” may have been trying to help him, or it was trying to convince him that the Over-Hundred infected his mind. Since Vector is a character filled with doubt and trust-issues, he likely ordered his executioner (Minotaurus or someone else) to behead “Judge Buster”.

(Also, Vector said he noticed that Don Thousand altered his memories “a long time ago”? It was never stated how Vector found out. I think that he may have gotten this critical information when “Judge Buster” manifested in his past life. Perhaps it told him everything that happened. This means that Vector known the truth about his fate since his past life, and given his slick shrewdness and foresight, perhaps)

So you know when I said that “evil” Vector is probably closer to the “true” Vector than the kind one? It’s due to his relationship with his Mythyrian Number. From this possible encounter in their past life, the end result is that Vector actively rejected the Mythyrian Number’s blessing to accept his cruel heritage, which is thoroughly reinforced in this scene.

In his duel against Nasch, Vector used “XYZ Discharge” to give Nasch all of his monsters to feint surrender after he found out about his true past. Vector immediately turned around and used “Trick Buster” to blow them up and kill Nasch while his guard was down. This move tells us everything we need to know about Vector. Vector knows of his two lives as a “good” and “terrible” person, and he chose to actively ignore them. The card “Trick Buster” could be seen as a combination of his two curses and what Vector got out of it. “Trick” comes from the trickster nature of “Masquerade Magician” and “Buster” comes from “Judge Buster”. Like with his past encounter with “Judge Buster” (which should’ve been able to repel the curse of the Over-Hundred) Vector rejected and executed his Mythyrian Number as he did with this new, possible redemption.

He made that choice. He made both of these choices on his own free will. This is a major reason why Vector is described as “evil for evil’s sake”. When given a chance at redemption after he “found out” about his true past, instead of rejecting the life that Don Thousand gave him, Vector staight up said he doesnt give a fuck if he was supposed to be a good person. It’s kind of incredible and I think that’s just,,, wow i love him.

And to add onto this fact, we need to talk about the Mythyrian Chaos Numbers, which is an oxymoron in the Zexal universe. “Judge Buster” and “Abyss Splash” (Vector and Nasch’s Mythyrians respectively) are the only Mythyrians who become Chaos monsters as well as being the only Emperors who use their own Mythyrian Numbers (Gilag doesn’t count due to raccoon-related shenanigans). This holds some discussion between these two, but I can’t really talk about it until I talk about Nasch.

However, what I want to say is that Vector chooses to use his Mythyrian Number. Although he randomly summoned it with a card effect, Vector plays his Mythyrian Number. Likewise in my discussion with Alito’s ruins, the Mythyrian Numbers have a purifying effect on the Emperors. It reveals their true, unaltered personalities. By choosing to use a Mythyrian and subsequently revealing his true nature, the cruel person we see is just how Vector is. His usage of “Trick Buster” backs this up. I don’t think it's a coincidence that Vector and Nasch, arguably the strongest of the Emperors, are also the ones who accept their Mythyrian Numbers yet still end up in Barian World. They are also the only ones that were able to Chaosify their Mythyrians, with Nasch performing a proper Chaos summon while Vector pulled into “Chaos Number 65: Split-Decision Demon King - Judge Devil” by luck.

Because of his denial of the Mythyrian Number despite being aware of its existence, Vector is the only Emperor that isn’t described as heroic in his legend. By being an active participant in his descent into Barian World, Vector cannot have a heroic legend like the others. He is simply a vile person who likely deserved his spot in Barian World.

Now that we got that down, why did Vector end up in Barian World despite being his “true personality”? A simple answer is that Barian World represents Hell, and Vector deserved to go there. However, it’s repeatedly stated in the show that Chaotic persons end up in Barian World, not bad persons.

And Chaos is complex due to the range of characters it goes through.

Like, this is a massive list of personalities, and they are all canon Chaos creatures.

And if you haven't noticed, I haven’t discussed the Cursed Royal Palace’s duel yet. This is because it occurred between Black Mist and Astral, and it has little relevance to Vector himself. However, that battle ties into the complexities of Chaos that I will continue with Nasch and Merag’s Legend, as well as the rest of Vector’s story.

Bye.

#long post #tw long post #zexal #vector #barian biology #dyzarc diet #dyzarc writes #sory for the length #blog shouldve stayed deleted #this one went on a weird tangent

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whirlybirbs · 5 years

Text

⋆ —-- CARHOP COOL, 2.

summary: you see steve at family video. it prompts some reflection, some questions, and some good ol’ memories of your time at hawkins high. you try to stay frosty but it’s hard when steve harrington is being so nice. pairing: steve harrington x reader, post season three word count: 1.7k a/n: here it is, folks! part two! we have a beach, a movie, and a lotta tension.

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It’s weird.

He’s weird.

Steve Harrington is weird and he’s changed and you’re not really sure how you feel about it.

As you pull into the parking lot of the Family Video in your beat-up, slate grey Civic Hatchback, you catch a glimpse of the high school legend in question through the front window.

He looks the same as he always has. Tall, doe-eyed, good hair...

Stupidly good looking.

Steve was a mythic figure in grade school. High school just... elevated things. It was like Senior Year came and a throne was vacated just for him -- he was the king of Hawkins High and everyone knew it.

Then, Nancy Wheeler dumped him for Jonathan Byers and everything changed.

His title of Prom King was snatched by the grubby, freckled claws of Tommy H. with Carol on his arm that fateful night, then Billy Hargrove walked on and booted him from captain of the basketball team, and then he was rejected by, like, every college he applied to -- or so rumor had it.

(Jenny Larson had told you all about it during the spring production of Oklahoma!... She was obsessed with him. It was like she’d opened his mail or something. You wouldn’t put it past her. She had crazy eyes. You and Robin were always a little freaked out by her. Eugh.)

And, so, Steve Harrington and his mighty hair faded into the yearbook pages of Hawkins Class of ‘85 as a fallen king.

And now, here he is: selling VHS’s alongside his best friend who was also your best friend.

(You wonder if that makes him your best-friend-by-proxy? You’d rather not think about it. Best friends don’t launch spit-balls at the back of each other’s heads during Spanish finals and laugh about it and never let it go. Best friends also don’t point and laugh at that DIY perm you did sophomore year, no matter how bad -- best friends, like Robin, help you slather your hair in conditioner and relaxers while you sob in your upstairs bathroom at your fried mane. So, no, Steve Harrington is not your best-friend-by-proxy.)

Narrowing your eyes, you drum your fingers on the steering wheel and snap your gum.

God, you really don’t want to go in there.

But, then again, you wonder what you have to lose. What, the approval of some washed-up cool-kid? Screw him. He’s dumb anyways. He’s... all hair.

Literally.

Cutting the engine (and subsequently the Donna Summer track playing on your radio), you haul open the door and decide to get this whole thing over with.

The bell above your head chimes as you walk into the Family Video and Steve Harrington promptly chokes on his can of New Coke upon realizing it’s you.

It goes up his nose.

Quickly, he tries to rebound.

��Hey! Hi!” he chirps in an uncharacteristically excited tone, “Welcome, uh, to Family Video!”

You freeze in the doorway and squint.

Steve’s been having some thoughts.

Wild, he knows, but Robin had keyed into how spaced out he’d been since he’d seen you the other night down at Roll-o’s and had decidedly not let it go -- “Just like you never let her whole perm thing go, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington!” -- in a well-aimed play of well-deserved vengeance.

For the last three nights, he’s been beating himself up over the sudden realization that he’s got cold feet -- and even Henderson noticed it.

But, seriously? Could you blame him? He was a grade-A asshole for most of high school and now he’s a huge loser (self-proclaimed, despite both Robin and Dustin’s protests) and you’re super cool. You’re all frosty poise and pastel rollerblades.

And here he is, working part-time at Family Video, spending the rest of his summer indoors.

Steve Harrington, pale loser.

Not to mention, you had a lot of friends in high school -- maybe not swearing loyalty to any one group, but you fleeted around and blended in and you got along so well with everyone. Everyone knew it was you and Robin Buckley against the world.

Compare that to his own dumb ass and he’s the world’s saddest pale loser.

At least he has Robin. And you do, too.

Which is why you’re here. In Family Video.

Staring at him.

You pull your sunglasses down your nose, furrow your brow and speak slowly.

“Are you... okay?”

Steve plants his palm on the counter, a sudden flare of nerves lighting his chest on fire as he card a hand through his hair and smiles with the gusto of a man living by the motto fake-it-til-you-make-it. “Me? Yeah -- yeah, I’m good. How’re you? What’s up?”

You push your sunglasses up, snap your gum and shove your hands in the pockets of your jean shorts. Frosty.

“Looking for Robin,” you say curtly, shrugging a bit, “Is she around? She called -- we’re catching a movie after her shift.”

Steve deflates a bit. No invite. Understandable, but ouch. “Uh, yeah, she’s out back with Keith organizing the rental returns.”

You pull a face.

Steve sees it. He narrows his eyes, lips upturning a bit in curiosity. The expression on your face isn’t so frosty as you toe the carpet with your skate shoes and eye the display of comedies.

“What?”

“Hm?” you blink back at him, eyes wide, “What?”

“That look,” he says, leaning forward onto his elbows, “What was that for?”

It takes you a second to realize that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington is trying to make conversation with you. He’s really trying.

You push your sunglasses back over your hair and move to eye around him. When you speak, it’s quiet.

“Y’know. Keith.”

Steve’s brows raise and he blinks fast. “Oh, yeah, yeah, he’s -- uh...”

He pulls his bottom lip in and waves a hand, searching for the words.

(They’re evading him because he’s seriously not looking to make himself look like more of an asshole.)

“Creepy?” you offer, turning over a copy of Revenge of the Nerds, “Mad creepy. I’m sure Robin is, like, two seconds from emptying a can of pepper spray in his face.”

“Does she carry pepper spray?”

You shrug. “It’s Robin --”

“-- Yeah, good point.”

“I mean, she could carry a taser --”

“-- And I wouldn’t ask a single question.”

... It’s not weird. Whatever this is isn’t weird.

The laugh you both share is short and quiet but it’s genuine and before the moment can bleed into something like non-verbal peace treaty between warring high school personalities, the girl in question bursts from the back with a big ol’ smile.

“Would y’ look at that!” she claps, “My two best friends! Talking!”

You toss her a wide grin, dropping your sunglasses back down to your nose and as she glides over the counter and leaps into the same handshake you’ve shared since the seventh grade.

Steve watches with a lopsided smirk. Goofballs. It’s cute.

“You ready for Phenomena?” Robin asks, waving her fingers and cooing like a ghost, “OooOOOooh! Bugs! Psychic powers! Horror!”

“Uh, try drive-in popcorn!” you snort, swatting her hands away, “Took you long enough. I’m starving.”

“You guys are seeing Phenomena?” Steve asks, drumming his fingers on the counter, “I heard it’s good --”

A light bulb bursts above Robin Buckley’s head and you swear you saw it, it was that bright.

“Steve!”

“Robin!” he says with a faux amount of excitement.

“Y-You should come!”

You blink.

Steve blinks at you.

Then at Robin.

Guilt flies across his face. He realizes he’s making you uncomfortable. From the way you tense up and look at Robin, he can tell you’re totally not into that idea.

So, he sputters.

“Uh... I dunno, Rob, I gotta close --”

You decide, in that moment, that Steve Harrington has changed and sure it’s weird but... you’re weird, too. And maybe he wasn’t so... terrible. I mean, he was still stupidly good looking -- and that’s why you’re so tense. Because the one thing you’d believed for all those years is being flipped upside down and you’re about to willingly spending time with The Steve Harrington.

“Why not?” you ask slowly, surprising everyone in the room, even yourself, “It’d be fun. Keith can close up.”

Steve jaw drops. “... Wait, seriously?”

Robin’s whole face lights up.

She blinks between you both.

You’re glad your sunglasses are on. You try to stay frosty. Can’t let the cool-kid know you have feelings.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to keep your tone even, “I mean -- if you’re gonna launch a spitball at the back of my head during it, don’t even bother, but...”

Steve’s face falls.

You see the real guilt there. It shocks you.

“Listen,” he raises his hands, “I was a dick --”

Robin quirks a brow. “A mega-dick, Harrington.”

“Right, a mega-dick. You... You don’t have to invite me. It’s cool. I get it. I’m, uh...” his words falter off, lost as he drops his gaze and pulls his lips tightly together, “I get it.”

There’s a pause.

And then you sigh.

“Stop looking like a kicked puppy and just get into my car, Steve.”

Brown eyes light up so bright it’s like you’re smiling at the sun.

“Seriously?”

You start for the door with a grin. “Did I stutter?”

Robin peels into victorious laughter as Steve scrambles faster than light, hucking his vest across the room and leaping over the counter -- he’s grinning as he does, pushing you and Robin out the door before Keith can protest from the back room.

You all pile into your Hatchback and the laughter that’s shared isn’t forced.

For the first time in a week, Steve Harrington hasn’t felt so weird.

For the first time in years, you’ve felt like you’ve peaked.

#CARHOP COOL #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #joe keery imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington x oc

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rocksandrobots · 4 years

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 8 - The First Day of School

Today was the first day of school and Hiro had volunteered to show Varian around. Their other friends all had earlier classes and would join up with them later, but for now it was just the two boys.

While he had received a quick tour with Professor Granville last week, there were still more things that Hiro had to walk Varian through. Like, picking up his schedule, getting him his student ID, showing him where his individual classes were, and walking him through the ends and outs of campus life that only students knew or understood; such as the best places to study or which grumpy teacher to avoid.

"And this is the Quad." Hiro explained as they walked across a large open field towards a short bridge with a stream running underneath, "Students like to come out here and study or test their inventions. It's usually more crowded than it is. I guess ‘cause it's the summer semester. That’s the robotics building over there and this….this is the new exhibition hall."

Hiro’s voice became more hesitant as they stopped in front of a building with tall windows surrounded by a small pond that the stream ran into. As Varian surveyed the site, Hiro continued on, trying to ignore the bad memories that wanted to float to the top of his mind.

“Here you’ll present your final projects and such.”

Varian walked forward to get a better look, but stopped to peer at a marble block that stood in front of the building. There was an inscription carved into the stone and Hiro’s heart dropped as he knew what was coming next.

“The San Fransokyo Institute of Technology: Exhibition Hall. This building is dedicated to the memory of Tadashi Hamada, a true hero.” Varian read out-loud in a disquieted voice. He turned to look questioningly at Hiro.

Hiro heaved a heavy sigh and walked over to join his new friend, never taking his own eyes off of the memorial. He hadn’t had to recount how his brother had died before now. It was just common knowledge to anyone remotely familiar with the school. The event had made all of the local news channels at the time and Tadashi had become a legend among the faculty and student body. Hiro still heard hushed whispers from time to time from other classmates when he was around. They were the usual mix of pity and platitudes. He tried to ignore them as best as he could.

“There was a fire.” He said slowly, trying to find the words without crying. “Tadashi ran back in to try and save someone...he.. didn’t make it back out.” His voice shook at that last confession, but he somehow managed to keep his composure. He then waited for Varian to go through the usual motions most everyone did; the apologies, the prying questions, the trite aphorisms, the unhelpful but well meaning advice, and sometimes a ‘what can I do?” as if anything could be done.

But Varian didn’t do any of this. He simply stared at the block of stone as if deep in thought. Then after a while, still without looking at Hiro, he asked, “Did he save them?”

Hiro looked back at him surprised. He hadn’t expected that response. When he didn’t answer immediately, Varian finally met his eyes and then rephrased the question. “Did he save the person he went back in for?”

Hiro only stared back at the other boy, stunned. He tried to work his mouth but no sound would come out. How could he explain?

“No.” He eventually said “ Turns out they didn’t even need saving.” Hiro could have laughed at the irony of that statement if not for the stabbing pain in his chest.

“The guy he went back in to save, was the one who started the fire in the first place.” The bitterness in his voice hung in the air like a dead weight. Once again he waited for Varian to respond to this revelation, but the boy only turned back to looking at the marble inscription; his lower jaw jutted out in thought as his eyes scanned the words again.

The silence between the two of them was oppressive and Hiro found himself wanting to talk more just to make the awkwardness end. Yet now that he had started he also found that he didn’t want to stop either.

“The school holds a showcase every year for prospective students. I had entered with an invention of my own. I called them microbots. They were really, really small robots. Super tiny and you could control thousands of them at a time with a neurotransmitter.” Hiro explained as he personally recalled making them, with his brother’s help. The fondness of that memory gave way to resigned anger as he pressed on with his story.

“Professor Callaghan, the head of the robotic apartment here at SFIT, wanted them for himself. He staged the fire in order to steal them and faked his own death. When we first found out that they were stolen, the police wouldn’t believe us, so that’s when we created our super suits in order to stop him. Aaand we’ve just kept on superheroing since.” Hiro finished and silence fell between them once more.

“Why did he want the microbots?” Varian eventually asked, still not looking at him.

“He... wanted to use them to get revenge on Krei. He’s the guy who funded the Silent Sparrow project. Callaghan’s daughter was the original test pilot. She went through the portal, but never came back out. And he blamed Keri for sending her through.”

“Abigail.” Varian said and Hiro looked at him, once again in surprise.

“I read the project files you gave me.” He clarified.

“Oh, Yeah.” Hiro remembered. ”Well the good news is Baymax and I rescued her. So she’s back home now, safe.”

It was Varian’s turn to look at Hiro in surprise. “You mean after everything he did, you still helped him?” He asked in disbelief.

Now Hiro really hadn’t expected that question. He looked back at the other boy and he noticed a storm behind his piercing blue eyes. But what that meant, Hiro could only guess.

“Well, yeah, Abigail didn’t do anything wrong and she was the one in trouble,” Hiro paused and mulled over the question again. Then he took a deep breath and admitted a hard truth, more for himself than anything, “Also I didn’t want to wind-up like he did. I didn’t want anger and hate to make me forget who I really was and what’s really important.”

This time Hiro met Varian’s gaze with resolve, there was something consoling in just saying those words out loud. But Varian eyes darted back and forth as if trying to read Hiro’s face, at war with himself over what to say or do next. Finally he jerked his head back towards the memorial to stare at it once more, or rather to stare past it.

Hiro followed his gaze and also looked out at the newly rebuilt building. This time he allowed himself to remember things, not the tragic event itself, but small things, like setting up for his presentation, the cheers of congratulations from his friends when he told them he was accepted into the school, his final conversation with Tadashi on the bridge nearby, and the speech he had given a few weeks ago to commemorate it’s reopening and to honor his brother. That was when Varian interrupted his thoughts.

“What happened to Callaghan?” He questioned.

“He went to jail. There’s an official court date, sometime next year, but he’s already pleaded guilty so it’ll just be about giving him an actual sentence.” Hiro said with a sigh. He was not looking forward to standing before a judge and jury and having all of this dredged back up again. “I could never get through it, through any of this, if it wasn’t for Baymax, Aunt Cass, and my friends.”

“Yeah, I guess having friends would make things easier.” Varian agreed quietly and then went back to vaguely staring out into the middle distance, contemplating Hiro’s story. As for Hiro himself, he could only look at his shoes, unsure of what to say. Several awkward minutes passed with neither boy looking at each other or saying anything.

After some time, Hiro broke the silence first. “It’s almost lunchtime. How...how about I show you where the cafeteria is next?”

Varian finally looked at him and agreed. “Alright.” He said and made to follow him.

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

Varian mulled over everything Hiro had said as he followed the other boy back across the yard. He couldn’t imagine anyone being so noble. Hiro’s commitment to doing what he believed was right was humbling. Varian would have killed the man, had he been in Hiro’s shoes.

“I didn’t want to wind-up like he did.”

Varian’s stomach churned while recalling those words. Isn’t that actually what he had done though. Had he not hurt other people while seeking revenge against a rich and powerful foe? But what else was he to do? It wasn’t like he could bring the king to trial and have him sent to jail instead.

Varian wrestled with these questions and not for the first time. He had spent a whole year battling his rage, sadness, and guilt; his darker emotions always bubbling under the surface, threatening to spillover at any moment.

Sometimes Varian felt as if his cheery demeanor was just like a dam next to an ocean, made to hold back his more violent feelings, which constantly beat against the crumbling structure. Any leak or rupture could bring the whole thing tumbling down and he’d be swept away in a sea of his own hate. Along with anyone else caught in his path.

In truth this frightened him. But he knew nothing else other than to keep up the facade. So he slapped on a cheerful smile as he entered the cafeteria.

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

The cafeteria was far more busy than the courtyard had been. Students milled about everywhere, eating and talking. The two boys got in line to order food.

Hiro was just deciding on what he should get, and annoying a very grouchy looking lunch-lady while at it, when he heard someone yell his name out.

"Hiro!" A taller girl, wearing a turtleneck and with long brown hair tied up in a ponytail, was waving frantically at him as she made her way over to them.

"Karmi?" Hiro's disbelief quickly turned to joy when realization struck him. "Karmi!" He yelled and ran to scoop the woman into a hug. The forcefulness of which sent them both spinning and laughing in exuberance.

When they finally untangled themselves Hiro asked, "What, what are you doing here? I thought your parents sent you away."

"Well, we spent the past two months arguing about it. I didn't want to go. So they agreed that I could come back for the next semester." she smiled and then explained, "I just have to call, like everyday, and go home every other weekend. Also no more internships." She said this last bit sadly. Last term she had been kidnapped and experimented on by the lady she was interning for. Hiro had managed to rescue her, but her parents had unrolled her and took her back upstate to where they lived.

"Well, I'm glad you're back," Hiro gave her a warm smile and she returned it. "Oh, I almost forgot. This is Varian." He said while turning to his new friend, "He's just moved here from Europe."

Varian walked over to meet them and Hiro continued with the introductions. "Varian, this is my friend Karmi. She's one of the younger students here at SFIT, like us."

“Hi” He said and held out his hand for Karmi to shake.

“Oh! So you got into college early too?”Karmi excitedly exclaimed while vigorously shaking his hand. “Are you Hiro’s age?”

“I’m sixteen.” He answered.

“So am I! Well, actually, I’ll be seventeen in a few months but, still it’s nice to finally meet someone here who is my age. What are you majoring in?”

Varian looked back down at the schedule he was holding,”Uhh... Applied Physics and Engineering.” He read out-loud. Apparently alchemy wasn’t a major he could study here, and Professor Granville had told him that this was the best one for what he was trying to achieve.

“So you’re a physicist. I’m going for a Biotech degree. I want to become a microbiologist and right now I’m studying viruses to try and create a new vaccine.” She eagerly explained her ongoing research.

Varian took a moment to absorb this information, some of the words she used were new to him, but he did understand that vaccines were a type of medicine. “So you’re studying to become a physician?” He asked, putting what she had said into a context that he knew.

Karmi nodded yes and embolden, Varian tried to use some of the new vernacular he had been learning. “That’s, what’s the word, cold? My mother was a medic.” He added trying to find a point of connection in order to keep the conversation going. But Karmi only looked at him in confusion.

“Cold?” She said.

“I think you mean ‘cool’.” Hiro chimed in.

“Oh, right.” Varian realized his mistake, “Sorry I’m still getting used to the slang here.” He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his head.

“Oh, that’s right. Hiro said you were from Europe. What language do you usually speak?” She asked.

“Oh lots.” He replied, happy to brag about something he did know. “English, German, Russian, Latin, Italian…”

He was listing off all the ones he knew, or at least could read, if not speak, when Karmi interrupted him excitedly.

“Do you speak French?” She blurted out.

“Oui.” He returned in French and they both started to giggle.

Hiro looked back and forth between the two of them, unable to figure out what was so funny. He had been watching their ongoing conversation with a growing unease. He was beginning to feel left out and a twinge of jealousy started to cloud his thoughts. Though if you had asked him, he couldn’t have told you why. He should have been happy that his friends were getting along, shouldn’t he?

“Oh, do you two wanna sit with me at lunch?” She asked, never looking away from Varian.

Hiro found himself sliding between the two of them trying to get into Karmi's line of sight, if only to get her to stop looking at the other boy for just a moment.

“No. Sorry, but we gotta go?” He said, his voice going high like it always did when he lied or made an excuse.

“But I thought we came over here just to eat?” Varian asked in confusion and Hiro’s mind began to race. What was he doing? Why had he said that? How could he get out of this situation and keep Karmi from talking to Varian anymore? And why did he even care?

“Uh.. we did...but I just remembered thaaaat...I hadn’t shown you the lab you will be working in. We wanna get there and get you set up before the other students come in and , uh… hog all the … tools.” Hiro cringed. It was the lamest excuse he’d ever given. Oh, why did he have to be so bad at lying?

Varian and Karmi only exchanged questioning looks at one another and shrugged.

“Okay, just let me grab an apple to go.” Varian agreed and turned back to the line.

“You, go do that.” Hiro said in a strained but relieved voice. He then turned to Karmi who was giving him a worried look.

“Is everything ok?” She asked.

“It’s fine.” His voice squeaked. He then let out a heavy sigh and added, “Look, I’m really glad you’re back. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” She agreed and gave him a soft smile. Varian walked over to join them again, having procured his apple, when Karmi waved goodbye to them both.

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

Hiro stormed ahead down the hall, his hands in his pockets and his eyes lowered to the ground. He was still embarrassed and angry at himself over the incident in the cafeteria and didn’t really feel like talking. Varian tagged along blithely, munching on his apple. If the other boy had noticed Hiro’s mood he made no show of it. This only made Hiro’s resentment grow, which in turn only made him even more confused about his feelings.

“You know what?” Varian asked cheerfully as he took another bite of his apple.

“No, what?” Hiro responded deadpan, not looking at him as he read the numbers on the doors as they passed by them.

“I read online that there are over three hundred varieties of apples sold in America.” He said and Hiro stopped to look at him confused. What did apples have to do with anything?

“I wanna see if I can buy one of each and take them back home with me.” Varian said with a sly smile. “It would explode Dad’s mind. He’d be so happy!”

“Explode? You mean, ‘blow his mind.” Hiro corrected.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Varian took another bite, seeming to ignore his blunder, and then flashed Hiro a winning smile.

Hiro could only laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, which apparently was the reaction Varian had been hoping for, and they both broke down snickering.

“Can you imagine? Just a pile of apples taller than my dad, and he’s a pretty tall guy.” Varian said, holding his hand high above his head indicating his father’s height.

“Yeah, he’ll cry with joy.” Hiro agreed through his laughter, and just like that all of his previous anger just melted away and he couldn’t even remember why he had been upset at the guy.

“Oh, this is it,” Hiro stopped and pointed to a door up ahead. As they walked towards it he continued, “This is the communal lab you’ll be working in. Granville made sure to give you one to share with Wasabi and the others. That way there’ll be people that you know around who you can ask for help if you need it.”

He opened the door and Varian walked past him to explore the large room. He spun around once and then turned back to Hiro.

“Will you be working here too?” He asked.

“Uh, sometimes, but I have my own lab in the robotics building.” Hiro explained. “They give out private labs to students who prove themselves, as like, a reward or something. I didn’t really do anything to earn one, myself, I just got Tadashi’s old lab. I guess Granville didn’t have the heart to clean it out and give it to someone else.”

He recalled finding Tadashi’s old baseball cap in the office, and sadly looked out into the middle distance for a moment. When he came back to the present, he found Varian frowning at him in worry so he sprung back with a smile and joke.

“If you thought living with Wasabi was a chore, just wait till you have to work with him.”

This sent both boys laughing again, knowing how fastidious their friend could be.

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

Behind the two boys loomed a shadow, the owner of which was hidden away in even more shadow. As they laughed, ignorant of the danger they were in, their stalker paused and looked on. It would be so easy, the villain thought, so easy to attack now and rid the world of these two meddlesome pests while they were both alone, unarmed, and unaware of who was after them. But that could upset the balance. There was a needed timing to these things, one couldn’t rush the future, and if there was anything that the occupant in the shadows knew, it was patience.

#of rocks and robots #varian #Hiro Hamada #karmi #tangled #tangled the series #tts #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rta #BH6 the series #bh6 #big hero 6 #big hero six

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joosjehartman · 4 years

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There are so many [Harry Potter character] x reader posts on here and I’m loving them😍😍 I wrote a Harry Potter fan-fiction book and I thought I’d share some of the chapters on here! It’s called Visions and it takes place during Goblet of Fire. Enjoy <3

Prologue:

There is nothing worse than being forced to spend time with a bully. How did I get myself into this situation in the first place?

I guess it started when I was nine and my parents moved us back to the UK. They wanted to go to my dad's hometown now that his mother had gotten sick. I was just one year old when they moved to the US, so I didn't really know my grandmother, but this way I could meet her before she would pass away.

I am what my parents call a Pureblood. I don't like to call myself that; it gives the impression that I'm a better witch than someone with No-Maj parents, which is not true at all. They were very skeptical of sending me to a No-Maj primary school, but they really did not have any choice. They both worked through the day so they couldn't home school me. This way I had to act like a No-Maj during the day, but I didn't mind. Most of the No-Majs I met were nicer than any wizard kids I was forced to hang out with on Long Island.

Hanging out with No-Majs was not at all a problem. I thought that they were very interesting and clueless, which made them kind of cute, I guess. My life changed, though, when some kids in my class started this magic game every time the teacher left. At one point some kid screamed Abracadabra (it sounded like another curse though) and I jumped behind a desk. All the kids looked at me in surprise and my friend Jannet, who believed I was just playing along, told me I had great acting skills. I smiled at her awkwardly and told her that I'd think about pursuing a career. I looked around and saw this blond kid called Dragon or something sitting almost traumatized behind a chair. I knew he was like me. And that's when my problems started.

I walked up to him and he just looked at me with this scared look on his face. "You should get up", I told him and lend him my hand. "People may think you're different". And I winked at him. He grabbed my hand and got up. The rest of the day I noticed someone staring at me, but I only paid attention to the teacher, who was teaching us how to multiply.

After school, the blond boy came up to me and my friends. I was startled because in the couple of months that I'd been at this school, I had never once heard him speak. His voice was much higher than I'd expected. Almost girly. "You're like me", he said in a whisper. The girls around me looked confused so I grabbed Dragon by his arm and pulled him away.

"Dragon, you shouldn't say that when there are No-Majs around" I told him sternly.

"What's a No-Maj? And my name's Draco by the way."

"Sorry, 'Muggles' is what you call them. And yes I am like you." I replied. Draco looked at me in awe. His look quickly turned to confusion, though when he looked around at my friends. "Why do you hang out with that lot then?" He asked with disgust around his face.

I really hated the disgust magical folk felt for No-Majs. MACUSA even forbids the interaction between non-magical and magical people. It's not that I wasn't used to the aversion to No-Majs, it just didn't sit right with me.

"They're my friends", I told Draco confidently. I didn't care if he didn't like that. Who was he to tell me what to think?

I was expecting some mean and condescending remark, but instead the boy got very insecure. "Would you maybe want to be my friend. I don't really have any. When I was in year 3 there was this accident and since then everyone thinks I'm weird." I was taken aback from his question. Come to think of it I had never seen him with friends. I did hear my friends call him weird once, but I thought that's what they thought of all the boys in our class. I did think that it would be nice to have a wizard as a friend. It is quite frustrating to not be able to fully be yourself around your friends. I smiled at him. "Sure, Draco, I'll be your friend", I told him.

Since that day we pretty much hung out everyday. I wouldn't say we were best friends, because I got pretty bothered about his Pureblood comments. My parents were more than happy that I became friends with someone from a wizarding family. Especially since he was a Malfoy. I didn't realize at the time that that was such a big deal. I guess the size of Draco's house should have been my clue. Whenever my parents picked me up after a playdate they would suck up to the Malfoys and, I don't know how or when, but our families actually became friends. This meant dinner almost every week.

At school Draco and I also hung out a lot. My friends started warming up to him, but he didn't really return the favor. My best friend Jannet had asked me why Draco's face was always scrunched up whenever she was around, I told her that he was allergic to her cat.

Draco started calling me R, as if Ari wasn't short enough.

A week before my eleventh birthday, 6th of June, my parents had organized a party. They were very excited for my letter to arrive. Draco's birthday was the day before mine. He got his letter on the morning of the 5th, so all through that day he couldn't stop gloating.

My party was the next day, but obviously I couldn't invite any of my No-Maj friends. I had told them about my sick grandma and that it was best if not too many people would come over, so she wouldn't risk getting any nasty virus. They understood.

Draco had stayed over at my place the night before, because he wanted to be there when I opened my letter. Really nice I thought, but once the letter came, he had already grabbed it before I could see it. "It's exactly the same as yours, Draco! Give it to me, I want to read it!" Grumpily he gave it back.

Dear miss Mills,

We are pleased to inform you.... blah blah blah.

I didn't really see how this letter was so special, but I guess the letter confirmed my magical status and therefore was of significance? It made my mom cry.

"Oh sweet Ariel, this is so wonderful", she sobbed. My dad was holding her. I could see him holding back tears. I hugged them and whisper shouted: "Mom, you're embarrassing me!"

"I'm sorry honey, I'm just so proud." She said and let out another loud sob.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed, I think it's nice", said Draco, sadness spreading over his face.

Soon after that, my mom dropped us of at school. All day long Draco and I discussed our Hogwarts future in hushed voices. We were both certain we would be sorted in Slytherin like our parents before us. I joked that green wouldn't look good on me, but he assured me that it woud look great.

Time flew by and before I knew it, summer holiday had ended. All my No-Maj friends were going to schools nearby, but I told them that I would be attending boarding school in Scotland, which is the truth in a way. Draco and I would be going to Kings Cross separately, because my parents wanted a last goodbye in private, which I was grateful for because they were very embarrassing. After about 5000 bone-crushing hugs, my parents let me go, and I got on the train just as the whistle blew.

"R, down here", I heard Draco say. I followed him as we entered a compartment. Two very large and scary boys were already sitting there. Draco introduced them as Crabbe and Goyle. I wanted to ask what their first names were, but Draco had already whipped out his wand and was boasting about it. I hadn't seen him since the beginning of the summer, since my family decided to go to New York to visit some old friends. We didn't go to Ollivander's together like we had planned, but it didn't upset me that much. I thought that buying a wand was quite an intimate occasion and I rather wanted to do it with my family. My wand was of hawthorn wood with a unicorn hair core and was about 10 ¼ inches long. Short, like me. I was quite happy with it. Draco's wand was of the same wood and had the same core. I thought Draco's was quite simple, but it had a sense of elegance. Mine was prettier though.

"Did you hear?" Draco asked. I looked at him puzzlingly. "Apparently Harry Potter is in our year", he told us. Unlike most wizarding kids, I never grew up with stories about the legendary Harry Potter. Draco had told me about Harry Potter and You-Know-Who, when I was 10. He was some sort of a legend who defeated an evil wizard when he was just a baby. I always thought Draco was messing with me, but apparently the Boy Who Lived was real. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle went out to search for him on the train, but I didn't feel like going. Instead, I quickly changed into my Hogwarts uniform. When I was dressed, a girl and very upset boy came by to ask if I'd seen a toad, but I hadn't. They went away.

When we arrived at the station, some large man escorted us to some boats. I was in a boat with the boys I shared the compartment with, but our boat seemed to have a hard time keeping up with the others. Probably the weight of the two large boys that sat behind Draco and I. I wanted to point this out to Draco, but he had been in a bad mood ever since he came back from his Potter Safari.

The castle was very impressive. It was huge and the grounds didn't seem to end. All the kids around me seemed to be as amazed as I am.

Before we knew it a tall and slim witch called professor McGonagall was telling us about the houses and explaining what would happen when we would enter the Great Hall. Once McGonagall mentioned Slytherin, Malfoy looked at me and I smiled back.

After a while Draco's name was called and the blond boy walked up to the stool. The singing hat was not even touching his head when the Sorting Hat bellowed: "Slytherin!". He looked at me and I gave him a thumbs up. He mouthed at me: "You're next", and I nodded.

"Mills, Ariel", called Professor McGonagall and I stepped forward. The giant hat fell over my eyes blocking my view of the hall. I felt all eyes on me and my nerves were killing me. I obviously wouldn't be a great Gryffindor.

"Ah, another Mills", said the hat quietly. "Considering your family's history, I would seriously consider placing you in Slytherin. Your mind, however, argues something else. Best put you in... RAVENCLAW!" He yelled the last word. The table filled with young witches and wizards sporting blue ties stood up and clapped.

Obviously shocked I walked over to the table. I didn't know how to feel. I looked over at the Slytherin table and I saw Malfoy looking angrily back. He quickly looked away, leaving me hurt. I said down next to a blond girl who was sorted into Ravenclaw not long before me.

During the feast, I looked back one more time, but Draco had turned away and was now stabbing his food with his fork. I could hear something along the lines of "my father...." but that was the last I'd heard.

All year Draco Malfoy had been a real pain in the ass. When I had informed my parents of my house they didn't reply for almost a month, but they had ultimately decided that they were happy for me. All through year two and three, I would hear terms as "bloodtraitor" or "mugglefriend" from Draco, but I ignored him. Every time he would get near me I would turn around and walk away. Luckily, he greatest hobby was pestering Harry Potter.

Every summer I had gotten out of my parents dinner plans with the Malfoys until the summer between year three and year four, when my parents had brought me to a very important dinner with many Slytherin alumni. I was being forced to see my bully again. Who knew how this would end?

#harry potter headcanon #harry potter #harry/draco #hinny #romione #wolfstar #hogwarts #draco x you #draco malfoy #marauders #sirius black #remus lupin

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grimm-troupe-caretaker · 4 years

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The Cicind Tribe

This is a brief post about the Cicind Tribe which Falx/Caretaker/Reaper claim to hail from. The post is lengthy and will contain a read more. An apology now if this seems a bit disjointed in areas, I love world building and sometimes my thoughts don’t like to flow from one topic to the next.

Navigation

General

Location

Religion

Lifestyle

Hierarchy

Miscellaneous

Fun Facts

General

The Cicind Tribe were a highly efficient tribe of beetles that lived far northwest of Hallownest and at a time that predated Hallownest and even Radiance. Though they were the more aggressive of the tribes within the area, there were still territory disputes with a Mantis Tribe (Not related to the tribe depicted within Hallownest) Adult beetles are tall with long strong legs and arms, slender segmented torsos, thick fur like filaments on their chests and shoulders, and tear drop shaped heads with two long segmented horns located a few ‘inches’ from their eyes. While the common coloration was to have a black iridescent body with white and black patterned wing cases, many Cicind’s had a variety of colors along their segmented abdomens. While Cicinds were capable of flight, it was uncommon for them to do so, due to their religious beliefs

Location

The Cicinds’ homeland consisted of a marshland that was surrounded by tall grasses, lush plants, mudflats and waterways that commonly flooded. Much of the tribe was spread out over the stretch of this marshland, however the peak of their civilization was a keep known as Tlis. This keep was built on a smaller island within the mudflats that rarely flooded.

Tlis had buildings made of ‘salt rock’ and many of these buildings were also decorated with a combination of vegetation,to keep their homes cool, but also often adorned the bones of their various foes. The center of Tlis’ keep has the Empress's home built within the bones of a ferocious predator that predated the Tribe.

Religion

Cicinds were one of few known to worship a higher being known as the Nightmare King. When the founding members were searching for their new home, it was said they first laid eyes upon said being waiting for them on the skeleton of a long since deceased predator. At first they feared the higher being but upon the King’s warm invitation, they were in awe at such a figure that they returned the invitation with their own devotion. It was once a celebrated day that upon the anniversary of the day Tils was founded, the tribe holds a grand celebration and feast that honors the Nightmare King’s surprising generosity. This event lasts a few days and even hosted the higher being if he were able to attend. Outside this celebration, the tribe made regular practice of embodying the same fear their ancestors once felt. This is fierce nature was brought upon any the Cicind’s declared as prey or foes, thus giving them their reputation of being aggressive and frightening to other bugs. Naturally this stigma stuck with the tribe so much that their whole life was devoted to becoming fearless hunters in order to appease their King.

Lifestyle

Though fearsome on the outside, many Cicinds were rather peaceful until provoked or the call of a hunt brought out their true nature. As with many long standing civilizations, there were a host of skills each beetle claimed outside of their strength in the hunt. Many were lovers of the arts and such reflected within the architecture and adornments of their homes and buildings. Having a natural love for botany was as common as being able to wield a glaive. Cicnds often practiced the ability of balance. As they were expected to be capable hunters, though civilized to their fellow beetles. As such it’s common that within age groups, large brother and sister families form, even without being blood relatives. These generational groups sometimes can make up a whole city or sector within Tlis and while fiercely competitive with other generations, are still respectful to one another. Relationships outside of the large family like unit are not uncommon nor are prohibited so long as all members of the tribe contribute in passing along their genes at least once within their life time. Tradition of the tribe dictates that eggs are hatched in the mudflats and the grubwryms are raised to be like one family unit, hence the bond they share as they grow.

Hierarchy

Unlike many other societies at the time, Cicind’s loose pecking order on the societal echelon is based on combat skill, not financial welfare. Even still it is possible to slide around within the hierarchy if one is capable enough in battle, at least to some extent.

~ Starting on the lowest are grubwyrms. Of course the infants and children are not expected to best their adult counterparts, however from the moment children hatch, they are trained and allowed to fight and hunt the various mites that populate the mudflats. Squabbles of dominance are not uncommon, but dedicated caretakers see to ensuring these fights are not brutal in addition to caring for every other need grubwyrms have.

~ While these caretakers are considered the lowest on the adult scale, it is only because they are not allowed to partake in the hunt. It is not uncommon for many grubwyrms to grow into adults and serve a small amount of time caring for the next generation before advancing upward.

~ After caretakers are the agricultural, trade, and craft workers. As their goals in life are meant to focus around providing other services to the Tribe, they are not expected to join the hunting parties of the knights. Should their home come into danger or the Tribe livelihood become threatened, they will happily raise arms to join the hunt just as the knights do.

These workers are considered equal to knights despite their regular duties as many shifted from the more armed service into a passive life.

~ The knights can be viewed as the military might of the Tribe. Many young caretakers will immediately transfer into this echelon to satisfy their youthful energy and blood lust. Hunting parties are rotated out to collect food or ward off encroaching enemies while the rest stay behind to train, defend the tribe, or even act as security should it be needed.

~ If a knight proves himself or herself a ferocious hunter, they may be promoted to a Shin or Paladin. While Paladin’s act as personal knights to the higher scales, they commonly do not see a hunt outside of the Tribe unless there is a significant threat. Shin on the other hand are more likely to be away from the Tribe gathering information about enemy movements. They live considerably dangerous lives as they are often alone and far from having any form of support from the Tribe while they stalk enemy territory.

~ Then are Generals of both Paladins and Shin. They are typically older hunters who have less stamina then their younger counterparts. Often these individuals (usually one of each) are the right and left hand of the ruler.

~ Preceding the ruler are retired knights who serve more as scholars and the nobles of the Tribe. Like the Generals, they are equally capable in a fight, but are not as strong as their younger generations. Many oversee their ‘businesses’, scientific findings, and the less grittier and warlike operations of the Tribe. As such they typically are wealthier than the other classes, though it means nothing in the eyes of their fellow Cicinds.

~ Last is the ruler. Commonly an Empress (though male emperors are not unheard of) this beetle is often chosen from knighthood at a young age by the previous ruler and the Nightmare King himself. Females are usually picked over males as females are considered the more dominant of the sexes (only because they are larger and stronger than their male counterparts). Though if a male is chosen, there is no qualm as it is often a combination of hunting skills and intelligence that are ideal for rulers.

~ While the Nightmare King is not considered part of the tribe, he does have a place on the scale. Though his place is more akin to the star that shines over the rest of the pyramid. Never within reach, but always visible to serve and worship.

Miscellaneous

~ Clothing within the Cicind’s depended upon their status within the Tribe and their current task. Ranging from elegant and formal clothes to the lightweight Sho (A lightweight dark blue and black clothing mixed with light weight armor around specific points.) Though clothes did not make their society, it was not uncommon for the higher ranking beetles to poses a varied wardrobe. All meant to serve a variety of tasks, even to fool potential threats of misjudging a skilled hunter.

~ Weapons often come in the form spears, halberds, lances, and glaives. The purpose of these ranged weapons comes down to the Cicind’s claws acting as short range weapons and making it difficult to manipulate items with a shorter hilt.

~ As previously mentioned, flight is not something used commonly as it is believed that going into the sky will obstruct the Nightmare King’s vision by extent of distracting him with something majestic, powerful, and of course shiny (Yes even the Cicind’s knew their King had a bit of a dramatic flair). Additionally as they were in a marsh land, there were many other threats in the air that were keen to snatch a careless beetle with ease.

~ One legend tells of a Cicind who was so daring that he regularly took to the skies to challenge the King. The legend goes that at first the King flew with the beetle and tested his skill in flight. However it was after a time the King grew tired of the display and caught the beetle finally to consume him. (In reality, the dude was constantly managing to out fly a bat....until one day he couldn’t lol)

Fun Facts

It should be notated that ‘Cicind’ is a shorter part of the longer scientific name of Cicindelidae, which is the sub family of ground beetles known as tiger beetles. They are a species found worldwide, though tend to favor more open habitats, sea shores, sand dunes, and oddly...dirt roads. Tiger beetles are known for their aggressive hunting habits and being capable of running at incredible speeds (for a beetle mind you).

The Cicinds are based off the Salt Creek Tiger Beetle which is considered critically endangered due to agricultural ‘drainage’. They are also based off the Blue Tiger Beetle (For that iridescent black sheen) and Southern White Beach Tiger beetle (For the white and black patterns on the wing cases) Pronunciation of Cicind is “Si-sind”

#ooc #devilish headcannons #The Cicind Tribe #whole lotta lore #whole lotta reading #feel free to point out contradictions #and if there's anything you'd like to know further about the lore #just ask Falx

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flopgoblins · 5 years

Text

Ocelot Emperor

We emerge from the mists of Ireland - where we’re on retreat with next to no internet - to lay this offering at the feet of one of our favorite people and wish her a very happy birthday! @brazenbells we love you, thank you for two consecutive years of helping us write our boys, and for letting us throw them at your own.

Without further ado, the crossover smash the fans (us, mostly) have been clamoring for! Thanks, Ted.

King Abran's throne was as vast and glorious as his kingdom. Made of teak, varnished until the wood seemed to glow with an inner fire, inlaid with gold and etched with scenes from myth and legend and the founding of his dynasty.

And upon it, his wrists heavy with bangles, his fingers dripping rings, his eyes dark with kohl, lounged the crown prince, golden and glorious as a lion at rest. His eyes were lion-tawny too, and his neck was straight and proud, easily bearing the weight of the shining crown that rested upon his brow.

“See,” said Matt, angling his phone so Nico could get a better look at himself. “You look way better in all this sparkly shit than I do.”

Nico slid off the throne with a gentle chinking and untangled the gold-ish polymer crown from his hair. Beneath the gilt, it was dark brown, but for the stark white streak Makeup had sprayed there two hours ago. “Yeah, the casting choices feel a little strange. I can see why everyone on Twitter was pulling up those fanart comps to complain about it. Still not as bad as the, uh - ”

“I know,” Matt said morosely, taking the crown back and putting it on wonky. “I don’t even tan.” They’d dyed his hair again but thankfully drawn the line at trying to make him any less pasty. Manufacturing sexual tension with someone who looks like a stretched out Oompa Loompa might be beyond even Nico’s prodigious talents.

“I’m billed above you though. That’s progress.” Nico tried to get the crown to sit right but succeeded in tilting it drunkenly to the other side. “And, hey, it’s not every day you get a big-budget fantasy epic with a queer romance.”

“They cut out the incest. And most of the sex.” Around them, the studio walls yawned tall and green; the only solid things onset were them and the throne, and the throne was mostly resin.

“There wasn’t that much sex in the book,” said Nico, who’d picked up the novel as soon as the casting call went out and gone through making characterization notes on every page.

Matt, who’d read the first draft as it was posted on AO3, complete with thirteen chapters of kink that hadn’t made it into the published version, sniffed and forbore from commenting. Some hauteur was probably in keeping with playing Gael anyway. More in keeping with Tigris, though, which was further evidence Ted Nord couldn’t cast to save his life.

“I mean, I love it, it’s a really interesting role, but I’m finding it hard to get to grips with,” Nico had said, on the first day of shooting. “Spending your whole life pretending to be being vain and shallow, because it’s not safe to be anything else. Wearing a mask so long you must start to wonder whether you’ve become it. What does that do to a person?”

“Dunno,” Matt had said. “Did you see Ray Lelacheur’s Vogue cover yet? Terrible shoes.”

Now that Nico had abandoned the regal warmth that had settled on him as if it was second nature while draped over the throne, he was stirring the pages of the script again, frowning at his lines. Tigris had been the most he’d had to stretch for a character to date, he’d told Matt, though he’d earnestly added he liked the character’s ‘chewiness.’

Matt, who’d struggled equally hard to locate the generosity of spirit and ease of power that was Gael, continued to think that Ted was just as bad at casting to type as he was to aesthetic.

Nico tossed his white-streaked hair back from his forehead and dragged on his black velvet cloak. “Will you run this scene again with me? I keep not getting the timbre of his ambition right.” He mouthed a few lines, twisted a green gemstone on his finger, and cast an agonized, kohl-rimmed look at Matt. “How do I channel the appropriate volume of petulance, the feeling of a man deprived what by all rights should be his?”

Matt draped himself over his rightful throne, trying to arrange his limbs with the same boneless grace Nico had achieved so easily. “Remember when we were at that falafel truck last week and it took twenty minutes for your order to come and you started cursing god?”

“Suck my dick, Rose,” said Nico reflexively, but looked thoughtful.

“Later,” murmured Matt, and closed his eyes to wait.

“Spy,” snarled the prince, rounding on his cousin. Tigris stood his ground, jaw set against the taller man’s fury, lip curling with defiant derision. “You intrude here, in my father’s house, not content to be left to your life of indulgent luxury, so desperate for attention -”

Tigris’s eyes flashed, enraged despite himself. “Attention? You think that is what I crave? Heavens forbid I seek a world beyond the gilded cage my uncle keeps me in, indulging me like a spoilt puppy and giving me just as much freedom. Attention? I would give my eyeteeth for less! If one could trade condescending oversight for actual knowledge of how our kingdom is run-”

“Our kingdom,” repeated Gael. He cocked his head to the side, curiosity warring with the outrage in his noble features. “You truly think it so, do you? But our father-”

“Uncle,” said Tigris, under his breath.

“Our uncle -”

“My uncle,” said Tigris helpfully. “Your father.”

“My - okay, your -” Matt stopped. “Gawd. This doesn’t work at all.”

“See? It doesn’t work half as well without the incest.” Nico flicked a gem-encrusted finger at Matt’s nose.

Matt wrinkled it and adjusted the hang of gold chains over his collarbones. “You say this like I’m the one who made the script changes. And for the record, Cindy was as cut up about it as you are.” Cindy, script doctor extraordinaire, had also lurked the story on AO3 as it sailed up the ‘Original Fiction’ rankings, and was as distressed as he was about the loss of the throne sex scene. “It’s not my fault transgressive familial kink hasn’t crossed over from the hets yet.”

“Kink shmink, it totally shifts the dynamic.” Nico flapped his cloak emphatically. “Adopted cousins isn’t close to the same sort of layers of resentment and entitlement being a bastard half-brother would be.”

“Right,” said Matt, who’d definitely only re-read chapter 12 seven times for the entitlement, and not the way Tigris hissed ‘brother’ while bound to a bedpost. “The morality groups would lose their shit, though. Probably it was the right call.” It was impressive enough his agency had let him sign the role at all; he’d already rocked the boat enough asking if his casting was whitewashing.

“The morality groups are gonna lose their shit over the gay factor anyway,” said Nico stubbornly. “In for a penny...”

“What about the negative associations of homosexuality with sexual taboos?”

“What about double standards?”

“Sure, it’s a double standard and it sucks, but you gotta start somewhere. It’s a story about being an outcast and fighting for scraps of dignity, fighting to be seen as human by people who want you to be less than that, and that’s gonna resonate with a lot of kids. You gotta lay the groundwork then fuck your brother.”

Nico raised an eyebrow and Matt shut up quickly; he, or rather his agency, had made a point of never letting him be drawn into these kinds of debates. “And I think compromise robs art of its power. What does the author think?” They both glanced across the set to where a woman in a peacock-print dress watched as Ted struggled to coral the child actors for the carnival scene. Her expression, behind her glasses, was unreadable.

“Dunno.” Matt ran his hand through his hair. The dye had dried it out and he winced at the brittle, dead-grass feel of it. “Only time we spoke, we both tried to get each other’s autographs and it was really awkward. Bet she’d have some notes for you, though.”

“D’you know, Rose, that’s not a bad idea.” Once resolved, Nico was all action and he stood, script pages fluttering to the floor, velvet cloak swirling around his ankles. The jut of his jaw said that nothing short of poor falafel truck service would defeat him.

“Ask her to show you the predicament bondage scene,” Matt told him helpfully. “There were some really important character beats in that, I thought.”

“You think you’re too good for me, don’t you?”

“What?” Matt looked up, taken completely off guard. He was stretched out in Nico’s window seat, deeply absorbed in a thinkpiece on why Kai Bourke would have been a better casting choice for Gael, and thoroughly agreeing with it. Seeing his boyfriend prowling towards him with a look of cold fury and a bare chest was enough to stop him mid-anonymous comment.

Nico stalked across the room towards him, the taut anger etched in every muscle creating a frayed grace that was almost violence. “That’s the worst of you, your highness. It’s not that you hate me. It’s not that you think less of me. It’s that you think nothing of me at all!”

Finally cottoning on, Matt swung his legs around and tried to remember his lines; it was hard, he truly couldn’t remember what part of the script this was. That in itself was unusual. Matt would hardly claim himself a natural thespian or even a diligent professional, but memorizing lines had been a skill drilled into him since he was eight years old and it was a tough habit to shake. Still, while Nico’s words - Tigris’s words - sounded vaguely familiar, he couldn’t for the life of him place them in Ted and Cindy’s script.

“But I’m going to make certain you don’t forget me, brother,” whispered Nico, and that was just it, Matt realized. It wasn’t the script at all. It wasn’t even the book. It was the original.

“You read it?” he mouthed, as Nico’s hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Shocked to learn I’m literate?” spat Nico, but favored him with the shadow of a wink. No shadow around his eyes this time, no gold woven into his hair, but he was more Tigris than he’d been on the soundstage.

It was, simultaneously, extremely Nico.

Matt tried, experimentally, to free his wrist and found he couldn’t. He shivered, feeling his pulse jump, knowing Nico could feel it too. “Was that an attempt to dig deeper into the artistic truth of the work, or to mine it for weird, kinky shit?”

“Yes,” said Nico, bearing him down onto the cushions, beautiful and vengeful and careful not to knock Matt’s laptop off the seat.

One of the advantages of shooting a gay film with your boyfriend - one Arose had certainly never intended - was that when Nico turned, grabbed Matt by the lapels, and kissed him on the red carpet, everyone laughed and smiled and Matt knew the gossip mag headlines would be jokes about dedication to the craft and not shock sexuality scandals. His father probably wouldn’t- okay he’d definitely mind but it’d probably be a side note in a meeting about how to capitalize on the film’s success.

And it was a success; some desperately hot sex aside, reading the story - the real story - had apparently been what Nico had needed to pull it together. All the pride and fear and desperate clawing longing of a tiger caged that had risen like a heat haze from Tigris’s story, and Nico had captured it, had reveled in it, and put it on the screen for all to see.

Matt straightened his tie and winked to the paps - just a joke between bros, nothing queer here - and resolved to fuck Nico senseless in the restrooms after the premier. Nico laughed and stuck his tongue out. He’d left the white streak in his hair for the red carpet, as stark as the collar of his suit, and Matt had to say, it was growing on him.

#tiger prince #brazenbells #star boys #incest mention #HAPPY BIRTHDAY KELSI WE LOVE YOU

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techxbillionaire · 5 years

Text

A Better Man

I compiled an old RP between me and @icexandxcool so it is easier to read. I don’t think we will ever continue it but I was asked about doing this so I have. It begins at the end of legends of tomorrow season 2. They drop Len back off in the time line without his memories of being a memeber of the legion of doom. It hasn’t been edited and please remember it was an rp so that’s why there are weird perspective switches. Anyways enjoy!

A Better Man

“No, I mean better.”

Ray can hear Mick’s gruff voice from just beyond the warehouse door where he is hiding and waiting. The sound of the new tech he designed, let’s him know that it’s done. Leonard’s memories are gone. Mick appears at his side only moments later with a grim expression on his already grim features. “You sure about this pretty?”

“He has an eidetic memory. If someone can beat my tech it's him. We don’t want remnants of events sticking around. He needs to get on the ship with us. The team wouldn’t be the same without him.” Ray recites the answer he’s been giving everyone when asked about his decision to stay in 2012. He’ll be playing henchman to captain cold.

Mick pats Ray on the shoulder a rare physical gesture obviously strategic, “which is the bullshit you fed the team. What’s your angle.”

Unable to resist looking at Mick when the pyromaniac initiates contact Ray is the cause of his own undoing. He is a horrible liar at the best of times and Mick knows something more is at play here, has known for a while just hasn’t called Ray out on it. Sighing deeply Ray let’s his gaze drift over to where Len is standing, still looking so uncharacteristically confused. “I just want to know him,” he admits quietly.

Mick shakes his head, “he ain’t the guy from the waverider, pretty. He’s cruel and guarded. He’ll hate you more than he did the first time.”

Ray nods, “I know.”

“Moron, then why you doing this,” Mick demands.

“Because he changed my fate Mick.” Ray boldly declares, “I was supposed to die. Yes, you intervened but ultimately it’s Len’s fate that was cut short so mine could be altered. I just… I just want to do the same for him.”

Mick drops his hand away from Ray’s shoulder and nods. He leaves him too it then. Confident that if anyone can melt the icy heart of Captain Cold it was the boy scout.

No one was willing to change fate with the spear but maybe fate would let them have this one gimme for being so good about that. There had to be a loop hole somewhere and Ray would find it. In Len’s past he would find a way to save the man’s future.

Taking a deep breath Ray steadies himself. Pushing off the wall he turns to enters the room currently occupied by one Leonard Snart. He takes another deep breath and runs his hand over his newly shaven head. Ray had drastically changed his look so he could convince anyone who notices that he only closely resembles Ray Palmer. A buzz cut and a thick coat of stubble give him a rougher look. His already toned body and broad shoulders help as well. He at least looks the part.

“Heya, Leonard Snart right? I was told I could find you here. Names Lucky.” Too bad that all goes to shit as soon as he opens his mouth.

Len leans back against a desk he’d dragged out of the offices weeks ago for this armored truck job that’s been completely botched. It’s thanks to a new player in town he’d been almost entirely unaware of in any capacity of acceptance when it comes to rumors about things called “the Streak.” The impossible… made flesh.

This place is feeling… off to him today. He’s never put much stock in feelings of deja vu. Mostly because his mind never forgets and so he simply knows whether he’s been somewhere or met someone before, but right now he completely understands why so many people find it so frustrating. His whole being feels taut. Pulled in an unidentifiable direction, and he does not like it.

He’s alone in the warehouse at first. He shot a member of his crew here yesterday, knowing he would lose the others and not caring in the least. He has a reputation to maintain in the criminal underworld or he’ll have just any fool coming to his calls for grunts who can follow orders. Besides! He’s discovered he has bigger fish to fry. In the form of the very same Khandaq diamond going on display at the local museum now that “the Flash” has botched the truck heist. He’s going to need a way to defeat this fast moving Do Gooder if he’s ever going to get his hands on his current goal.

He wants that chunk of ice.

That thought carries far more weight inside of him than he understands souring his mood even further. His right hand twitches, fingers folding into his palm by his right thigh as if he were reaching for something that should be there but isn’t and he finds his frustration mounting. He shakes his hand out after a millisecond post the involuntary response to thoughts of the Flash as his enemy. Brow furrowed, he rubs his wrist when a voice breaks his concentration on his sense of loss. As if he were missing some vital part of himself somehow. He’s perfectly whole but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s lost something… something beyond his scope of comprehension of the moment. He hates feeling like this, but he pushes aside his irritation. His frustration he lets bleed off his aura in waves. He’s all out of patience after losing his crew yesterday.

The man is tall, broad shouldered and built like a mixed martial artist. Heavy enough to take on a middleweight wrestler. Maybe even a heavyweight if he’s skilled. He looks intimidating… except for the softness around his eyes and the fact that he sounds like a friendly neighbor rather than any kind of criminal.

“Lucky, hm?” He drawls and folds his arms aginst his chest, low and relaxed, as he increases his lounging position against his work bench desk. He is the king of his castle and he will not tolerate unwanted intruders. “I have a fairly good idea of who you’ve spoken too… shall I assume then that you are looking to join my new crew despite recent… unfortunate events?”

‘Unfortunate events’ was one way to put it and yes Ray was prepared. How well that preparation holds up under pressure is a whole other thing. He’d been warned by Mick, and then Sara, and then by Stein of the kind of man he was attempting to help. It seemed kind of cruel to have such a negative outlook on a man who ultimately dies for them all but Ray understands.

They warned him because of what happened to Amaya, because they don’t want it to happen to him. Liabilities get disposed of by this current Cold. This is the time in which he earned his mantel, and Ray wasn’t allowed to stop him. Some deaths shape not only Len but Barry as well. Ray has been warned and believes himself mentally prepared for this but Len’s words of introduction crack his resolve.

Len has openings in his crew because he killed one of his previous crew members. It was cut and dry. Calculated and cold. Ray swallowed down the bile rising up into his mouth. No point in getting cold feet now, he wanted to bare witness to the man Leonard Snart will become. All his broken pieces included. Rubbing his sweaty palms onto his thighs he holds out his hand Ray knows it’s going to be rejected but it’s a sign of respect and he can’t shake all his habits.

“I heard, not from whoever your thinking of though. Just heard… but that’s besides the point, I was looking for you because you’re you.” Ray was not getting anywhere fast but still he keeps going, “no, well, yes… what I mean is, I’m a tech specialist, support. I want to be part of a team that utilizes my abilities but in order for that to happen I need a leader who isn’t a muscle head.”

That’s interesting. “What makes you think I need a tech expert, Lucky? Or that I actually will build another crew after… terminating the last one? It’s bold of you… to just walk into the bear’s den like this…”

Len stares Lucky down, sizing him up, measuring his mettle. “And if I wanted a practical interview? A… demonstration of your technical prowess of sorts? Are you prepared to fail knowing that you became a liability the moment you walked through that door?”

Ray laughs because maybe he was a little giddy from getting to actually talk to Len. The entire time he’d been with the legion it was only fire fights and one liners. Eobard was obviously careful to keep Len from the team. He also maybe laughed because showing off is something he can do. Taking a reckless step foreword Ray replies with two fingers moving in a sign for running in front of his face.

“The streak.” Ray says confidently despite feeling a little silly for saying it like this, “is why you’re looking for a new crew. The rest of the criminals are running scared but you, you aren’t that timid.” He sugar coats his words with compliments, stroking the illustrious ego of captain cold. He readies his ‘miniature bomb’ in his hand, shows off the little throwing star to Snart before tossing it towards a cargo box. With a blue flash the box shrinks down small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.

Ray leans down picks it up and tosses it towards Len, “I only have one stipulation for my continued loyalty and services. I’m purely support. I tinker with the tech, but I never, NEVER set foot in a bank, vault or armoured car.” His words gruff and harsher than he would normally phrase things thanks to Sara and Mick practically writing this bit out in script format.

Len catches the tossed container with deft efficiency and then opens his hand to study the oddly light rectangle of metal. “Cool under pressure. A trait I admire.”

He lifts the shrunken container and then tosses it back to Lucky. “Let’s take better care of our potential assets and targets though shall we? That’s going to be a mess in there… if you can return it to its normal size again that is.”

He’s got this…. itch at the back of his mind. It’s triggering his sense of knowing, but that usually flawless recall is stymied and Len is quickly becoming irritable with frustration. “How do I know you’re not a plant? How do you plan to earn enough of my trust that I don’t send you straight to the coroner?”

Ray sets the container down on the ground an appropriate distance away from them. “The affects wear off after a time limit. You can’t sustain this amount of atom minimization without constant power output. Depending on the materials it can be as quick as a minute or as long as a day. It’s still a prototype so there are some bugs. Not ready for heists yet.” His explanation is said mostly to his watch as he counts down. It takes another thirty seconds but than the crate returns to its original size.

“Mm, alright. Fair enough. You’re tech savvy. I’ve heard rumors that some things were taken from STAR labs and they’re being fenced to the highest bidder. I meet the… “man of business” in two hours. You’ll come with me. Make sure there isn’t anything else of value besides the two pieces I’m already taking. Got it?“

That sense of knowing, like he should be familiar with this whole scene… but… that something was still… off.

Ray nods excited to be included so quickly and on an excursion he had heard about prior. Makes preparing his mind for the impending murder easier. The man stole the guns because of financial problems and Barry later takes care of his family so it isn’t all bad. Ray still feels a lump of guilt forming in his gut but he pushes it aside in favour of winning Len’s trust. "I can do that. What kind of tech are you already interested in?? And from STAR labs too” ray whistles, “that’s some fancy stuff. Cutting edge even.”

“You’ll see soon enough. In the meantime, I’ve ordered us something to eat. The pizza delivery boy will be here soon. See that he’s taken care of. I have some research to attend.”

Len straightens and swings around to the working side of the desk, settling in the chair and waking up his laptop. He’s irritated with this sense of wrongness and he can’t seem to shake it. He wonders if it might be that he finds Lucky attractive and that it’s been far too long since he’s gotten laid… but deems that ridiculous. He’s not that hard pressed yet.

Ray nods and turns to go keep a look out for the delivery boy but hesitates. He looks back at Len and clears his throat to get the man’s attention. “You can trust me Len. I know that doesn’t carry weight but…” cutting himself off Ray shakes his head. His eyes are a little sad when he turns back to the entrance of the warehouse. Sighing deeply he pushes himself to walk away.

Each step feels like it’s sinking deeper in mud pulling him down. Ray, if anything could persevere. So, he ignores his heavy emotions in favour of playing his part. That little slip up can’t happen again. This needs to be organic, he doesn’t want to trigger Len’s sharp mind and eidetic memory. Auto pilot takes over as it often does when Ray is working out a complex problem. He pays for the pizza and returns to the room Len was in, a bit of a daze floating over his head like a cloud.

Len had been about to bristle and growl at Lucky that they weren’t so well acquainted yet that he should be calling him by his first name, but something in that sad, sad expression stops him. He feels that sense of not knowing something he should know spike and lets the incident go in favor of searching for answers on the internet. Lucky returns looking dazed. “Let me guess. She was beautiful and you’re in need of a little… alone time.”

Ray startles, “wah?!” He blushes at the implications behind Len’s words and stammers through a few more attempts at ‘what’ before managing, “no uh, just thinking out a problem I haven’t solved yet.” Coming up to the desk he lays the pizza between them turned toward Len so the thief can grab his first. Ray takes this moment to cool off his cheeks hoping his beard mostly covered his blush. He leans on the desk and grabs himself a slice to munch on.

“So, have you had a chance to catch the hobbit yet?” Rays asks reaching for anything to talk about to fill the silence. He avoids personal questions or questions that could appear as digging for information which left little to be desired in conversation starters.

Len goes stone silent. Swallows his bite of pizza and then stands, setting his bitten slice on a napkin on the desk. “Will you excuse me.”

Then he disappears down the hall that was behind him. He locks himself in the bathroom and paces. Now isn’t the time to let that ice cold need for revenge rise to the surface. Lisa has been dead for a long time… he’ll never rest until Lewis Snart is rotting in hell. But… he isn’t about to tell any of that to Lucky.

Ray startles back up into a standing position almost dropping his slice of pizza as he nods to Len’s words. He watches the man stalk out, worry etched into every line of his face. Ray was missing something. He closes his eyes and places greasy fingers on the bridge of his nose. He’d picked the hobbit because it came out around this time in 2012. What significances does that movie hold for Len. Outside of being a closet nerd there was no reason for such a uncharacteristic reaction to the mention of that movie.

Pursing his lips he tries to go through all the little facts he knows about Len. The things he discovered by overhearing conversations he wasn’t supposed too and then the stories Mick told to him after Len… well after. Nothing is clicking which just cements his growing concern he is missing something important. How to discover what it could be is going to be hard.

After going around in circles Ray gives up for now. Living alongside Len is the only way to find answers so he will just have to stick it out. He goes back to eating his pizza well he waits on Len to return.

Len returns composed and cool and settles in his chair. He resumes his research - now on the growing numbers of reports on the Streak - and starts on his pizza slice again. Absently he asks, “What can you tell me about the Streak, Lucky?”

Wasn’t that a question and a half. Ray was tempted to start off with correcting the name because ‘the streak’ is lame but he holds back. What can Ray say? Gnawing on his pizza slice he considers his options. Would providing no insight make him useless and then disposable. Was this a test from Len or just an inquiry. Ray honestly doesn’t know and no amount of studying Len’s face was giving him answers.

The script was used up, now he needed to stick around all by himself. He was clever, a genius even. He could do this. Hopefully. “Uh… he’s fast?” Ray answers and it is no where near as confident as it needs to be. Throwing caution to the wind he adds, “probably weak to the cold.”

Len’s brow raises. “My thought exactly. All that lightning generated from heat and friction, the speeds he travels and all molecules slow to a stop at Absolute Zero… so what better way to slow him down than giving him a little… chill?”

Len can’t help but be relieved by the topic change and to have someone agree with him rather than run away for fear of the consequences of failure.

Ray can’t hide his eyebrows rising up in surprise. He’d known that Leonard learned that gun inside and out after he got it but his current reasoning suggested an understanding of science beyond what the thief ever let on before. His surprise almost caused him to miss the pun but he doesn’t. Ray covers his chuckle with a cough, hand coming up to cover his smile. It doesn’t work.

“Chill right…” he agrees hiding behind opening the pizza box because he can’t get his amusement under control. He picks a piece of pizza up and shoves it in his mouth as a last ditch effort. Well he chews he asks, “you’ve studied physics?”

“I have nothing else to do when I manage to find myself in lock up… and I never perform a heist without knowing everything I’m dealing with… and every escape route. I’ve robbed top floor penthouses and never had those thefts pinned on me. It’s nice to be… underestimated.”

Len’s smirk is cocky as he finishes another piece of pizza. He’s pleased that Lucky finds his puns humorous. So many people are just… too stupid.

Humming thoughtfully he finishes off his pizza and begins licking his fingers clean. The image of Len behind bars studying science books leaves a lingering smile on his lips. “I guess,” ray concedes to Len’s underestimated comment. He can’t really relate though. To be underestimated feels the same as not leaving a lasting impact which he is really not a fan of.

He wants his time, effort, and accomplishments to have meaning. When you do things that matter you aren’t underestimated but held in high regard. Ray wants to matter, maybe too much. Doesn’t Len want that too? “What other subjects have you studied?” Ray changes gears trying to pry more about Len out of him well still keeping a respectful distance.

Len lifts a shoulder. “I speak several different languages among them Russian, Italian, Sindarin and Vulcan. I’m a fair mathematician. But mostly I’ve studied people. Like right now… you’re fishing. I just don’t know for what.”

Len shrugs again and hums as he finishes off his third and last piece. “I like you. You’re earnest. Don’t push your luck.”

Being read and being honest were apparently different things because Ray feels a little raw and exposed at being seen through. If Len liked that he was ernest than he’d stick with that. Creating a persona too different from his own personality would be hard to maintain for a long period of time.

“I was fishing.” Ray admits, “for more about you. Not really a particular detail just trying to get to know the man behind some of the stories I’ve heard.” Every word one hundred percent the truth. It felt good not to hold back to not have to hide behind half truths and half lies. “Kohlinar!” Ray exclaims with a snap of his fingers, “you totally do that don’t you. Okay not that extreme but you try to mute your emotions. That’s what earlier was abou…. and okay, uh you know when something just kinda clicks. An answer to a problem and it’s like eureka? You just… you mentioned Vulcan and then my mind went Spock and your so cool and collected but earlier when you excused… I’m sorry I should really stop talking. Shouldn’t we be going now? Imma just shut up now. Don’t get mad.”

It wasn’t like he didn’t know this about Len before but it just felt like his understanding over what that practise truly is to the thief just expanded. It was to suppress powerful overwhelming emotions.

Len’s expression is neutral for a long moment. He’s never been pegged so accurately in his life. Not even by Lisa when she had been alive. He stands and is about to say something scathing when his mental clock has him look at his watch. “We need to go. Come on. The meeting place is across town and we have to account for traffic.”

If he doesn’t acknowledge Lucky’s eerily accurate insight then perhaps he’ll assume he’s off base and leave it be without Len having to lie to his newest crew member.

Ray blows out a long breath relieved that he was still invited. He was totally okay with bypassing his outburst. Doesn’t make it any less true but he can let Len believe he’s dismissed Ray’s observation. “Okay sure,” he replies as he bounces on his toes waiting for Len to lead the way.

If only he hadn’t done that… they could be talking Star Trek right now instead of awkward silence. It made Ray want to twitch. Inside the car he chewed his lip and drummed his fingers anxiously.

Len drives like a calculated law abiding citizen. He even waits to start the car until they’re both buckled in. It’s a few moments of silence in when he can’t hold back the question any longer. “Which series?” He asks cool and calm, feigning indifference.

Ray is so grateful Len is a big enough nerd that he can’t resist a chance to talk to someone with similar interests. The accompanying smile lights up Ray’s face with an obnoxious amount of happiness. He hums and hahs for a moment before dropping an answer with a ‘duh, isn’t it obvious’ inflection to his words, “the original. I mean it’s what started all of it.”

Len nods approval heavy in his expression. “And the movies?”

He normally doesn’t want to get to know his crewmen. But there is just something about this man that puts Len at ease. A dangerous situation that he’ll have to be more wary of from here forward.

“The wrath of khan.” Ray answers easily but then adds when his brain connects the dates to the new movies, “I’m also excited for the next movie ‘into the darkness’ because the rumours are all talking about them revisiting that storyline.” Which they do, and it was glorious. Ray kind of wants to tell Len all about it but bites his tongue. Letting the thief speculate instead.

“I haven’t had much time to follow the movie rumor mill. If they revisit Khan, I’m sure they’ll do the storyline justice.” Len pulls them into the warehouse parking lot. “Let me do the talking. Speak up if you notice anything pertinent.”

Ray nods biting his tongue again when the thought of asking Len to go see it with him pops into his head. A similar inquiry about movies is what caused the storm of emotions earlier and ray doesn’t want to unbalance him when they are about to go do something so pivotal. He also has to stop his hand from miming locking his mouth closed because Lucky tech criminal specialist would not do that.

“Will do boss.” He says instead which was a sufficient alternative. Calling Len boss made him chuckle internally but it also lets his intent known. He plans on listening. He will be on his best behaviour. Following Len into the warehouse Ray keeps his word and doesn’t speak up. The guns Len look at he already knows well and nods approvingly when looking them over from behind Len’s shoulder.

It was actually interesting to see the gun’s in their original state, being able to compare to the upgrades he knows exist. Part of Ray wonders how many of those upgrades Len did himself. He’ll have to be careful not to take over the process in fear of a predestination paradox. He’d do the upgrades because he saw the gun already with the upgrades meaning the upgrades have no proper beginning.

The idea of teaching Len the science and know how to upgrade his own gun seems like the best way to avoid that. How to offer that without Len outright rejecting it would be the trick though.

Len is an observant man and he picks up on Lucky’s approval of the tech. Len wastes no time in icing the dealer. He grins, pleased by the results. “Bring the rest. I have a fence already lined up.”

Len picked up the cases for the Heat and Cold guns once he’s tucked away the cold gun and goggles. He heads back to the car and tucks the cases behind his seat. Then he pops the trunk expecting Lucky to be right behind him.

Ray’s mouth falls open in horror over how quickly Len makes the decision to kill the man and take all the things. Though it wasn’t actually quick because len was prepared for the results of icing the man. It makes ray queazy. He stays behind staring at the iced statue holding the bile rising in his stomach down with will power alone. Wiping unshed tears form his eyes he does as he was told collecting all the gear of any value and scurrying after Len.

His heart is heavy with the weight of a life being taken right in front of him. He could have done something. Knew it was coming and could have prevented it in some way. He hasn’t felt this helpless since Anna. A new wave of nausea washes over him when he makes it back to Len’s car. Carefully he dumps the stuff into the trunk his forehead beading with sweat as a clammy sickly feeling takes him. He can’t throw up though. He’s Lucky. This is his normal. He will have to get used to this. There is more to come.

Those thoughts do little to settle his stomach. He looks at Len and offers a weak smile silently saying ‘job’s done.’ Once the message was relayed he slides back into the car and covers his face with his hands trying desperately not to wear his heart on his sleeve and failing miserably.

Len gets them on the road. The car is quiet while Len maneuvers them through Central City traffic. He’s torn. On one hand, something is definitely off here. On the other, he can see why Lucky doesn’t like to be in the front row.

“I won’t be needing you in the field after this. You’ve proven valuable…. and given good reason as to why you don’t want to be on the front lines. Not everyone has the stomach for what needs to be done.”

“Does it though?” Ray finds himself saying despite himself. He looks over at Len his eyes pleading the shadow of the man he knows to let the real deal shine through. Swallowing down such shallow feelings he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No, never mind. You’re right. I just don’t have the stomach for it, but I like the freedom to tinker and create what I want without board members and grants hanging over my head. So here I am.” It was a lie seated in things Ray honestly doesn’t like about being an inventor in the 21st century.

He rubs his hands over his face and then through his hair collecting himself. Licking his lips he takes a breath carefully controlling the things about to come out of his mouth. “I trust you to do what’s necessary and only that. Like I said before I did my research and you aren’t one for needless casualties I … we might not be on the right side of the law, but that doesn’t make us bad people either.”

“How incredibly progressive of you, Lucky. My partner’s going to disagree with you there. My advice? Don’t argue with him. He’s got a hot temper. We’ve been apart for a bit so he could cool down… but! If for some reason cold isn’t the answer… Mick will take the opportunity to overheat his engines. With pleasure. The Streak won’t be fouling up any more of my heists. One way or another.”

Len turns them toward a red light district and parks in the lot of a pay by the hour motel. He gets out of the car and then leans back in. “Don’t speak and get in the back seat.”

Ray nods interested in Len’s perspective of Mick. It was all helpful advice because the mick that is his friend on the waverider had been through a lot. Like time master kidnapping and brainwashing, then unbrainwashing and Len dying. A lot a lot. Those kind of experiences change a man and ray hopes that the mick Rory he knows is still in there now though. It will always be easier for ray to get along with mick because like ray he wears his heart on his sleeve. Len despite how Ray is drawn to him, was an enigma to ray more often than not.

He hopes to solve some of the man through this ordeal though. “Okay, good to know about your friend. I’ll keep out of his way,” ray comments as he slides out of the front seat and into the back. He still wasn’t feeling one hundred percent but there was nothing he could do about that. This was his life he kept reminding himself because he was worried if he didn’t he’d forget and start preaching at Len. Which would do him absolutely no good. When Len is gone ray plays with the radio leaning up into the front seats awkwardly.

He was just bored and trying to keep busy so his mind would stop replaying when Len iced that man. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen someone die and that man wasn’t the nicest of men but even still the heartless killing over business is what gets to ray. What shifts Len’s axis so he decides not to do such things. Where he decides to give his life for his team and all of time.

The conversation with Mick goes exactly as he’s planned and before long, Len and Mick come out of a motel room each holding their respective gun cases. Mick slides into the passenger seat and twists looking Ray over for a moment. He asks, “Who’s this?” once Len has settled his gun in the foot well behind his seat and settled himself in the driver’s seat.

“Mick. Lucky. Lucky. Mick. He’s a tech expert. Hates the scene, loves unauthorized, unmoderated tech projects. He seems useful.”

Mick grunts and settles back. “He looks like a cross between one o'those punk hipsters and a some pretty boy billionaire.”

“Now Mick. Where are you manners?” Len chastens as he drives them back to the safehouse.

Ray freezes mouth open gawking at Mick. His mind a little broken at the all too observant and accurate assessment. He eventually shakes the shock away and holds out his hand awkwardly from the backseat, “and you seem like there is more to you than meets the eye. Looking forward to working with you.” It was a simple statement but one that ray knows beyond a doubt is true. Mick was more than a muscle brained fire obsessed broken individual. He was clever, resourceful and one day Ray’s friend.

Mick looks back at him again, looks down at his hand and then shakes it once briefly. “Yeah yeah.”

Len chuckles once, just a soft huff, and then says baldly, “I sleep in the corner office on the second floor. There are five other offices to choose from. Once I close my door leave me alone outside of emergencies. Now, I expect to see both of you at ten AM sharp. I have a plan for testing what we’re dealing with. Understood?”

Ray nods relieved on two levels. One mick shook his hand which did not happen the first time they met. The other was Len was putting him up. Ray isn’t certain if the arrangement is long term but for tonight at least he doesn’t have to figure something out. His plans to stay at Len’s side weren’t all that well thought out beyond becoming a member of his crew.

He picks the office that was between where Len and mick settled. He would have preferred to be closer to Len but thought the nearness would raise suspicion. He doesn’t really sleep that night, haunted by an icy face he didn’t save. How does Len bare such burdens so effortlessly. Do you really get used to it as he’s suggested before. Ray doubts it.

In the early hours of the morning he gives up on sleep and heads out for a run along the docks. The sun was barely beginning to rise when he makes it back to the warehouse. He’d stopped for ingredients on the way and was making use of the kitchen when the first sound of stirring could be heard. Hopefully Mick and Len like gluten and dairy free blueberry pancakes.

Mick makes his way in first, and makes a pleased, gruff noise as he moves over to take a plate of the pancakes. He’s in the process of adding syrup when Len strolls in as well put together as ever.

“You cook too? I might just end up keeping you on if you keep surprising us.” He glances at Mick who is wolfing it down and then starts plating up breakfast for himself.

Ray can’t control the blush. It hits him hard and fasts which he wholly blames Len for. He never complimented him before what is with all this positive reinforcement now. Was Len always so free with, even in a teasing manner, such kind words. It made Ray’s head spin a little. He glares down at his plate trying to cool his cheeks off well he eats his own share of the pancakes.

He swallows down a big bite and in an attempt to steer the conversation away from himself asks, “so you mentioned a plan last night.”

“I want to gain an appreciation of how fast he is. How agile. How… tethered he is when given a choice between catching the villain… and saving a life.” Len finishes off his small stack of pancakes. “I want to know what makes him tick… not his powers, but the man who wields them.”

‘Between catching the villain… and saving a life’ are the only words ray really hears. He knows what’s coming next. Another icy face to add to his conscious. He can’t bare it. Feeling a panic grip him ray has to fight off his desire to beg Len not to. To suggest there is a better way. Instead he bites his tongue in favour of a rougher assessment.

“An ultimatum then? How cliche. Though I guess it’s still used cuz it’s effective… just thought you’d have something more ingenuous up your sleeve.”

Mick whistles, “the balls on this one. Thinks making pancakes gives him a right to an opinion.”

Len’s eyes flick to Mick then back to Ray. “Tried, true and reliable,” he confirms airily and finishes off his last bite of food. “I need to know his mind, so I can make certain he and I can reach an understanding. It will be far less of a headache than outright killing him…”

“You just love a challenge,” Mick rumbles.

“True,” Len responds though his eyes are on Ray alone.

“What if he IS the hero he claims to be?” Ray counters because he is curious, will Len continue to sacrifice civilians. Ray knows ultimately Barry convinces him otherwise but if he hadn’t would that have been Len’s go to for escape. Then ray has a thought. One he would never say outloud.

Was Len testing Barry because he wants him to fail at being a hero, because he believes there is no such person. Tilting his head to the side he meets Len’s eyes his own gaze intense like when he looks at the inner workings of a new machine. He watches each gear and cog carefully figuring out how they work.

Shaking his head he goes back to finishing his pancakes letting Len off the hook from answering. If he is right and Len is testing the flash Ray’s inquiry will only be met with silence or cool indifference. He offers up instead, “Guess I’ll just have to wait and see what you do. I can understand the allure of a puzzle.”

It’s subtle, but Lucky’s questions and final statement have him looking hard at Lucky, his gaze calculating. He doesn’t let the expression get him down. He just adjusts his perceptions of Lucky. He’s wary but none of his warning instincts have truly been triggered. His eyes wander over Lucky for a moment. The man is, after all, exactly his type.

“I suppose you do,” he responds a slight purr to his voice.

It wasn’t like Ray hadn’t heard that sort of tone coming from Len before, just never used towards him. It made the hairs on his arms stand on end like an animal being targeted by a predator. Ray swallows down the last bite of his food and looks up at Len smiling a big broad grin mostly out of nervous habit. He pushes his feelings on what that tone could possibly mean out of his mind.

As he does this his mouth goes on a tangent well his mind is preoccupied. “Like you’ve already discovered I have no stomach for on the job action but I do hope you remember I’m offering my services to you because you’re a thief not a murderer.” Ray drums his fingers on the table looking between Mick and Len as he makes what appears to be a random assessment of the two men, “Neither of you are. Your survivors, and I have faith when you see an opportunity that will lead you away from having to be so extreme… you’ll take it.”

Standing he scoops up the empty plates and starts walking off to the kitchen a wave of his hand over his shoulder as he concludes, “Sometimes all it takes is a little faith, Leonard.” It wasn’t until he was wrist deep in suds washing the dishes that he thinks maybe he’d said a little too much. He wasn’t supposed to know these two men that well yet. Even on the waverider he probably wouldn’t have taken such liberties. Though he’d never been included in their inner circle there either. Ray was getting ahead of himself. His excitement and nerves were beginning to show in an unexpected manner.

If only Len hadn’t purred at him like that.

It was all his fault, with that voice and drawl… and.. and… sharp clear blue eyes. Ray closes his eyes and takes a breath trying to clear his head. What was he even thinking about. He needs to think of a way to be useful. surveillance maybe, miniature cameras… what was that queen bee villain chick ollie fought called again? Doesn’t matter, he can set something like that up to record Len’s encounters with Barry for future analysis. He is sure Len would appreciate that.

#coldatom #coldatomfusion #ray palmer #legends of tomorrow #lot #the atom #captain cold #leonard snart #darbble #A better man

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years

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Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 189: Once Upon a Dream

Snow and Ariel shared a hug, as they prepared to leave for their next destination. They had a wonderful family day at the beach, followed by dinner that evening, before getting a good night's sleep in order to move on to the next Kingdom that morning.

"It was so good to see you and I'm so happy that it won't be so long until we see each other again this time," Ariel gushed. Snow smiled.

"Me too...I can't wait until we're all in the same place," Snow agreed, as their husbands shook hands.

"Ready?" David asked them and they nodded.

"Where are we going next, Daddy?" Summer asked. He smiled and took Snow's hand.

"To a Kingdom ruled by King Phillip and Queen Aurora," David told them.

"And if we know them, Mulan and your Aunt Red are probably still living there," Snow added, as their kids eyes lit up that.

"I can't wait to see Aunt Red," Bobby said.

"Yeah...I miss her a lot," Summer agreed.

"And we'll need to discuss Mulan's Kingdom with her. She's probably the only way we'll get an audience with the Emperor so we can present our proposal," David said, as they waved to their friends and he used another bean to make a portal. With a final wave, they stepped through the portal en route to their next destination

~*~

Arendelle

"That is quite an undertaking, but seems promising if it's really possible," one nobleman said, as Queen Elsa finished explaining the concept of the good curse to her court and allies.

"Is it really possible though?" a woman questioned.

"Queen Snow assures that it is and that it will be cast with light magic, rather than dark," Elsa confirmed.

"And you have been to this land, Your Majesty?" another man questioned.

"We have," Elsa confirmed.

"And there are many advantages in this new land. It is a very promising opportunity for our Kingdom," she responded.

"Feh...so you say. But how do we know this isn't just your ploy to bring our Kingdom to the same land as your boyfriend's? How do we know your personal reasons for wanting his aren't outweighing the supposed benefits to the Kingdom?" the Duke of Wesselton interjected.

"You have just seen the proposal that Queen Snow sent," Elsa said sternly, as she motioned to the enchanted disc a device that Snow had given her. She said that it was created by Mr. Hyde and was actually a form a science rather than magic. Snow had called it a hologram. It offered her court a presentation, showing them Storybrooke, the medical and scientific advantages, the reserve, and a number of other things that it had to offer. They were all very impressed, especially with the educational and medical opportunities that had been presented. But as usual, the Duke of Wesselton, was her most outspoken critic.

"And it was a very nice, flashy barrage of images, but we do not know this Queen Snow. It sounds to me like she's trying to get all these Kingdoms in one place and under her rule. How do we know she's not setting Arendelle up for hostile takeover!" the Duke ranted.

"Because that is not the kind of woman my mother is," a male voice interjected and a smile eclipsed Elsa's face, as she saw Leo leaning against a pillar near the entrance to her Throne room, having quietly slipped in, likely with magic.

"This court recognizes Prince Leo of Misthaven and Storybrooke," Elsa addressed him formally, as he made his way toward her Throne. He had a healthy glare for the Duke of Wesselton, as he passed him and he enjoyed watching him squirm.

"P...prince Leo…" the Duke squeaked nervously, as he bowed to him.

"I can assure anyone with any doubts that my mother's goal in uniting the Kingdoms is to bring prosperity and innovation to all. According to legend, the Kingdoms were all one at one time. They were torn apart by a darkness and as the champions of light, my parents want to reunite what was once broken," Leo announced to her court.

"Your Mother and Father are well known here in Arendelle and their love is something of legend as well. Arendelle looks forward to venturing into this new era," a more gracious member of her court announced.

"I concur completely, which adjourns this meeting. Unless you have anything else to add, Duke?" Elsa questioned, as she looked to the short, white haired man. He stumbled back away from Leo and hurriedly made his way toward the exit

"Uh...no, this Storybrooke sounds lovely!" he stammered, as he left with his two lackey guards. Kristoff chuckled and started looking at the floor, which puzzled Elsa.

"What is he doing?" she asked her sister, but Leo answered.

"He's looking for wet spots," he answered.

"Gross," Anna exclaimed.

"We got one!" Kristoff announced.

"Damn...you know I didn't really think I was that scary. My parents and my Aunt Regina are way scarier than me when they want to be. If he's wetting himself now, then he should really invest in some adult underwear," Leo joked.

"That's disgusting and you can use your magic to clean up his mess now," Elsa said, with a disgusted look. He chuckled and waved his hand, before turning to her. She smiled and kissed him finally, now that her court had dispersed.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you for a while, but I'm glad you're here," she mentioned. He shrugged.

"I missed you and Storybrooke is pretty quiet right now. And I brought this," he said, as he waved his hand and a basket appeared.

"From Joe and Frankie?" she asked. He nodded.

"I was hoping we could have dinner...just the two of us?" he asked. Anna smiled and started dragging her husband out.

"We'll leave you two alone," she announced. Elsa rolled her eyes, as her sister made a spectacle, but then used her magic to poof them a table with candlelight. In his hand appeared, not a bottle of wine, but rather a thermos of hot chocolate, Elsa's favorite.

"This is for later, but Frankie threw in sodas to go with the fried chicken. Dining at its finest," he joked. She smiled.

"Sounds amazing to me. I prefer such over all that fancy food, actually," she replied. He smiled.

"Me too," he replied, as they opened their sodas and gently tapped their cans together.

"Mmm...that is so good," Elsa praised, as they started eating the chicken with Frankie's famous mac and cheese.

"Then after we eat...we can go out to the ice rink with our hot cocoa," he suggested. She smiled.

"Sounds like the perfect evening," she agreed. He smiled. It would be when he proposed to her on the ice beneath a blanket of stars…

~*~

Fandral had finished getting ready and donned his familiar gold and green cape. He felt Rose come up behind him and help him straighten it, before placing a kiss on his cheek.

"You're nervous," she mentioned knowingly. He sighed.

"I am...I just don't know how my people are going to react," he replied. Her brow furrowed.

"Are you worried that they might shun you, because you didn't return to them?" she asked.

"A bit perhaps...but I will never regret that decision. Besides, to them it hasn't been long at all. To me...it's been years. I think I will like when time is passing the same for all our realms in Storybrooke," he replied.

"Me too...it will be much less confusing," she agreed, as she kissed him tenderly.

"Are you ready?" she asked. He nodded.

"As I'll ever be," he responded, as he sheathed his sword and joined hands with her. They gathered their teenage daughter and their precocious twins, before heading to the library where they would meet Hermes.

She appeared to them, as they gathered and smiled at her charges and their children.

"Are you ready for travel?" she asked. Rose smiled at her husband and he nodded.

"We're ready," he confirmed. Hermes waved her hand and encased them in one of her bubbles, before they disappeared to Oceanus.

~*~

The portal opened and deposited the Charming family in the woods. David took a moment to assess where the sun was and determined approximately where they were.

"Phillip's castle should be about five miles south of here," he said, as they started walking through the woods. David slipped his hand into Snow's and she smiled at him.

"This brings back memories...us in the woods," she mentioned playfully, as she nudged him. He grinned at her and slung his arm around her waist, before pressing a kiss to her hair.

"Did you and Daddy ever visit King Phillip's Kingdom before the curse?" Summer asked curiously.

"We did once, but he was still Prince Phillip then and Princess Aurora was under a sleeping curse like I was at one time," Snow explained.

"Yes, we met with him and a few of the other Kingdom heads. Your mother was about six months pregnant and that was just before we journeyed to Bald Mountain," David added.

~*~

Flashback

"They call it Chernabog. It is said that if this Titan is ever released, it can summon with it a hoard of demons and terrible creatures. It would be like hell on earth," Philip replied.

"That's preposterous! You summon us here to regale us with some tall tale of monsters and demons?!" the King Francis bellowed.

"This is no tall tale! King Stefan's rage has consumed him. He means not only to release this creature...but to control it as well. Dragons are not so easily killed, especially one which is also a powerful sorceress. But there is an object he seeks that can control the Chernabog," Philip said.

"And I take it he has found this object?" Charming asked. Philip nodded.

"The rumors coming from his troops say that he has acquired this object from a powerful witch in another Kingdom. I'm not sure what he gave her in return, but I believe he means to finally release the creature so he can destroy Maleficent and then rule all the Kingdoms," Philip said.

"After he gets rid of the rest of us," Charming deduced. Philip nodded.

"Do you know where the Chernabog is sealed away?" Snow asked.

"If the Dark One is to be believed, the creature is imprisoned in the fiery volcanic pit of Bald Mountain, east of the Enchanted Forest," Philip replied.

"I thought Bald Mountain was an old myth. I remember hearing the stories of such a mountain in Maritime lore. A mountain haunted by demons, imps, and satyrs," Eric said.

"Unfortunately...I believe it is real and that's where Stefan is headed," Philip replied.

"Then we need to stop him," Snow decided.

~*~

"That was when King Stefan tried to sacrifice Mom to the Chernabog, right?" Bobby recalled. They nodded.

"Yeah...it was a scary day. Fortunately though, your father saved me," she said, as she looked at her husband fondly.

~*~

"Tie her up," Stefan ordered.

"No!" Charming cried, as two soldiers took his struggling wife to the edge of the platform.

"Please...please don't do this. My baby…" Snow cried.

"Stop this now...I won't let you kill my wife and child!" Charming screamed, as he pulled at his robes, ignoring the rope burns he was inflicting on himself in effort to get free.

"Take heart, Prince James. Your wife and child are about to be a part of greatness," Stefan ranted madly.

"You must not do this. Think of Aurora! What would she think of what you have become!" Phillip cried.

"Aurora is dead...like her mother. And this witch will pay for it," Stefan growled to Maleficent, as Snow was tied by a rope and she screamed, as she was shoved off the platform, now dangling by the rope.

"Lower her in," Stefan ordered, as the hat glowed brightly and the mass of black matter began to boil.

"Charming!" Snow cried, as hot tears streamed down her beautiful face.

"Snow!" he cried out, as he knocked his captors away, one of them unfortunately falling into the boiling vat and was consumed immediately. He felt an arrow bury itself in his shoulder and he collapsed, but kept crawling to the edge. The mountain trembled and Phillip took advantage of it, knocking his captors off balance, sending four more soldiers into the vat and to their deaths. He grabbed a sword and cut Eric free, as he did the same for Philip. They cut Charming free next and Philip examined the wound in the back of his shoulder.

"I think it's just a flesh wound. This is going to hurt," he warned.

"Just pull it out," Charming growled. As swiftly as possible, he extracted the arrow and Charming got to his feet, as they grabbed the rope and the three of them pulled Snow up. Charming untied her and she collapsed against his chest, crying in relief.

"I've got you...it's okay, my darling," he whispered.

~*~

"That's when everyone except Mom still thought you were James, right?" Summer asked, as she recalled the other royals in that story were still referring to him as James.

"Yep...it wasn't until years later in Storybrooke that people learned I was actually not raised as a royal. It was one of the first things George did after everyone regained their memories, thanks to your sister. He thought it would undermine our leadership," David explained. Snow smiled at him.

"But it didn't work, because most people knew what an amazing man your father is, just like me. They trusted him and even identified with him, since he knew what it was like to grow up in poverty and rose above hardship," she said, as she kissed his cheek.

Their recollection of the story had made the five miles seem like nothing and soon, the view of Phillip and Aurora's castle came into view in the near distance.

"Wow...look at it!" Bobby called, as he hurried on ahead.

"Bobby...wait!" Snow called. Summer rolled her eyes.

"I'll get him," Summer said, as she hurried ahead. David chuckled, as he and Snow followed.

"Hey...slow down, kid," Summer called, as they came to a halt near the castle gates. But strangely, they didn't really see any guards.

"I wonder why there are no guards?" Summer asked, as they heard something behind them. Her eyes widened, as she saw a large wolf sniffing her brother. But instead of screaming, she started grinning.

"Aunt Red...is that really you?" Summer asked, as the wolf phased into a human, revealing their Aunt Red.

"Oh my God...look at how big you two are!" she exclaimed, as they tackled her with hugs.

"Red?" Snow called, as she and David caught up. Their oldest friend tackled them both with hugs too, as they shared a happy reunion.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked in surprise.

"Well, we're actually hoping for an audience with Aurora and Phillip. We have something important to discuss with them and you as well," David said.

"And we're hoping to ask for a favor from Mulan," Snow added.

"Is that so?" another voice said, as Mulan emerged from the brush, though she wore a smile. They smiled back.

"It's good to see you again, Mulan," Snow said. She nodded curtly in return.

"I'm sure Phillip and Aurora will be eager to welcome you and hear why you have come, as will we. Follow us," Mulan requested, as she and Red led the Charming family through the castle gates.

~*~

Leo and Elsa held hands, as the idly skated along the rink within the palace gates. They stopped on the fountain, which was frozen this time of year and they shared the thermos full of cocoa.

"I almost forgot how beautiful it is here," Leo mentioned, as he gazed up at the cold night sky.

"It's still surreal to me that it has been two years for you since you were last here," she replied, as he nodded in agreement.

"To be fair, the two years was a kind of a monotone blur for me. Stuff didn't really start to happen until Bobby escaped Clayton and found my Dad. That's when Jack decided that he'd really twist the knife and I think my curse persona was so lonely that I let him into my life way too easily," Leo mentioned.

"I mean...I met him at a bar and he confessed to me on the first night that he didn't like animals after I told him I worked at a zoo and how passionate about animals I was," Leo chided himself.

"You know you can't blame yourself for things your curse persona did or didn't do, right?" She asked. He nodded.

"I do...Archie really helped me finally accept what happened to me and that I was a victim. Again," he said, muttering the last word and Elsa put her arms around him.

"You were vulnerable and he took advantage of you. He's lucky he expired before your family or me got their hands on him. I mean, can you imagine what state he would have been in if your mother got her hands on him?" She asked, bringing a smile to his face.

"He probably would have begged you to make a Popsicle out of him," he joked.

"In all seriousness though, I really did have a break through with Archie and I realized that I don't want to let what he did rule my life and I'm not going to. I'm going to move forward," he stated. She smiled and kissed his cheek.

"That sounds very good and very healthy," she agreed.

"Archie told me that saying you're going to move forward and actually doing it are two different things though. He suggested that I really look at my life and then pursue what I want for my future. So...that's exactly what I'm going to do," he said, as he stood up briefly, which confused her for a moment, until he got down on one knee, which made her gasp.

"You've been in my head since the moment I met you and even when I was with other people, I always compared them to you," he said.

"And none of them measured up," he added, as tears came to her eyes.

"People aren't easy for me sometimes and not many people have ever really understood me, aside from my family. Being around others is hard for me sometimes, but it's never been hard with you," he continued.

"We're kindred spirits, I think. We both know what it is to be both frustrated and blessed by our powers and I know that I never have to worry about you fearing my abilities or not understanding them. And you must know that you never have to worry about me fearing yours," he said, as he opened the ring box and she sniffed.

"I know you have probably thought you'd never find someone to spend your life with, romantically and I thought the same thing there for a while. But then I realized that while I was looking for the person I was supposed to be with, I had already found her," he said.

"Queen Elsa...will you marry me?" He asked. She nodded tearfully.

"Yes…" she answered. He grinned and slipped the ring on her finger, before she tackled him and they went tumbling to the ice, laughing.

"Oh my...Anna is going to flip when she sees this," Elsa warned.

"Ha, that's nothing. I can handle your sister. It's my Mom that we should worry about. She'll want to throw some big engagement party and then the wedding is going to be insane," he warned back.

"I love your Mom and she's not that bad," Elsa chided.

"I love her too, but do I need to remind you about Emma's wedding and the choreographed singing? Or Henry's graduation carnival? Oh...and my favorite. Eva and Paul's wedding where she threw a full on Enchanted Forest wedding ball, complete with synchronized dance numbers," he rattled off, making her chuckle.

"Oh Gods...that means our wedding is going to have singing and ballroom dancing," he joked.

"Oh, I don't know, singing with you doesn't sound so bad and to be fair, I think your Mom just likes to hear your Dad sing," she teased. He rolled his eyes

"Don't remind me...I see too much of my parent's PDA as it is," he deadpanned.

"Well, look at it this way, with Anna involved in the planning, at least there will be A LOT of chocolate," she reminded.

"Mmm...that is a plus," he agreed, as he kissed her tenderly. She cuddled against him and they gazed up at the stars, as they dreamed about their future together.

~*~

The bubble appeared out of thin air and they were slowly lowered to the ground. In the near distance, Fandral observed a welcome sign that read New Asgard and he looked over the landscape of the surviving Asgardian's new home. It was humble and peaceful, which was a relief to Fandral after all his people had endured.

"I will let you make yourself known and you need but call me when you wish to return home, though Thor does have access to the bi-frost now," Hermes informed them.

"Thank you, Hermes, for everything," Rose said, as the Goddess disappeared in one of her bubbles. Fandral's eyes scanned the landscape and he felt his wife squeeze his hand. He looked at her and the encouraging faces of their children.

"We're with you every step of the way, my love," she assured, as he grasped her hand and they slowly made their way into the village of New Asgard.

"Stop...New Asgard is not permitting curious tourists right now," a woman said, as Fandral regarded her.

"I'm no tourist...I'm Asgardian and this is my family," he responded.

"That's impossible, because all survivors are accounted for," she refuted.

"You're a Valkyrie, aren't you? I wasn't aware that any of them survived," he countered.

"And you wear the insignia of an Asgardian warrior, but that doesn't make you one of us. For all I know, that insignia was stolen," she challenged.

"It was not stolen," Rose refuted, defending her husband, but he squeezed her hand.

"It's all right, my love...she's guarded because of everything our people have been through and I respect that," he said, as he turned his attention back to the other woman.

"I am not counted among the survivors, because I am slated as a casualty in Ragnarok. But things aren't what they seem. My name is…" he said, but another female voice interrupted.

"Fandral?" Sif asked in disbelief and her face was ashen, like she was seeing a ghost.

"Sif...you've alive," he responded, as she hurried over to him with a hug.

"I'm alive...you're the one thought to be dead!" she exclaimed.

"It's a very long story…" he said, as Sif noticed the woman and children with him.

"I see...though I am a bit confused. It's only been a few months since Asgard collapsed," she replied.

"Here in this realm it has, but where I have been...it's been more than twenty-years for me," he said. Her face was in shock at that.

"How is that possible?" Sif questioned.

"It's a tale that we will gladly tell, but I need to see Thor and tell him as well," Fandral answered.

"Do you know any of what has transpired in your absence?" Sif inquired.

"Actually...we do. In my new homeland, we guard what is known as the library of all the realms. It houses all stories from every realm in existence. The only reason I deemed it safe to come with my family in tow was because we read that the monster responsible for the utter devastation in this realm is dead now," Fandral explained.

"He is, but the damage is done. Thor is refusing to come out of his house and barely speaks to anyone," Sif responded.

"Don't you think I might be an exception? I know he has a long road ahead to healing, but I'd at least like to try and help with that," Fandral said. Sif nodded.

"I agree that he should know about you, but I warn you...it's not pretty. He's in a very sad state and drunk most of the time," she warned. He nodded.

"We understand," Fandral said, as Sif and Valkyrie led them into the village.

~*~

Phillip's most trusted guards burst into the Throne room, dragging two perpetrators before him. They tossed them down and Phillip raised an eyebrow at his Knights. The one man, a thin, willowy man coward before him and the other actually wore a crown, which was actually too big for his head and kept slipping down in his eyes. He seemed to have a royal cloak as well, but it was tattered and dirty.

"Sire…" the thin man addressed the other with a lisp.

"This is your fault, Hiss! You had one job and you couldn't even do that," the other man complained.

"And what job, pray tell, was that?" Phillip questioned, but the two seemed too busy arguing to notice him. Aurora shared a glance with her husband, before his Knights took their ignorance of the King as disrespect and manhandled the two.

"You are before King Phillip and Queen Aurora! Show some respect!" one Knight bellowed.

"I am a King too!" the man wearing the ill fitting crown claimed.

"Silence worm!" another Knight growled, but Phillip put up his hand and stepped forward.

"From what Kingdom do you hail, Sir?" he questioned.

"A Kingdom not of this realm...I was banished here by my horrible niece and her brute of a husband when they stole my Throne!" he claimed.

"We found him in the rifling through the treasure room and this one was stealing food from the kitchen," one of the Knights reported, as Hiss coward beneath his menacing stare.

"If you are royal, why not come to us and plead your case?" Aurora questioned.

"Because...we uh, we...urm…" John stammered.

"Because he is the great King John and he has been so terribly tormented by other royals that he does not trust them now!" Hiss claimed.

"Yes...yes that's it!" John agreed. Phillip looked at his wife, clearly not buying a word of this.

"Perhaps you can elaborate on your situation, Your Highness," Phillip stated, as he saw Mulan and Red enter the Throne room and was surprised to see two more royals that he had not seen in a very long time.

"Snow? James?" Phillip asked in surprise.

"It's David...remember?" Aurora told him. He nodded.

"Right, of course...Aurora tells me that your real name is David," he recalled, as they shook hands, while Aurora and Snow shared a hug.

"It's so good to see you both...this is such a surprise," Aurora gushed, as she noticed the girl beside Snow.

"Oh my...this can't be Summer!" she exclaimed. Snow smiled and nodded.

"Believe it or not, it is...and this is our youngest, Bobby," she said, introducing them.

"What brings you here from the Land Without Magic?" Phillip asked.

"Ah, well...it's a bit of a story and an important matter that we were hoping to discuss with you both," David answered.

"Of course...you'll join us for dinner then?" Phillip asked.

"We'd love to," Snow responded.

"Sire...what do you want me to do with this filth?" one of his Knights questioned.

"How dare you?! I am a King!" John exclaimed, even as Hiss tried to calm him so that Snow and David wouldn't notice them and really blow it for them.

"Oh look who it is…" David said with amusement in his tone.

"You know them?" Phillip asked.

"We sort of had a run in with them a few years ago, though I thought they went back to their own realm," Snow said, recalling that Emma had told them they ran into them on the way to Rose and Fandral's castle.

"We did...but my horrible niece's husband chased us out again!" John said, as he stomped around, on the verge of a tantrum. David shook his head.

"Maybe you're not as cowardly as I thought, because going anywhere near Fandral is either stupid or brave," he said.

"That Asgardian brute doesn't scare me and neither do you, pretty boy!" John shouted childishly. David simply put a hand on the hilt of his sword and took a mere two steps forward. John cried out at that and hid behind Hiss, who was quaking in his own boots. David chuckled in amusement.

"Yeah...you're not scared at all," he joked.

"So we should lock them up?" Aurora questioned.

"If you want to...they have ill intentions and are terrible, but there's barely a brain between them. Honestly, I'm surprised they can lace their boots so I'm not sure I would consider them a danger," Snow replied.

"Why you little…" John snapped, but David gave him his best glare.

"Think really hard about finishing that sentence," he warned, which made the disgraced King shrink away.

"Toss them out...they seem rather harmless and a bit pathetic. Steal again and you'll find yourselves in the dungeon," Phillip warned, as the Knights dragged them away, even as John threw a fit and Hiss quivered in fright.

"Wow…" Bobby said in amazement.

"And you thought Emma was exaggerating about those two," Summer said, as they shared a laugh. Phillip motioned to them.

"Come...I believe this calls from a good meal and a bottle of our finest wine, plus some sparkling cider for the young ones," he said, as Aurora and Phillip led them to the dining hall.

~*~

The Queen looked around the room, as Mim led her into her chamber. There were tall shelves, which had a modest collection of books on magic. An impressive set of beakers and tubing was situated on a table. It was surprisingly modern for this setting and then there was a touch of old school in the form of a large cauldron in the center of the room. Mim opened a cabinet and revealed a plethora of potions, concoctions and ingredients.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Mim boasted. The Queen shrugged.

"It will do," the Queen responded non nonchalantly, as she started searching for ingredients they would need for the dark curse.

"The only reason I haven't vaporized you for your disrespect is because we need you for this curse to get us out of this place," Mim warned. The Queen smirked.

"Or perhaps you're worried that you couldn't get that job done," she challenged.

"I was doing magic thousands of years before you were even a twinkle in your father's eye," Mim warned.

"Which just makes you old and you know what they say. Out with the old and in with the Queen, though I'm paraphrasing, of course," the Queen snarked. Mim raised her hand and a fireball appeared.

"Easy Mim...turning on each other will get us no where," Seth warned, as the Sorceress let the fireball dissipate.

"Do we have the necessary ingredients needed in addition to a drop of your blood for the dark curse?" he questioned.

"Yes...it appears that we have everything we need. But I think a few modifications might be wise," the Queen answered.

"You are not in charge! We may need you for this curse...but Lord Seth is our supreme leader!" Mim hissed, but the ancient Titan held up his hand to silence his minion.

"I would like to hear what she means, Mim," he requested, which infuriated the ancient Sorceress. Seth had always favored her and relied on her for tricky magic, but he seemed far too intrigued by this newcomer and her unique magic. And Mim didn't like it one bit.

"Casting the Dark Curse to take us away from here will be easy enough, but I've learned the hard way that the truest loves, especially this pair, cannot be underestimated," the Queen explained. Mim scoffed.

"A pair of lovers and their magical cup cannot stand against the all powerful might of Seth...God of destruction," Mim boasted.

"Patience Mim...if I have learned one thing in my exile: it's that revenge requires patience," he instructed, as he nodded for the Queen to continue.

"If they see the dark cloud coming, they will instantly know that it means trouble and they will prepare for battle. But if we truly want revenge, I think the element of surprise and quiet infiltration is the answer," she stated.

"You mean you want to conceal the curse?" he questioned.

"Yes...and our realm from their sight, at least until the time for our big reveal is right," she advised.

"Destruction from within, perhaps," Seth surmised. The Queen smirked.

"Exactly...but a concealment spell that big would require, well...I'm not even sure, but I know that we don't have it," she replied.

"No...but I perhaps have something that will help us do what we need," Seth said and the Queen listened eagerly for him to reveal what he meant.

~*~

The Major closed the book and looked at Cecily. She had managed to read through all of it the night before and on the flight to New Orleans. Though she would never admit it, she found it enthralling, but only because she had realized the reality in it all. She was still unclear what her ultimate objective would be, but she knew one thing: the kind of power that was in play here, despite its fantastical nature, had real world applications. With this kind of power, it could end warring between nations, be the answer to things like poverty and world hunger, and any number of noble causes. But if she was being honest, this kind of power wouldn't be used for such. That was too naive. No, her superiors would solve those problems, but in a controlled way. Undoubtedly, those ways would be construed as oppression and stealing of freedoms. But in the long run, with this kind of power, they could truly remake the world. Regardless of any of that, she knew they couldn't allow such unchecked power to remain in the hands of two people that insisted on concealing themselves and their people away from the world. A world that now knew they existed.

"Fascinating stuff, isn't it?" Cecily commented, as their plane touched down.

"I've never been one for fairy tales, especially Snow White, but at least I know the real thing is more than some singing ditz. Though I didn't expect her to be in control of such power," the Major commented.

"Yes...she and her Prince have quite the corner on magic and managed to pop out five magical babies while they were at it. Infiltrating Storybrooke won't be easy with all that, but if you're willing to play the long game, we may have a shot," Cecily replied.

"And what exactly do you mean by long game?" the Major questioned.

"The Snow and Charming that disappeared through that portal back in Seattle aren't the ones from this year. They were from the future," Cecily revealed.

"How the hell do you figure that?" the Major questioned.

"Because I'm from that future. I came with the curse and that curse that brought us to Hyperion Heights brought us to this world's past, five years in the past to be exact. That's why Snow and Charming couldn't call on Storybrooke for help," Cecily answered.

"And you didn't think to mention any of this before?!" the Major shouted at her. Cecily shrugged.

"Oops...but this can still work. We just have to wait five years and with my father's submarine, that will be easy to do. We have things we need to gather from other realms and I assure you that we can pull this off, if you can be patient," she stated.

"And what is stopping us from using this submarine to go to Storybrooke now?" the Major questioned. Cecily snorted derisively.

"Going to Storybrooke now could change the future and there is no telling what the consequences of that could be. But I know that it likely wouldn't bode well for us," she responded.

"Trust me, time travel isn't to be messed with. Snow and Charming didn't actually intend to break that law of magic. Gothel and Samdi were ultimately responsible for toying with time and she's dust now," Cecily warned.

"Five years…" the Major spat in annoyance. It was a setback that she didn't anticipate or like one bit. But...for the kind of power they were talking about, five years was really nothing in the grand scheme of things.

"Fine," she relented.

"After all, I've had other missions last longer, so I guess this will be no different. But make no mistake, any hint of betrayal on your part and you will be eliminated. If you think I can't figure out how to navigate all of this on my own, then you will find that you are sadly mistaken," the Major warned. Cecily smirked.

"Fair enough," Cecily agreed, knowing that the payoff ahead would ultimately be worth it...

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inquisitorhotpants · 5 years

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The Knight and the Prince

This remains one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Takes place after Aberration but before chapter 47 of Chaos & Opportunity. Kryn has a massive romantic streak and makes her sister cry. (the kinda-sequel, where scourge finds it, is here. the collection of kryn’s fam!fic is here)

Once upon a time…

in a land torn by war and strife and suspicion, there lived a brave knight named Semiri, with shining ebony hair and piercing sky blue eyes. She was bold of spirit and noble of heart, a wandering adventurer who valued freedom and justice above all other things, a welcome sight both to the weary and downtrodden, and on the field of battle.

One day, she chanced upon a glade surrounded by tall, sinister trees, untouched by the sunlight. In the center of the glade was a tower, its stones black as a moonless midnight, and it loomed over the too-calm clearing with a palpable air of malevolence. Semiri took a deep breath, drew her sword, and approached it, determined to face whatever evil surely lay within before it could wreak havoc on the peaceful village nearby.

The ornately carved wooden door swung open with a tortured groan from its rusty hinges, and a chill breeze rushed over Semiri, making her skin prickle. She crept through the deep gloom, tensed and waiting for a confrontation.

“Why have you come?”

She spun around, sword extended. In the central room, lit by candlelight, stood a beautiful man, strong and strapping. “Who are you?”

He offered her a courtly bow, but made no move to come closer. “I am Prince Scourge.”

“I … don’t think so," Semiri scoffed. "That's impossible."

The man blinked, nonplussed at her reply. “What?”

“Prince Scourge is nothing more than a story. The legend says he was sealed away from the world by the mad king Vitiate, who wanted to keep him all for himself. The cursed prince was made immortal, but doomed to an immortality of solitude, never knowing the small joys of the world or the love of another.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “That’s an excellent summation of my current situation, yes.”

Semiri stared at him for a long moment, dismayed to find that she was more smitten by the minute. “And no one’s rescued you?” Her brows knit together as her outrage grew at this blatant miscarriage of justice. "You've stood here for centuries alone?" She drew herself to her full height, her voice cutting through the surrounding darkness. “Well, I, Semiri, vow that I will find a way to release you! Await my return, for it will herald your freedom from this horrific curse!”

She traveled the length and breadth of the land in her search. In each village she visited, she heard tales of the mad sorceress Kryn’la, said to be extraordinarily gifted, even in the obscure and forbidden arts. An aged hermit with a shock of snow-white hair, living on the edge of the Plain of Sorrow, told her of another like himself residing in the Seething Swamps, there to direct the true-seeking supplicant toward the sorceress. The second hermit, a veritable copy of the first, sent her to traverse the Lightning Lands, insistent that she would find the sorceress there, if her intent was pure enough and her need great enough.

At long last, after Semiri felled a great nightmare beast of horns and teeth and thunder and knelt gasping for breath upon the loamy ground, the sorceress’ home revealed itself, tucked into a nearby cliffside. The sorceress herself was seated on her porch, preternaturally youthful and ravishing, with vibrant scarlet hair and a sardonic smile. She looked up from her tome as the warrior approached.

“Ah, so you have come, Semiri of the Sentinel Blade."

Semiri stopped a short distance away, hands on her hips. "Sorceress Kryn'la, it is whispered far and wide that you are a master of arcane arts both common and inscrutable. Following the directions of your acolytes, I have sought you out to petition for your assistance in rescuing a man sorely cursed."

"Will you not bend your knee?" The sorceress rose from her chair, ebon robes flowing behind her as she closed the space between them. "Will you not prostrate yourself before me? Are you not frightened that I will also curse you?"

Semiri, being of stout heart, did not move, did not even flinch. "No, my lady. You will help me, or you won't, and I do not believe any amount of bowing will change what course you have likely already decided upon."

The silence spun out as the sorceress regarded the knight, the slightest of smiles curling her lips. "It is as I foresaw. If you can pass the trials, I will give you what you request, Semiri of the Sentinel Blade." She pointed toward an opening in the cave. "Your first trial awaits. Do not keep the Apprentices waiting." Without waiting for Semiri to move, she strode back to her seat, resuming her reading.

Semiri battled the fierce Apprentices to conquer the Trial of Strength, defeated the cunning Pirate at dice to win the Trial of Luck, impressed the learned Scholar with her careful reasoning to succeed at the Trial of Knowledge, and withstood the punishments of the stalwart Guardian to persevere through the Trial of Endurance, returning to the sorceress in high spirits. “My lady, I have passed your trials." She proffered her hand, revealing the tokens she had received. "I offer you the proof of my success.”

The sorceress turned from her workbench, pleased. “I knew you would.” She held out a vial, full of violet clouds and brilliant white lightning, a violent, twisting storm in a bottle. "Take this. He must consume every drop. The pain will be fearsome, nigh unbearable, for the curses of the Mad King are not so easily broken. But if he can endure it, and you can endure standing by as he bears this writhing agony, he will be free."

Semiri reached for the bottle, then drew back her hand. "And the catch?"

A wide, genuine smile graced the sorceress' face. "Clever girl! Such a simple and obvious thing, yet so many do not think to ask. There is a possibility the the curse will not be broken, but rather transferred to the nearest person."

"Me," Semiri whispered.

"Are you willing to pay even this price for your prince's freedom, Semiri of the Sentinel Blade?" Kryn'la asked solemnly. "Will you take his place, eons passing you by as you languish in the candle-filled room, the world's pleasures lost to you for eternity?"

There was not even a moment's hesitation. "Yes, Sorceress. I vowed to free him, and I will, even if it comes at the cost of my life and freedom."

"I expected as much," Kryn'la said, studying Semiri's face. "Perhaps what you are feeling is True Love, and it will aid in your endeavors." Her expression softened for the briefest moment before resuming its usual sternness. "Now begone, I must resume my studies and you have a prince to save."

Semiri thundered across the countryside, the vial strung on a length of leather and cradled against her chest, and last she arrived at the tower, unchanged from how she left it many moons ago. She leapt off her horse, heaved open the door, and strode into the oppressive gloom. "My prince!"

Scourge appeared in the same room he'd been in last time. "Semiri?"

She extracted the vial, cradling it gingerly in one palm. "I have acquired a potion that can break your curse. But the sorceress informed me it will be excruciatingly painful. Do you still wish to be free?"

"No pain can be greater than an eternal solitary lifetime. I will bear it, if it means being able to leave this room again."

She crossed the vestibule and handed him the bottle, then stepped back. He stared at it for a long moment. "Something so simple to destroy this curse," he marveled. "I would never have dared dream such a thing even existed." His hand paused on the stopper. "Will you keep watch, Semiri? If something should go wrong, for you never know with magic of this nature, will you end it?"

She took a deep breath, then unsheathed her sword and assumed her ready stance. "I will."

He uncorked the vial, the unmistakable smell of lightning filled the air, and he tilted it up, the last of the storm disappearing from the bottle.

Silence fell, briefly, over the tower.

Scourge's hands began to shake, and the vial fell to the blackened stones, shattering into a million pieces all winking in the candlelight. His hands tightened into fists, and he fell to his knees, arms wrapped around his chest as though to hold himself together. A stomach-turning wail rent the unnatural quiet of the tower, bursting forth from his mouth like a loosed monster.

Semiri gulped, but stood her ground, when she saw the dark tendrils snaking out of his body, writhing, curling around each other, pausing to scent the air. She steeled her nerves, head held high, and silently reaffirmed her vow to take his place if that was what was required of her.

A keening, so high-pitched as to be on the very edge of hearing, filled her ears, and acrid smoke billowed out of the candlelit room as the tendrils withered away into nothingness. As it cleared, she saw the prince prone on the cold stones, and rushed to his side, relieved when she could tell he was still breathing.

"I think 'excruciatingly painful' was something of an understatement," he muttered weakly, opening his eyes. "But I'm glad you were here."

She smiled and extended her hand. "Shall we leave this awful tower?"

Outside, the door to the tower firmly shut behind them, she turned to look at him, grinning when she saw him standing with face upturned toward the azure sky, smile on his face as the breeze caressed his skin. "What will you do with your newfound freedom, Prince Scourge?"

He held out his hand to Semiri, pulling her close when she took it. "I will cross the land with a brave and beautiful warrior, and see what adventures await us." Their lips met as the sunlight broke through the trees for the first time in centuries.

"Hey, boss." Kira drops down on the couch and nudges Semiri. "What was in that package you got?"

"Oh!" Semiri starts, hurriedly swipes at the tears on her cheeks. "Just a fairy tale, that's all."

Kira's eyebrow shoots toward her hairline. "Someone sent you a fairy tale?"

Semiri nods. "It's a silly thing, really. My sister always has had a flair for the dramatic and ridiculous." She cradles the datapad to her chest. "I'm going to go put this away."

#OTP: Once Upon a Dream #jedi knight #lord scourge #swtor #i just love it

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dramayeoja · 6 years

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Goblin ❣︎ 도깨비

Kim Shin, an undefeated war general, is ultimately killed by a jealous young king named Wang Yeo. After death, Shin is revived by the gods—but his revival is by no means miraculous. He becomes a 도깨비 (dokkaebi, goblin), and is cursed. He will have to pay for all the lives he took in battle by living alone in immortality, witnessing everyone he's ever loved, die. Remaining lodged in his chest is the very sword that killed him. There is only person who can see that sword, and draw from his heart so that he can finally rest in peace: his bride... whom he's yet to meet.

Things get spoilery under the cut—you've been warned! ;)

Chipper, yeah? Haha so, right off the bat, the premises of Goblin remind me of like, a much more morbid version of the legend of King Arthur. You know, a man draws a sword from stone to prove himself the greatest king in all of Britain? Yeah. Just to be clear: this is a good thing (imo). Like, I personally think this is just such a cool idea for a drama 😍

Let's jump right in. I'm gonna be honest and say that, at first, I felt a little turned off at the female lead, Eun Tak, being nineteen (in the beginning of the show), meanwhile the male lead, Shin, is 900+ years old (but physically looks to be in his thirties). It just... rubbed me weird. But hey, the Twilight series (both the books and the movies) is exactly the same—high school girl, century-old man, bananas yet somehow romantic storyline... And I loved me some Twilight as a young adult. So I mean, I have no right to judge, really. Plus, Eun Tak soon turns twenty anyway. So that's an improvement I guess 🤷🏻‍♀️ We follow her character into her late twenties, nearly thirty. So things are definitely fine by then haha! 👍

Don't let that previous bit make you think I didn't enjoy Goblin—I LOVED it. That detail is just a lil funky to me, is all. Back during my Twilight obsession days, I was nearly twenty myself, and the thought of being pursued by an older man was exciting. Hell, I mean, it still is! But now that I'm two years shy of my 30th Birthday, I feel differently sometimes. I think, LAWD get that girl away from that man, she too young for him LOL. I am definitely getting old... Enough about Twilight now, apologies! I'm only using it for the sake of conveying similarities seen in Goblin 🙏 Let's talk cast!

Kim Go Eun as Ji Eun Tak and Gong Yoo as Kim Shin

Eun Tak is a bubbly young woman with limitless energy! While still in her mother's womb, Mama Ji was involved in a hit-and-run incident which, sadly, took her life. During Mama Ji's dying moments, she prayed to anyone above that her child's life be spared. Sat on a rooftop from afar, beer in hand (lol), Shin hears her prayers, as he is a god of sorts. He appears before Mama Ji, and shows mercy to her unborn baby. Eun Tak grows up with the ability to see/speak to ghosts. Said ghosts tell her constantly that she is the goblin's bride. How do they know? A strange birthmark on the back of Eun Tak's neck tips them off. Eun Tak unfortunately was taken in by her abusive bitch of an aunt, who jabs Eun Tak every chance she gets. Her cousins are assholes. Eun Tak's aunt really only keeps her around in hopes of collecting Mama Ji's savings (intended for Eun Tak) one day. Sad, right? I mean, isn't Eun Tak being born without her mother enough as it is? Life can be so cruel 😔

Lee Dong Wook as Grim Reaper/Reaper/Wang Yeo

This is Grim Reaper (or Reaper for short), portrayed by the handsome Lee Dong Wook. His character is just this strange, not at all tech-savvy man with a constant deadpan facial expression. Said facial expression provokes so many giggles during funny moments, and drives home the longing and desperation during sad times. We learn quite a ways in that he, in his previous life (again, just in case: spoiler), was Wang Yeo G A S P ! The young king that is essentially responsible for Shin's death, as well as all the misdeeds that were done to Shin's family. Again, this is something I don't want to spoil. Well, more, anyway 😆 You gotta see it!

Yoo In Na as Kim Sun/Sunny

Kim Sun, or simply, Sunny (she loves to spell her name for people lol, S-U-N-N-Y!) is the second female lead. Yoo In Na is so gorgeous that one look at her makes you feel like such a potato hahhah. 🥔 This fact about her beauty bleeds over into the show itself—every time another character meets Sunny, the camera does this slow motion pan into her lmao. She really is that pretty! Sunny's personality comes across so odd at first... Having watched all of the episodes now, I feel the intention of Goblin's creators was to make her seem like a soul searching for something it has lost in a previous life. idk if that makes sense, but yeah. She has this way about her, like she's disconnected from others, and is sifting through the haziness to find this thing she feels she's lost.

Yook Sungjae (my BtoB bias 😍) as Yoo Deok Hwa

Sungjaeeee ahhhh 💘💘💘 I had to gush, sorry! Hehe. Meet Deok Hwa: unofficial nephew of Shin. Deok Hwa is a third-generation chaebol (heir to a family-owned corporation) and spoiled man-child, always seeking his credit card hahaha 🤣 But I love him so much. Between Gong Yoo, Lee Dong Wook, and BtoB Sungjae? Man, I'm dying over here! Deok Hwa's true identity is revealed later in the show, which if you haven't seen it yet, I won't spoil it. Just watch. But his ending sucked. Like where did he go? Everyone else's endings got tied up neatly except for his. What gives, man? 🤔 Edit: I was actually reading an online conversation about what happened to Deok Hwa online—someone jokingly said he was reincarnated as BtoB Sungjae LOL 💯

Other various comments

AMAZING OST 😍😍😍

Good pace, episodes drag at times. A little confusing in the beginning, but you get there eventually. Maybe this is just me though, viewers who are a little more keen than I will likely catch on sooner ;) My mom was a little confused as well, and actually said at one point, "This should be called the 'what-the-hell-is-going-on' show," hahaha. Like I said though, we quickly moved on from this, and loved all the things. There are actually, I think, three (?) specials that were made to aid viewers in making sure they understand the complex events and relationships clearly. I haven't watched them yet, but want to!

Quite repetitive tbh, as there are unnecessary flashbacks often. Probably for two reasons: the obvious of reminding you what's what, but also to create suspense. Typical duration of most tvN dramas seems to be about 16 episodes, so it's possible these flashbacks and things are, for lack of a better word, filler. I don't know how rigid or lax tvN is about having a drama set at 16 eps, but I get the idea this is their preference. Seeing as so many of their programs on average last that long, I feel this must be what they want. Such has the potential to affect the writing, either positively or negatively.

A continuation of the previous bullet: I think Goblin's creators oversimplified the plot at times. I'm unsure if this is due to possible pressures to meet a specific requirement(s), or what. I'd rather forgo ALL restrictions and let creativity flow, let the story be told without pressure to fill a specific amount of time, etc. but TV production is weird. And contracts are weird. tvN might not to blame for these issues, could simply be that storytelling isn't always easy, man. I'm a writer myself, it's hard! I'M being redundant now lmfao! Anyway, yeah ~

Absolutely LOVED all the scenes that were filmed on location in beautiful Québec City, Canada 🍁 Tall, romantic trees, the fall foliage, historic buildings... sigh. Now all I need is Gong Yoo chasing me and we're all set! ;D

In addition to Shin being revived, my crush on Gong Yoo has been revived as well LOL. He fine 🔥 A classic K drama crush, can't go wrong with GY👌

Gong Yoo is always stellar at doing kiseu (kiss) scenes, and in Goblin, he does not disappoint. He really goes at it 🙈 which is preferred vs. the typical person kissing a stone statue that you see so often. He even did a lift kiss with Kim Go Eun that was reminiscent of THEE Coffee Prince kiss he did with actress Yoon Eun Hye! 😍

I never saw it coming, how the sword would wind up being removed from Shin's chest. I worried what the writers were going to do, how would they approach this, and just wow. The way things turned out is such a relief. It also told me that Shin's love for Eun Tak is true. I mean, I didn't need that scene to occur for me to know that, rather it just adds extra oomph that yes, Shin really does love Eun Tak. He didn't want her to suffer knowing she was responsible for his "death," so he thought quick and used her hands WITH his hands asdfghjkl. How dumb (bc noooo now you're gonna die) and amazing he is at the same time 💜

I love how Shin made his way back to Eun Tak after passing away, it was such a powerful scene. I could really feel his struggle, and kept yelling at my TV for him to stand up lol!

Devastated that Eun Tak died 😭 I really thought as many times as she'd cheated death before, she would somehow continue cheating death again and again for the rest of her days. But no... What a selfless person, Ji Eun Tak. Her being reincarnated as Park So Min gave me some closure. Not the closure I wanted, but closure.

The relationship between Shin and Reaper is ADORABLE. Whenever they interact with each other, they just have this great dialogue. Shin pings, Reaper pongs, Reaper pings, Shin pongs. It's great 😄 I still laugh about the slow-mo scene of them returning from the market with green onions HAHAHA 😂

I love Sunny & Reaper ~ However, their history as Kim Sun & Wang Yeo in their past lives is so very sad. I don't even know where to start RE: my feelings on this 💔 imo, their ending kinda sucked. I just wasn't satisfied with them having had this complicated, tragic story, only to be reincarnated in this fashion that I ultimately found to be just... idk, disappointing 😩 Again, closure, but not the closure I wanted.

I thought Reaper, the other grim reapers, the name cards, the depiction of what happens immediately following death with the brewing of the tea, the afterlife, etc. was all very creative. We really don't know what awaits us when our time comes—it's interesting to wonder if it's anything like it is in Goblin 🍵

Can't stop thinking about Goblin, even though I'm now watching Thirty but Seventeen & Mr. Sunshine! I'm emotionally cheating lol halp.

Photo credits: tvN & AsianWiki

Yo yo! I'm sorry I took so long to watch + write up this review! It's been a long couple of weeks for me, I wasn't always able to watch when I wanted. It was maddening 😆 But I have finally watched, and feel like the most accomplished person on the planet hahaha. xoxo 💜

#goblin #도깨비 #asian dramas #korean dramas #tvn

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