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rhinestonecowdoy · 2 years

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So this thought refused to leave me alone, so here it is. I am cry.

The Sky, The Stars and Her Daughters

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It was a matter of precision and great care. The cold was a lethal weakness to the Dimitrescu heiresses but as the years grew, so did their temptations. Each daughter would gather by the window as the seasons turned, watching leaves turn to snow, to flowers, to dirt. It became somewhat of a tradition in the castle, one that Lady Dimitrescu herself realized she’d been pulled into as well. Another season was on the verge of transformation; Bela’s wistful sigh was the catalyst to the plan enacted by a mother who saw her daughters' longings.

A warm night fell upon the castle and as Alcina gathered her daughters to the foyer, the plan began.

“I can’t breathe.” Cassandra whines as she struggles against the constrictive winter clothes, “I’ll be fine without most of this stuff.”

Fixing her daughter’s scarf, Alcina tuts with a gentle smile on her face, “Boldness alone won’t protect you from the cold, Cassandra. Just one moment longer and I’ll be finished.”

Cassandra huffs as her mother finally finishes, watching her stand tall to double-check her sisters apparel. Daniela and Bela were also somewhat uncomfortable from the excessive clothes -Daniela much more so- but they bore it for the reward.

Outside. Where everything was.

Only Cassandra knew what the outside tasted like; a springtime delight for House Dimitrescu’s greatest huntress.

Now, however, the spoils belonged to them all.

Alcina smooths down her dress as she approaches the door, taking a deep breath as she bends to grip the door handle. It was a risk to expose her daughters to their possible deaths, but it was a mother’s norm to worry for their children, even after such careful planning.

Funnily enough, the possibility of their harm wove hand in hand with starving them of this experience. Killing what was on the inside, instead of just the outside.

On old hinges, the door creaks open, letting in a cold, but not freezing blast of air. Immediately, Daniela steps towards the crack in the door, causing little tendrils of reddish hair to be whipped up by the breeze. Alcina’s shrivelled heart stops for a moment, holding her breath in her lungs as she observes Daniela for any sign of forming crystal.

Nothing. Sweet, beautiful nothing.

“How are you feeling, daughter? Is it too cold?” Alcina asks cautiously, squeezing the door handle in case it needed to snap close.

A rare moment of tranquility washes over her most frivolous bug as another gust of air kisses Daniela’s face. Looking up with glittering eyes -full of possibility- Daniela grins at her mother.

“What’re we waiting for? Let’s go already, mom!!!”

Not heeding the perils of nature, Daniela curls her fingers against the door, throwing it open to let the world into the stagnant castle.

At her mother’s side, Bela clutches the familiar ripples of white silk as the breeze hits her head on, turning her eyes away from the drying wind. A faint smile never left her face, however, and with hidden excitement, she buries her expression into her scarf. The first to greet the world was Daniela, stomping over the hard dirt with nary a care for the rubble she kicked up. Second was Cassandra who half-waddled up to her sister, complaining faintly about the clothes once more.

Lastly was Bela, who remained stuck to Lady Dimitrescu’s side, gulping at the sudden change to her structured life.

“Don’t fret, darling,” Alcina coaxed mildly, leaning down to pass a hand over Bela’s hood, “I’ll be right behind you and your sisters at all times,” she nudges her daughter’s head in encouragement, “Now go. This outing was meant for all of you to enjoy.”

For a short moment, Bela deliberated, looking into the vast wilderness before staring at her sisters flitting amongst the dead leaves; rather loudly, one might add. With a smile, Bela briskly walked towards her sisters, barely suppressing the urge to run like a fool.

Nightfall held each bug in shadowy arms, showing them new parts of this strange world they only ever experienced from afar. It was Alcina’s turn now to join her in her daughter’s reverie. Following the trail of smaller footprints, she tailed her buzzing children, sighing happily as Bela stuck herself between Daniela and Cassandra, pointing at the sky as she did.

Basic astronomy was dispensed in a confidently quiet voice as the eldest sister regaled her siblings with tales of the celestial bodies. Glass was no longer a barrier between Bela’s humble passion for the sky as she reached out to almost touch each pinprick of light, flicking her gaze between her sisters and the stars as she did. Gentle peace came over each bug as they fell into this easy moment, speaking in harmony with the sound of crickets and rustling leaves.

Soon, all three were staring at the sky, enraptured by the endless dome above them; stilled by such a novel experience.

That’s when an idea struck Alcina.

It was yet another risk but maybe, with the power the Cadou granted her, she could make another wish come true.

Anything for her daughters.

“Girls,” Alcina starts, pulling her daughter’s attention away from the night, “would you be interested in viewing the stars at a closer range?”

She already knew the answer she would get, but seeing her daughters’ faces light up one by one was still worth the asking. Surprisingly, Bela was the first to react, nodding her head in quick succession before speaking an ecstatic, “Of course, mother!”

Cassandra roared in joy to harmonise with Daniela’s high-pitched squealing; singing a song Alcina wished to cherish forever.

The decision was made easily, and now, for the hard part.

Taking a few steps backwards, Alcina took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. Though her daughters knew of the dragon lurking within her, they never saw it. Only in short tales told by a fireside did they know of their mother’s ability to transform. They had no reason to fear her, of course, but Alcina still had to be careful.

Such power could crush anything; enemies, buildings and even her most precious daughters.

Focusing deeply, Alcina began to channel the Cadou’s inner sickness, chipping away her strict control with each passing second till she felt a sharp pain tunnel through her back. Biting down on her gloved hand, Alcina stifled the groans turned near-screams as she felt the dragon’s wings shred through her skin, folding and stretching till it cupped the sky. The agony was beyond intense, as it always was for the metamorphosis. Blood began to trickle down her hand as her teeth dug through her glove; fighting against the constant healing her body gave.

“GO MOM!!!”

Parting the grinding pain in her head, Alcina heard her daughters voices cheer her on in support much like she did for them so many times before.

As bones cracked and melded, the three Dimitrescus never relented in their whooping, even as the shadow above them quadrupled in size, tearing trees away as a twisted dragoness took form. With a gutteral groan, Alcina settled into her shape, stretching out the tentacles protruding from her back in an attempt to relax into the Cadou’s embrace. It was never an easy change; always agonizing, always exhausting.

But a small group of delighted cries made the expended energy more than worth it, especially with what was to come.

“Settle down, little ones,” Alcina chuckles softly, her voice warbling in tandem with a growling undertone, “For this to work properly, you’ll need to step inside my mouth.”

“BUT YOUR MOUTH’S GROSS, MOM!” Daniela yells upwards as Bela smacks the back of her head, cursing under her breath.

Cackling at the display, Cassandra snorts with her laughter as she listens to Bela chide her sister’s rudeness with little success.

“NEVER MIND HER, MOTHER!” Bela shouts as she begins to usher her sisters forward, brimming with hope to see the sky, “I’LL ENSURE THEY’RE SECURED!”

Stumbling into a unified walk, the sisters approach their mother’s monstrous maw as one by one, they find safety between the haphazard rows of bladed teeth.

Perched behind a sturdy row of fangs, the three sisters huddled against one another; Cassandra hugged Daniela close, in case she decided to roam any further. The temptation to explore was always a downfall to the youngest Dimitrescu and ever the watchful sisters, Bela and Cassandra made sure she stayed put.

“Is everyone ready?” Alcina queried, her booming voice lowered so as not to disrupt her daughters.

Each daughter replied in earnest, staring out from the multi-layered jaws of a comforting beast towards the starry sky. They were more than ready.

From atop the dragon’s back, Alcina’s half-formed body looked to that same sky before moving in sync with her legs, clawing the earth with building tension before jumping towards the moon. Wingbeats crashed waves of breeze against the trees as she began to lift, flying upwards to the sound of awe-struck screaming in her mouth. To see her daughter’s reactions in that moment would have been priceless, but her mouth was the safest place for them to be, not on her back where the wind could rip a fresh chill in to them.

Steady as the clouds roaming the sky, Alcina fell into a rhythm as her wings brought her higher, well above the ground and well above the trees. Soon, the current made a path for her as she stretched her wings out as far as they would go, catching the under-draft to hover above the world. Everything fell silent save for the rippling breeze against the dragon’s purplish scales.

Cuddling into each other, the sisters looked in quiet shock over the land they knew so well and yet not at all. Even Cassandra was dumbstruck, unable to let slip a single wild cackle or snarky comment. Enraptured by the stars she so often studied, Bela stared at each constellation unveiling over her as little teardrops dripped down her face and into her thick scarf. In response, she felt her siblings hold her tighter, each one fully encompassed in the moment together. Soon, Alcina tasted the slight salt in her mouth, humming in slight worry as she made a slow turn over the snowy landscape.

“We’re alright, mother!” Cassandra yelled through the heavy wind, sniffling to contain herself, “We’re just having a great fucking time is all!!!”

“Yea, a great fucking time!” Daniela parroted through her own joyous sobbing before earning a weak, laughing groan from her eldest sister who still fought tears.

And just like that, the worry was gone, smoothed over by the chirping of savage but sweet daughters.

Gliding just a touch higher, Alcina raced through the sky, showing her offspring as much of the barren, listless land as she could; a land they so loved to watch despite its dowdy nature. As the seconds grew to minutes, the wingflaps lessened with Alcina’s energy and much like a parent who carried their child one too many times, her strength began to wane.

Unfortunately, it was time to return.

In slow dips, Alcina eased into a descent, listening to her daughters whine at the action. A familiar scattered ring of trees marked her take-off zone and with the same care she placed in holding a wine glass, Alcina drifted towards the earth, landing with a heavy thud. With the dirt coiling into her claws, so did her energy coil away from her body as the strain finally set in.

“Time to go, daughters,” Alcina announced, cutting the hurry in her voice with kindness.

With one last round of whining, each bug moved around inside their mother’s vicious maw, jumping out between several teeth to land on the ground; holding onto each other’s hands as they did. As they stepped away, they heard the familiar crunch of bone, the muffled pained groans and loud squelch of flesh as the giant shape became smaller.

Alcina’s body shrunk to say the least, considering she was still colossal in her natural body. The dragon curled in on itself as the last patches of purplish skin fell into pale white, forcing Lady Dimitrescu to one knee as she panted, bracing herself. If it were not for her regenerative capabilities, she would have fainted completely from the pain alone.

Bent low to the ground, her hat cut a shadow across the ground, obscuring her vision as she allowed the Cadou to slowly rebuild her energy; in the meanwhile, she would just have to stay put, exhausted.

And stay put she happily did as a flurry of arms embraced her on all sides, squeezing her in winter-clothed warmth.

“Thanks, mom. I wish I could turn into a massive dragon too.” Cassandra said in rare peacefulness, nuzzling into the slightly tattered fabric on her mother’s arm.

“I wanna go again!” Daniela chattered before Bela shot her a glance, forcing a sheepish smile out of the youngest child, “I mean…thanks, for this.”

Bela stayed quiet, pressing herself into Lady Dimitrescu’s shoulder to hide her face before whispering, “Thank you, mother. For showing us the stars.”

The cruel reputation of the Dimitrescu household was different behind closed doors as Alcina wrapped her arms around her girls, showering them in affection beneath the chilled wind. She held her daughters closely before pressing a scarlet kiss to each black hood around her.

“I love you, my precious daughters.”

In that warm-weathered night, a new tradition was made, no longer separated by glass and stone. When the breeze was warmer and the seasons changed, the sisters clamoured for their mother’s attention to grace the night sky on grey-purple wings. Each time they ventured forth, a new sight would behold them in the dragon’s maw; trees blooming in spring, charred in summer, wilting in autumn. Never once did the flights lose their enchantment in the clouds.

A long stasis of watching by the windows, broken by that one cherished moment between Alcina and her beloved bugs.

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

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I always think of like, the reversal of what happened with the dimitrescu family in the game, like all three daughters die, lady D goes absolutely insane trying to kill ethan. But what if by some miracle or smth ethan had managed to kill lady d first? I think all three of the daughters would go absolutely apeshit hunting ethan down and ripping him to shreds because 'you killed our mama'

And I dunno I was thinking about this last night and decided someone else should suffer with me

I’ve thought of this, too!!

After they kill Ethan they stand around their mother’s broken body in silence, unsure on what to do or say anymore. What was there to do without their mother to guide them?

Ethan’s body is burned. The flames devour his flesh in their stead. None of them can bring themselves to feast upon him for what he’s done. It hurts too much.

They bury Alcina in the garden, bundling up in several layers so they can give her a proper funeral service, despite the harsh Romanian winter. They kneel in the snow-covered dirt, drinking from her veins one last time. Her blood had never tasted so stale before.

Ashes. It’s all ashes.

They hang her hat on the tree her grave sat beneath. Nobody says a word. Tears freeze to their faces. One-by-one, they leave.

There is nobody to greet them inside.

Mother Miranda, Moreau, Donna and Angie, even Heisenberg come to pay their respects. They all say the same thing, over and over again: I’m so sorry for your loss. She was a great mother. She loved you all dearly. None of it matters. Not any more. Who cares if she loved them or not if she is no longer there to give them that affection?

Time passes. Alcina’s death is hard on everyone. Daniela spends a lot of her days locked in Alcina’s bedroom, curled up in the blankets, crying. Cassandra vents her despair and anger on the maidens, practically living down in the dungeon, torturing and slaughtering. Bela, as the oldest, takes up the family business, but it’s so hard, so fucking hard because she doesn’t know how to do anything and it reminds her so much of her mom and she fears failure severely.

The sisters begin to grow distance, as they’re rarely around each other anymore, all too busy with their unhealthy coping mechanisms. They can’t depend on each other for comfort because they can’t even comfort themselves.

One day, six lonely months later, Bela goes out and visits her mother’s grave.

“Hi, Mama,” she says. “I brought you some things.”

She brandishes a bouquet of flowers to the grave, as if Alcina were actually standing there and looking grateful over the gift.

“They’re roses,” Bela tells the tomb. She swallowed thickly, biting back the lump welling up in her throat. “They reminded me of you.”

She tentatively sets the flowers down on the dirt.

“I—” The words catch in her throat. She scratches at her neck with one claw, trying to muster up the will to speak. “I was thinking about maybe trying different mixtures for the wine.” She pauses, took a breath, then goes on, forcing out a giggle alongside her sentence, “It’s probably gonna turn out surprise gross, though.” And then, much quieter, wringing her hands together, “I wish you were here to do it with me.”

Silence falls upon the girl and the grave. Bela’s hands are clasped tight and she brings them to her stomach, imagining what it would be like to find absolution in her claws. She would plunge and drag and drag and drag until there was nothing left of her but shredded flesh and blood, but that would not be enough, not for her. It would not give her her mother back. It would not give her the shouts and the laughs and the boisterous cries at all hours of the morning and night. That was not what Alcina would have done if it had been Bela that was murdered on that fateful day.

But she wasn’t as strong as Alcina.

Bela doesn’t really realize exactly how loud she is crying until her shaking breath hitches so high it sounds like a squeak. She blinks through the haze of tears and scrubs her eyes with her sleeve, but the merciless flow does not stop.

A little brown bird lands on a grave nearby and fluffs out its wet wings. A grazing deer is munching contently on some wild flowers. Some type of bug is buzzing in the grass somewhere from behind.

Looking around at this all, Bela is shocked by how the world keeps running and running while hers had stopped its run not so long ago.

The summer leaves are dancing around her, whisked from the towering oak trees by foggy gales and sent into a whirling axis in the sky. A humidly warm, but also bone-chillingly cold breeze is trying to offer a comfort that seems to be invisible and impalpable. There can’t be comfort. There can’t be reassurance. The pain is still too loud, the wound is still too raw: her heart and her soul aren’t ready to accept that there is a reason for what has happened; her mind is still trying to distinguish between reality and fantasy, between the soothing effect of a false illusion and the harsh truth of a world deprived by its most beautiful voice.

“Why?” She wonders this so often, but there is only pattering raindrops and whisking nature replying to her, and that lack of words is an absence that stings more than she can accept.

“Why?”

She has wondered for too long but still nothing has come up and maybe it will never be answered because sometimes life is like that, a storm in the middle of a summer day and its lingering residue following her for weeks and months. Maybe one day she’ll stop asking herself that but, for now, it’s just all she can think about, over and over again.

It doesn’t make sense.

Nothing makes sense and it has been like that since she saw the sight, just a few flashes of images in a room, blood and gunfire and a collapsing body, that had stumbled down her life and shattered it. She can still see them behind her eyes, can still feel the way her own heart had stopped beating as a black void started to envelop her. She still feels like she’s down there, trapped in a nightmare that no one knows how to stop or break.

It doesn’t make sense.

There is regret in her body language. There is a baggage full of words that should have been said and things that she should have done. Maybe, if she had done them, nothing would have ever happened.

Bela wishes she could go back in time. She wishes there was a way for her to erase all those tiny mistakes she’s made, all those times she wanted to reach out but, instead, turned her head away because it still hurt. Her mother was—is still—the most important thing in her life and, yet, she let her slip away in fear of what she would say if she showed any signs of weakness. Her image is everything and yet, what is left now? There’s no image to defend, there’s nothing left because Alcina’s death has destroyed everything.

So she wishes. She wonders and wishes that there is a way for her to save just a few lives.

Her life.

There are still tears in her eyes. She wants to believe it’s because of the weather and the wind but it’s just a useless alibi. She lets them fall, not ashamed anymore because there is no one around to watch her. But she feels like a hypocrite, she feels like she doesn’t have the right to cry that loss because she could have done so much to prevent her mother’s absence.

To prevent her death.

She knows it’s the truth, no matter how many times people keep telling her that she’s done nothing to cause the incident. She knows it’s the truth, no matter how many people try to explain how, sometimes, she can’t save everyone. That bad things just happen to good people.

“I’m sorry.”

She knows it’s too late.

She knows that it’s useless because Alcina’s not there to hear those words.

Regrets don’t leave Bela, not even now that she’s standing in front of the consequences of her own ignorance.

It’s her fault.

She keeps telling herself it as if this admission of truth can absolve her sin. It’s her fault because she said she would protect her family but it was always so easy to forget about it: there isn’t ever the need to- she had always been the one that needed help the most in the family it seemed. She had always been the one fate had chosen to deal bad cards: her mental health, her perfectionism, those idiotic statements and those stupid decisions.

But then there was her mother. Her mother’s comforting words, gentle touches, light hearted jokes to make her smile—the way she would just…be there and make things better in ways that were difficult to explain to the world that had never seen her in private.

Why didn’t Bela do the same for her? Or for any of her family members?

“I’m sorry.”

Bela is sorry. She could have done more. She could have told her more.

She should have known better.

Bela should have known better, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to face the truth. She didn’t want to realize that her superhero might have been needing a hero herself and she was too oblivious or too busy or too afraid to be up to the task.

She depended on her mother and now she’s lost.

Alone.

#ask #you may call me the queen of resident evil angst #please and thank you #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil headcanons #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #dimitrescu family #dimitrescu daughters #ethan winters

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altariaas · 3 years

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your face all made up (living on a screen)

Adrien knows, to some degree, that it’s the important things that are the most important to say out loud, but it would help to know that someone’s actually listening. It would also help if things would stop breaking every time he acknowledged his emotions, too.

i’ve taken a total of three steps into this fandom but sure, let’s skip to season 4 and fall face-first into the Angst™, as it goes. I just think Adrien should get a little raw powers of destruction sneaking out of control in his daily life. as a treat. Post-Rocketear so lots of spoilers etc.

Adrien walks home from the fight against Nino’s akuma with a raging headache, a developing case of massive anxiety, and a purpling bruise the size of a basketball on his shin.

The last one isn’t actually from the akuma. Those injuries got neatly miraculoused away, along with Nino’s heartbroken betrayal. No, the bruise is from Adrien’s incredibly stupid attempt to funnel his tornado of emotions into something concrete by kicking the front gate, only to completely miss and slam his shin into the solid steel rungs instead, sending him stumbling back in a pained fit of trying to think up creative curse words that won’t result in his father murdering him if he overhears.

Metaphorically, of course. Father’s not a murderer, except when it comes to the slow death of Adrien’s social life.

Though he really…can’t entirely blame that on Father, either.

And there comes the developing case of anxiety. Adrien swallows, a feeble attempt to banish the souring feeling in his stomach and the aching tightness in his chest. He wraps his arms around himself, staring up at the mansion and fighting the increasing urge to run. The inside of his cheek stings as he chews at it, already abused from how hard he’d bitten there earlier when Nino had started making…observations. Accusations. Wildly misdirected statements that definitely aren’t any insight to how Nino truly feels about what might be the truest version of Adrien’s slowly splintering self, if he’s going to be dramatic about it.

Overly passionate, Father’s voice echoes hollowly somewhere in the back of his head. Prone to fits of drama, just like his mother.

Spinning abruptly on his heel, Adrien beats a steady path away from the mansion gates and toward…somewhere. Somewhere that won’t make that developing case of anxiety worse, and where no one can witness his fits of drama.

The urge to send the front camera a rude gesture in farewell is violently stifled as Adrien keeps his arms wrapped tightly around himself, like the action will keep everything in neat and perfect and safe from view. He feels more than hears Plagg rustle curiously in his front pocket, but Adrien ignores the action, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

Then the sharp reminder of how it felt when Ladybug ignored him in favor of Rena Rouge comes back and bites him solidly in the guilty part of his feelings, so Adrien pats his front pocket reassuringly.

“Just taking the long way home,” he murmurs.

Plagg’s eyes are calculating, almost greener than usual as they stare at him, and Adrien feels uncomfortably perceived. Not in the cold, bug-under-a-microscope way he feels sometimes when Father looks at him, but a hot kind of uncomfortable, the way he feels when someone looks right past the Adrien Agreste mask and sees—

What? What do they see? An awkward boy stumbling back against a wall because he never learned what his real self was supposed to look like? Hollow flirting and annoying with a capital a?

Fits of drama, Adrien reminds himself. He shouldn’t take it so close to heart. Not when Nino looked so devastated, so heartbroken. Not when Ladybug’s been giving him uncomfortably clear signs that Nino might’ve been right.

“If you say so, kid,” Plagg finally replies. “But I better get that camembert sooner than later.”

A half-smile tugs at Adrien’s mouth. “Sure, Plagg.”

At least Plagg still wants him around, masks and all. It’s a small comfort, but Adrien clings to it, his arms tightening around himself. Sure, things didn’t go…wonderfully, today, but it’s not all so bad. He got slammed into a van a couple of times, and maybe a couple of busted ribs, but that’s nothing, comparatively. And sure, Father’s finding more flaws in him to coldly evaluate than usual, and Nathalie’s growing paler and sicker by the day, and Ladybug’s either freezing him out bit by bit or starting to forget about him entirely and he isn’t sure which is worse, and his schedule is slipping further and further from manageable by the day and Nino dislikes a side of him so much it sent him straight into an akuma and—

“—kid, stop!”

Adrien’s thoughts cut off abruptly as his foot catches, his sense of balance going horizontal as he stumbles, and proceeds to nearly slam the rest of him face-first into the concrete. Plagg’s sharp warning echoes in his ears as he rights himself with a panicked yelp, hopping once while frantically hoping no one was around to see — whatever that was.

“Kid,” Plagg starts, but he doesn’t finish. He’s left the front pocket, his eyes bright green as he stares at him.

Adrien blinks, shaking the slight sense of vertigo off. “Sorry, sorry, I—”

Huh. What did he do? Rubbing the back of his head, Adrien glances at the street he stumbled over. He frowns.

The culprit is a jagged, snaking tear in the concrete, half a meter deep and the length of Adrien’s arm. He stares at the spiderwebbing cracks that branch out of it, fine grains of crushed concrete already scattering in the slight wind.

Weird, he thinks. He doesn’t remember fighting Nino this far down the street. Lucky Charm should’ve fixed that, even if he did.

“Adrien,” Plagg says, and there’s an uncharacteristically cautious edge in his voice. “What was that?”

Adrien cups a hand around Plagg, running a finger over his head in apology as he draws him out of view again. “Lost in thought, I guess,” he says, ducking his head. “Sorry.”

Plagg doesn’t reply, still staring at him with a look Adrien can’t quite identify. He feels oddly disoriented, like he actually did fall and hit his head, and now it’s spinning in retaliation. Across the street in front of him, the stoplight flickers — red, then orange, then red again. It flickers out entirely, before snapping back to a bright, acidic green. Adrien rubs his eyes.

“Let’s…let’s go home,” Plagg finally says, tucking himself back in Adrien’s shirt pocket. He doesn’t entirely meet Adrien’s eyes as he does, but he curls up against his chest, solid and warm, and it’s almost enough to banish the ache that lies beneath.

“Okay,” he says, softly. “Home, then.”

————

There’s a memory Adrien has, from when he was younger. It’s one he holds tightly to his chest, tattered and frayed as it is.

He was much smaller than he is now — barely six years-old, maybe, and small enough to hide behind the large statues his mother would put funny hats on to make his father laugh. She’d done just that earlier, standing tiptoed on the staircase as she’d slipped a terrible orange bowler hat on the pretty lady Nathalie said was from Greece. Adrien had giggled behind his fingers and his father had laughed, an unfamiliar sound that’s faded in memory now, but a bright and real one nonetheless.

It had been a good day, until mother had come down with a cold during dinner and Adrien had jolted out of sleep from a nightmare about giant, ugly orange hats that snatched up his mother with their ribbon-like fingers and took her away from him forever.

He’d sprinted through the house like the horrible hat monsters from his dream were on his heels, slipping in his socks up to the cracked door of his father’s study.

He hadn’t needed to knock, then, or even schedule a meeting. He’d slid through the doorway and barreled into his father, only to be caught by strong arms and swept into his father’s lap, warm and safe from any monsters that dared to follow him here.

“I’m worried about your mother, too,” his father had said. “But it’s just a cold, you see? Nothing to go slipping and falling down the stairs about.”

He’d received nothing but a sniffle in response.

“Alright.” Fingers had pinched around his nose as his father sighed. “How about we read a story then, until you’re not so frightened? Just you and me.”

The book they’d started that night was about a prince and a planet and a rose, and Adrien still remembers the sound his father’s voice made as it resonated where Adrien’s cheek pressed against his chest, his arms holding tight and warm around him, like nothing bad could slip in from outside and hurt him.

It’s a favorite memory of his, one Adrien finds springing back to mind whenever Father gives him a smile, half-formed and distanced as they are.

Lately, though, it’s a memory that stings to think about. It makes it harder to look Father in the eye, for some reason.

————

“And like, I really can’t say this enough, but I’m so sorry.”

“I told you, Nino, it’s fi—”

“No seriously, dude, I’m really sorry, I—”

“Nino.”

His friend finally jerks out from his puddle of miserable apologies, and Adrien gives him a weary smile. “It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I dragged you into the boiler room then got akumatized,” Nino says, distressed. “That’s worse than like, the plot of eight different horror movies.”

“Your head was shaped like a giant blue tear, it wasn’t that scary,” Adrien assures him.

“I am ninety percent sure I remember shoving you to the floor,” Nino moans, not reassured in the least.

Part of Adrien’s mind, the part that sounds a little too much like a spurned cat whom hell hath no fury, or however the saying goes, wants to pipe up with the fact that getting shoved to the floor was five-star treatment compared to what Nino (akuma, Nino’s akuma, that’s important) had proceeded to do to him afterwards.

The bus-slamming thing had hurt.

Not as much as hurting Nino would’ve, though.

So instead, Adrien gives Nino the kindest smile he can, lays a gentle hand on his arm, and says, “As if the akuma gave you the biceps to pull that off.”

“Hey,” Nino knocks their shoulders together, his guilt ridden expression easing just a bit as he gives him a half-hearted grin. “I’m ripped, bro.”

It takes Adrien a moment to reply, too busy fighting the overwhelmingly — traitor — urge to follow the warmth of contact with Nino like a starving animal. He doesn’t need to fight for too long — his brain throws everyone thinks you’re a joke at him just in time for Adrien to hunch his shoulders in and give Nino an awkward little grin of his own.

Maybe his brain’s a traitor too, though, because he doesn’t remember Nino even saying that about Chat Noir.

He thinks.

Hopes.

Actually, his brain can go sit in a corner if it’s going to keep throwing stuff like this at him. Shaking anything and everything knowledge-wise that belongs to Chat Noir from his mind, Adrien turns his attention back to the scribbled game of hangman they’ve been playing on the corner of Nino’s history notes. Group projects are supposed to be fun, anyways, especially with Nino.

“Uh, c,” he guesses.

Nino adds a single c to the blank letter spaces. Adrien squints at the paper, his mouth downturning at the suspiciously familiar arrangement he has so far.

_adia_t, ca_ef_ee, d_ea_y

“Nino,” he says, carefully.

Nino smirks. “Mm-hm.”

“If this has anything to do with perfume ads—”

“Uh-huh?”

“Then I hate you.”

Nino cackles, scribbling in the rest of the rest of the accursed phrase as Max loudly hushes him. Adrien rolls his eyes and huffs, but he’s unable to stop the small smile of amusement. It quickly fades as his words to Nino echo with an uncomfortable emphasis in his head.

You’re being stupid, he tells himself. Adrien pushes away the nagging feeling. Nino knows he’s not serious. He knows Adrien doesn’t actually hate him. Just like Adrien knows Nino didn’t mean it, when he said all that stuff about Chat Noir.

His fingers tighten around his pencil. He’s not supposed to be thinking about that. Nino apologized, to Chat Noir himself, and just because Adrien can’t get the sting out, it doesn’t mean that Nino meant anything genuine by it.

Overly dramatic, Adrien reminds himself. Way too emotional.

The ache in his chest makes itself known again with a pang, and Adrien bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at Nino from the corners of his eyes.

Maybe he should tell Nino he cares about him, just to be sure. The words form in his mind, only to catch abruptly in his throat, thick and cloying. He thinks of how thoughtlessly he’s been able to tell Father he loves him. Thinks of how easy it’s always been to tell Ladybug how much she means to him.

He thinks of how neither of them seem to like meeting him in the eyes, lately.

He swallows the words, opting to smile brightly at Nino instead. It’s probably for the best. Nino’s always been better at picking up on people’s feelings, anyways, and he doesn’t need the kind of nagging assurance Adrien does. And it’s not like Adrien’s had much luck telling people he loves them, lately. Actually, if you look at his track record, he probably hasn’t…had any luck at all.

Adrien shakes his head, shoving the coldness creeping into his chest as far to the corner of his mind as he can, and sketches out enough blank spaces on the paper to spell fake mustaches are the new sexy.

If he can still make Nino laugh, it’s fine. He wouldn’t be laughing if he thought Adrien was annoying and obnoxious.

So see? It’s fine.

————

Adrien thinks about elastics, sometimes. The stretchy, rubber kind that Mme Thurston uses to pull back the longer locks of his hair while she’s doing his makeup, tying it up in a neat little explosion on top of his head that makes him look like a blond weed. She makes it look easy, twisting the little bands around and around, until they’re tight enough to hold his hair in place.

(Adrien’s hair is always easy, of course. Chat Noir’s hair, on the other hand, would probably give Mme Thurston nightmares. Mainly because Adrien has a fun little habit of shaking his head side to side until it’s an unrecognizable blond disaster, but that’s not particularly relevant.)

(Ladybug doesn’t even need to use elastics, opting for the soft strands of ribbon that hold her pigtails in perfect place.)

Adrien doesn’t normally use elastic bands either, but he likes the way they feel when he’s nervous, stretching and rubbery, then snapping perfectly back into place, like he’d never twisted them all out of proportion at all. The way he can hook his fingers in both ends and pull and pull and pull, but they never quite snap.

Felix has a fun trick with those, when they do photoshoots together.

(When they used to.)

He’ll press a little elastic against Adrien’s arm and pull the end back, just far enough, then let it snap back into place, stinging little red marks when it slaps against skin.

“Stop it,” Adrien scowls at him, but the expression wavers. Playful isn’t a word he uses along with Felix very often, but photoshoots are always more entertaining with him, at least. Or they were, until his mother disappears, and family photoshoots grind to an utter and complete halt forever—

—just for now, his father says, until something changes, until that something happens, until that metaphorical other foot that’s always hanging over Adrien’s head finally stomps its way back to earth and demolishes him in the process—

Felix replies by stretching another elastic between his fingers, shooting it toward him this time like a little slingshot. Adrien snags it out of the air, slotting it between his own fingers to fire back. It misses by a miserable meter and a half, because at the time this conversation takes place, he and Ladybug haven’t stayed up all night practicing their aim by trying to hit the left ear of Le Stryge on Notre-Dame.

Felix snorts, snatching the elastic from the floor, and makes a show of placing the band back against Adrien’s wrist. He pulls it back with a meaningful look, like an exasperated teacher. “It’s the bounce back that hurts,” he tells him. “Not the stretching part. When it snaps back to place—” He demonstrates by releasing the band, and Adrien flinches at the tiny sting. “—that’s the part that hurts.”

Four years later, having up close and personally experienced what a shattered ribcage stabbing into your lungs feels like, Adrien wants to correct Felix on tiny little elastic bands and what actually hurts, but the point, he guesses, is that he still remembers what it felt like.

He still thinks about those elastics sometimes, and how far they can be pulled until they snap back into place. How the little rubber band can make it so far, get so close to breaking, only to snap right back to where it started.

(Chat Noir doesn’t use elastics, either.)

————

For all that Adrien will stand by stuffing the worst of his emotions into a box and never thinking about them ever as a perfectly reasonable way to go about handling things —and whatever Plagg says doesn’t count, he’s a kwami who compares emotions to cheese — Adrien really does believe in communication as key.

Living it out is just. Another thing entirely.

But Adrien’s lived his life with a cold mansion’s worth of words left unsaid, so on principle, he really does believe that if something’s important, you should say it. Maybe nobody will really listen to you, or take you seriously, but at least you’ll have said it, and maybe at some point they’ll remember you said it, and it’ll mean something to them.

But maybe that’s what stopping him this time — he just can’t decide if it’s the idea of not being listened to that scares him, or the idea of actually being heard that’s worse.

It’s not like he wants to tell Ladybug he’s upset. It’s not like he even wants to be upset.

It doesn’t change the fact that he is, kind of, a little bit, (a lot) — but again, on principle, Adrien just — he doesn’t like being upset. It’s all uncomfortable and hot and it sits on his chest like a rock, weighing heavier and heavier until he learns to get over it.

It’s only worse when he tries to say something about it, because that never works. Maybe it’s a really sucky side effect of being homeschooled for most of his life, but every time Adrien opens his mouth to tell someone he’s upset with them and here’s why, it always backfires spectacularly. There’s a weird moment where something happens and the other person says their part, and suddenly Adrien’s complaints sound so stupid he wants to crawl in a hole and hide. There’s a dizzying one-eighty and Adrien’s suddenly the one in the wrong, and the other person’s upset at him, and now he’s got to apologize before he makes it worse than he already has.

And granted, most of those other people are just Father (or Father’s tinny voice through the phone), but he’s already enough to beat the lesson in.

Metaphorically, of course. Always — always metaphorically. Adrien’s never doubted otherwise.

“Maybe I’m just that bad at arguing,” he mutters, swiping darkly at his phone screen.

“I dunno,” Nino says, his voice consoling. “I mean, you were pretty good at it when you argued me into watching that one anime the other night.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t upset with you about that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Nino winks at him. “Unless your voice going all high-pitched about why Sailor Moon is the peak of animation is your default setting.”

“I wasn’t upset with you, though,” Adrien shakes his head, cutting him off. “I’m never upset with you.”

And he isn’t, really. Not even when Nino tells him, in an admittedly roundabout way, that he’s annoying and irritating and has loose and shady moral commitment to love and all its forms (or something like that).

He means, it stings, but only in the way Felix’s little rubber band snaps do. Not enough to justify picking an argument with Nino. Not to justify upsetting him, and possibly losing the one friend who’s stuck by him through the worst and actually shares stuff with him these days.

Adrien bites down on the inside of his cheek. If he’s not careful with the way his train of thought’s been steering itself lately, he’s going to accidentally show Ladybug how upset he is, and that’s—

Well, the fallout of that will hurt a lot worse than a little elastic band snap.

A lot worse than it already does, so. Back in your corner, resentful thoughts.

“Uh-huh.” There’s a quiet edge of suspicion in Nino’s voice, and Adrien stiffens, suddenly feeling horribly seen. The look Nino’s pinned on him doesn’t help at all, searching and curious and—

Concerned? Upset? Angry?

Adrien doesn’t know. He thinks it’s concern, but he’s also been thinking Ladybug’s been amused with him when she’s apparently just been annoyed, so who knows, really—

Shut up, Adrien tells his subconscious furiously. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“It’s okay, if you are,” Nino says hesitantly, perhaps having picked up on whatever storm of emotions are slipping through Adrien’s schooled expression. “Upset, I mean. At your old man or me. It’s better to talk to people upfront, y’know? Otherwise…”

Nino’s expression twists in guilt, and Adrien’s lungs feel a little like they’re shriveling up and dying. Or maybe that’s just his chest on the whole, collapsing in on itself and taking Adrien’s ability to breath right with it.

He isn’t upset. He’s not. He doesn’t need to talk to anyone upfront about it, because there’s nothing to talk about in the first place. He’s not going to be overly dramatic about this too, he’s not. He’s just— it’s just—

Is it personal? Was it something he did, that made Ladybug trust everyone else but him? Did he slip up at some point and he just — he can’t remember? She’d told him, she’d promised they were fine after New York, but maybe she’d changed her mind without telling him and decided he needed to figure out on his own where he messed up if he was ever going to be worthy of her trust agai—

“I’ll be — I’ve gotta — restroom,” Adrien stammers, shooting up from his seat and all but sprinting for the doors.

“Wait, Adrien—!”

Nino’s panicked call is lost as Adrien flies down the hall, slipping down the stairs to the bathrooms on the first floor where he’s less likely to be found. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to cry, or anything so humiliating, but there’s an awful crushing sensation in his chest that makes him think he might do something he’ll regret. Or say something, any of the raging thoughts that bang off the insides of his skull with hurt. Something he won’t be able to take back.

Adrien wavers, planting both hands on the edge of the sink and staring at the white porcelain. His breathing sounds odd in the echo of the bathroom, wavering and off-beat. His vision swims traitorously, so he glares up at the mirror instead, only to falter as he catches sight of his reflection.

He looks…not great. Pale skin and bloodshot eyes in the way that’s likely to make Nathalie call a doctor on him. Which would be just fantastically ironic, considering she’s the one who needs a doctor, even if she’s never going to admit it and keep lying to him. Just like Ladybug, all careful smiles and words chosen with forced, casual caution, staring at him with eyes that are a million other places except actually seeing him.

Stop, he tells himself furiously, squeezing his eyes shut. Stop. Ladybug is not Father. Ladybug is Ladybug, his best friend and partner and he trusts her, he trusts her to have her reasons for not telling him. He has to trust her. He does trust her, he—

A sharp cracking sound tears Adrien from his thoughts, and he snaps his head up to find seven of his own disjointed faces staring back at him. He blinks, and suddenly the faces are clinking to the floor, broken fragments of the mirror scattering around his shoes.

His first thought, apart from a bizarre sense of not being entirely in his body, is a well-timed curse word.

Instead, what he gets out is, “Seven years bad luck,” muttered, almost absently, beneath his breath.

Typical. He wonders if moonlighting as a black cat-themed superhero that leans heavily into exaggerated acrobatics counts as crossing one. Like he needs more bad luck, right now.

What he actually needs, is…

Is…

He needs an escape.

From everything, it feels like, but for now, Adrien will settle for an escape from the school bathroom with all the mirrors that just broke.

…somehow.

————

For all that he throws fits of drama about it, the thing is, Adrien has escaped.

He’s made it out of the house, to school. He’s learned physics and grammar and math that Nathalie taught him six months ago, and he’s learned how to play hangman and cut class and tell your friend’s fortune with folded paper. He’s made friends, real friends, and he’s learned how to muffle loud giggles on the phone at night and what kinds of snack food Nino likes and doesn’t like. He’s learned how to pick up on a whole slew of emotions other than disappointment and apathy and mildly reserved approval, and he’s learned how to tell when other people are hurting.

(He’s learned how to tell how he’s hurting, but he’s unlearned that one faster.)

He’s learned the words it takes to voice that Father isn’t always right, learned how to curl his fingers tight enough into his palms that they don’t shake so much anymore, and he’s learned how to stretch like a rubber band against people’s anger, bending without breaking.

(He’s also learned about the perks of night vision and bone density and six different ways to trip someone up with the leather belt you’ve got tied around your waist like a tail, but he can’t credit school for those.)

And he thinks — he thinks he’s come so far, he’s learned so much, he’s so much stronger now—

Then his father’s eyes soften just enough to resemble the eyes of the man who held him close and told him how much he loved him, loves him, who stayed up all night reading Adrien’s favorite book to him and whose lap was the safest, warmest place in the world, and Adrien—

Hates himself. Hates himself as he snaps right back into place, right back into the Adrien who crumbles at Father’s slightest snap of tone. Hates himself so much it stings.

Because it’s so much easier to do that, than it is to hate his father.

————

Adrien doesn’t particularly want to go to the photoshoot after school, especially not now that mirrors are literally breaking at the sight of his face, but — and here’s the fits of drama again — like everything else Father’s deigned to want, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Technically, though, Adrien fantasizes as he fixes his eyes upward so the makeup artist can do her best to hide the darkening circles beneath them (“—really, dear, do you sleep at all these days—”), he could give himself a choice. He could make it fun, too, striking the perfect pose before transforming into Chat Noir right smack in front of the entire studio crew, and then Father would have something truly inspired to review that evening. A perfect snapshot of Adrien cataclysm-ing his merry way out of the studio and out into the gloriously free outside, that’s what.

Except then Adrien would have way too many choices to make, and even less all at once. The identity thing, being one. How to avoid Ladybug murdering him and dancing atop his grave, for another. Not that he thinks Ladybug is capable of murdering anyone, of course—

(—no, that’s solely reserved for him and his powers alone—)

—but he can imagine she’d be angry, were he to stage a reveal that way.

Were he to stage a reveal at all, Adrien thinks sourly, blinking until the stiff feeling of the makeup beneath his eyes fades. His makeup artist’s had to use the thick kind today, the extra-strength stuff that’s going to take forever to wash off. He stifles the urge to swipe at it, trying to relax into the feeling instead. Makeup is familiar, consistent. Sure, it’s technically another lie, but it’s one Adrien’s at least aware of. Makeup, he can see through. He can put it on and take it off himself, exercising some tiny semblance of control over what’s being hidden from the world.

Everything else, though…

“Carefree, my boy, carefree,” Vincent implores, his eyebrows furrowing as Adrien snaps himself back to the present. “You look as if you’re being drowned in mud, not soaring above the clouds.”

Adrien’s cheeks puff up as he blows his breath out, short and frustrated. At least Vincent is every bit as prone to fits of drama as he is, he reminds himself. It’s better to be stuck with someone passionate than someone as open as a brick wall, even if it is just Vincent antagonizing him with a camera again.

“Sorry,” he offers, giving him a weak grin. “I’ll get it this time, promise.”

Vincent doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he rambles about lighting and angles instead of scolding Adrien, which he can’t help but be grateful for. It allows Adrien a moment to let the smile drop, staring at the ground instead of the brightening lights around him.

He toes sullenly at the smooth linoleum of the floor, the solid black of Father’s logo glaring back at him from the side of his sneaker. Maybe he should just get more sleep. Maybe all the ugly tangled emotions in his chest are just residual buildup from being overtired, that’s all. Ladybug mentioned the stress getting to her a little while back, her own eyes bloodshot and exhausted. Adrien’s brilliant solution had been to take her to the movies, which had gone just as brilliantly as every other time he’s tried something like that, which is not very well at all. He’d been worried about her, though, even before she’d thrown him from a roof on accident. Ladybug carries so much on her shoulders, and strong as they are, Adrien knows what it’s like to be strung so tightly that even the slightest extra weight feels like it’ll snap you. He sees the same weight in his own eyes, now, even blinded by the studio lights.

His stomach twists. Ladybug’s eyes aren’t half as bloodshot lately. There’s an easiness to her that wasn’t there before, a lightening of tension, and yes, Adrien’s happy she’s feeling better, he’s nothing but glad that she isn’t so exhausted and worn, but…

But she’d trusted him before, even when she was strung her tightest. And now that there’s relief in her eyes, now that he’s taking a backseat and Ladybug adds more allies to their roster by the day, allies that she knows but he doesn't, allies that Alya and Nino probably know too, just like everything else, now that—

Was he the problem? Was it his fault, that Ladybug’s eyes turned shadowed and her movements wavered? He’s tried, he’s tried to be a rock for her, to be something constant and consistent as Adrien himself wants, but the horrible feeling that he’s not enough is now warring with the awful feeling that he’s the problem in the first place, because — why else? Why else would she shut him out like this? Why else would she decide he’s untrustworthy, after all this time, why—

The lights against his vision suddenly flare painfully bright, so bright Adrien’s forced to stagger back.

Vincent jolts away with a cry, waving his hand frantically as the camera sparks and sputters. Echoed cries of surprise ring throughout the studio as the overhead lights flicker wildly, turning the studio into a frightening mockery of a particularly bad nightclub.

Adrien stumbles again, alarm coursing through his veins like a cold burst of water, and he darts for the intern nearby, who’s fallen over in her scramble to back away from the strobing lights. She’s just taken his hand when the lights go dark, plunging the studio into blackness. Before anyone can react beyond a frightened shriek, the lights snap back on, bright and steady as if nothing’s happened.

Adrien slowly pulls the intern to her feet, staring at the blazing lights as his vision swims, blinking against the sudden onslaught of dark spots in his eyes.

“Is it an akuma?” the intern asks, her eyes wild with fear. “Should we — should we evacuate?”

Adrenaline shoots through Adrien’s veins, his head whipping back and forth as he searches for a spark of purple, for the familiar edge of butterfly’s wings. But there’s nothing out of place, save the sputtering camera Vincent’s fretting over. There’s no sign of garish transformation, no following explosions, no loudly proclaimed demands for miraculous. In fact, if Adrien hadn’t seen it himself, it would appear as if nothing’s ever happened at all.

“It could’ve been the power lines,” someone suggests. “This place is pretty old, you know.”

“With Agreste’s standards?” someone else mutters. “I doubt it.”

“The camera is broken. Unsalvageable,” Vincent announces over the outbreak of murmurs. To his credit, he barely sounds shaken. “It must have been a power failure, or a blown fuse, I suppose. Nothing we can help.”

Vincent’s word is all the rest of the crew needs, and before Adrien can clamber up to inspect the lights himself, he’s being ushered from the studio, another intern furiously muttering about how she refuses to be fired for losing a model to “subpar building inspections” or something along those lines.

Adrien, who is already anticipating Father’s reaction himself, can’t blame her for bailing the moment he’s in the Gorilla’s hands.

————

Adrien is six years and three months old when his father finally finishes reading Le Petite Prince to him, and he comes the closest he ever has to throwing a fit at the ending.

He doesn’t actually throw a fit, of course, because then his father might not read to him ever again. That they finished this book together is already more precious as anything Adrien’s ever owned, and he won’t ruin that with his dramatics.

“Not all stories have the happy endings you want, Adrien,” his father tells him. Adrien feels his arms tighten around his shoulders, where he sits snugly in his father’s lap. “Sometimes you must make the most of what you have.”

Even at a young age, Adrien knows that he has quite a lot. The knowledge only grows as he does, just how much he has from his last name alone. His room alone could rival some people’s homes, Adrien has no right to want for anything.

And yet.

Sometimes, Adrien thinks back to the deep timbre of his father’s voice as he reads about yellow snakes and desert flowers and feels a stinging sense of loss so sharply it takes his breath away.

Other times, though, Adrien thinks about his father choosing to read a story about a boy who could only return home by letting a snake poison him, and wonders what that says about their relationship.

It’s not even Father’s icy tone that hurts anymore, really, Adrien thinks, as he picks at his dinner. Not that he’s likely to hear that tone tonight. Father’s locked himself firmly in his office again, and even Nathalie is nowhere to be seen. It’s quiet enough that Adrien’s gotten away with heating up the cheapest dinner they have in the house, and scouring enough cheese for Plagg that he won’t be complaining for a month.

Well, a day, maybe. Plagg’s a special kind of greedy.

But it’s painstakingly clear that Adrien will be dining alone, tonight. There hasn’t even been a single message fro Nathalie, informing him of all the lessons he’s been falling short in lately. Adrien twists his fork in his hand, setting it down with a weary sigh as dark spots flicker before his eyes again.

At least there won’t be anyone to lecture him, he tells himself, tapping absently on the table. The smooth wood looks immaculate beneath his fingers, the edge of his pinky still a bruised purple from the other evening, when Adrien misjudged the distance from the rooftop to his own window.

Father won’t be able to lecture him about that, either, so it’s a good thing, really. It’s a good thing, that no one will be saying anything to him about the studio mishap earlier, or the darker than usual circles beneath his eyes, or he way he’s been showing up late more often than not to everything. Not about his slipping grades, or the way he keeps forgetting to hide his glare when photoshoots run longer than they’re supposed to.

It’s a good thing, Adrien tells himself, as his fingers clench around the table’s edge. It’s a good thing that he’s alone tonight. Being alone and unseen is much better than the alternative. It’s a good thing, that he can stew in whatever ugly emotions keep threatening to rise to the surface all by himself, where he won’t risk hurting anyone else with them. He can’t mess anything up if no one’s there to see it, so really, it’s a good thing, it’s—

It hits him, all-encompassing and overwhelming all at once.

Unwanted, thick and horrible and choking, the sensation of being traded out and traded off and stepped over, left behind and left out and laughed at in vicious whispers, closed doors and closed expressions and locking him out, like bars sliding down from the ceiling and cutting him off, trapped in place like an animal in the zoo, entertaining for a heartbeat than easily moved past for something better, unwanted and untrusted and alone, alone, alone again—

Adrien buckles and something howls in his ears, his hands burning as his fingers crunch through wood and his vision whites out.

For a heartbeat, Adrien isn’t Adrien — he’s the swelling of flames as fire catches light, he’s the pull of the undertow as it rips across the shore, he’s the blazing burst of lightning against metal, he’s on the edge of a cliff and stepping off—

And then he’s Adrien again, small and shaking and breathing in large, heaving gasps, trying desperately not to throw up all over the table.

“—drien, kid, Adrien, please!”

Adrien tears his hands from the table as if it’s shocked him. Black flecks drift from his fingers as they tremble, and Plagg splits into three as he flits in front of him, six pairs of green eyes staring at him in blazing concern.

“Plagg?” He barely recognizes his own voice, and his throat feels like sandpaper.

“Breathe,” Plagg orders as his image solidifies back to one, more serious than Adrien can remember him sounding. “You gotta breathe, Adrien.”

He does, in stuttering, shaky gasps, because Adrien will do anything Plagg asks him to. He’ll light himself on fire if he wanted, because Plagg is all he’s got.

Plagg is here, and that means more to Adrien than anything else could.

“Breathing,” he finally croaks out. “I’m — breathing, see? S’all good.”

It is most certainly not all good, because Adrien still feels like he got thrown off a building and into a blender, but Plagg almost looks frightened, looking from Adrien to the table to Adrien again, and—

Adrien freezes. The table. The stupidly, enormous, ridiculously expensive, lonely table his family’s supposed to use. The table he definitely, most certainly felt crunch under his hands.

Adrien follows Plagg’s gaze downwards, and suddenly feels like he’s going to throw up again.

“Oh,” he whispers.

Ice coats the inside of his chest, cold and creeping. The sidewalk. The mirrors, the studio camera, and now this.

“Adrien.” Plagg sounds so very serious.

He could explain most of it away. It’d be — it would be easy.

But this?

Adrien stares at the half-decayed table, ashes still flaking from the sides in a way that’s horribly distinctive of his cataclysm. A spiderwebbed path of smoldering destruction, all tracing back to where his fingers had been white-knuckled at the table’s edge.

Something snaps in the chandelier above him, cracking once and fizzling off into sparks.

It feels like something’s snapped in Adrien’s head. Maybe he’s lost it. Maybe he’s finally gone off the edge, and that — that can be his excuse, when Father asks him what, exactly, he did to the table. He can tell Father they’ve both lost it, they’ve both gone mad, and wouldn’t mom think this was all so funny—

A sound like a sob rips itself from his chest, before Adrien can strangle it into submission. He can’t lose it now. He can’t break down, he has to — he has to come up with a way to explain this, he has to find an escape, or Father’s going to be so angry, and so cold, and…and…

Adrien goes still. Like ice, numb and calming, he realizes he doesn’t have to worry about excuses. He doesn’t have to worry about any of that at all. No one’s coming. Not to check on him. The silence of the house is overpowering, the tiny patter of the vaporized table bits as they land on the floor almost thunderous.

“Adrien,” Plagg repeats, softer this time. “I need you to look at me.”

Slowly, he lifts his head, meeting Plagg’s bright green eyes with his own. Something in Plagg’s expression goes tight, a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes before he schools them back into careful calm.

“Oh, kid.” Plagg’s voice is gentle. It still sounds like a lament.

Adrien tears his gaze away, swallowing. His fingers, still shaking, curl into unsteady fists. They feel odd, almost scalded. Adrien ignores it.

He can hide the table, he tells himself. He can fix the chandelier. No one will notice. He can hide this.

He’s Adrien Agreste.

He can deal with a couple of cracks in his facade.

#ml spoilers #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #nino's here as well #he's just not clogging up the fic with his internalizing like adrien is #ml season 4 spoilers #rocketear spoilers #i just have a lot of thoughts about the powers of destruction #and what that could mean potentially #if you weren't cowards mr astruc

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thr-333 · 3 years

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Drastic Measures- Part 12

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Soul Mate~

I would like to point out that in my plan for this chapter i wrote ‘magic beam pew pew’ I take my work very seriously.

Ao3

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“Were you like this for me?” Adrien pokes her with his foot.

“Worse believe it or not,” Marinette stares dreamily at the snowglobe, as she had been for the last hour.

“Terrifying," Adrien leans over her, teasing her, "You go it baaadd~”

“Adrien!” She pushes him away, blush taking over her face, “Plagg says something about cheese, not boys!”

“There’s an Akuma,” Plagg says deadpan, not what she was looking for but it will do.

“Saved by the moth,” Adrien jokes, opening the window.

“And they’re about to be saved by the bug,”

---

“I hate love Akuma,” Ladybug laments at the man heartbroken and sobbing, making it everyone else's problem.

“At least this one isn’t brainwashing anyone, maybe we should let it run around for a bit, let some people find their other half?” Ladybug sends Chat a death glare, “... orrr we could do our job and you stop glaring at me like that, that works too,”

“Ladybug,” Batman lands behind her, Ladybug can just feel her irritation rise.

“If you say what I think you’re going to say I am not helping,” She stares him down, completely serious. She. Is. Done.

“You’re a distraction, you need to leave-” That. Is. It.

“Chat make some popcorn we’ve got a show to watch,” Ladybug turns around, plopping herself on the edge of the building.

“Just couldn't help yourself could you?” Chat Noir asks Batman before joining her.

“You-”

“I’ll help when you apologize,” Ladybug cuts him off. Batman glares down at them for a few minutes before leaving to help the chaos below.

“Sooo, soul mates? do those actually exist?” Chat asks, the Akuma apparently trying to find their's as whoever they hit would have a line leading them to their soulmate. Meaning everyone hit was freaking out.

“Master Fu said they did, but I don’t think it's necessarily a romantic connection,” Below people with their act together are chasing after the lines while the Akuma wails they haven't found theirs yet.

“No?” The Akuma isn’t attacking anyone per se, just throwing the Bat pack back when they get too close.

“He said a soul mate was like a balance someone who is your opposite but also complementary,” Ladybug explains, “You balance each other out, strengthening each other,”

“Like us?” Chat grins, in the past it would have been an opportunity to flirt not anymore.

“Ideally, but Master Fu told me we weren't soulmates, that the balance was off, that's probably why this has been so difficult,” They might have been able to defeat Hawkmoth by now if they were.

“We still get along,” Chat looks wounded, Ladybug snapping back from her thoughts.

“Of course we do,” She quickly redeems, “Honestly I can’t picture a better partner,”

“Not even-”

“Finish that thought and I’ll throw you right off the roof,” Marinette glares knowing exactly where that's going.

“Fine, fine,” Chat surrenders, focusing again on the chaos below, “So what happens if you don’t find your soul mate?”

“Nothing usually, lots of people don't, as long as they're out there somewhere in the universe you’re at balance,” Ladybug still feels bad for the careless implication earlier, “Lucky Charm,”

“If they’re not?” Chat asks catching the Lucky Charm, a bucket of popcorn just their luck.

“If they’re gone they lose that balance, people can get a little unstable, traits becoming more extreme,” Ladybug munches on the popcorn with chat, “For a lot of people it’s not noticeable besides a mood swing but if you had a strong connection then the effects can be more drastic,”

“Think that happened Hawkmoth?” He says idly watching as a couple gets hit and their lines don't lead to each other.

“Maybe,” She hums as they start yelling at each other for cheating.

“Egh, Hawkmoth in a relationship? imagine if he had a child?” They both make a face, “They’d probably be a dick,”

“What?” Nightwing calls, trying to break up the fighting couple.

“Huh?”

“Nevermind!” Nightwing says quickly, getting hit over the head with a purse.

“Again, soulmates aren't inherently romantic,” Should probably tell the couple down there that, “But having someone that balances you perfectly can lead to romance,”

“Or a killer friendship,” Robin runs in to help break up the fight. It’s getting busy people apparently learning about the Akuma's power and now the Bats are mainly busy with crowd control.

“We don’t need to be soul mates to have that,” Ladybug smiles, stealing the popcorn.

“Pound it,” They say at the same time, falling into comfortable silence at the show below.

“Think we should help?” Chat asks eventually the streets crowded, the bats fruitlessly trying to keep people away from the dangerous Akuma.

“Have I gotten an apology?” Ladybug asks, feeling some satisfaction as a lady slaps Batman. Alright, a lot of satisfaction.

“Robin’s struggling,” And he really was trying to drag a hysterical teen away from the Akuma.

“Eh, he tried to stab me, call this payback,” And it looked like the teen wanted to stab him.

“Damn try to stab you find out who your soulmate is?” Chat whistles as the Akuma tries to hit Robin, “You drive a tough ship Milady,”

“Seriously Chat, edge of the building, can push you right off,”

“But you wo- AH!”

“Oh, but I will,”

She swings her legs. Chat catches himself as she knew he would and joins her back on the rooftop. Ladybug munches on the popcorn watching as Robin tries to avoid the beam while keeping people back.

It’s fun until it has consequences.

Robin gets hit, which would be all well and good if the line appearing wasn't connected directly to her. Robin looks up the line, finding a frozen Ladybug looking below.

“... Well Milady,” Chat gives an awkward thumbs up, “Good for you,”

---

“He might not be your real soulmate,” Adrien pats her back, Marinette's head buried into the pillows, “It was an Akuma's magic,”

“An Akuma is from miraculous magic,” Marinette complains, muffled into the pillows, “If there's one thing in the universe that can recognize soul mates it’s miraculous,”

“Alright let's calm down,” Adrien pushes her over so she is staring up at the ceiling, “You said soul mates don't have to be romantic, so really this doesn't change anything,”

“But Robin?” Marinette sits up cringing.

“Do you really hate him that much?” Adrien asks genuinely, Marinette flops back onto the bed.

“Ugh, no, I don’t hate him at all, mad at him sure, generally annoyed yes, but not hate,” She takes the snowglobe Damian brought her, looking at it sadly, “I just… can’t see why he is,”

“Could have been worse,” Adrien's tone turns lighter, obviously he’s about to try and cheer her up, keyword try, “What if your soul mate was Lila- AH!”

“You need to stop standing on ledges when you annoy me,” Marinette looks at him dispassionately as Adrien is sprawled over the floor.

---

She’s my soul mate! Ladybug is my soul mate

A cautious skeptical part of his mind warns that might not be right. It was a villain's magic, they could have been trying to manipulate them, it may be random or not accurate. Still, all of that depended on soul mates actually existing in the first place. But none of it mattered as Damian was practically giddy at the revelation.

He flops back on his bed staring dreamily at the ceiling. And yet still something nags at him. Not caution over being lied to or manipulated. It’s a feeling of loss. And he can’t figure out where it’s coming from.

Damian sighs in annoyance turning over to face his desk. He might as well get some work done. He freezes. Draped on the chair is the sweater Marinette made him. The feeling claws uncomfortably at his chest, worsening until he is forced to turn away.

Ladybug is my soul mate

---

“Hey does anyone know why Bruce is having a heart attack,” Jason walks into the cave, throwing his helmet to the side, “And follow up, who caused it? I’d like to personally thank them,”

“Jason!” Dick chides, still hovering around a catatonic Bruce.

“It was me? I wasn't even in town,” Jason whistles, “I have to pat myself on the back for that one usually it takes a lot more effort,”

“It’s not you, it’s Damian,” Dick rolls his eyes, leaving the unresponsive Batman.

“What did demon spawn do?”

“He’s going to marry Ladybug!” Dick whisper shouts, excitement practically radiating off him.

“... how long was I gone for?” Jason asks, “I was gone for three days, did Gotham get stuck in some time paradox no one bothered to mention?”

Did the demon spawn really propose? Honestly, it wouldn't have been the craziest thing their family has done, actually, it would be borderline sane in comparison.

---------

No taglist :P

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #maribat #Marinette #badass marinette #miraculous marinette #daminette #marinette x damian

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captain-emmajones · 3 years

Text

everything is icy and blue (you would be here too)

Dearest @klynn-stormz, Merry Christmas! It has been so lovely to get to know you during this past month. I hope you’ll enjoy this gift I wrote for you, and here’s to hoping we’ll get to know each other more during this new year!

A big thank you to @cssecretsanta2020 for organizing this event, to @therealstartraveller776 for being the loveliest beta and to @carpedzem for screaming at me -- always.

Summary: Canon divergence in which season 3B happens during Christmas time. Set after 3x16 and before 3x17 (let’s pretend more time passed between Neal’s death and Hook’s curse).

When Hook has to adjust to Storybrooke’s Christmas traditions and learns about mistletoe, he starts carrying it around with him, all the time -- just in case Emma decides to join in the fun that was promised and kiss him. Except it doesn’t exactly go according to his plans.

6OOO words - Fluff - Angst - Ao3

The sun is long gone when Hook and Henry finally sail back home. The stars and the moon have invaded the night sky, twinkling peacefully above their heads.

Hook exhales a sigh of contentment, twirls of white smoke dancing out of his lips.

“Quite chilly, isn’t it, lad?”

Henry stands before him, spyglass firmly pressed against his right eye. It seems to take him a few seconds to register that Hook has been talking to him.

“What?...No! I’m not even cold!”

A quiet laughter jolts out of Hook’s mouth. Of course he isn’t cold. The lad has been looking mesmerized ever since they left port. It is a miracle he still knows his name.

A mechanical swing of the wheel, cold fingers against cold metal -- and not warm wood, not like the Jolly -- and the small boat Hook has ‘burrowed’ slides gracefully into port.

“Almost there, lad.”

If Henry hears him speak, nothing in his demeanor gives it away. Hook’s heart smiles as something warm swells inside his chest.

The sailor has to admit that Storybrooke’s docks in this late winter afternoon have proven to be a sight for sore eyes. They seem forever entrapped in shimmering clouds of misty darkness, the pavement glistening under unusually bright street lights.

Hook frowns.

“Tell me something lad, why are those street lights this colorful?”

His question causes Henry to finally give up on the spyglass. He clicks it shut, and abandons the front of the boat to reach him.

“Christmas lights. Why do you ask?”

Although Hook has very little idea what this Christmas thing is, he gathers from Henry’s matter-of-fact tone that it is on the list of things he shouldn’t be talking about with the boy if he doesn’t want Emma to kill him.

“Oh, just like that, lad. My vision must not be what it used to, because I couldn’t make them out properly.”

Emma’s cheeks are flushed and her nose stained with red when Hook and Henry finally reach her. Her slim body appears tense under the quivering lights of the docks, and there is not an inch of her skin showing.

“Everything alright?” she asks, voice hoarse from the cold.

Her head is buried beneath what she calls “a beanie”. It is also red, and it is positively the most wonderful vision Hook’s had the pleasure of gazing at in weeks.

“I think so, Swan. The lad is quite fond of the sea. Isn’t that right, Henry?”

Henry is polite enough to look up from the video game he was already engrossed in to nod vigorously.

“Yeah, it was so much fun. Thank you for taking me, Killian.” Henry dedicates a smile to Hook, to which the pirate answers back: “T’was my pleasure, lad.”

The boy then shifts his attention to his mother. “Can I go wait in the car?” he asks.

Hook watches as Emma pretends to think, for one minute -- eyes rolling and underlip tucked between her teeth -- before she drops the car keys into his hand.

“Thanks, Mom. Bye, Killian!” Four words and the boy disappears as a gust of cold wind curls around the two warm bodies still outside.

Emma scoffs a little as her eyes linger on her son settling himself comfortably in the yellow bug parked a few feet away and raises her eyes to gaze at Hook.

The immediate effect it has on his heart rate is truly ridiculous, and Hook cannot hold back his smile.

“Thank you for taking him,” she mutters quickly, scrunching her nose -- and her words seem to burn her lips.

Hook sees himself lean into her space, smirking.

“Why, you’re most welcome, Swan.”

He watches as her eyes widen and scrutinize him before a slow, timid smile curls up her lips.

Behind her back, the waves crash tenderly against the harbour, claiming it as home.

It’s always a sight for sore eyes, Emma Swan smiling at him, and Hook counts his blessings.

“Oh, by the way, tell me something, Swan,” and as he speaks he leans into her space even more, bending forward as if Henry might hear them.

Emma’s eyes grow wider, but she does not back away.

It isn’t necessary, of course, and it isn’t like Henry is paying any attention to two of them anyway but neither Hook nor Emma seem willing to take that into account.

“Yeah?”

Her breathy tone and bright eyes cause Hook’s heart to leap inside his chest. As he squeezes his belt between his fingers to gain some composure, Hook gathers enough courage to incline his body towards hers even more, lips dangerously close to Emma’s face.

“The lad mentioned a Christmas celebration, and I’m afraid I haven’t been updated on this subject.”

Hook catches a whiff of Emma’s fragrance as he backs away to gaze into her eyes, cinnamon and vanilla invading his lungs, and he has the pleasure of seeing her face crease into a wider smile.

“Christmas, uh? Don’t worry, I’ll make you flashcards.”

“I don't know what that is but sure.”

By the time he finishes his sentence, Emma’s grin is dazzling and Hook begins considering freezing this moment forever in time and possibly angling his face just right so that he might meet her lips, perhaps, just perhaps --

“It’s a holiday from our world. It’s supposed to be religious, but for most people it’s mostly an occasion to exchange gifts and kiss under the mistletoe--”

“-- kiss under the what?”

And Hook sees the bubble burst, just like that. A veil falls over her gaze and her smile dies away in a frown.

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” Even as she talks, her legs take a step backward, and Hook can only watch as this invisible tether between them seems to stretch and stretch.

He wonders if she feels it too, this suffocating feeling as she pulls away. The answer is cruel: surely not, or she wouldn’t be pulling that way.

“I see. Well, goodnight, Swan.”

Although she’s just begun walking away, Hook knows Emma is long gone when she whispers back: “‘Night, Hook.”

Since Emma doesn’t seem willing to share anything with him these days, Hook settles his mind on learning more about this world’s tradition on his own -- which ends up being quite easy, as he fumbles through Storybrooke’s library.

The Wicked Witch hasn’t shown up in two weeks now — since Neal died — which allows Hook to take some liberties with his time schedule.

“Do you need any help?”

Hook startles and turns around to face two, big blue eyes.

“Belle,” he says, but it sounds a lot like a reproach. Belle’s clearly understood it because she is frowning now.

“I saw you all alone with your books in the Christmas section and I figured you might need help to understand this world’s traditions,” she explains but any warmth has definitely escaped her tone.

Guilt immediately circles Hook’s throat, and he is gentler when he says: “No, I’m fine lass but... thank you for offering.”

Belle simply nods as a faint smile flickers across her face. And Hook thinks guilt is quite a vile thing because it pushes him to give up on the book in his hand Christmas Traditions to Brighten your Holidays-- silly, silly title -- and press his palm across the brunette’s shoulder.

“Actually, you might be able to enlighten me on something…”

A wink, and the right corner of Belle’s lip raises slightly.

“Sure, what do you want to know?”

“Swan mentioned a kissing tradition that involved toes of some sort?”

She’s frowning now, and it cannot possibly be good.

“What?” Her hands meet her hips as she furrows her brows harder. “Oh you mean mistletoe!”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I said.”

Hook watches as Belle’s grin becomes impish. “I’m not sure Emma would like me telling you this,” she begins, coy.

“Which is exactly why I want you to tell me.”

Belle shrugs, glances down for a bit. “Well, I guess there’s no harm…”

“So you mean to tell me if this plant hangs over two people, they have to kiss?”

Hook’s startled blue eyes are quite a comic sight, Belle must confess. Surprised glimmers glisten amidst tender blue; he looks younger.

“Yes, that's what I mean.”

But Belle knows Hook’s cheerful smile is merely a facade. A few minutes ago, he seemed so...lonely, when she entered the library, nose buried in his book, and Belle figures it isn’t quite fair that he ends up having to learn it all -- on his own.

No one deserves to be left alone. Especially not during the holidays.

“And what does it look like?”

Belle gives a little chuckle. “Why? You want to use it?”

Hook’s answer comes out as a matter of fact. “Aye.”

And he looks so boyish, with this Christmas book in his hand and this hope hovering his eyes that Belle cannot help but smile frankly.

“I’m not sure Emma will fall for that.”

“Never try never know, lass.”

Belle sighs, scanning the shelves of books. Her eyes settle on one that she flips through rapidly.

“There,” she points with her finger, “this plant with the green leaves and red berries? It’s mistletoe.”

Hook peers above her shoulder. “Thank you, lady Belle.”

In a wink, the pirate has disappeared out of the library and Belle scoffs— amused, in spite of herself. He won’t be stopped, will he?

Hook and Henry are playing dice at Granny’s when he figures he might as well just ask the boy for more information.

“I’ve got a question, mate,” he begins, uncertain as to how to address the subject without sounding suspicious to those teenage ears.

Thankfully, Henry’s little concerned about Hook as he shoves French fries into his mouth.

“Yeah?”

Hook tries not to look horrified as one French fry tries to escape and Henry tucks it in expertly with one greasy finger.

“Where do you think I could find mistletoe in this town?”

That does make Henry stop for one tiny second, eyes open wide and eyebrows raised.

“Mistletoe? Why?”

Hook clears his throat, looks down at his fingers stretched on the table and lies: “Mary Margaret sent me.”

From the look on Henry’s face, he isn’t convinced. Smart boy.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve been living in this town very long. You should ask my mom about it.”

Hook frowns. “Nah, let’s not bother her with this when she’s already busy with her...how does she say it…?”

Henry’s eyebrows reach unprecedented height. “...Case?”

“Aye. That.” Why would Swan bother with cases, that Hook doesn’t bloody know -- but it’s part of the things he doesn’t question.

If there’s one thing Hook’s learnt over the years, it is that if one wants something badly enough, it always ends up in one’s lap. However, the tricky thing is it rarely lands softly or in an expected way.

As Emma and he investigate the west side of the forest looking for the Wicked Witch, he quite literally stumbles onto mistletoe.

As things turn out, it is quite a painful venture and it involves gazing for a bit too long at Emma who is a little far behind and not long enough at the vicious root right under his feet -- not that Hook truly thinks he is to blame -- and plummeting to the floor, head first, leading up to Emma falling on top of him in a colorful “HOOK”.

Hook groans at the impact but he isn’t about to complain -- Emma falling on top of him might be the only way she’ll fall for him these days.

Emma, on the other hand, isn’t so pleased.

“What the hell? Can’t you look where you’re going?” she hisses as fiery green eyes pierce through his soul from under golden strands of hair.

“I didn’t bloody mean to do that!”

Hook wishes he didn’t sound like a ten-year-old boy, but that’s what it’s come to these days with Emma.

Emma grunts some more before rolling onto her side and kneeling to spring to her feet.

“You’re impossible”, she mumbles, and it sounds a lot like she might just kill him as she taps snow off her knees. “Tripping in the snow as if the Wicked Witch couldn’t kill us both on sight…”

Hook keeps his lips resolutely closed. When Swan starts rambling about him, he knows better than to interfere and possibly worsen the situation.

She’s still dusting snow off her jeans when suddenly, she stops. And stares at him.

Hook’s toes curl in his boots. “What?”

Emma scowls and he thinks she’s hesitating. “You’ve got...” she starts and then seems to catch herself up and stops.

Hook is about to ask what he’s got, but then Emma’s walking towards him, her hand raised up, and before he knows it her fingers have landed into his hair.

“Don’t move…” she whispers. Hook stands very still, feeling a blush creep up his skin, eyes lowering slowly not to stare.

From his height, he is able to see the slight freckles dusted over her small nose, and her pink lips and, -- perhaps he ought to look at the ground.

Emma’s face remains blank as she rummages through his hair, gentle fingers sieving through it, but a hint of red does stain her cheeks. When she retreats, the glimmer of a smile lingers on her lips.

“You had mistletoe in your hair,” she finally explains, with that quiet, abashed tone that’s only too rare.

Hook swallows down, heart drumming. “Thank you for the assistance, Swan.”

But then she’s quick to avert her gaze and Hook knows the spell has been broken as the small sprig of mistletoe lands onto the snow-coated ground in a faint whisper,

“Come on, let’s go. We’ve already wasted enough time.”

Hook lets her stride forward, making sure she isn’t looking at him before stooping down and picking up the small plant to slide it into his coat. He promises himself to come back for more. We’re not about to waist treasures, now, are we...

Hook is a subtle man, but he is aware that he cannot rightly expect Granny to be okay with him sticking mistletoe onto the window above Emma’s booth without asking first.

So he does.

“Why isn’t there mistletoe here? Isn’t it a Christmas tradition?” He begins, the picture of innocence, as he twirls a spoon into his cup of tea.

Granny sees right through him. “Very cute of you to be concerned about our traditions, Hook,” she mumbles, piling up plates onto a drying rack.

He nods, smiles even. “Fortunate are we that I’ve already stocked up on it.”

Granny’s eyes pierce through his soul. “How fortunate indeed.”

She lets him, of course. Not that Hook had any doubt.

When Emma strolls down the B&B’s stairs to go claim her daily hot cocoa and bear claw, Henry still caught up in a teenage coma, she does think Hook looks especially weird -- staring at her with a glint in his eyes that she can only coin as mischief.

“What are you up to?” she mumbles on sliding into her booth.

Hook says nothing but leaves his spot next to Granny at the bar to come and sit down in front of her. Emma doesn’t have it in herself to complain -- it’s too early for that and it’s not like it would make him go away anyway.

“Nothing, Swan. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he asks, pointing towards the window pane.

Emma tilts her face to gaze through the window. She distinguishes a sky heavy with grey clouds of snow and looks back at him with a puzzled frown in her eyes. He is being suspicious. She squints.

“Is that grey sky the reason you’re so cheery?” she asks, and then dives into the hot cocoa Granny just dropped in front of her.

At least, hot cocoa is still sweet and perfect and doesn’t disappoint her.

“Can you blame me for being happy to see you?”

Emma nearly chokes on her beverage but she catches herself soon enough. Instead, she furrows her brows and proceeds to ignore as well as she can the stubborn leap of her heart.

“You’re never that happy to see me,” she retorts, smothering a smile, and then drinks up another mouthful of hot cocoa.

Why is she encouraging him?

“Allow me to disagree, Swan. Plus, look up: there is a wonderful opportunity to make me happier.”

“Why would I want to make you hap-?” she begins, but then she discovers what he’s pointed at with his hook and the end of her sentence vanishes from her mind.

It takes a lot of willpower not to burst into laughter or stab him in the face with her little spoon -- which one she hasn’t made up her mind on just yet -- and instead plaster the blankest expression she can conjure on her face....

...which is in that case a silly, silly smile.

“You’re really desperate if you think mistletoe is what it’s going to take for me to kiss you,” she retorts, and she really hopes the heat she feels blooming on her face isn’t showing up.

From the look on Hook’s face, however, it is definitely showing. Emma wants to rip that stupid, smug smirk off his face.

“Can you blame me for trying?”

This time she cannot hold back the chuckle that’s bubbling inside her throat as she shakes her head. Idiot. Her cheeks hurt.

“No, of course not, if you don’t expect to succeed.”

And he smiles that smile, that “that’s when the fun begins” smile and stands up.

“We’ll see to that, Swan.”

And when Granny asks her “So, mistletoe, uh?” Emma figures the grin spreading across her face isn’t her best poker face and she pretends to be exceptionally thirsty for hot cocoa -- mostly to distract Granny’s from the flush on her cheeks.

Hook is meticulous in his endeavours, and has the sense of details, Emma will give him that.

She slowly finds out that the whole town suddenly is brimming with mistletoe. Mistletoe in the B&B’s corridor, mistletoe in the laundromat room, mistletoe in the library, mistletoe everywhere.

Mistletoe even in the leather satchel Hook carries around everywhere with him. “You never know when the occasion might be right, Swan. You have to be prepared.”

Although she hates him for it, she does not hate him nearly as much as she hates herself for not hating it completely.

After all, it’s not necessarily a bad thing.

For instance, when Mary Margaret and David notice it above their head at Granny’s, they smile and meet halfway in a kiss. The other day, Granny’s lips also found Ruby’s forehead and left a sonorous smack there -- a rare display of affection between the two women -- and Ruby then proceeded to stain Emma’s left cheek with a lovely burgundy color.

No one knows Hook is the one hanging them there -- except for Granny -- and Emma wishes she would find it more ridiculous. (Even a little bit, that’ll do to make her feel better about herself.)

They are only a few days from Christmas Eve when, after another endless afternoon spent patrolling, Mary Margaret starts musing over the Christmas spirit in the sheriff station.

“I just love Christmas and I am so glad we are spending it together, this year -- Wicked Witch or not.”

Mary Margaret’s right hand brushes over her round belly while the other rests above David’s shoulder.

Emma sits in a corner; exhaustion is weighing down her limbs, coloring her world blue. The snow seems to have sunk into her skin, crystalizing over her muscles.

She can hardly share their enthusiasm. With the Wicked Witch on the run, she’s had little time to think about the holidays -- if not for mistletoe because of a certain someone -- and what it means to spend Christmas with her parents and her son. Henry still hasn’t recovered his memories and all she can think about is avenging Neal’s death and the life she gave up on, back in New York.

“Should we invite Regina?” Emma asks in a breath. This all starting to sound a lot like a complicated masquerade.

She stares at the bright, yellow neon lights above her head. She’s stared at them so many, lonely times, but now their sight is almost comforting... and then, slowly, slowly, flutters her eyes shut…

It would all be so simple, if they went back to New York. No more villains, no more happy endings to bring, no more sacrifices to make -- just Emma, a mother, and her son in a normal, quiet life. It was enough. She would be enough.

Silence. Emma cannot see her parents’ faces but she thinks she guesses quite well their expression anyway.

And then her mother’s voice, a bit blurry, as if erupting from another reality: “I mean, yes, we probably should or she’ll be alone for Christmas Eve. We’ll just have to tell Henry this family is really close to the mayor.”

“I still don’t know why you guys celebrate Christmas. It’s not even from your world,” Emma mumbles and yawns.

She is tired, so very tired. And celebrating Christmas always did feel like staring at an open wound that will not heal.

“Then we should also invite Belle…”

Emma hears her mother sigh. “In that case, maybe we should just all gather at Granny’s.”

Emma opens her eyes. The bright neon lights above her head are no longer soothing; they glare and burn. There will be no happy ending for the Savior.

“That makes sense,” she whispers and stands up before she can sink into another lethargy

Emma rubs her eyes and stretches her sore muscles.

“I gotta pick up Henry. Hook and he went sailing this afternoon,” she says as she slips one arm back into her jacket and another yawn quivers out of her.

“You should tell Hook, Emma,” adds her mother while Emma sieves impatient fingers through her hair.

Emma stops in her steps, arches one eyebrow. There is still so much exhaustion clinging to her bones and clouding her mind. “Why should I be the one telling him?”

Emma’s mother isn’t impressed by her petulant tone. “Because you’ll see him tonight, Emma.”

Emma winces. “Right.”

Christmas always sucked for Emma. She doesn’t know why this year should be any different.

Emma nearly hates Hook on sight when she sees him reach the B&B alongside Henry, his arm swang around his shoulder and this stupid gust of wind playing with his thick, black hair. She rubs her hands together to warm them up. At least the cold breeze is enough to sharpen her senses and wake her up.

It does warm her heart, to see Henry and he get along just fine, not that she’d admit it under torture or something.

Henry greets her with a hug and Hook with a tilt of his face and an intolerable smile. As they enter the B&B together in silence, warmth curls around their bodies, hugging them tightly, and Emma unzips her jacket on the way up the stairs.

“Go take a shower, Henry. I’ll be here in a sec,” she tells her son, palms on his shoulders to guide him inside their room.

From the corner of her eyes, she sees Hook peer at her but she ignores him. “‘kay, Mom.”

The door bangs close behind her back and Emma shifts to face Hook staring at her with his insufferable blue eyes and a quiet smile and that silly, silly mistletoe hanging between them -- teasing her, it seems.

Smells of food and the faint rustle of conversations surround them as they stand in the corridor -- as if isolated in a liminal space.

Emma blinks, breathes in, inhaling some courage, and exhales: “We’re going to celebrate Christmas all together at Granny’s.”

She can tell he isn’t following because he looks taken aback for a moment and she hates seeing him like this -- when the mask cracks and light spills in and illuminates this earnest look on his face. It’s really hard then to convince herself that she does not care -- not at all, not one bit.

“Are you inviting me, Swan?” he asks, and Emma knows he means to sound impish but something else is rearing its head behind the sly smile and Emma feels a weird pang, down in her stomach.

“I’m not inviting you,” she retorts but she doesn’t have it in herself to keep her armor on tonight and she feels herself smile a sluggish smile. “Everyone is invited.”

He’s tilting his head then, in that manner that has a terrible effect on Emma’s heartbeat, and slowly bends down towards her -- his fragrance filling her lungs.

Emma thinks then that her eyelids are definitely far too heavy, that she should sleep, and she watches herself lean into him.

“So,” she begins again, voice hoarse and it isn’t quite because of the cold, “are you coming or not?”

But then, somehow, something seems to shatter between them and Hook takes a step back. Emma’s stomach gives another lurch and she has to fight the instinctive spring of her hand towards his arm.

“I’m sorry, Swan, but I don’t think I’ll be able to attend.”

“Why?” The word comes out of her mouth before she can think about it.

From the colored windows, Emma can make out the sun setting behind Hook’s back -- purple and pink clouds softly floating away -- and that sadness everywhere -- on his face, in her open palms with nothing to hold, in that distance between them.

Emma clenches her jaw as she watches him, as she watches him pulling away from her.

“I don’t think it is my place to be,” he simply answers.

Emma’s stomach twists.

This same urge to touch him burns her fingertips, owls that she should take a step forward. She doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand why he won’t, why she feels that --

Instead she remains very firm on her legs and smiles a faint smile and says: “I understand. Just know that if you want to drop by, you’re welcome to.”

A grin flickers across his face, but the glimmer dies before it reaches its eyes. “I appreciate that, Swan.”

And then she says: “Goodnight, Hook.”

And feels something bitter tug, tug, inside of her when he bows his head and disappears without a word.

As Emma expected, this Christmas Eve dinner in Storybrooke is...something.

Granny’s diner is bursting with people and clatters of heels and a silly, silly jingle bell rattles the walls. For the occasion, everyone brought a dish of their own while Granny arranged the bar to turn it into some kind of buffet where the guests get to pick and choose what they want to eat.

Emma stands on the side, an empty glass of champagne clasped between her fingers, as she watches her son queue near the buffet.

Emma isn’t hungry. In fact, it feels like her stomach is full to the brim with heavy bricks and she cannot swallow anything else down.

As her gaze wanders and lingers on the Christmas tree, near the stairs, Emma isn’t so sure she wants to be here at all.

She wants to blame the Wicked Witch for her lack of enthusiasm, but the truth is this scene of profusion and happiness is quite painful to watch.

There are so many people, and so much noise, and Emma feels like the light garlands are mere colorful spots dancing before her eyes, twirling and twirling, and they will not stop and she wishes they would.

Hook isn’t there. In fact, since their last conversation in the corridor, he has seemed quite inclined on avoiding her -- which is fair, considering it’s exactly what she’s been doing since she got back from New York.

Emma sighs, lowering her gaze to watch the Champagne bubbles fizzing inside her glass. Perhaps if he were here, it would be a bit more bearable. Emma frowns, fingers clutching around her glass. Nonsense.

A warm hand closes over Emma’s shoulder.

Emma startles, but when she looks up, she only meets Mary Margaret’s gentle green eyes.

“Emma, your plate is still empty. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

Emma brushes off the attention. “I’m okay for now, thank you. I’ll go get something later.”

Dammit. She doesn’t mean to sound this cold, doesn’t mean to push her away like this, but thankfully for her Mary Margaret knows best.

The next thing she knows her mother is sitting down on a chair next to her.

“Is everything alright, Emma?”

Emma hates the concern she hears in her voice, or rather she hates that it is somehow enough to tighten her throat and burn her eyes, and that there is a part of her that is desperate to feed on it. Maybe, just maybe, her mother can help her lift the bricks down in her stomach.

“I’m okay, I’m just --”

But then Emma glances down again, and she stares at mother’s hand, brushing over this round, loved belly and Emma’s breath catches in her throat.

Run.

“Emma, you are…?”

Something clatters down to the floor, and suddenly everything is too much. Emma’s eyes widen and before she knows it she’s moved up from her chair, heart pounding.

“I need to get some air,” she says very quickly, putting her coat on with trembling fingers.

The siren keeps blaring in her mind. Run. Run. Run.

“Please, will you make sure Henry eats something? I won’t be long.”

Emma does not wait for her mother’s answer to flee from the dinner, bursting through the front door.

The icy winter air leaps onto her skin just like she expected it to and Emma sighs in relief, closing her eyes. Her legs are still trembling beneath her weight, and her blood is still pulsating at her temples, but at least she is outside now. Her lungs quickly fill in with December smells — burnt wood, misty dead leaves and something almost magical that crackles as she breathes.

Outside, beyond the quiet chirping of insects, there is no noise. And it is incredibly peaceful.

Emma breathes in, and out, envisioning her anxiety slowly flowing out of her body like trails of electricity.

“Swan, are you alright?”

Her eyes shoot open as her heart skips a beat. There he is. Hook is sitting alone, his flask of rum in hand and his legs crossed under the table.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, voice still stammering.

Shit. She didn’t mean it to sound like that. Too late, Hook’s smile has already faded into a mirthless expression. Emma curses herself inward.

“It is always a pleasure to see you too, Swan.”

Oh she hates the tone of his voice, this distant, cold tone that sounds so sad, so sad. She cannot bear it.

“I’m sorry,” she exhales rapidly and she sees his eyebrow raise up under the surprise as she heaves short breathes. “I didn’t mean it like that.” A pause to stretch her hands, to feel the cold seize them gently. And then she tries again: “What I meant is.... why are you not inside?”

He’s quick to strike back but his tone is tender: “Why aren’t you?”

Although her heart still beats uncomfortably fast, he makes her smile.

“Don’t change the subject.”

She wonders if he can tell, if he can tell that she is still shaking, if he can tell that it is helping to simply be there and talk about something else.

Unfortunately for her, her legs are still frozen and she stands on the stairs leading up to Granny’s as he ponders his words.

Of course he can tell. Open book.

“I’m not sure people really want me there,” he says.

Emma’s stomach lurches forward just as her legs begin moving against her will. “That’s not true,” she begins, still walking towards him.

She does not understand the wave of relief that washes over her as she strides his way, and suddenly the Champagnes bubbles are fizzing gently inside her empty belly.

“Is that so?” He asks, his tone polite and distant.

“Yes,” she asserts. She fists her cold palms. “People want you around. Look at Henry, he really likes you. And I --” she begins and then stops in her tracks.

She’s standing before him now, and he’s staring at her with his bold blue eyes, his expression blank.

He isn’t making this easier for her, but when did she make things easy for him?

“And you…?” He’s challenging her, taunting her to jump the one step she will not take with him.

She breathes in the cold air.

“And I could use you around, in case something bad happens--”

His mask finally drops, his eyebrow raising. “-- in case something bad happens?” he repeats, frankly grinning now.

Emma’s lips quiver with a smile. “In case something bad happens,” she confirms, nodding.

All anxiety has now departed from her body and Emma feels light for the first time in...in a very long time.

And then Hook’s standing up in front of her, and Emma’s surprised to see how close they’ve gotten.

There is this terrible moment during which they both stare at each other, and Emma glances down at his lips and fancies herself leaning in and --

“It’s a shame you’re not carrying that stupid leather satchel, tonight,” she says.

She does not leave him time to ponder over her words before she crosses Granny’s door again.

As things turn out, Hook fills the chair next to hers quite nicely. And by his side, the dinner isn’t that noisy and overwhelming anymore -- not that Emma would tell him.

“Killian showed up! That’s great!” Henry looks up from his game when the pirate has gone to get one more serving of turkey.

Emma smiles down at him. “Yeah. I’m glad, too.” Hook definitely seems at ease, twirling among the rest of the guests, one eyebrow raised as he examines the food on display.

Clearly, he was wrong. He fits in just fine. And Emma starts thinking perhaps she was wrong, too.

“It’s good for him, you know,” her son continues and Emma blinks to see Henry, head down, focused on his game as he speaks, “I don’t think he has that many friends here, but he definitely likes you.”

Emma is glad Henry isn’t looking at her then, because it saves her the embarrassment of having to justify the blush on her cheeks.

When Henry’s climbed back up to the B&B to get some sleep, and everyone’s helped to clean the dinner, and Hook proposes one last drink outside, Emma may or may not ask him to go ahead in order to retrieve a bush of mistletoe from the window above her booth.

She may or may not slide it into her pocket and join the pirate outside.

She lets him tell his ravishing tales of pirating and freedom, as they exchange his flask of rum. The starry sky is their only quiet companion as they sit outside until eventually the tingle of her lips cannot be ignored anymore, and Emma gets the small sprig out of her coat.

The bewildered look on Hook’s face is a sight for the ages.

“Pirate,” he says then, and he probably means to say more, but Emma is holding the mistletoe above their heads resolutely.

“Tradition is tradition” she says, even as her free hand already closes over the lapel of his coat.

“As you wish…”

Later, much later, Emma will blame the mix of rum and champagne for the way their lips met in an icy, starry kiss and Emma lingered above his lips, just a little bit, unable to get enough of him, until they were both panting outside of Granny’s -- forehead against forehead, twirls of white smoke escaping their mouths.

And Hook will definitely tease her about her definition of “one time things” but surely that matters little when she can just grab the lapel of his coat to make him shut up once and for all.

#cs ff #cs fanfics #csss20 #cssecretsanta2020 #captain swan #klynn_stormz #my stuff #i hope you'll enjoy this <3 #amy writes

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jawsofhakkontranscript · 3 years

Text

Ameridan’s End: Assault the Jaws of Hakkon

(Previous quest - On Ameridan's Trail)

Main questline: Ameridan’s End: Assault the Jaws of Hakkon

This is the first part of "Ameridan's End" questline.

Characters involved: Svarah Sun-Hair, Lace Harding, Bram Kenric, Gurd Harofsen

Preparations are in place to wage assault on the Jaws of Hakkon and search for Inquisitor Ameridan.

Part 1: Speak with Svarah Sun-Hair

Svarah: When you are ready, you have our blades, Inquisitor.

Dialogue options:

Special: Hakkon connects to Ameridan. [1] (If both “Storvacker Caged” and “What Yet Lingers” have been completed.)

General: Let us begin the assault. [2]

[1] Special: Hakkon connects to Ameridan.

PC: You said that the Jaws of Hakkon first tried binding their god in mortal form hundreds of years ago?

Svarah: What of it?

PC: In our search for Inquisitor Ameridan, we learned that he came here to fight a great dragon 800 years ago… A dragon that came from the mountains with Avvar warriors to attack the lowlands.

Svarah: (Laughs.) Your last Inquisitor must have fought well to stop Hakkon himself! [3]

[3] Subsequent dialogue options:

Investigate: This is all right with you? [4]

Investigate: Does this happen often? [5]

[4] Investigate: This is all right with you?

PC: You're not bothered by the idea that our Inquisitor killed your god?

Svarah: He didn't kill him. That would have been easier. Whatever fight your Inquisitor finished, the Jaws of Hakkon started. I find no fault with a warrior defending his people. [Back to 3]

[5] Investigate: Does this happen often?

PC: Do the Avvar gods take mortal form on a regular basis?

Svarah: No. The gods belong in the land of dreams. Whether it is their wish—or some augur's—that brings them here, battle-tears will be shed. The skalds say the Lady of the Skies took mortal form when Tyrdda Bright-Ax first led the Avvar to the mountains. They say many things about Bright-Ax and the Lady. [Back to 3]

[2] General: Let us begin the assault.

PC: I'm ready to attack the Jaws of Hakkon.

Svarah: Good. They will pay the blood-price for what they have done.

(Kenric and Harding enter the Thane's hall.)

Svarah: Your skald and your scout are here. We can plan the assault.

Kenric: Oh, I like the sound of "skald." It's more dramatic than "professor."

Harding: (Coughs.)

Kenric: Yes, well. Everything we've found about Inquisitor Ameridan suggests that he never emerged from that Tevinter fortress.

Svarah: If that is where your Inquisitor defeated Hakkon, that is where the Jaws of Hakkon must perform the rite to free him. [6]

[6] Dialogue options:

General: We can stop them. [7]

General: Or hopefully not. [8]

General: We have a target. [9]

[7] General: We can stop them.

PC: Inquisitor Ameridan saved the lowlands from an Avvar invasion. We cannot do any less. [10]

[8] General: Or hopefully not.

PC: Ideally, we stop them before that. I'd rather not fight an Avvar god if we don't have to. [10]

[9] General: We have a target.

PC: Good. We know where to strike. [10]

[10] Harding: You really have no problem with us killing your god?

Svarah: Gods cannot be reborn until they die. (Laughs.) Hakkon needs a good rebirthing.

Harding: If you say so.

Svarah: With its ice-wall melted, the fortress is open to attack. We must strike soon, before our foes recover.

Harding: They're already trying. I've got most of our forces defending the shrine from Hakkonites who want to restore the wall. [11]

[11] Dialogue options:

General: We're going to take losses. [12]

General: I'm open to ideas. [13]

General: A siege seems unlikely. [14]

[12] General: We're going to take losses.

PC: The fortress was built to be defensible. It's going to cost us a lot of people to take it.

Svarah: Why? [15]

[13] General: I'm open to ideas.

PC: If anyone has suggestions, now is the time.

Svarah: What gives you fear, Inquisitor? Is this not the battle you wanted? [15]

[14] General: A siege seems unlikely.

PC: We don't have time to drag siege equipment through the forest to take down those walls.

Svarah: A siege? Bah! We have no need of rock-throwers and rams. [15]

[15] Kenric: I am no warrior, but with Lady Harding's forces defending the shrine and no way to breach the walls...?

Svarah: (Laughs.) Lowlanders. Why not climb the walls?

Harding: Your warriors can get over those walls before the Hakkonites stop them?

Svarah: This is not a war, Stone-Daughter. This is a raid. We strike at night, clad lightly. We climb the wall and open the gate from inside. [16]

[16] Dialogue options:

General: We are in your debt. [17]

General: I guess this is our plan. [18]

General: Let's move. [19]

[17] General: We are in your debt.

PC: If Stone-Bear Hold can open the gates, we would be grateful.

Svarah: The Jaws of Hakkon have been bugs in my bedroll for months, Inquisitor. We owe you thanks. [20]

[18] General: I guess this is our plan.

PC: Well, then. Unless anyone has something that sounds easier than climbing the walls...?

Svarah: I would not offer what I could not give. It will be done. Perhaps my climbers will earn themselves a legend-mark! [20]

[19] General: Let's move.

PC: Agreed. How soon can we attack?

Svarah: As soon as the sun sets, Inquisitor. This will be a good night. [20]

[20] Harding: Inquisition forces will feign weakness near the shrine. That will draw some of them away from the fortress.

Kenric: Not too many, I hope.

Svarah: Yes. Save some for us!

Harding: (Nods.)

Part 2: Assault the gate.

(The Inquisition’s soldiers and the warriors from Stone-Bear Hold gather in front of the gate of the Tevinter ruin.)

Parve: Right, Inquisitor. Hask and I will climb over.

Hask: I'll be there to catch Parve when he slips.

Parve: 'Course you will. You'll be behind me, after all.

(These two are the same Avvar men who participated in the Test of the Lady - the climbing contest used for settling disputes - that took place when the Inquisition first arrived in Stone-Bear Hold - see “Avvar Allies” main quest.)

Hask (to Parve): 'Ware the guard.

Parve: I've got him.

(The Avvar sneak ahead and start climbing over the walls of the fortress. Meanwhile, the Inquisition leads the assault from the front to distract the Hakkonites.)

Male Hakkonite: There! It's the lowlanders!

Female Hakkonite: Kill the Inquisitor! Death to her/his hold, for Hakkon's glory!

(Storvacker joins the fight.)

Party comments:

Varric: Storvacker, good to see you again!

Dorian: And we have a bear. Hooray!

Sera: Eat them, not us! Got it?

Cole: I'm happy to see you, too!

Svarah Sun-Hair: Greetings from Stone-Bear Hold, you shit-eating goat-lovers!

(The climbers continue scaling the walls.)

Parve: Watch your grip. It slips a bit.

Hask: Bah, you can't grip anything more challenging than your mother's teat.

Parve: (Grunts.) I was aiming for his throat. We'd best hurry.

Hask: Nicely done.

Parve: Be ready, Inquisitor!

(The gate is opened from the inside by the climbers from Stone-Bear Hold.)

Hask: Lady take you, goat-lovers!

Parve (to the Inquisitor): As you please, Inquisitor.

Hask: I'd not tarry. More will be coming.

(Walk through the gate and defeat the Hakkonites defending the battlements.)

Party comments:

Cassandra: The Avvar were true to their word!

Iron Bull: Nice work, Stone-Bear Hold!

Blackwall: Your Avvar friends pulled it off!

Varric: Our Avvar friends came through!

Svarah Sun-Hair: We have your back, Inquisitor! Fight well!

Part 3: Find Inquisitor Ameridan’s resting place.

(Walk towards the Tevinter ruin.)

Party comments:

Cassandra: No sign of the dragon. It must be in there.

Cole: She doesn't want to be him. He doesn't want to be chained. Tied together, wracked and raging.

Solas: The ritual must be underway. There is a great deal of magical energy coming from the bottom of the crater.

(There are ice wards in the field between the gate and the main building. If destroyed, they freeze everyone in the vicinity.)

Party comments:

Dorian: Watch the wards! We can't afford to be slowed down!

Vivienne: Watch out for the ice wards! We cannot let them slow us!

Sera: Pissing freezing magic!

Solas: Beware the wards! They will sap your strength!

(An ice ward is destroyed.)

Party comments:

Cassandra: The ward is destroyed!

Iron Bull: How do you like that, frosty?

Blackwall: That should end the wards!

Cole: You can't freeze us!

(Enter the Old Temple. The interior is covered in frost.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: This frost is magical in nature. If we do not make haste, we will freeze to death.

Cassandra: This cold is magical in origin. It will kill us if we do not hurry.

Sera: We stay here, our bits will snap off. Get moving.

Solas: The cold is magical. It will kill us if we do not hurry.

Cole: This isn't real, but it still hurts. We have to be fast.

Dorian: Even colder than usual. This is magical. We need to keep moving.

Varric: This isn't natural. We'd better hurry, unless you like freezing to death.

(Stay by the fire to warm up.)

Party comments:

Sera: Better, right? Might even keep our toes.

Iron Bull: (Grunts.) Cold's not so bad here.

Varric: The cold isn't so bad here.

Cole: Yes. False cold, but the real fire keeps it away.

(Gurd Harofsen begins the ritual.)

Party comments:

Varric: We should probably hurry. There's no good kind of crazy ritual chanting.

Vivienne: They are performing the ritual. I suggest we hurry.

Solas: We must hurry. The ritual to free the spirit of Hakkon is underway.

Dorian: Sounds like they've already started the ritual. Best hurry, then.

(Gurd chants the Song of savage Hakkon.)

Sing the song of savage Hakkon, born in battle, bloody bladed.

Wintersbreath to wrack the lowlands, cold to cut and kill the hated.

Meet the might of Mountain-Father, crush the creed of Korth the callow.

Leave the Lady lost and lonely, scour the skies of spirits sallow!

Gurd Harofsen, called the Cutter, wyvern-slayer, lowland-bane

Begs of Hakkon, bring his body bloody blessings, cold and pain!

(The chant ends.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: The barbarian is allowing himself to be possessed by Hakkon!

Solas: The Hakkonite leader is calling the spirit of Hakkon into his own body!

Varric: Harofsen's summoning Hakkon into himself!

Dorian: He's summoning Hakkon into his own body!

Cassandra: Is he insane?

Iron Bull: Who does that? That's a terrible idea!

Blackwall: He's mad!

Sera: Don't care. Stupid gets arrows.

(A dragon can be seen in the distance.)

Party comments:

Sera: There's the dragon! It's... frozen or something?

Cole: The dragon. She's stuck, still, a statue. Hakkon is angry inside her.

Varric: There's the Hakkon dragon! At least it's not moving yet.

Iron Bull: There's the dragon! Long as it holds still like that, we should be all right.

(The fight begins. Gurd continues the ritual while being protected by Hakkonites.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: Hakkon is invulnerable until we disrupt those around him!

Solas: We cannot harm Hakkon until the ritual is disrupted!

Cassandra: We must disrupt the ritual first! Then Hakkon can be harmed!

Dorian: We have to take out the others! We can't hurt Hakkon until they're out!

(Gurd summons the spirit of Hakkon into himself and transforms into a revenant.)

Gurd: Face me and die, Inquisitor! Your predecessor could not stand against me. You shall fall as well! I am the cold bite of winter! I am Hakkon reborn! Death to the lowlanders!

(The revenant casts powerful ice spells.)

Party comments:

Sera: Ranged, right? Too cold up close!

Cassandra: The cold is worse near the creature!

Blackwall: The cold gets worse the closer you are!

Iron Bull: Careful! Cold's worse up close!

(During the fight, the revenant freezes the braziers as he loses health.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: He's putting out the fires!

Varric: Watch yourself! He's putting out the fires!

Dorian: The damn thing's dousing the fires!

Solas: Be careful! He's dousing the fires!

(Next quest - Ameridan's End: Talk to Ameridan)

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futurewriter2000 · 4 years

Text

Blind Love

A/N: This took soooo long to write. You guys have like no idea. I started it in November but finally decided to finish. Sat here 2 hours, holding my pee because I needed to finish this and I did. Finally! Also gotta write as much as I can because I have so much to study. Like panic and stress and BREATHE TIJANA. Okay, I’m good. I’m great and fabolus. And appereantly great at drinking water all day and holding the pee. Lol. Anyways hope you like it. Some feedback would be nice tho.

PAIRING: Sirius Black x Potter! reader

WARNING: Bro this took so long idk how many grammar mistakes were there but watch out.

REQUEST: Can you do a Sirius Black x reader were the reader is James sister and they dont talk cause James cause james is a jerk (I actually love james but whatever) but in first year her and Sirius become close but he they dont tell James cause Sirius doesn't want him to be mad and the reader is in live with him but when Sirius kisses her when hes staying at the potters and they start dating but they still keep it a secret then she tells him she can't do this cause she doesn't wa--->To finish my ask (didnt realize I wrote so much) she doesn't want to be 2nd choice and then Sirius is like you'll always be my first choice or somethin cheesy like that. Also I love your blog.

All your life you have been taken care for. Since the day you remembered that first morning, first sunlight, first eyes, first smile, first felt happiness or felt sorrow,... it was as if all your life you have been taken care for, but by yourself.

Because from what you knew, there wasn’t first morning or first sunlight, first smile or anything that you remembered for the first time and the reason for that was your brother.

You’ve been different than the rest of the family and it showed. It showed in the way you looked and it showed in the way you acted. There was just that distinct detail that made you stand out from the rest of the family.

James was the golden child, the favorite child, the one who got to have more attention. Maybe it was because your parents had some trouble in conceiving the first time and when they got James, they were beyond happy. While you? - you were a child they never intended to have. It was the favoritasim of the first child, the first boy in the family, that made James feel more superior to you. He didn’t much try to hide that fact.

It was as if the two of you were born star-crossed. The two of you were just too different to get along.

“Would you turn off that bloody music, already!” he stormed in your room. “It’s making me want to jump out the window!”

“Really?” you quirked an eyebrow at him and jumped from on your feet. You stood in front of him, arms crossed and a devilish smirk appearing in the corner of your mouth. You made your way towards the stereo but instead of reaching for the volume button, you turned towards the window and opened it. “Here’s your chance.”

“Chance to throw you out of the window? That’s a better idea.” he ran towards you but you pushed him away.

“Don’t touch me you knob head!” you shouted at him but he only wrapped his arm around your neck and trying to give you a noogie.

“Who’s the knob head now, lil sis?” he laughed but you elbowed him in the stomach and you tackled him, taking the pillow from the bed and hitting his head.

“You’re! Such! A! Fucking! Prick!” you shouted while hitting his head with a pillow.

He grabbed your arms and tried to prevent you from hitting him any further. His glasses were a bit crooked on his nose and his face expression wasn’t telling you he was in a good mood either. He threw you on your back and quickly sat on top of you, pinning your arms on the ground.

“Will you turn down the music?”

“No.”

He twisted your arm so hard it made you turn on your stomach. Your shoulder was in so much pain but you were stubborn on your answer. “Reckon this is going to change my mind?” you let out a painful laugh.

“Nope. I reckon this will.” and he twisted your arm further that you let out a scream so loud, your parents quickly ran into your room.

“What in the Merlin’s Hat is going on in here- James get off your sister!” your father pulled James off and helped to get you up as well. “You okay darling?”

“Okay?!” you scoffed, holding onto your arm.”I thought he’s going to pull my arm off my body.”

“I could have.” he quirked an eyebrow and placed a satisfying smile on his smug face.

“James!” your mother scolded him but he only opened his arms and changed his expression.

“I told her so many times to stop blasting the music but she just doesn��t listen!” he defended, pointing his finger at you. “I have upcoming Newts coming up after these holidays and I can’t study with her being a noisy little prat!”

Your parents exchanged looks, the looks you were far too familiar with. But you weren’t having this. You were not about to let him take away the only thing it was yours.

“Maybe, darling we should-”

“No!” you crossed your arms in front of your chest and moved in front of the stereo. “I worked all last summer to get this stereo! It’s not yours to take away!”

“(y/n), honey. James needs-”

“And like James is dense enough to fail a Newt.” you scoffed. “You are not taking it!”

“Well, young lady, that is not your decision!” your mother raised her voice, took out her wand and with a flick made your stereo disappear.

“That’s not fair! Dad!” you turned to your father, who only put his hand on your shoulder and sighed.

“You’ll get it back. I promise.”

“I don’t want a promise. I need a father- You know I’m not even surprised!” you backed away from your father, glaring at all three of them. “His wish is your command, isn’t that right?” you felt your eyes water but before any of them could notice it, you stormed out of your room.

You loved your parents, you really did but when it came to choosing sides, they both always picked his. That stereo was the only thing you most loved. It was simply because it was yours. You bought it with your money that you worked so hard for.

It was always like that. Always the one against all.

But as you were walking down the road, freezing with no jacket what-so-ever, your thoughts kept wandering off. Every time ou thought of your family, you’ve grown furious but then it was a second when all those thoughts vanished. You tried to think of something, anything but there was nothing but emptiness in your head.

You sat on the bench by the road and you hugged your arms. Throwing your head back, you took a deep breath in and gazed upon the stars.

It was at that moment, realizing the beauty and serenity of those white spots on the sky that made you think of someone close to your heart.

And like a wish come true, it happened.

“(Y/n)?” his voice echoed in the background and you smiled. It sounded so real in your head, as if he was right there next to you. “It really is you!” you could feel steps approaching, you let your head fall back down and see a boy approaching you.

As he apporached with opened eyes you noticed he was not in your head. No, far from it. He was right in front of you. “Sirius?!” you stood up and with a smile you jumped in his arms.

He wrapped his arms around you so tight, taking in your wonderful smell and laughed. You held him tight as well, your head on his shoulder meanwhile his hair brushed your neck. Lifting you up and spinning you in his arms, you laughed and with all the joy, finally asked. “What are you doing here?”

He put you down on the ground and cupped your cheeks. “You look amazing-” his face expression suddenly changed as his hands travelled to your bare shoulders. “Why are you not wearing a jacket? You’ll freeze to death!” He quickly took off the jacket and wrapped you in it.

“Honestly, I’m fine- what about you?” you nodded at his bare arms. “Won’t you freeze?”

“With you beside me? Never.” he winked. “What are you even doing here by yourself?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” you nudged him a bit, feeling your cheeks burn as his arm touched yours.

“Uh-” he ran his hand through his dense hair and started avoiding your eyes. You knew where this usally led to.

“Sirius?” you tried to catch his eyes and when you finally did, he relaxed and simpered.

“I ran away... from home...I guess...”

“You guess?”

“I just didn’t know where to go-” he continued but you only wrapped your arms around him and smiled.

“You’re always home with us.”

---

Weeks passed after Sirius came living with you and you could say everything seemed more peacful when he was there. You were always so calm, knowing he was just a room away. James was more distracted as well, never had much time on bugging you when he was always with his best friend.

The two of you kept exchanging glances during dinner, in the living room or anywhere where the two of you ended up.

It wasn’t until late July when all five of you were in the living room and you were seated next to Sirius the whole movie. It was dark, the only light coming from the television in front of you. Your father was already asleep on his armchairl, your mom already in her bedroom, meanwhile you, Sirius and James kept watching the movie.

James was sitting on the far left corner of the sofa, meanwhile you were seated on the far right, leaving Sirius right in the middle. And as you were watching the movie, slowly feeling yourself zoning out, a hand took a hold of yours and interlaced its fingers with you. Immediately you looked down and saw Sirius staring directly at the TV. You looked over to James, who might as well be asleep over that armrest and kept his feet sprawled over Sirius lap. Then you looked over to your father who was pulling in light snores and lastly, you looked back at Sirius, who was now looking at you from the corner of his eyes. You moved closer to him and you stayed close to him the rest of the movie.

It was until you were in the bathroom, taking a quick shower and slipping into your T-shirt and shorts aka your pijama when the doors quickly opened and Sirius slipped in, closing the door behind him and placing his hand over your mouth before you could speak.

You stood there, frozen and looking up at him with big, wide, confused eyes.

Slowly, he removed his hand from your lips and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey?” you smiled half nervously, half with butterflies in your stomach. “There was someone in the bathroom, you know?” you started to tease and he smirked, taking a step closer and putting his hand on your bare cheek.

“I know.” he moved even closer. “I just need to do this.” and he pulled you into a kiss and with much surprise, you couldn’t help yourself but slip on the wet floor. Luckily for you, he wasn’t much keen on lettin you go so quickly so his hand wrapped around you, pulled you up and he continued to kiss you. It was perfect. He was perfect.

---

It wasn’t easy after that kiss or any other kiss that came after. The two of you tried so hard to get together without anybody noticing but it was impossible. James hoovered over Sirius like a helicopter, He always wanted to be with him not matter what and Sirius didn’t do anything about it.

Not that you were expecting him to do...sure...yeah... they are best friends...closer than that- it doesn’t even matter.

Oh but it did. To you it did because every second alone with Sirius was not enough for you. It wasn’t but he kept telling you that telling any of the family would jeopradize his staying with all of you and you kept reassuring him that they would never kick him out. It didn’t take though. There was never enough time for the two of you to even fight.

At some point you were happy but at the same time you were sad. It couldn’t be as the two of you wanted it to be. He was afraid hurting James meanwhile you were afraid always put on second place because of James, which was exactly what you felt. Always James, James, James. It was pulling your patience by the guts until finally that patience snapped.

“NO! YOU CANNOT ALWAYS DO THIS TO ME!” you shouted at your parents.

“Lower your tone young lady.” your father warned you.

“LOWER MY TONE?! THE HELL WITH MY VOICE IT’S NOT LIKE THE TWO OF YOU WOULD CARE SINCE ALL YOU SEE IS YOUR PERFECT GOLDEN BOY OF A SON! GOD DON’T THE TWO OF YOU GET IT!!” you continued to shout at the top of your lungs, feeling tears gather in your eyes. “All my life I have been alone!” you now indeed lowered your voice and when they tried to speak, you cut them in. “No! I’m speaking now.” you glared at your mother. “I cooked dinner when the two of you worked late. I washed the clothes. I cleaned the house. I fixed the lamp. I went to get groceries. I study hard for good grades but all of that is never enough.” tears continued to fall down your cheeks. “Not for you because when you got home all you say is that I cooked chicken and I should bloody know James doesn’t eat chicken meanwhile dad and I love chicken. And bloody hell (y/n), why didn’t you wash James’ jersey with that?” you started to quote your mother. “Maybe because he was too busy scratching his balls instead of cleaning his room and throwing the dirty clothes into the laundry basket.” you answered for yourself. “Yes, you cleaned the living room but the bathroom won’t wait forever to be cleaned as well.” you started to quote your mother, then your father. “James could have fixed it better. You know honey, that’s a man’s job.” then your mother again. “Why did you get pudding? You know you’ll just get fat with that- no worries, James will eat it. He needs it more than you since he’s a Quidditch player.” and lastly your father. “Charms and Astrology never caused James any trouble. Maybe you should study more like him.” you continued to look at them as they watched you silenced. “All I wanted was “You did great, honey. Thank you.” and I wanted support or just be appreciated for the hard work I put into pleasing the two of you but all I get is James thrown in my face. It may sound dumb to you but to me this has been with me all my life and I’ll raise my tone, I’ll say it to the two of you because I am done losing my nerves and patience because of it!” you said, walked away, grabbed your jacket, put on your shoes and walked into the hallway.

James was standing in front of you. Sad.

“What?!” you snapped at him but he just shook his head.

“It’s not like that, (y/n). You don’t see it when-”

“Well, call me when there’s actually gonna be some of that to see.” and with a flash you were gone.

---

You felt so dumb yet so furious. You caused the whole drama because you were jealous of your brother always being in the spotlight yet you were so furious because all that spotlight over-shadowed you.

“You know running won’t help.” you heard Sirius behind you.

“You’re the one to talk.” you snapped at him, getting up from the swingset and turning around. “What were you planning to do, Sirius?! Huh!”

“I don’t know. I thought about getting an Auror job after, get myself a nice-”

“I don’t mean with that! You know James and my family always has your back!” you shouted, turning back around so you weren’t facing him and letting him see your tears that crawled out at the mention of your family. “I meant us. Did you just do lall of that because you don’t have any of those other girls to be with as you are when you’re at school?”

“What?!No!-”

“Because that would totally make more sense than actually thinking me and you could work out.” you turned around, smiling hysterically. “With me being James’ little sister and all, you know?” you kept pushing yourself further down.

“What are you even talking about?!” he started to get angry as well.

“YOU!” you shouted. “You always choosing James! You would! You would be just like them! Always putting my stupid brohther on the first place! And I’ll alwas fall second.” you sighed and threw yourself on the swing, rocking forward and back. “Guess I have to get used to the idea I won’t ever be the first choice to anyone.” you scoffed, feeling completely pathethic and sad. “Just leave, Sirius.”

You could hear him standing there, shuffling with his jacket then later sitting on the swing next to you. “I didn’t come all this way to this fantastic swingset to not try the swings. now did I?” he kept running his fingers up and down the swing chain then finally pushing himself pack and swinging forward.

“Sirius...”

“Wow, I can actually see the house from here.” he swung higher and kept going. “Maybe if I go high enough I’ll see James’ sister who’s clearly so goddamn invisible.” he exaggerated and you looked at him from the side.

He jumped from the swing, landed and stood for a while. “Oh well, maybe it’s impossible.”

“It’s not funny, Sirius.” you said and he immediately turned around to you.

“WHO’S THERE?!” he pulled out his wand. “I’m a wizard! I can melt you into unicorny sparkly puddle!” he looked at you, then lowered his wand. “Oh- well would you look at that?” he said as he continued to stare at you. “Another empty swing.”

“Will you stop it?”

“Will you?” he replied harshly. “How can you say all of that? You know the first day your generation came to Hogwarts, you stood out the most and James beside me was so Goddamn proud of you. He was so proud of you that day and I was astonished. Because you were the most gorgeous First year there.” he was now in front of you. “You were fun, easy to talk to, trusting, fiery- you were the combination of beauty but deadly. The only reason I dated those other girls were because I couldn’t have the one I wanted.” he put his hands on your knees. “I knew you were the one for me even before I realized it. You were always the first for me. Always first place. I always had that seat reserved for you. Always and James? He loves you, (y/n) but like all the Potter’s you’re too dense to actually see what’s in front of you. He worries about you all the time. He keeps asking if I saw you eat, always pranking the boys who hurt you, sometimes even intimidating them... with me as his side-kick of course.” he added and you smiled. “He knows about the favoritism and he does argue with both of your parents and it’s not all black and white like you see it. And in school, he always talks about you, no matter I fell in love with you.”

You smiled even wider at him. “You fell in love with me?”

“You had me in your palm the moment you pushed James into the compartment in before your First year in Hogwarts and kicked him in the gentle parts.” he said and you laughed.

“Merlin, you remember that?”

“What Gryffindor doesn’t remember that?- Look, that doesn’t even matter right now.” he quickly changed the topic and gently brushed his thumbs against the back of your hand. “You and James will always be siblings, there’s no changing that fact and James will always be the favorite but this is not a battlefield, (Y/N). Even if it was, you have all of your family on your side and me- the only enemy you should be worrying about are the insecurities that get to your head. You’re being loved. Trust me.” and he looked deep into your eyes and for him you did the same, knowing, at that moment, that you are being loved, you were just too blind to see it.

#sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin #marauders era #marauders imagine #marauders iamgines #marauder x reader #marauders #maruaders x reader

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moonbearmeliox · 3 years

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X-Men Series Film Review

Welcome back to “Bren rambles about a movie/tv series.” So I just spent the past three days watching the main X-Men movies and while watching I wrote down my thoughts and what came to mind when watching the movies. Spoiler Warning(duh) for the X-Men movies. Also trigger warning because I do talk about homophobia and conversion camps.

X-Men

As the woman is talking about how mutants can be scared to revel themselve because they could be met with hostility and violence, I find this as a parellel to gay marriage and how LGBTQ+ are scared to come out because they won’t be accepted. Mutants are scared to say they’re mutants of fear of being put to death; LGBTQ+ people are scared to come out in fear of being met with violence or judgement(some places you can be put to death for being gay.

“We should decide if parents want their kids to be in school with mutants.” Sounds the same as “Do you want your child to go to the same school as a gay person? Do you want to be in the bathroom with a girl who has a dick?(in the context of conservatives who don’t want transgender people to use the bathrooms they identify with because “their genitals don’t match)”

Speaking of gay: Eric and Charles

Wolverine got anger issues

Wolverine adopting a young girl with mutant powers, how many times is this going to happen? At least twice.

Rouge really got the shortest end of the stick with the mutant gene.

Give Rouge a male love interest that will inevitably die by her hand, that’s what I’m assuming.

Jean Gray is going to be Wolverine’s love interest, calling it now

Mystique’s costume always bugs me because she’s essentially naked. Like, the directors were like “She must wear no clothes.” “That’s not practical-” “Men will eat it up. The sex appeal, yes. Because women can never have practical costume design.”

Scott looks like he’s played by the main dude in the Sonic Movie(I was right!)

Can Magneto bend the iron in people’s bodies?

“You never use your power against another mutant.” How long is that going to last?

Dad Logan is the best Logan.

The Train Splitting scene shows how powerful Magneto is but didn’t Charles tell Wolverine that Magneto can control metal. Wouldn’t Wolverine have the knowledge, “Hey using my METAL claws against a METAL bender might not be a good idea.”

Kinda figured he would want Rouge, a mutant who can literally kill someone with touch is definitely something the big bad would want.

Magento could just metal bend Charles’ wheelchair.

So Magento’s plan is to turn everyone into mutants, right?

Charles explained it more and it sounds like Terragensis from Agents of Shield with the crystals. Some come out of it with powers, others will crumble to dust.

What powers the cortex that makes it so Charles goes into a coma? Like how does the liquid get into his brain for that to happen?

Yes Jean, it is a perfect idea to put the helmet that put Charles into a coma on your head. Nothing will go wrong.

Mystique really only has like five lines in this whole movie. She really is just supposed to be eye candy.

Of course classic shapeshifter double, who’s who scene. Probably going to be resolved with Jean Gray knowing which one is the real Logan.

The fight scene isn’t that well shot but it is 2000 so

I don’t remember there being a big museum when I visited the Statue of Liberty

I doubt Mystique will stay dead.

Again they thought it would be a good idea to send Wolverine, the man with METAL CLAWS to help fight a METAL BENDER.

Nice of Magneto to put Cyclops and Jean right next to each other face to face.(Director: They’re a couple they must face each other so one can kill the other)

Yep, knew Mystique couldn’t stay dead

Why did they try and have Jean and Logan have a weird semi romance set up when Jean is dating Scott

They gave Charles a plastic wheel chair for when he visited Magneto. Ha, that’s funny.

Plastic isn’t that durable, it would be easy to break Magneto out

Nightcrawler!

The fights scenes have improved, but they’re using a lot of wire rigging

Alan Cummings played NightCrawler. Knew he looked familiar.

Let’s have Wolverine follow a wolf even though wolves are wolverine's natural predators.

Watch the president be a mutant

Dad!Logan

Still painting it that Logan and Jean could possibly end up together. No thanks.

I see they didn’t change Mystique’s costume design. Is she going to say more than five lines in this movie?

Government wants to pass an act to detain and control all mutants, goes and raids a school filled with mutants, and then is SURPRISED when the mutants retaliate. “Oh we don’t want to start a war” THEN LEAVE THEM ALONE. Of course they’re not going to leave them alone because what isn’t normal scares them and must be dealt with no matter what.

Getting even more parallels between mutants and LGBTQ+. Striker wanted his son cured of the mutant gene but was ultimately upset when Charles’s school couldn’t do that. It’s similar to how when people come out to their parents, their parents send them to conversion camps to “Cure” them because they think being gay is an illness.

Bobby don’t get horny, it will only end badly

I asked the question if Magento could bend the iron in people’s blood in the last movie. The answer is yes. Yes he can.

Bobby’s parents “Have you tried not being a mutant.” Gives more LGBTQ parreles “Have you tried being straight?” “Have you tried being your assigned gender?”

An officer shooting a white guy? Unrealistic.

Welp Bad guys and good guys team up to save Charles.

Jean and Logan kissed. Here’s my shocked face. #TeamScott.

But seriously, I hate how the main dude must have romantic interactions with the main girl. It’s never the main dude has romantic interactions with a minor(minior in the sense of not that important to the plot) girl, Storm is right there with no love interest. Pair Logan up with her, that way we aren’t running an already established romance, But nooooo, Hollywood loves to have love triangles.

Mystique changing into Jean, making out with Logan, and then changing into a bunch of different girls makes me uncomfortable.

But again, “All women who have the potential to be a love interest must kiss the main dude” now we wait for Storm to give Logan a smooch.

Female Wolverine!

Magneto had his own secret agenda? Who would have thought?

Bobby’s going to come in clutch with freezing the water

Why does Jean need to go and stop the water? Bobby has control over ice, he can stop it.

Man I really feel bad for Scott.

But I’m miffed because it’s the classic female character dies to further male character’s development.

Oh look Jean’s alive, not surprise. Is she going to be the villain of X-men 3?

I couldn’t watch X-Men 3 because it wasn’t available on any sites but reading the wiki synopsis I was right on her being a bad guy(MY BOY SCOTT GOT MURDERED!). Upset Charles died but he was old and the mentor figure so he kinda had it coming. On to the prequels.

X-Men-First Class

So Charles met Mystique first. And her name is Raven. Wonder what caused their split. I just hope they weren’t romantically involved

Poor Erik, really giving him a tragic backstory

James Macavoy!

Raven and Charles call each other siblings! Oh this is going to hurt more.

Excuse me while I get distracted by Vegas women.

But also did the CIA woman plan to sneak in as a showgirl. Because who would wear lingerie under work clothes unless she planned for this(or planned to get freaky later). I mean it’s Vegas so maybe she was prepared.

Emma Frost is a telepath and can crystalize her body. Not what I was expecting with the last name Frost but I also find it odd that her two mutations don’t intersect with each other. Telepathy and crystallization have nothing in common, so the only explanation is that she got both genes from her parents. It would have to be rare since males are usually the ones to pass the gene to their kids.

Azazel. I’m guessing is Nightcrawler's dad. He and Mystique will get romantically involved and have Nightcrawler. He’ll get the blue skin from his mom but the mutant gene from his dad.

Ok I’m miffed about the costume design again. It’s London and it’s raining and they decided to have Raven and the CIA woman wear SHORTS! They’ll be freezing their asses off all so you can have some leg candy? What’s so appealing about knees? Nothing. It’s always been women’s costume designs that have to be appealing, not practical.

If Charles can’t be involved with Mystique, then he’ll have to get involved with Moira?(I don’t know if I heard her name correctly, the CIA lady). Because all male characters MUST have a romantic love interest(sarcasm)

That one CIA dude, he’s a real one.

So the dude that killed Erik’s mother, is also a mutant.

How is Erik trending water and controlling metal? Nevermind, he’s drowning

Charles saves Erik! And thus the ship is born. “Erik, you’re not alone.”

Hank Mcoy. They zoomed in on Mystique when he was looking at her. Reading the camera angles...oh please don’t have another romantic set up.

They did the Spiderman/MJ framing with Hank upside down and Mystique very close to his face. Yep, they’re setting up a romance between them that will ultimately go nowhere because again, Mystique will do the do with Azael to get Nightcrawler.

Hank and Mystique have only known each other for like five minutes and they’re already having a picnic on top of a rocket. I hate how romance moves so fast in movies.

And Mystique was going to kiss him. Just...no

Erik, right after he walks in on Hank and Mystique’s picnic: If I looked like you, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Are they really trying to set up a love triangle between Hank, Mystique and Erik? I know Magneto and Mystique's relationship in the first three movies is close, but that sentence just makes it sound like Erik is jealous.

“Are you sure we can’t shave your head.” “Don’t touch my hair”. I mean he’s going to lose it eventually.

I love the mutant finding montage. Especially the Wolverine cameo

My mom just informed me that the bad bad is played by Kevin Bacon so that’s what I will refer to him as since I can’t remember his name.

These recruited mutants aren’t going to last long. They’ve got the youthful team up energy, they will be the “First Class” hence the name, but we probably won’t see them again after this movie.

Charles, Erik and Moira being disappointed parents. Starting to get a family vibe that we didnt get from the last three movies.

Charles as Erik storms in: I’m sorry, I can’t leave him. They’re gay your honor.

I just realized that Frost is the second right hand woman to have no real costume. She’s just like Mystique where “she must wear the least amount of clothing possible or have no clothing at all when using her powers” I just wish it would stop.

Let’s take the right hand woman who is a telepath with us. What could go wrong?

What is Angel’s motive to go with Bacon, like I don’t get it. And the adaption dude? It’s just a turn on the dime. Nevermind it was a fakeout and one of them died. Knew they weren’t going to last long.

I feel like Chalres trying to shoot Erik as training is foreshadowing.

Training montage

SO Bacon loses Frost and now has Angle as his right hand woman? I honestly didn’t think that necessary.

Welp there goes Mystique and Hank’s relationship. He only liked her when she was in disguise.

Conflicting differences! Finally get to see Erik and Charle’’s view on humans.

Knew it! As soon as Hank dumps Mystique she goes straight to Erik. Because “She MUST be romantically involved.” Why? Why? Can’t she just...not. She doesn’t need a man.

Erik: I want to go to bed. Maybe in a few years. Ha funny.

I get Mystique going to Erik because he accepts her, unlike Hank but again, she doesn’t need to have a love interest.

Suits! But again, miffed about Mystique’s suit not being fully set up. SHE DOESN'T”T NEED TO HAVE HER CLEAVAGE TEASING IF SHE”S GOING TO BE FIGHTING!

Could Charles just stop controlling Bacon, so he can move and Erik wouldn’t have a chance to kill him.

But good cuts between Bacon and Charles.

The boyfriends are fighting!

Oh that’s how he gets parralized. I forgot about that.

Erik really does care for Charles even tho they have different viewpoints

Mystique going with Erik and having Azeal with him is setting up the perfect opportunity for Nightcrawler.

“Gentleman, this is why the CIA is no place for a woman” *Big gigantic crash* That’s what you get for being sexist.

Days of Future Past

So these machines can absorb mutant powers and transfer them to other machines. A new threat.

Oh Charles isn’t dead from being disintegrated by Dark Phoenix

Logan!

Charles confirmed Mystique was like a sister to him.

So Mystique’s dna was the cause of the Sentitnals. I understand that stopping Mystique from shooting the doctor will change that, but also if that doesn’t work they would have to kill Mystique.(which won’t happen because she’s in the next movie.

Charles tells Wolverine that he didn’t have his powers in 1973, but First Class takes place in 1962 where he definitely had his powers. So what happened to Charles that made him lose his powers?

For once the government isn’t targeting mutants

Well one dude from First Class is in this movie, but sadly I can’t remember his name. X-beam guy.

Why is Charles drunk and not parallelized?

Hank still cares for Raven. Guess the love triangle is still a thing

Oh he’s doing the equivalent of mutant heroine to get rid of his powers and walk.

Erik in gay baby jail.

Erik killed JFK?! Why?!

I feel like if Mystique is searching around the office of someone, she should still be disguised as someone so she doesn’t get caught. I get her dropping the disguise to show the audience it’s her and it builds suspense but she would draw less suspicion.

PETER! MY boy!

I love that he talks fast and that’s kinda like a teenager. I don’t know how old he actually is.

“My mom knew a guy who could do that.” They’re not even trying to be subtle here.

Slow mo Peter speed scene! Yes!

Is that all we get of Peter in this movie? I hope not.

JFK WAS A MUTANT?

So Magneto can lift a plane, a submarine, and now a baseball stadium. Why does he need a baseball stadium?

They showed a clip of Peter watching the broadcast and he’s holding a little girl. I’d like to think that’s Wanda.

Everyone’s alive. Yay!

I’ll excuse Jean being alive because time changes and all that. SCOTT! SCOTT”S ALIVE! YES!

Apocalypse

Hey Oscar Issac

Young Scott!

Young Nightcrawler!

Erik went from wanting to kill humans to being a farmer and having a wife and daughter. Still going to end up on the bad side.

Young Jean Gray! Scott and her start out rocky but we know they’re going to end up together.

Knew the wife and kid wasn’t going to last long. Always got to do something that makes Magneto the bad guy

Two birds...one arrow

For this one, I can understand Magneto’s anger

Young Storm was originally on the bad guy’s side.

Scott sees things through literal rose tinted glasses.

I love Kurt.

Scott use to be a rule breaker

At least Storm has a practical costume.

Also if Erik really wanted to lay low, why did he choose to work at a metal factory.

Pyslocke’s costume isn’t practical. She’s got a boob and butt window. Girl there are so many places you could get stabbed.

PETER!

Charles and Erik always greet each other with old friend

So birdman gets metal armor and the girls get nothing.

Peter slow-mo! This will always be my favorite speedster scene

So the only people that can save the X-Men are Cyclops, Jean Gray, and NightCrawler. Three teenagers with no plan. They got this.

Go Charles! Fighting no matter what.

Logan!

Thankfully most of these characters can’t die.

Pyslocke and Angel can die but the others all have plot armour

Peter didn’t tell Erik he’s his son. Why?

No not the hair! Apocalypse took Charle’s hair.

Go Peter!

No Peter!

So Charles still has the hair when he’s in Apocalypse's head. Part of me knows it won’t grow back but I hope it does.

Mind fight!

So Erik is on the good guys side until the next movie.

Mystique finally has a good costume design

Dark Phoenix

The dude they got to play Bush doesn't look like Bush

SPACE!

This mission is going to go wrong and the X-men are going to get planned. Thus leading the world going against mutants again.

They gave Scott is own eye cannon, nice

Yea absorbing a solar flare will definitely cause your powers to go way hire

Well the mission didn’t go wrong, the way i thought it would. That’s good.

Charles motives have changed

So, men, supposed gods, robots, and now we’re dealing with aliens

Charles kinda being shown as a bad guy is weird. So used to seeing him have good motives.

The aliens want Jean to use her power to take over earth. Not surprising.

Dad now is not the time to poke the super powered bear

Police always show up at the wrong time

I know Mystique can’t die. This is the prequels

But again, Stop killing female characters to further male character’s development.

Oh there’s Erik. 50 minutes in and i thought we weren’t going to see him

Jean’s got a heat signature with that solar flare so it would be easy to track her.

At least the military decided to fallback instead of shooting

And there goes humans liking mutants. This is why we can’t have nice things.

So Mystique’s death is what sets Erik on being the villain again? It’s the same as a woman losing her husband and becoming a villain for revenge. Honestly I’m tired of love revenge plots.

Guys stop fighting! You’re friends!

Oh shit! Jean is making Charles walk. And not in the good way.

OH SHIT KURT IS KILLING PEOPLE NOW!

Dark Phoenix. A movie about family.

Legend of the Phoenix. She’ll rise from the ashes.

Bummed Peter wasn’t in this movie more

All in all, Apcolypse is my favorite X-Men movie.

#bren rambles

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aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

World of Warcraft 9.0.5 Patch Notes Pave the Way for the 9.1 Chains of Domination Update

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

As revealed at BlizzCon a few weeks ago, there are quite a few new things coming to World of Warcraft this year. Not only is The Burning Crusade getting the Classic treatment, which brings the classic game’s first expansion back to its roots (with a few modern tweaks), but Shadowlands is set to get its first major update in the coming months.

While Blizzard hasn’t announced a release date for Update 9.1: Chains of Domination just yet, the latest 9.0.5 patch, which is set to release on March 9 in North America and March 10 in Europe, does begin to pave away for the much bigger update. Quality of life changes, tweaks to Covenants and Legendary items, bug fixes, and some cosmetic flourishes are the focus of 9.0.5, a bit of of housekeeping before Blizzard drops Chains of Domination later this year.

Chains of Domination will introduce a new subzone called Korthia, City of Secrets, located in The Maw. A new raid, the Sanctum of Domination, is also coming to the MMO, featuring a gauntlet of 10 bosses, including Sylvanas Windrunner. Then there’s Tazavesh, the Veiled Market, a new dungeon that revolves around the Brokers, a merchant faction that operates in the Shadowlands.

You can check out the trailer below for an introduction to the story of Chains of Domination:

Below, you can find some of the most important updates included in the 9.0.5 update:

ADVENTURES

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Kyrian Covenant Companions

Kyrian Phalanx health increased by 16%.

Developers’ note: Phalanxes still feel underpowered relative to Halberdiers, so giving them some additional durability to allow them to fill the tank role before players have maxed out their roster.

Necrolord Covenant Companions

Fixed an issue where Bonesmith Heirmir Serrated Shoulder Blades weren’t inflicting damage back to the enemy.

Maldraxxus Plaguesinger’s Plague Song has been redesigned – Plague Song now deals damage to ranged enemies every round.

Rencissa the Dynamo spell effectiveness increased by 40%.

Assembler Xertora spell effectiveness increased by 10%.

Rattlebag spell effectiveness increased by 20%.

Developers’ note: We fixed a few issues where some Necrolord Covenant Companions weren’t dealing damage reliably. Additionally, a few companions have received an improvement that fits with their purpose.

Night Fae Covenant Companions

Qadarin spell effectiveness increased by 24%.

Blisswing’s damage reduction now correctly applies to enemies.

Yira’liya health increased by 16% and spell effectiveness increased by 50%.

Duskleaf health increased by 20% and spell effectiveness increased by 25%.

Lloth’wellyn health increased by 33% and ability damage increased by 25%.

Developers’ note: A few Night Fae Covenant Companions were not as well established in their different roles as we hoped, to address this we’ve improved many abilities and decreased some Companions’ overall fragility.

Venthyr Covenant Companions

Venthyr Nightblade attack increased by 25%.

Developers’ note: We’re generally happy with how the changes to Venthyr in the 9.0.2 landed, but wanted to offer some additional help for players using Nightblades to fill out their compositions.

CHARACTERS

Undead cloaks will now be as tattered as the forsaken wearing them. Your character customization settings will now inform the appearance of your cloak for Undead characters.

COVENANTS

Necrolord

Covenant Ability

Fleshcraft has been redesigned – Form a shield of flesh and bone over 3 seconds (was 4 seconds) that absorbs damage equal to 40% of your maximum health for 2 minutes. While channeling, your damage taken is reduced by 20%. Passive effect – Moving near an enemy’s corpse consumes their essence to reduce Fleshcraft’s cooldown by 1 second.

The slime creatures within the Plaguefall dungeon will now grant their buffs when their corpses are consumed by Fleshcraft’s passive effect (was when Fleshcraft was used on their corpses).

Soulbinds

Volatile Solvent (Plague Deviser Marileth) now triggers when Fleshcraft’s passive effect consumes a corpse’s essence (was when Fleshcraft is cast).

Resourceful Fleshcrafting (Bonesmith Heirmir) has been redesigned – When Fleshcraft’s passive effect consumes a corpse, the cooldown of Fleshcraft is reduced by an additional 1 second.

Anima Conductor: Flowing Power – House of Rituals

Skeleton Command now summons a skeleton when Fleshcraft’s passive effect consumes a corpse. This effect has a 5 second cooldown between summoning skeletons.

Night Fae

Spirits within The Queen’s Conservatory are eager to return to life and will now automatically provide players with their reward without having to speak to them first.

Soulbinds

Fixed an issue that sometimes caused players to die through Podtender (Dreamweaver) if the lethal blow had a large overkill.

Venthyr

The Ember Court

Permanent RSVPs

Guests who you have reached Best Friend status with now give you a permanent RSVP.

The Permanent RSVP will allow all characters on your account to invite that guest to future Ember Courts without completing their RSVP quest again.

Temel in Sinfall now sells a Bind on Account book at Exalted with the Ember Court. The book will teach your Dredger Butler how to handle the Cleanup and Restocking quests that follow the Ember Courts.

One-time reputation items from Temel and Lady Ilinca will no longer appear once learned.

Droman Aliothe’s RSVP no longer requires players to venture to Bastion and Maldraxxus for items.

Soulbinds

Fixed an issue that allowed Service in Stone (General Draven) to be parried.

RUNECARVING LEGENDARY ITEMS

DEATH KNIGHT

Blood

Phearomones now grants 10% Haste while inside your Death and Decay (was 8%).

Crimson Rune Weapon now causes Dancing Rune Weapon to generate 5 Bone Shield charges and reduces the cooldown of Dancing Rune Weapon by 5 seconds (was 3 seconds).

Vampiric Aura now increases the duration of Vampiric Blood by 3 seconds and grants 5% Leech for the duration.

Gorefiend’s Domination now also grants 45 Runic Power when Vampiric Blood is used.

Unholy

Reanimated Shambler explosion damage increased by 5% and now procs approximately every 1.75 minutes (was 1.5).

DEMON HUNTER

Fel Bombardment’s buff duration has been increased to 40 seconds (was 30 seconds) and the chance to trigger increased by 5%.

Darkglare Medallion’s chance to trigger increased to 40% (was 20%) and now also refunds the Fury of the casted Eye Beam or Fel Devastation.

Havoc

Burning Wound damage over time damage increased 100% and Immolation Aura damage increased by 65% (was 50%).

Vengeance

The casted Eye Beam from Collective Anguish’s summoned ally now always deals critical strikes.

Spirit of the Darkness Flame’s Fiery Brand instant damage increased by 20% (was 15%).

DRUID

Feral

Cat-Eye Curio now restores 30% Energy (was 25%).

Frenzyband now reduces the cooldown of Berserk by .3 seconds per combo point-generating ability (was .2 seconds). During Berserk, combo point-generating abilities cause the target to bleed for 150% of their damage (was 100%).

Guardian

Legacy of the Sleeper’s Berserk description now notes that the Druid is immune to crowd-control while active.

Restoration

Verdant Infusion extends the duration of your heal over time effects on the Swiftmend target by 10 seconds (was 8 seconds).

HUNTER

Beast Mastery

Dire Command now has a 30% chance to trigger (was 20%).

Rylakstalker’s Piercing Fangs critical damage increased to 35% (was 20%).

Flamewaker’s Cobra Sting now has a 50% chance to trigger (was 25%).

Qa’pla, Eredun War Order now resets the cooldown of Kill Command (was reduces the cooldown by 5 seconds) and has an additional passive effect – Barbed Shot deals 10% increased damage.

Marksmanship

Surging Shots now causes Rapid Fire to deal 35% additional damage (was 25%).

Eagletalon’s True Focus now also increases the duration of Trueshot by 3 seconds and reduces all Focus costs by 25% (was 50%).

Serpentstalker’s Trickery no longer triggers Wild Spirits (Night Fae Ability) twice.

Survival

Latent Poison Injectors damage increased by 15%.

MAGE

Disciplinary Command increases Critical Strike damage by 20% (was 15%).

Expanded Potential procs per minute increased to 2 (was 1.66).

Arcane

Arcane Harmony damage per stack increased to 8% (was 7%) and the effect stacks up to 18 times (was 15).

Fire

Molten Skyfall now calls down a Meteor after casting 18 Fireballs or Pyroblasts (was 25).

Sun King’s Blessing now requires consuming 8 Hot Streaks (was 12) and grants Combustion for 6 seconds (was 5 seconds)

Frost

Cold Front now calls down a Frozen Orb after casting 30 Frostbolts or Flurries (was 60).

Freezing Winds now triggers Fingers of Frost every 2 seconds (was 3 seconds).

MONK

Shaohao’s Might now causes Tiger Palm to have a 40% chance (was 10%) to deal 300% of normal damage (was 250%) and reduce the remaining cooldown of your Brews by 2 additional seconds (was 1 second).

Brewmaster

Mighty Pour now causes Celestial Brew to increase your Armor by 50% (was 25%) for 8 seconds (was 7 seconds), and causes Purifying Brew to have a 35% chance to not consume a charge (was 25%).

Mistweaver

Clouded Focus healing increased by 20% (was 15%) and mana cost reduced by 20% (was 15%).

Windwalker

Xuen’s Battlegear critical strike chance increased by 50% (was 30%) and Fists of Fury cooldown reduced by 5 seconds (was 2.5 seconds).

PALADIN

Vanguard’s Momentum increases Holy damage done by 4% (was 3%) for 10 seconds (was 8 seconds).

Of Dusk and Dawn buff duration increased to 12 seconds (was 8 seconds) and Blessing of Dusk damage reduction increased to 4% (was 3%).

Holy

Inflorescence of the Sunwell increases Infusion of Light effects by 30% (was 20%).

Shadowbreaker, Dawn of the Sun buff duration increased to 8 seconds (was 6 seconds).

Maraad’s Dying Breath’s healing bonus to Light of the Martyr no longer increases self-damage taken. Additionally, Maraad’s Dying Breath now causes all Light of the Martyr self-damage to be dealt over 5 seconds

Protection

The Ardent Protector’s Sanctum has been redesigned – When Ardent Defender saves you from death, it restores 40% additional health. When Ardent Defender expires without saving you from death, its remaining cooldown is reduced by 40%.

Fixed an issue with The Ardent Protector’s Sanctum that caused Ardent Defender casts to put nearby Protection Paladin’s Ardent Defender on cooldown.

Fixed an issue that caused The Magistrate’s Judgment to be consumed when casting a free Word of Glory through Shining Light.

Retribution

Final Verdict damage has been increased by 15%.

The Magistrate’s Judgment now grants the proper amount of Crusade stacks when Holy Power is spent while under its effect.

PRIEST

Cauterizing Shadows’ healing increased by 36% and can now critically strike.

Discipline

Cauterizing Shadows now functions with Mastery: Grace.

Kiss of Death reduces the cooldown of Shadow Word: Death by 12 seconds (was 8 seconds).

Holy

Divine Image now casts Searing Light when Shadow Word: Pain or Mindgames (Venthyr Ability) are used, and casts Holy Nova when Unholy Nova (Necrolord Ability) is used. Additionally, if the Priest is crowd controlled while Divine Image is active, the image will cast single target healing spells on nearby low-hp allies.

Divine Image spell-mirroring cooldown removed (e.g. queueing a Shadow Word: Death after a Holy Fire will now trigger 2 Searing Lights).

Flash Concentration buff duration increased to 20 seconds (was 15 seconds).

Measured Contemplation is now cleared upon starting an Arena match.

Shadow

Painbreaker Psalm generates up to 30 Insanity (was 20) and now functions with Death and Madness (Talent).

Painbreaker Psalm will now grant Insanity if Shadow Word: Death kills the target.

Shadowflame Rift’s damage has been increased by 40%.

ROGUE

Mark of the Master Assassin now only affects auto-attack and Rogue abilities’ critical strike chance.

Tiny Toxic Blade now causes Shiv to deal 500% increased damage (was 350%).

Essence of Bloodfang damage increased by 30%.

Assassination

Doomblade now deals an additional 45% Bleed damage (was 30%).

Fixed an issue that was causing Doomblade’s bleed effect to incorrectly be affected by Armor.

Duskwalker’s Patch reduces Vendetta’s cooldown for every 30 Energy you expend (was 50 Energy).

Outlaw

Guile Charm increases your damage dealt by up to 15% (was 10%) and lasts up to 12 seconds (was 10 seconds).

Greenskin’s Wickers increases the damage of your next Pistol Shot by 300% (was 200%).

Concealed Blunderbuss now has a chance to fire your next Pistol Shot 3 additional times (was 2).

Subtlety

The Rotten now causes Backstab to deal 50% increased damage (was 30%).

Deathly Shadows increases all damage dealt by 20% (was 15%) for 15 seconds (was 12 seconds).

SHAMAN

Elemental

Echoes of Great Sundering now causes Earthquake to deal 120% additional damage (was 175%).

Enhancement

Legacy of the Frost Witch now causes Stormstrike to deal 30% increased damage (was 15%).

The debuff from Doom Winds now persists through death.

Restoration

Jonat’s Natural Focus now increases the next Chain Heal by 20% (was 10%).

Spiritwalker’s Tidal Totem now reduces mana cost of Healing Wave and Chain Heal by 40% (was 25%).

WARLOCK

Affliction

Malefic Wrath duration increased to 10 seconds (was 8 seconds) and damage per stack increased to 35% (was 25%).

Wrath of Consumption duration increased to 30 seconds (was 20 seconds) and periodic damage increased to 6% (was 5%).

Wrath of Consumption now properly increases the damage of Scouring Tithe’s (Kyrian) periodic effects.

Demonology

Implosive Potential’s Haste buff duration increased to 12 seconds (was 8 seconds).

Balespider’s Burning Core increases the damage of Demonbolt by 15% per stack (was 8% per stack).

Grim Inquisitor’s Dread Calling increased to 4% per stack (was 3% per stack).

Destruction

Madness of the Azj’aqir duration increased to 4 seconds (was 3 seconds).

Embers of the Diabolic Raiment now properly generate 6 Soul Shard Fragments when dealing a critical strike with Incinerate.

WARRIOR

Arms

Enduring Blow’s chance to apply the Colossus Smash effect increased to 25% (was 15%) and duration increased to 6 seconds (was 5 seconds).

Battlelord now triggers from Overpower (was Slam) and reduces the Rage cost of your next Mortal Strike by 15 Rage (was 12).

Exploiter’s Mortal Strike damage bonus increased to 50% (was 25%) and the damage bonus for Venthyr Warriors increased to 36% (was 18%).

Fury

Cadence of Fujieda duration increased to 12 seconds (was 8 seconds).

Will of the Berserker duration increased to 12 seconds (was 8 seconds).

Reckless Defense now triggers from all Rampage hits (was Rampage critical strikes) and reduces the remaining cooldown of Recklessness and Enraged Regeneration by 1 second (was 3 seconds).

Protection

Reprisal has been redesigned – Charge and Intervene grant you Shield Block for 4 seconds, Revenge!, and generates 20 Rage.

Unbreakable Will now also grants an additional charge of Shield Wall.

Seismic Reverberation damage increased to 75% (was 40%).

You can find the full patch notes here.

The post World of Warcraft 9.0.5 Patch Notes Pave the Way for the 9.1 Chains of Domination Update appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3emYJko

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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random-thought-depository · 4 years

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The movie Fail Safe was on TV last night and I watched it. I thought it was a really great movie! It was very dark, but in the best possible way; it was a great tragedy.

Quick summary of the film (with spoilers): due to an accidental miscommunication, a USAF bomber group carrying hydrogen bombs receives orders to fly into the Soviet Union and nuke Moscow. The bomber pilots are also ordered to ignore any attempts to recall them, on the assumption that it may be a Soviet trick. This is similar to Dr. Strangelove, though in Dr. Strangelove the situation happens because of a renegade officer who wants a nuclear war to happen, whereas in Fail Safe the situation happens because of a mechanical failure and is nobody’s fault and everybody’s fault. USAF fighters are sent on a suicide mission to shoot down the bombers (they don’t have enough fuel to intercept the bombers and make it back to land, and will run out of fuel over the Arctic Ocean), but this fails. The US President warns the Soviet Premier of what’s happening and explains that it was an accident, but there’s a very rational fear that if Moscow gets nuked the situation may lead to war anyway. The Soviets have limited success in shooting down the bombers. The US government and USAF high command decide to actively help the Soviets, giving them information about the bombers’ capabilities and vulnerabilities. To avert a possible nuclear war with the Soviet Union, the US President offers the Soviet Premier a horrific bargain: if the bombers succeed in nuking Moscow he will order the USAF to destroy New York city with a hydrogen bomb; the death of a great Russian city will be paid for with the death of a great American city, and this will be a costly signal to the Soviets that the destruction of Moscow was truly an accident and not a deliberate raid with plausible deniability or an opening move in a general attack. In the end, the Soviets shoot down all but one of the misdirected bombers, and the last surviving bomber nukes Moscow (having received fatal doses of radiation from near-misses by Soviet nuclear anti-aircraft missiles, and believing they would return to a ruined homeland, the pilots of the last surviving bomber allow themselves to be killed by the explosion of their own bombs). The US President keeps his bargain with the Soviet Premier, and the USAF destroys New York with a hydrogen bomb.

There’s a phrase that’s sometimes used on the Spacebattles.com and Sufficient Velocity forums: “hard men making hard decisions.” This phrase is usually used as a derisive description of this sort of thing:

“Hugh Farnham, the hero of Farnham’s Freehold, has a signature move: when people disagree with him, he barks ‘‘Lifeboat rules!’’ at them and pats his sidearm. Hugh Farnham is the proprietor of a nuclear fallout shelter that has managed, thanks to his excellent timing and foresight, to have rescued his family and some of their friends. The shelter is their ‘‘lifeboat,’’ the only thing standing between them and certain death in an uncaring universe where the cold equations of nuclear fission dictate that rules must be followed.

Poor Hugh is a good guy, but he has the responsibility of taking care of the lifeboat’s passengers. That means that he’s got to bear the sidearm, and threaten his friends and family with lethal violence if they get out of line. It’s for their own good.

Heinlein’s Hugh Farnham is a character who is in charge of everything except the circumstances that led to him having to coerce, cajole, and terrorize the people around him. He’s that character because Heinlein wrote him that way.

…

The thing about lifeboat rules is that they are an awfully good deal for lifeboat captains.” - Cory Doctorow, The Cold Equations and Moral Hazard.

I think Fail Safe was the “people making hard decisions” concept done well. “Hard men making hard decisions” in the bad sense is bad because the “hard decisions” usually actually means “easy decisions if you’re a right-wing authoritarian.” Fail Safe showed people making hard decisions that actually felt like hard decisions. I think part of what made it work was that the hard decisions depicted in Fail Safe required not just willingness to violate “nice” liberal morality, but also willingness to betray in-group solidarity.

Hard decisions means ordering some of your own pilots on a mission that, if it succeeds, will consist of them killing some of their comrades and then running out of fuel above the frigid Arctic Ocean and certainly dying (by freezing to death if they choose to bail out and open their parachutes, by being splattered like bugs on a windshield if they choose not to).

Hard decisions means helping your enemies kill brave and loyal people who believe they are acting on your orders in defense of your nation. Hard decisions means telling your enemies the weaknesses of one of your greatest weapons, in service of that enterprise.

Hard decisions means carrying out one of the most horrific massacres in history against your own people just to send a costly signal to your enemies that you didn’t really mean to attack them.

The First Lady is visiting New York when the events of this film are happening; when the President orders New York destroyed he orders the likely killing of his own wife. The bomber pilot who drops the bomb on New York lives in New York with his wife and children; when he drops the bomb he likely kills his own family.

The movie doesn’t depict what happened in the aftermath, but I imagine that that President was impeached and then arrested and executed for treason or something like that in the aftermath; can you imagine a President going on TV and admitting that he ordered the USAF to nuke New York as part of a round of Great Game chess with the Soviets; there’d be an immense desire for somebody to punish for that and the obvious scapegoat would be the person who gave the order. And hard decisions would mean accepting that too; it’s just another one of the millions of lives traded away to save the hundreds of millions who’d die in a nuclear war, and the electric chair or gas chamber or firing squad or hangman’s noose is more merciful than the way a lot of the sacrificial victims in New York would have died (I think if you want to experience this movie in a maximally horrifying and depressing way, the way to do that would probably be to watch it immediately after watching Barefoot Gen).

Making decisions like these wouldn't just make you feel like a butcher, it’d make you feel like a traitor and a betrayer.

There’s a scene in this movie where USAF officers have to tell Russian officers some technical information about the missiles the bombers carry. One of the USAF officers just can’t do it. The next one speaks through gritted teeth and clearly hates every second of the experience. Part of this is they’re compromising national security by doing this, but I saw a subtext of a more intimate betrayal of the pilots. I saw a subtext of the capabilities of these aircraft as an expression of comradeship from the engineers and the rear-echelon support institutions to the pilots; you can’t be with them, but you can do the next best thing by giving them the best possible aircraft and therefore the best possible chances of completing their missions and returning alive. And now they’re being asked to undo that, to as much as possible take away the advantages they’ve worked so hard to give the pilots. I suspect that if this movie had been made in a more computerized age this scene might have included the USAF giving the Soviets the information they’d need to do something kind of like the prefix code trick in Star Trek II, which would have made this subtext more obvious.

There’s a scene a bit earlier where the misdirected bombers have just crossed into Soviet air space and one of them is attacked by Soviet fighters and successfully defends itself and destroys the attacking Soviet fighters. Most of the USAF officers watching this happen on their big war room screen start cheering, and then the commanding officer reprimands them and says something like this isn’t a football game. I read this scene through the subtext I talked about in the previous paragraph; the commanding officer wants to discourage the natural sentiment of thinking of the bomber pilots as comrades, admiring their skill and bravery, being proud to have armed them so well, and being happy for them when they succeed.

Side note: another subtext I saw in the USAF officers cheering when the bomber destroyed the Soviet fighters: they are thinking about the symmetrical opposite battle that would happen in a full-scale war; the one over the United States between USAF fighters and the Soviet long-range bombers that would be coming to drop nuclear weapons on American cities. They are reassured to see that US bombers do well against Soviet fighters, because that means US fighters will probably do well against Soviet bombers.

Side note to that side note. I vaguely remember reading in discussions on forums that in the early ‘60s the USSR didn’t yet have the capacity to use nuclear weapons to conduct a general massacre of the US urban population? But Fail Safe feels like it takes place in a world where a nuclear war would mean basically every significant US city goes up in flames. I’m inclined to interpret it as alternate history, taking place in a world where the Soviet Union was more formidable than it was in our world (given the ending it’s definitely alternate history anyway). I think sequel fanfiction to this movie could definitely be interesting alternate history.

Other side notes:

I felt really sorry for … well, basically every character in this movie, but I think the situation of the misdirected bomber pilots was very poignant. They believed there was an actual nuclear war happening; they believed they were living through the worst day in human history! I imagine them making mental calculations like: if we’ve had time to cross the Arctic Ocean from Alaska and fly deep into the Soviet Union, then probably every city between Lisbon and Kiev is in flames right now, and hundreds of millions of people are already dead or dying, and maybe our Soviet opposite numbers are flying across Canada and the Atlantic Ocean right now, Fairbanks and Juneau are burning though the next wave of real massacre is maybe yet to begin (it’ll start when the Soviet bombers reach the part of Canada near the border where most of Canada’s population lives, a few hours after that the Soviet bombers will have finished their work and North America will look like Central Asia immediately after Genghis Khan was finished with it). It was impressive and poignant that in this situation these people were holding together and doing their best, but this quality isn’t an unalloyed good; this sort of obedience is exactly what insures that tragicomic or atrocious orders are obeyed; they were fighting skillfully and bravely while knowing that their mission was basically to commit a massacre as an act of spite (yes, destroying major enemy cities is a rational part of MAD; spite is often rational in a game theory sense).

One thing I found interesting about the movie was the complete absence of ghoulish Dr. Strangelove types. Even the war hawk guy who advocated a full-scale strike on the USSR wasn’t portrayed that way (I picked up an implication that he was a Holocaust survivor and trauma had a lot to do with why he was Like That). I mentioned that Dr. Strangelove really feels like it’s riffing off this movie, and one of the interesting differences is this feels like a sort of optimistic-humanist West Wing/Star Trek version of a Cold War thriller; there’s an assumption that basically everyone involved is basically well-meaning. I think maybe this reflects that 1950s high point of trust in institutions? I suspect a movie made later would have been more cynical.

I really wonder about the relationship between Dr. Strangelove and this movie now, I assumed Dr. Strangelove must have been made later and been a sort of parody of this movie but a quick Google search says they were made the same year. Dr. Strangelove (the title character) kind of feels like a fusion of the war hawk guy and the secretary of defense (the disabled guy with crutches) in this movie. On that subject, seeing that guy with crutches reminded me that FDR would still have been fairly fresh in living memory when this movie was made, and when this movie was made there were still a lot of older adults where were disabled from effects of polio infections earlier in life. Really reminds you that the world was very different not all that long ago.

I think the film’s idea of “nobody is at fault and everybody is at fault” is applicable to a lot of our current problems.

#I read/watch something #nuclear war

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btswishes · 4 years

Text

Are you for real?

Kihyun (Vampire Au)

Part1 / Next

A/N: Thank you for reading my stuff, I appreciate it extremely. I tried to put a twist on this a bit, hope you enjoy it Anony and sorry for any mistakes made.

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: “ Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Kihyun vampire au? It can honestly be about anything! I love your work btw! “

Word count: 2,304

Warnings: Swear words, blood, organs mention of death.

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

The moon slowly rose from it’s place of slumber and illuminated the world underneath in a silver light. The night birds stepped into their spotlight and began singing the songs of their kind, accompanied by the gentle rustling of the leaves and the howling winter winds.

You mumbled something under your nose, before slamming the books shut and stretching your back a bit. After a few small cracks ,you took off your reading glasses and looked outside the window.Night had fallen and you hadn’t even noticed where all those hours went.

Studying for today was finished and you were swirling on the chair, thinking what to do now with your free time. You could watch\read something or just lay on the bed at stare at the ceiling for sometime. Not many good ideas where popping into your head ,when a pretty silent knock stopped your movement.

“Yes?” you said loud ,as the door opened with permission

“You done with studying?” your mom asked noticing all the closed books and your kinda empty stare at the wall.

“Pretty much yeah.” you could see a small piece of paper in her hand fluttering from the outside wind coming in through the open window “You want me to get something?”

“Yes.I am running low on a few things.” she explained, passing over the list

“Where is dad?” usually he was the errand boy for small stuff that didn’t need a lot of thinking or choice

“Your dad decided to show your brother a move and I think he broke his back. He will ok tho, just needs some time to get back on his feet....literally” your mother was obviously trying to suppress a laugh so strong it could shake the whole house.”Can you go?” You scanned everything from number 1 to number 10 fast and decided that it wasn’t something that will take a long time to get and you had nothing else to do anyways.

“Ok. The store is pretty close anyways, a few minute walk.” you jumped off the chair and walked over to your closet putting on some pants, a warm shirt and your hair in a high bun on top of your hair.

Going down the stairs you saw your dad on the couch, face down and ice on his back. You wanted to laugh too but kept your cool out of respect. Popping some shoes on you fixed your coat making sure you were nice and isolated.

“I can go get the stuff you know.” you were stopped by your brother, who as always was concerned about you.

“It’s ok Hae. “ unlocking the door ,you threw the shopping bag on your shoulder

“I can come with you! Muscle power.” he was trying to flex but you were already locking the door at this point. It wasn’t anything new to you, he has always been like this since day one.

The night was cold and you were nuzzling yourself into the coat, trying to stay as warm as you could. Both your hands were in your pockets trying not to fall off from the freezing temperatures. Everything around was pretty quiet and peaceful.Most people were already in their homes, trying to warm up and spend time with loved ones. It was Christmas and New Years week after all.

From time to time someone would pass by you, but you weren’t fazed much by it. Humans lived on Earth after all. Of course some people walking were a bit sketchy and all, but you weren’t that worried. There have been sightings of some strange creature lately in your city, but this isn’t some kind of horror movie you were in, so you didn’t think much of the poster that pulled your attention for a split second.

The supermarket was illuminating the street in front of it so well ,you could almost see the snowflakes as they crackled under your boots. Stepping in the warm space, you grabbed a basket and went around searching for the items on the small list. It didn’t take long before you had almost everything in the basket, the only thing missing was the meat.

You walked up to the section and began telling the worker what you needed. Your mom was very specific when it came to meat in your family. After some time the lady working behind the glass section passed over everything you had asked for. You wished her a happy week and went on your marry way.

“Ok so, I have milk, eggs, the veggies and meat and.....oh liver, liver.I almost forgot the liver.” the paper went back in your pocket as you were once more running around in search of number 10. “Aha!” you gasped when the little packet caught your eye from the distance. You were so happy that you started running in its direction. There was a small moment where you hit something and fell back. Everything happened in a matter of seconds, but what you figured out was that the boy holding onto your hand, pulled you in time before you hit the hard floor.

He had an intense stare that wasn’t moving away from your face. His grip was pretty strong and starting to hurt. The boy felt you flinch and let go.

“Are you ok?” he asked with a serious tone in his voice.

“Ah yes. I am sorry, I shouldn’t have been running in the first place.” you said sorry for the whole incident and reached out to grab a packet of liver.

“You really seem to like...meat.” he was looking at the bags upon bags of it in your basket

“It’s not only for me, my family eats it too.” the boy nodded, his eyes locked on your face “I am really sorry again for the mess I made.Have a goodnight.” you bowed a bit and snaked around the aisles.

It was pretty late, so not many people were at the cash registers. You placed everything in the bags and payed fast. Being around so much food made you pretty hungry. Stepping out of the supermarket ,you were hit by the cold air again. You had forgotten that it was winter for a second.Looking up at the moon you were able to clearly see your breath like small clouds disintegrating into the atmosphere.

“Going home?” you heard that familiar voice

“Yes, have a good night.” the boy was standing close to you, with his hands in his pocked and surprisingly lightly dressed for the season you were in. You were giving him short answers. The boy was very handsome, his hair was dark and his eyes an interesting almost black tint mixed in with mystery. His skin was fairly pale and in a way there was something a bit unsettling.He didn’t seem bad, but at the same time not trust wordy in a way. Unknowingly to you, he had taken a liking to your existence. He was quite close when you felt his breath on your neck. You almost jumped when he grabbed you by the waist.

“Wait, don’t move.” in his hand he had a small insect that had fallen onto you from a tree “I didn’t want to scare you, sorry.” he was painfully close and his eyes were fixed at certain points of your body, eyes and neck. In moment of shock you had dropped the bags, so he pulled them up, his head grassing onto your skin for a split second. Grabbing them tight you said a thank you and a goodbye almost at the same time, as you started walking in the direction of your house. The boy staid in the same spot and you could feel the intense stare he was giving you.

It didn’t take you long to calm down and soon your walking pattern became slow. You fixed the shopping bags in your palm, moving them in a more comfortable position. The night had become darker and more cold than you remembered. The streets were empty and your only company at this point were the lights trying to keep the darkness away from the town. There weren’t people in sight and even the cats and dogs were hiding somewhere warm.

Yet you couldn’t shake this feel of being a sitting duck at this very moment. You felt a few chills run down your spine, but shook them away thinking it was the cold. They began from the back of your head, tingling to your ears and down your spine, coaxing a twitch in your neck. You sucked air in your might through your closed teeth ,as you rubbed the skin on the back of your neck, trying to calm the sudden jolt you had.You felt uneasy as if you were being watched and or followed, but there was no one around you or behind you. Then again it was pretty dark and you never know where one could be hiding. Your house wasn’t far from here and you had only 5 more minutes or so till you reached the front door.

In a way it felt calming knowing that you were almost home. Stopping on the step, you started fiddling in your pocket, trying to find the key to the front door. Even if you were relaxed that chill was still present in your body, like you were still being watched. For a second it felt like something cold was close, reaching towards your neck ,when the door opened wide and your brother grabbed the bags out of your hands.

“I was about to go and find you.Took you long enough.” he pulled you in and locked the door behind you. Your brother saw how much you were freezing and helped you take off your coat. “Where did you scratch yourself?” he pointed out the small red line of the back of your neck. You touched the spot and remembered the small insect that was apparently on you.

“There was a bug on me earlier, maybe the little thing bit me.” you shrugged your shoulders before your mom pulled out some ointment.

Dinner was normal, nothing special. You had a nice talk with your family.Afterwards your dad and mom sat on the couch to watch something on TV, while you and your brother get ready for bed. During your shower a stinging sensation took over the small scratch on your neck. You ran your fingers over it again, but payed it no attention as it was going to heal soon anyways. Wrapping a towel around you and stepping out of the bathroom, you called your brother to inform him that you were all done.

Your room was nice and warm thanks to the heater, so you were able to comfortably take your towel off and get dressed without feeling like you are going to freeze to death. After brushing your hair and doing your night time routine, you were ready for bed. You had this habit where when you weren’t tired yet, you would turn on your nightlight and sit in bed, looking at your phone, reading something or just thinking about random things. It was nice to just listen to the sounds of nature. You could hear the wind moving the trees and bushes around, the flutters of small nighttime birds enjoying their life and also random sounds that are a bit similar to foot steps and also the smell of winter, wait....go back a bit!

Your body stood up and froze with your back facing the wide open window. Sounds were mixing in with each other, making it a bit hard to identify which was what. You took a deep breath and pulled yourself off the soft bedding. It took a few seconds before you turned around standing face to face with the small square leading to the outside. Your room was in the back of the house that was opened to a very big field like garden. As much as you didn’t want to, you peeked a bit outside to see what could be making the sounds. Usually a lot of small creatures would pass by and deep down you thought that if maybe you saw one of them it would calm you down and let you sleep calmly.

There was nothing next to the house. You should have been happy, but then again something had to be making those sounds and it wasn’t something simple. You didn’t hesitate to close the window shut and pull the curtains as far as they could go.

The warm bed welcomed you triumphantly, as it’s hands pulled you into a warm and long awaited hug.Almost instantaneously you drifted off into sleep. Your dreams were normal with the occasional appearance of that boy from the supermarket.He looked different this time around, his almost pitch black eyes and blood-red lips were contrasting his pale skin. He looked lifeless on more than one level, yet there was a prominent existence around him. You clearly saw a small talisman dangling on a chain around his neck, almost like a necklace. For a moment during your dream you could hear his deep voice.

Your eyes shot open and you found yourself welcomed by the morning rays. The sun warmed up your skin and the sound of birds calmed you down. You stretched your arms and took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air. Jumping out of bed ,you put on your slippers and grabbed the door handle, when your foot hit something small. Almost without a thought you looked down seeing a shining metal object.

“Hm?” your fingers quickly retrieved the material and let your eyes scan over it.It looked like a lock.As you were holding it, your mind went blank.Your body turned around slowly towards the room.

The curtains were pushed back.

The window was open.

The lock was in your hand.

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fanfichideout · 4 years

Text

Chapter Two - The Floating Hat

“Gah…!!!” Misthel exclaims loudly in frustration after she discovers that they just passed the same silly big rock, that they had already passed nine times now! Nyzz sighs tiredly at Misthels sudden outburst and climbs up on the big rock.

Nyzz’s height didn’t make it any easier for her… she couldn’t see or spot anything up there…except for those tall trees blocking the view. Nyzz lets out a defeated sigh and slides slowly down the rock, and is now leaning her back against it in a resting position. While Misthel keeps muttering frustrated to herself.

Nyzz is about to fall asleep, when Misthel suddenly hears something rummage nearby and pulls Nyzz up on her feet and gestures to her with a silent hand movement, that she should stay close by. Nyzz tiredly fights to keep her eyes from closing and rubs them repeatedly with her tiny hands.

Misthel wants to get closer to the source of the sounds and pulls Nyzz with her once again. Making Nyzz grumble a bit annoyed at Misthels sudden need to explore further into the forest.

Suddenly Misthel halts, causing Nyzz to almost trip by the shift. There between the trees, on the other side of the thickly grown bushes is a…. floating hat? Misthel is immediately intrigued and throwing all caution to the wind, not to mention forgetting about the fact it could be dangerous, rushes after it!

Nyzz is sure that if Misthel keeps this up, her arm will be ripped out of its socket! Luckily in her hurry to catch up, Misthels grip loosens and Nyzz’s arm is free! Not that Nyzz had much time to enjoy this seeing as Misthel is rushing off, ducking and jumping over any obstical in her way…. How in the world is this clumsy, reckless elf suddenly so graceful?! Normally she would have ended up face first in a bush or running into a tree! Nyzz thinks to herself, as she tries to stretch out her arm after being dragged a few miles.

Finally Misthel catches up to the hat, there is now only some thick bushes between them. Nyzz catches up and walks over calmly only to see Misthel on top of a fallen tree trunk, on her toes, stretching in an attempt to grab the hat from over the tall bushes. This plan quickly fails as Nyzz lets out a loud yawn, catching not only Misthels attention as she falls back landing on her ass, but it seemed to also have stopped the magical hat in its tracks. Misthel and Nyzz looks between the hat and each other, not really sure what their next move should be, however Mistel soon realises that this is her chance and quickly jumps through the bush, grabbing the hat and holding it up in victory!

Nyzz cautiously walks after Misthel, nervous of what mess the elf had caused now. Nyzz then looks up to see an elderly man in grey robes looking shocked between her and the female elf who was now……… doing what appears to be a victory dance? While she is holding the hat tightly in her grip. Nyzz is both amused and slightly embarrassed of the scene happening before her.

The elderly man lets out a forced cough, catching Misthel off guard and causing her to freeze on the spot for a few seconds, before she turns around to face the two. Misthel attempts hurriedly to hide the hat behind her back, even though they not only knew she had it, but they could also see it poking out from behind her on both sides.

Much to Misthels disappointment, Nyzz somehow convinces her to return the hat to its owner. “I’m still believe I should keep it! After all i did find it!” Misthel claims as she hands it back to the elderly man, who now stands in front of her. “Perhaps, but you did happen to find it on top of my head!” the elderly man says with a slightly amused undertone. “Allow me to introduce myself, I am Gandalf the Grey! Now if you don’t mind me asking, what could two young ladies such as yourselves be doing out here in the woods?” The elderly man, whose name apparently is Gandalf, asks them kindly.

As Nyzz opens her mouth to answer she is stopped by a hand covering her face “ Don’t answer that Nyzz! It might be a trick!” Misthel tells her before letting go of her petite face. “Listen old man! How do we know we can trust you? We are not telling you our names or anything until you prove you're trustworthy!” Misthel exclaims to the old man, not even realizing she just indirectly told him Nyzz’s name. Nyzz however looks unimpressed and shakes her head at the foolish elf. Gandalf lets out a low chuckle as he looks between the two, he does recognise the young elf as the daughter of an old friend, although the small woman besides her was new to him, but something about her seems familiar...

“You truly are Lord Elrond’ daughter!” Gandalf laughs and Misthel’s face gets slightly paler, if that's even possible, at the mention of her ada. “Y-you know my ada?....wait you know who i am?!” She questions him. “Most people who have traveled the realms of the elves have heard of Elrond's youngest.” He explains still highly amused. “Is this because I’m shorter than the other elves?! Because for your information I could still grow old man!” Misthel yells in her defence, even though, both of them knew there was no chance of that happening.

“Never mind that, now what is you and your friend doing wandering out here in the forest? I can’t imagine your father being very happy with all of this… or perhaps he does not know?” Gandalf questions slightly annoyed at the nickname, and clearly already knowing how her father feels about her being outside Rivendell, especially without supervision.

“Well first i was in a carriage, because ada banned me from trying to ride a horse due to an incident that happened when I was small, anyways then we got attacked by these ugly, big, gross and nasty orcs that the guards chased after. Then the one who was left to protect me ended up being asleep on the ground, completely unrelated to the fact, that I hit him with the door, so then I had noone and nothing to protect me. The only logical thing then was to hide in the forest, which was also kinda gross with all those large and nasty bugs, then i saw something shiny and ended up in this dark cave! There I found this crystal made of ice, and of course I did the only logical thing ever!” Misthel explains hurriedly, as she makes a lot of hand gesturing during her ramble … not noticing Nyzz and Gandalf just standing a safe distance away to avoid getting hit, staring at her with blank expressions on their faces.

“I poked it! And suddenly... I’m blinded by light! And once i regained my sight, as you know elfs eyes are pretty sensitive, there was a tiny person!” Misthel’s ramble is paused for a second as she pulls Nyzz infront of her, which made Nyzz let out a tiny squeak - clearly unprepared.

“I didn't know what she was and she didn't know what she was? It was very odd! But then I realised she HAS to be a hobbit, therefore I named her, cause she didn't have a name label on her! Like your parents put on their children..., you know?” Misthel says as she looks questionly at Gandalf before she continues, not letting anyone else getting a chance to interrupt her.

“My ada still does it because he’s convinced I’ll wander off…. which I do... but still!” Misthel said slightly embarrassed by the sudden topic and tries to shake it off with a certain haste.

“Anyways I named her and now we were... well, we are... on our way towards the shire! You see my ada told me that's where hobbits live! So I thought it would be a great place to start and see if anyone is looking for her there!” Misthel finally finishes the long ramble looking excitedly at the wizard.

“Seems like quite the adventure the two of you are on then, I myself was on my way to the shire just now!” Gandalf comments as he starts to smoke on his pipe. “Do you think we can travel with you then? I’m pretty sure we were going in the opposite direction, before Misthel here... started to follow your hat.” Nyzz asks looking hopefully at Gandalf, no longer trusting Misthel to lead them in the right direction...or letting the silly elf forget their goal within an hour to rush off after something else... that might end up being their death...

“Wait! Old man, you wouldn’t happen to know her, would you?! And if neither you nor anyone in the shire are looking for her, do you think I can keep her? After all I WAS the one who found her!” Misthel asks, which only causes Gandalf to look at her weirdly, and sigh at the nickname that once again appears. He isn’t THAT old! He thinks to himself and tries his best to hide his annoyance.

“I’m afraid this young lady and I haven’t met before today...” He says before turning to Nyzz “And I certainly wouldn’t mind the company on this journey!” He tells her, which causes Nyzz to sigh shortly in relief and then beam with joy, which makes Gandalf chuckle at the sight before getting interrupted by a certain elf...

“In that case let’s continue!” Misthel exclaims happily and starts walking….. in the direction of which Gandalf just came from. After a few meters, she realises that she can’t hear the others following her…? She then looks back over her shoulder to see them, still standing in the same spot, just staring at her…

“What...?” She asks a bit confused over their passive behavior. “I’m afraid the Shire is in this direction.” Gandalf explains and points in the opposite direction. “No! It is not! It's this way! …Just ask Nyzz! I’m great at leading people the right way!” Misthel says, looking at Nyzz for backup, but Nyzz just avoids eye contact, not wanting to hurt the elfs feelings but also unable to agree with the preposterous statement.

“You know what? Fine! But the two of you better not come crying to me! When you end up getting us lost old man!” Misthel grumbles clearly provoked, before she walks past them in the right direction. Nyzz and Gandalf shares an amused and slightly worried look before accompanying the stubborn elf...

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!❤ ! (>’o’)>”Bootylicious”<(’o’<) !❤!

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And the adventure is slowly starting, be excited for the next part! We are ;)

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #dwalin #fanfic

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Ice Dragon’s Lament

or: Jane is put in her fucking place

Prompt: “Do I look like I’ve moved on?”

———————

Joan wasn’t sure why she woke up with such a festering feeling of paranoia, but she couldn’t shake it off all day. First, she felt like someone was in her closet, despite it being morning- the sun was supposed to keep away all the evil things, and yet she was fearfully peeking inside the small space to check for an intruder or crazy person hiding inside. Then, she was too anxious to ride in a car, fearing an accident, so she walked to the theater...but that alternative didn’t help either. She kept thinking that a truck would careen onto the sidewalk and plow through her or a car would speed down the road when she’s crossing the street and run her over or construction beams would collapse from their places and impale her. Finally, upon arriving at work for rehearsals, she found that her paranoia moved from her own safety to her queen’s safety.

Like that, Joan was following Anne, Jane, and Kitty around- more than she usually did. She wasn’t at a distance, opting to rather stick close by their sides and scan whatever room they were in several times for any possible danger. Anne found it quite funny, cracking jokes with Kitty, who thought it was weird, and Jane just got annoyed after awhile. She hated having the music director hovering over her, and it was going to be a hellish seven hours of work and rehearsal if she didn’t put a stop to it soon.

Two hours in is when Jane finally snapped.

They just finished up running through Don’t Lose Ur Head and Joan was checking up on her again. For what was probably the fiftieth time that day.

“Joan, for the love of—” Jane took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I’m fine, alright? Look, I’m fine. Will you leave me be now?”

Joan blinked, slightly startled by the queen snapping at her. She backed away a little, but didn’t completely stand down, much to Jane’s dismay.

“I just wanna make sure you’re okay,” She said meekly.

“I know.” Jane sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “What has gotten into you? You’re never this clingy.”

Joan winced. She knew she was a tad codependent (read as: “extremely codependent”), but, up until that moment, everyone had the good grace to not point it out. She didn’t like it being said out loud- it made it real. It made her pathetic attachment real. It let it be known to everyone because the other queens and ladies in waiting were gawking from the sidelines, listening in as she’s berated for her separation anxiety.

“I-I just...” Joan looked down at her feet.

“Joan...” Jane sighed again. She really hadn’t meant to make the poor girl embarrassed, but she was going to be pulling her hair out by the end of the work day if something wasn’t said or done about all the pestering. “Look-” Another sigh. She’s trying to find a way out of this without shattering the emotional music director in front of her. “I get it, okay? You’re protective of us because we’re your queens. But you need to move on. You’re stronger than this anxiety, Joan.”

Joan stiffened. Her head was still lowered, but her fists clench at her sides.

“Move on?”

She raised her head and her eyes are lit up in a way Jane has never seen before. Joan’s lamb-like features bristle into the face of a raging ram- like the ones the devil could become or the ones that demons disguised themselves as. Like Baphomet. Sharp horns curl dangerously around her head.

“Do I look like I’ve moved on?”

“Joan—”

“No.” Joan dared to cut her queen off. She riled herself up to her full size, which wasn’t much, and her scrawny limbs didn’t help, but it was enough. Her smoldering eyes and horrifyingly neutral did all the work for her. “Hold your tongue for just a moment. I can’t bear to hear your excuses.”

She was speaking to Jane as if she were the queen and the older woman was a mere servant. If they were back in their first life, Jane would have honestly been impressed and might have made a comment about Joan being a wonderful monarch, but, right now, she was too stunned to say anything.

“Do you know the full extent of what I saw?” Joan asked. She’s dumbing the question down for Jane. “Do you understand what it was like for me? Hmm?”

Jane says nothing.

“ANSWER ME, LADY JANE!”

Like a bullwhip, Joan has her fist smashed down onto the table they’re standing next to, causing it to shudder treacherously. If such a violent action hurt her hand, she doesn’t show it. She just continues to stare at Jane, eyes like fragments of ice, and she knew the woman could feel the cold, congealing weight of her resentment.

“I don’t know.” Jane grits.

She doesn’t like this. She doesn’t like being put on a soapbox and made a mockery of by a lady in waiting, and that’s what Joan liked so much about the situation. She felt so empowered, and she wasn’t going to let that go just yet.

“Of course you don’t,” Joan snorted. She slowly raised her clenched fist from its spot on the table and a dark bruise was already forming in her pale skin, but she could hardly care. “I expect nothing less from someone so callous and cruel.”

She pressed her hands together, sliding the fingers in between one another, and her gaze grew startling patient. Perhaps it wasn’t patience, though- the emotion in her eyes was unreadable.

“You don’t know what I went through because you never stopped to care for just a moment.” She said, each word oozing with icy venom that chilled Jane to the bone. “And to think you call yourself the mother of the group...”

“Who do you think I am?” Jane growled.

“Who— Who do you think I AM?” Joan exclaimed, breathless. “You don’t know what I had to endure for you. Or for Anne. Or for Katherine.”

“Don’t bring them into this.” Jane warned.

“They’re in this just as much as you are, Jane.” Joan said lowly. “I watched you die. Do you know what that does to someone?”

She waited, but Jane offered no answer.

“It sticks with you.” Joan went on, “Dying is one thing. Watching it happen is a completely different horror, and it’s something all of you forget.”

Once again, she waited for Jane to say something, but the queen continued to just stand there with her jaw clenched and fingers tight fists at her side.

“I got to watch you slowly rot away, Jane.” Joan explained. “I got to watch you cry and scream and piss all over yourself because you were too weak to even control your own bladder.”

Something on Jane’s face twitched at that and she could see an embarrassed blush creeping up on her cheeks. It was about time. She deserved to have a taste of her own medicine she’s been indirectly force feeding Joan for months.

“I got to watch you drool and froth at the mouth like you had fucking rabies. I got to sit by your bedside and hold your freezing cold hand while you stared blankly with your face covered in spit and snot and tears and sweat. I got to listen to you howl and beg for your son for hours and you would onto get louder when you were turned down. I got to hear about how the nurses whispered about your oncoming death and I got to smell the infection setting into the tear from your vagina down to your rectum.”

Suddenly, Joan is starting to look a lot less like a ram and a lot more like a livid ice dragon. Her skin is plated with chilled silver scales, as tough and freezing cold as a hissing, fanged glacier. She has teeth like razor sharp icicles and eyes as frigid and uncaring as a winter wind. Her voice was thunderous enough to crack an entire iceberg in half.

The lamb she used to be was gone, gored beneath the serrated talons of the ice dragon.

“I was nineteen years old, Jane.” Joan said lowly. “You don’t recover from that.”

Then, she spun around and faced the beheaded cousins, who had been standing meekly with the others, none of them daring to get caught in the crossfire.

“But that’s not all,” She said. “I got to watch you both die, too. I watched a decapitation twice! And nobody fucking remembers or cares! Nobody even THINKS to ask if I was okay after having to carry your headless body because Maggie was crying too hard to do it herself,” She drilled icicles into Anne’s gut with her stare. “Or if I was recovering from watching you be put on display before your head came off.” She froze Kitty in place with her chilled tone. “Nobody ever cares! And I’m sick of it!”

She swung back around to Jane. The queen stares fearfully at her and she wonders if she really was slowly mutating into a monstrous ice creature before her.

“I’m sorry,”

The words came from behind Joan’s back and she couldn’t really pick out who exactly said it, but it wasn’t from anyone she wanted to hear it from.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” She said, not turning away from Jane. “Trust me on that.” She paused for just a moment, licked her lips (her tongue almost looked forked and dark blue), then said again, “I don’t want to hear it from you.”

Jane’s left leg twitched slightly. She sniffed, trying to gather up she dignity, but Joan was smashing it to the ground by just looking at her. And she hated it. She hated how powerless she felt under a fucking ex-lady in waiting.

“I’m sorry.” She finally said.

A ghost of a pleased smile appears on Joan’s pale lips.

“It’s good to hear, but I’m afraid you’re too late. The damage is done, Lady Jane.”

“Stop acting like this!” Jane suddenly snapped, raising her voice. “I get it- you’re upset! You’re mad! But this is not how to—”

“Acting?” Joan chortled cruelly. “You think this is some sort of act?! You really are as dumb as the historians say!”

Jane’s eyes resemble a bug’s for a moment- large, bulging, oh so very inferior and helpless. The ice dragon wants to crush her beneath its talons, feel her slimy guts oozing out the way a beetle’s would.

“It’s sad, I know, to be humiliated...” Joan hummed. “...to lose all feeling in the shame, but...I have not felt anything for a very long time.” Her eyes narrowed and her tone flicks stinging irritation into Jane’s face. “I’ll do anything necessary to be noticed and to have people become aware of me. I’ve been alone for too long.”

Jane doesn’t say anything. Her jaw is clenched tightly again. Joan tilts her head.

“It’s funny how you say I need to move on.” She said. “Because you wouldn’t say that to your precious Kitty, would you? About her getting her head chopped off? You wouldn’t tell her to move on from the trauma of that.”

Something new sparks in her cold, winter eyes- through all the hatred and anger and annoyance comes misery and pain.

“You wouldn’t tell Aragon to move on from her miscarriages. You wouldn’t tell Anne to move on from mourning Elizabeth or for Anna to move on from her survivor guilt. You would tell Cathy to move on from missing Mae. You would tell Maria to move on from the trauma of holding her queen in her arms as she died or Bessie to move on from the affair or Maggie to move on from losing her best friend.” Tears start to brim in Joan’s lower lashes. The emotions are welling up too high, even for her. “Nobody would tell you to move on from Edward. So why do you tell it to me?”

Nothing. Nobody answers.

Joan shakes her head with an anguished smile and the tears spill free. She laughed shakily, wiping a sluggish hand under one of her eyes.

“Shit!” She laughed. “I guess I really don’t mean anything, huh? Is this how little I mean to all of you?!”

She shakes her head again, the laughter dying off into weak, miserable noises.

“You know, Lady Jane, I always wondered what kind of person you really were. Well, now I got my answer: A selfish, cold hearted BITCH who never gave a shit about me!” Joan roared, and she anger just continued to build up until she was drowning herself in it. The ice dragon rears, half-frozen tears on its face, a dangerous freezing death breath streaming from its jaws as she cried, “Are you happy now? Huh? DOES THIS MAKE YOU HAPPY?!”

It’s only then that Jane realizes what she has done to the girl in front of her. The neglect, the lack of understanding, the blindness to the pain, the way she overlooked her and traded her out for Kitty- it’s been festering inside of Joan for so long.

All because of her.

“Joan,” Jane whispered. She takes a small step forward. She can’t see the ice dragon raise its icicle-like horns in a warning and growl lowly, staring down its long, pale, hooked snout at her cautiously. “Oh, Joan... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

This time, she means it.

Joan froze, like she was finally affected by her own black ice. She held perfectly still as Jane reached out and cupped her tear stained cheeks with her soft, warm hands. The touch of those hands was something Joan craved for so long.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Jane murmured, feeling tears well up in her own eyes. “I should have realized, Joan. I’m sorry I didn’t realize. I didn’t see how much pain you were in.”

Of course she didn’t.

Jane felt Joan’s jaw grit beneath her hands and she tried to tighten her own grasp. She didn’t want her to pull away. She wanted to hold her.

“Joan-”

“No—”

“Joan, please-”

“No—!”

“Please, I—”

Wild fear fights through the snowstorm raging in Joan’s eyes. Joan grabs one of Jane’s hands and squeezes it, then raises her other one, but the movement was hardly a warning.

The force of the blow was so strong and so sudden it sent Jane careening backwards, tripping over her own feet until she unceremoniously fell onto her back in a way that would have made everyone laugh if it weren’t for the fact that she had just been slashed across the face. She sat up dazedly, pressing a hand to the four, fresh stinging marks in her flesh, which stretched from her temple, across her eye, and stopped just above her top lip, getting the side of her nose and part of her cheek damaged in the process. They are already practically glowing neon red and lazily oozing blood in several different areas. When she looks up, she finally sees the arctic beast staring at her from Joan’s tear-filled eyes.

“I gave you your chance,” Hissed the dragon. “And now I’m taking it back.”

It— they— she— the beast strides past Jane and towards the door, spiked tail swinging dangerously towards the queen’s already-wounded face. Its shuddering moon silver wings give off waves of terrible chills as it grasps the doorknob with trembling claws that are flecked with blood and skin.

“You can find someone else to lead rehearsals today.” It— they— the beast- dragon— she said. “I’m done.”

The door yanks open. The mane of icicle horns bristle and ears flatten backwards. Talons scrape against the floor and leave marks in the tile. Hints of frostbreath hiss from in between razor teeth.

“Oh, and thanks for nothing.”

It slams shut.

The dragon is gone.

#six fanfic #six fic #six fanfiction #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical #joan on the keys #jane seymour #anne boleyn #katherine howard

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duhragonball · 5 years

Text

Dragon Ball Z 253

Wait, Majin Buu’s gonna stop killing people? Wow, really?

Let’s get this crap out of the way first. Gohan’s in like Hour Five of his 25-hour session to get super duper powers. He’s just got to sit there quietly and let an old man pretend to be important. You’d think he’d be good at this, since it’s just like being in school, but instead he’s frustrated. You know, you could have just trained over the past seven years and avoided this entirely, so this is kind of the future you chose, Gohan.

Back on Earth, Goten and Trunks are about to try fusing as Super Saiyans.

I’m not sure why, but Piccolo seemed uncertain that Gotenks could transform after fusion, so he wanted to try it this way to ensure Gotenks would be at his maximum power against Buu. But before they commit to the battle, Piccolo wants to get an idea of Gotenks’ abilities.

But Gotenks is still a little shithead, and he decides to fly around the world several times to show off...

And then he lies down on a rock and waits for Piccolo to catch up with him.

Meanwhile, this old couple is trying to flee to the mountains to escape Majin Buu when...

... the wife gets killed by a sniper. Damn.

Aw, she even packed a teddy bear, that’s awful.

So yeah, here’s these two assholes. The shooter on the right is named “Van Zant”, and his butler on the left is “Smitty”. I think these may be names given to them by the dub, I’m not sure. Basically, Van Zant has decided that Majin Buu’s rampage basically means it’s the end of the world, so he might as well enjoy himself as much as he can while there’s no consequences, and he’s always wanted to try shooting people for sport.

Smitty is horrified by this, but Van Zant tells him to shoot the old man, and he doesn’t seem to need much convincing. Then again, he may not have much of a choice. If he doesn’t play along, what’s to stop Van Zant from shooting him? Well, I guess he could shoot Van Zant first, but none of those choices sound very appealing.

Anyway, he seems to enjoy killing now that he’s tried it out, and they plan to continue on this way. I gotta say that I really dig this part of the story. It’s easy to think of the masses as “innocent victims”, and that they all must be huddling in fear while they wait for someone to save them from Majin Buu, but there’s plenty of other reactions you can have to a crisis like this, and sometimes there’s people like Van Zant, whose first instinct is to go out and make things just a little bit worse than they already are.

As for Gotenks, once Piccolo finds him, he declares that he’s clearly passed the test, and he’s going to kill Majin Buu right now. Piccolo warns him to stop, but he just won’t listen. Which is kind of stupid, because he’s wasted so much time showing off that he only has one minute left before the Fusion wears off.

So he goes to Buu’s house to call him out...

Only to split into Goten and Trunks a second later. The boys panic and bug out before Buu can find out who’s been talking shit.

Mr. Satan convinces him it was just his imagination, since who would be dumb enough to walk right up to Buu’s house to challenge him? I mean, besides Mr. Satan, which is how he ended up here.

Last time, Mr. Satan tried to trick Buu with posioned candy and booby-trapped gifts, but none of it worked, and now Buu’s made him his live-in servant. Here, we see Satan reading A Dog of Flanders to Buu. I never understood the choice of novel here, but apparently it’s a very popular children’s book in Japan, Korea, and the Phillippines, so I guess it makes sense. Anyway, the book ends with a boy and his dog freezing to death, and Buu finds this hilarious.

Then Buu flies off to go back to killing people, and Mr. Satan plots to kill Buu once again by planting explosives in his house. I don’t know why he would expect this to work when that exploding video game didn’t, but I can’t fault him for his persistence.

Meanwhile, Smitty and Van Zant joyride through a nearby town and gun down as many people as they can find. Smitty’s worried that Majin Buu could attack this place at any moment, since “they” say Buu has a house in the area. He only built that thing yesterday, so how do so many people know about it? Anyway, Van Zant isn’t worried because he has a bazooka. Really? Buu killed 80% of the population, and you think nobody tried shooting him with a bazooka?

Back at Buu’s house, Satan plants the explosives, but he’s surprised when Buu returns early with a dog. Buu tried to frighten the dog, but he wouldn’t run away, and Buu can’t understand the dog’s speech, so he doesn’t know why the dog isn’t afraid. So he brought him home to Mr. Satan so he could translate.

Satan doesn’t speak Dog, but be does notice that the puppy has an injured leg, so he can’t run away from Buu. So Buu heals the dog to fix that problem.

Only the dog won’t run away now because he’s grateful to Buu for healing him. Basically this is the same deal as that blind kid from a few episodes back, only this time Mr. Satan is here to explain it to Buu.

Buu tries to feed his new dog chocolate, but Mr. Satan explains that dogs can’t eat that, so he offers to go into town and buy some dog food...

But, in fact, this is just a pretense so he can get away from the house and set off his explosives. He looks through a telescope before he presses the button on the detonator...

... and he sees Buu and the dog licking each other, happy as can be.

And so Mr. Satan decides to hold off on blowing Buu up. There is the dog there, after all, and he doesn’t have to do this right away. So that means he really will be going to buy dog food. This seems like a really awkward conversation though.

Mr. Satan: One bag of dog food, please.

Cashier: Holy crap, you’re Mr. Satan.

Mr. Satan: Yeeeeeeeaaaaah!

Cashier: What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be fighting Majin Buu?

Mr. Satan: Well, you see, he’s weak to dog food, so, uh... hmm.

It’d probably be simpler to just karate chop the guy and steal the dog food. For that matter, there’s probably a lot of abandoned stores now, so he could go looting.

Later, Satan returns with the dog food, and the puppy loves it. Buu, not so much. Well, more for the dog, then. Mr. Satan was frying you an egg, remember?

At this point, Satan just has to ask: Why does Buu kill people and destroy cities all the time. In the last few hours, he’s found him to be pretty nice otherwise, so what’s the deal?

Buu explains that Bibidi and Babidi both told him that was what he could do for recreation, and that’s basically it.

He also explains that they “made” him, so apparently even Buu believes that Bibidi was his creator, although I’m still not clear on that. Maybe the DB wiki was talking out its ass.

Satan tells him not to listen to those guys. I mean, even Buu admitted that they were unpleasant, but he’s just been doing what they said anyway. Buu considers this for a moment, and then he asks if killing is wrong.

When Satan tells him it is, he immediately resolves to never kill or destroy again. Mr. Satan can hardly believe it.

And he’s thrilled. As the dub puts it, he got this guy to change his ways, and he didn’t even have to punch him or blow him up. I love this scene, because it’s not just Majin Buu that’s getting a redemption arc here. In this episode, Mr. Satan may not realize it, but he’s accomplishing in fact what he only pretended to do against Cell. He marched right up to Majin Buu and convinced him to stop killing people. It’s a bit anticlimactic, but no less courageous.

And then the dog gets shot. Whoops.

Because Van Zant decided to go swing by Buu’s house and check it out, maybe take a shot at Buu while he was in the neighborhood. I don’t know why he’d start with the dog, but he killed an old lady earlier so I can’t exactly claim to understand this dude.

Mr. Satan is just flabbergasted by this. I think a sniper was the last thing he expected in this situation.

And here’s Buu, just staring at all of this. What’s going through his mind right now? A Dog of Flanders isn’t so funny anymore, I’ll bet.

And that’s the Majin Buu Saga. Next time, it’s about to go down.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #majin buu saga #majin buu #mr satan #bee #smitty #van zant #gohan #elder kai #goten #trunks #gotenks #piccolo

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headfulloffantasies · 5 years

Text

Lost in Translation

Sam needed a translator for Bucky. It was physically painful to hear him mix modern and outdated slang. AO3

Sam needed a translator for Bucky. It wasn’t his fault. Hydra always wanted the Asset to fit in, meaning they stuffed his head full of the latest slang every time they pulled him out of cryofreeze. All those phrases were still stuck in his brainpan, manifesting in his speech in bizarre ways.

“Hey man, can I borrow five bucks? I’m fresh outta lettuce.”

Sam had not seen Steve react so violently to something Bucky had said since the last time he told Steve not to jump in the river. Steve’s head spun around like a poltergeist to glare at Bucky.

“What did you say to me?”

“I’m broke?”

Steve vaulted over the couch to hug Bucky hard. Sam was very confused.

“I haven’t heard anyone say that in seventy years,” Steve sobbed.

“Me too pal,” Bucky frowned. “Don’t know why you gotta have a cow over it.”

“You promised me dinner if I came over tonight,” Sam interrupted the love fest. He got up from the couch and meandered into the kitchen. “What are we having?”

Sam opened the fridge. There was broccoli, peanut butter, soy sauce, and three apples inside. Clearly it had been Bucky’s turn to shop this week. When Bucky shopped, he wandered the aisles and threw things that looked “interesting” into the cart. There weren’t a lot of recipes that could be made from interesting.

“How about Bastard Pad Thai?” Bucky suggested. “We got gobs of chicken in the deep freeze.”

Steve groaned from his spot in Bucky’s arms.

Bastard Pad Thai was a homemade recipe with spaghetti noodles, no fish sauce, and broccoli instead of bean sprouts. Bucky claimed it had saved him from starvation once in Siberia. Steve said he’d only eat it if he was on the verge of starvation.

Bastard Pad Thai won, despite Steve’s complaint. He pouted on the couch.

“You’re cruising for a bruising,” Bucky threatened him with the sauce spoon. Steve hunkered down further into the couch.

Sam chopped up the broccoli and Bucky stirred the sauce on the stove. It was a comfortable, warm atmosphere of bumping into each other and reaching across for utensils.

“Am i supposed to put the armoured heifer in the sauce?” Bucky asked, holding up a can of milk. Sam had to take five to wheeze into the pantry.

Steve did penance for his behaviour by doing the dishes. Sam opened his laptop on the coffee table. Bucky crashed onto the couch next to him, crushing Sam with his flesh shoulder. “Whatcha up to, fresher?”

Sam flinched. “Here, read this.” He shoved the computer at Bucky. Bucky leaned forward and read aloud. “Acceptable slang for adults,” he glanced up, eyebrows drawn down. “You don’t like the cut of my jib?”

“That’s not even from an era you’ve lived in,” Sam complained.

Bucky shrugged. “I heard it in a movie.” He closed the laptop. “I’m not taking criticism from someone who doesn’t know what a is.”

“Only geriatrics know about !”

Bucky shrugged. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Sam ground his teeth and accepted defeat.

The next day they got a call for someone to please go stop Mysterio from blowing up Grand Central Station please.

Mysterio was standing in the middle of the street on a floating platform, pontificating, when they arrived.

“In mere moments I will activate my death ray!” Mysterio screamed.

Steve gave the orders, “I’ll go around behind him, get the drop on him. You two keep him occupied, and take out as many henchmen as possible.”

They broke like a football huddle. Steve vanished into the fray.

Sam and Bucky split onto opposite sides of the street, using parked and abandoned cars as cover as they fought their way through the army Mysterio had brought with him.

Sam was gaining on Mysterio’s platform, but it was disorienting when half the henchmen weren’t actually there. Mysterio was the worst. Illusions were cheating, man. Sam almost broke his hand punching a dude who turned out to be smoke and instead hitting the brick wall behind the illusion.

“You got a bunny following you, Sam,” Bucky announced over the comms. “Could be nothin’ but she might ask you to jive.”

Bunny? They were in New York. What was a rabbit doing in the city?

A woman in all green plowed into Sam from behind.

Bucky swore in Sam’s ear. “I told you to watch her, Sam!”

Oh, so the femme fatale was a bunny? More like a viper, the way she was trying to strangle Sam.

“Kneel before Madame Hydra!” She screamed.

No thanks, lady. Sam kneed her in the chest.

Bucky was suddenly there, pulling the lady off and tossing her aside. He gave Sam a hand up.

“This isn’t working.” They were just as far from Mysterio as they had been when they started.

“Just keep going,” Bucky said. “Keep his attention away from Steve.”

Right. Sure. Distract the evil mastermind. If only there was a way to do that that didn’t include being tackled on all sides by guards in tactical gear. Sam wished he had a way to tell which ones were actually worth a punch.

Finally, Mysterio was in view. He looked like a failed science experiment with his dumb fishbowl on his head. Mysterio was tapping away at a screen, likely setting up his death ray. Sam leapt into the knot of henchmen, real and fake.

Bucky vaulted onto Sam’s left, his metal arm sparking through a holographic henchman.

“I always feel japped when they’re not real.”

Sam grunted, planting his fist in a real gut. The space between them and Mysterio seemed endless. “We’re not going to make it through this mess in time. Where’s Steve?”

“Hey Mysterio!” Bucky yelled. The villain didn’t turn around. “What’s with the fishbowl, man? Is your face all grody under there? Or is it a fetish thing?”

Distraction. Sam caught on quickly. “Nah, Buck, he’s a space alien freak. He wants to be taken to the mothership or whatever.” Sam called louder as he shoved a henchman aside. “Hate to break it to you, but they stopped doing probes decades ago. You’ll have to get your rocks off some other way.”

Bucky slammed his metal arm into a guy and actually landed a real punch. Yay!

Mysterio’s shoulders hunched up around his ears. He kept typing away.

Bucky laughed, “Hoo boy, what a laker. Mucho wacko.”

Sam gave him a side eye. No one gets your dated lingo, Barnes.

Bucky shrugged. It really wasn’t his fault. He tried again. “Mysterio is a scub name anyways. Bet you were a putz your whole life. Bet under that fishbowl you’re a bag face. You dumb hoser.”

Mysterio’s whole being was radiating hatred, but he kept on task. Sam had to give him chops, the guy was focused. It took two words to distract Rhino.

Sam decked another lackey, sending him crashing into a bus bench.

Bucky raced ahead, still shouting. “Why’d you pick a name like Mysterio anyways? You think you’re a magician or something? You a Doctor Strange fanboy? Now there’s someone with choice style. You’re just a wack ameteur. You couldn’t come up with a better illusion if it bit your keister.”

“Shut up!” Mysterio whipped around and blasted an energy ray from his gloves. Bucky ducked behind a parked car. The ray sailed harmlessly by, nowhere near Bucky.

“Hey man, don’t snap your cap. Betcha that wasn’t even real!” Bucky popped his head over the table. “Hey Sam, how much do you want to bet he missed on purpose ‘cause it wasn’t real? Nobody’s that rubbish a shot.”

“Shut up! Shutupshutupshutup!” Maysterio screamed as his rays blasted all over the street. Cars caught fire, glass shattered and rained down. Live lackeys scrambled for cover. Sam didn’t even need to dodge Mysterio’s awful aim. No wonder Spider-man usually took care of this guy.

Bucky used the onslaught to his advantage, dodging rays as he darted up to Mysterio’s platform. He launched himself up, catching one of Mysterio’s wrists in a death grip. Bucky shattered Mysterio’s fishbowl with the metal arm.

“You wanna dance?” Bucky growled in his Winter Soldier voice. “Cause I’m a jive bomber.”

“What does that mean?” Msyterio sobbed, his wide eyes too human without his helmet.

“You don’t want to find out,” Steve stepped up from behind the villain. He kept his stance low and dangerous. “Shut down your program, now.”

It was all easy after that. SHIELD approached once the illusions vanished and took Mysterio away.

Bucky rounded on Steve as Mysterio was loaded into a van.

“Where you been, punk?”

Steve stared into the middle distance, bewilderment painted all over his face. “There was a giant dinosaur. And then it disappeared.”

Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. “Better luck next time, my dude. Let’s boogie and get some fresh jives before we bug out. Can you dig it?”

Sam’s ears were bleeding. “How many eras are you mixing?” Steve shoved at Bucky. “You’re just doing it on purpose now.”

Bucky’s grin was all the confirmation Sam needed. “You’ve been messing with me?”

Bucky winked.

Oh, this was war.

#Bucky Barnes #sam wilson #steve rogers #captain america #Winter Soldier #falcon #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #lost in translation #slang

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