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gdcee · 3 years

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Old Friends

Summary: Loki doesn't meet his three counterparts in the TVA's garbage dump at the end of time but someone else entirely.

Warnings: Some sexual innuendo. Troubling possessive childhood behaviour. Mention of unwanted sexual advances (not perpetrated by either of the main characters in the fic).

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Loki considers the words neatly painted in bright red letters on the large signpost.

NO LOKIS (except for the kid and alligator they're cool)

He squints, wondering if his earlier rough landing has jumbled some connections in the language processing bits of his brain. He shakes his head and reads again.

Nope, he evidently did not misread the bit about the alligator.

"What in the name of Buri's wrinkly left-"

Before Loki can finish uttering the obscenity, an overwhelming aura of powerful magic smothers him. He barely has a chance to retaliate before he's swept away like a pebble in a fluvial flood.

He finds himself lying on the half-withered gray-green grass, staring incredulously at the softly glowing incorporeal fetters wrapped about his chest and ankles.

There's only one person he knows with this particular type of binding magic.

But no, no it couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be-

"You have a lot of nerve," her achingly familiar voice rings out in the desolate silence. Her equally familiar face comes into view as she leans over his prone form, "Coming here."

"Sigyn," he can only manage a hoarse whisper at first, but giddy elation soon overtakes shock, and his mouth widens in a cheeky grin, "Oh, I'm certainly not doing that at present but since you've already skipped past dinner to the bonda-"

Sigyn whacks him sharply on the head with her staff. Not hard enough to cause any pain, but hard enough to startle him into silence.

"Brazen," she sighs, sounding more exasperated than offended, "Every single one of you."

"I prefer cockyyy-" Loki trails off at the unamused glare she shoots him, "-shutting up now."

"Good choice."

Sigyn shakes her head and dispels the fetters that hold him. Though familiar, in truth, Loki hasn't felt her magic so close to him in centuries. Not since they were children and he was showing her how to conjure fireworks in her hands.

He wonders briefly if her hair still smells like apple blossoms.

"Come on," she reaches for his hand and pulls him to his feet without waiting for his assent, "Time to go. You know the rules."

"I don't actually," Loki tries not to look upset when she lets go of his hand (pathetic, Norns, he is pathetic), "I don't even know where...what this place is." He frowns, considering. "Probably not Hel since you're here."

Sigyn coughs a short, sharp bark of a laugh. There's no humour in it.

"This is Hel," she says, "In all but name."

"So...I'm dead?"

Sigyn sighs again, closes her eyes and blows at the loose strand of hair hanging in her face.

"Wonderful. You're a new one then. You remember being pruned, yes?"

"Yes. Not very pleasant."

"Quite. Well, this-" she moves one arm in a fluid, graceful arc, gesturing in grandiose fashion at the depressing panorama of refuse and ruined buildings littered about the grey landscape. "-is where the TVA sends their rubbish. Everyone they prune, any physical material from a reset timeline - it ends up here."

"Everything?" Loki quirks an eyebrow, "Seems a little empty of clutter if the refuse of millions of dead timelines is being dumped here."

"Ah. Yes, that would be the work of the giant purple cloud monster of eternal, ceaseless hunger that devours all within its path."

An ominous sounding growl underlaid with the rumble of thunder sounds faintly in the distance.

Loki looks towards the distant horizon and sees a large dark, purplish smear like a fresh bruise in the grey sunless sky. Light flares and something that vaguely resembles a galaxy-class battlecruiser falls from the heavens. Immediately, the great bruised mass is upon the hulking remains.

He is uncomfortably reminded of that ridiculous nightmare he used to have about being phagocytosed by a giant amoeba (he longs for such innocent days, when his bad dreams were the result of his overactive imagination processing tedious microbiology lessons and not recollections of the various horrors he has experienced).

"That would be Alioth. The giant purple cloud monster. Don't ask me who came up with that name. Now if you'll excuse me-" Sigyn turns briskly on her heel and heads off in the direction beyond the NO LOKIS sign.

"Wha- hold on! You're just going to leave?You're leaving me to that thing??"

"Oh please, you'll have plenty of time before it gets here. Besides," she mutters, "You're a Loki. There's a thousand of you in this Norns forsaken wasteland. Trust me, if there's one thing you all do very well, it's survive."

Her words hurt more than he wants to admit. That bad memory loop with Sif had been more painful for obvious reasons, but...he knew what Sif thought of him. Even back then, those words she'd thrown at him had not surprised him.

As a child, he'd always felt special to Sigyn. She'd wanted to be his friend, his own true friend and not just Thor's friend who didn't mind having Loki along for the ride. She'd liked the same things he did. She'd always laughed at his jokes and pranks.

He'd felt like he mattered to her.

Of course that had only made him abominably possessive. He just couldn't abide any other child having her attention. The fear of an insecure wretch - so terrified that if Sigyn looked away even for a moment, she would see something better, that she would find him wanting.

He shouldn't have been surprised when Sigyn did not protest at her father sending her to live with her late mother's relatives on Alfheim when her true powers manifested on the cusp of puberty.

He'd...he'd said such awful things to her before she'd gone. When two people have been friends for centuries, they know exactly what to say to make it hurt. Sigyn had given back as good as she got, but instead of petty childish insults, her accusations had rung with truth.

She'd known why no one wanted to be her friend, she'd known exactly what he'd been doing behind her back - all the tricks, all the schemes, everything he'd done to ensure that none would take his friend from him.

As a parting shot she'd declared that even though he'd been horrid, she had stayed his friend because she had cared about him. That he had been special to her and she hadn't wanted to lose him either.

It was one thing to lose his only friend besides his brother - it was another to know that all his fears had been naught but smoke and mirrors. That he had been awful, that he'd made Sigyn sad and disappointed for absolutely nothing.

She had returned to Asgard.

Eventually.

Týr could only use the excuse of his daughter's magical education for so long. Someone of her abilities was too important an asset for the Allfather to ignore.

In the end, they had come to a reconciliation (of sorts) because they were tired of avoiding each other.

Or perhaps, the more simple truth (that neither would have admitted to) was that they missed each other.

They were never again as close as they'd been as children, but they'd stayed friends (or friendly at least). On good enough terms that the Warriors Four had not sought her out to spin their tale of treachery and magical incursion (Sigyn certainly would have been the ideal person to subdue a treacherous, power-mad and magically gifted regent). But not on good enough terms that he would have approached her for help in his ill-conceived scheme to delay Thor's coronation (perhaps events would have played out more favourably if he'd had someone to bounce ideas off).

That had been his Sigyn anyway. The one who didn't even exist now. Reset into non-existence by the TVA along with everything else on the timeline he'd been taken from.

Did you mourn, he'd asked his brother.

We all did.

He wonders if the Sigyn he'd known had mourned him.

The Sigyn briskly walking away now seems ill-inclined to mourn any Loki. What had the Loki of her timeline done to make her want to have nothing to do with him? He isn't sure if he wants to know.

He is tired. So very, very tired. Tired of feeling responsible for things he has not done (yet? is it really destiny if your life is just a series of bullet points on a checklist created and enforced by a totalitarian bureaucratic organization built by person or persons unknown?). Tired of not being able to do anything to make amends for the things that he actually is responsible for.

Except...he can.

Sigyn isn't a memory construct, she is real, she is here.

It's just one thing, one little thing and it is paltry compared to the other ill-deeds he has committed (and the ones he is fated to commit)-

But it's something at least.

Loki catches up to her easily (being roughly a head taller has its advantages) and grabs the end of her staff.

"Sigyn-"

She fixes him with those sharp, dark eyes and he realises he doesn't know how he's supposed to start this. He swallows past the lump in his throat and says the first word that comes to mind.

"Please."

Her eyes soften just a little, but her mouth remains set in a firm, hard line, and she tries to tug the staff out of his grasp.

He doesn't let go.

"Stop trying to stall me."

"I'm not-" Loki bites back the instinctive protestation and soldiers on. "I need to tell you I'm sorry about what I said before Alfheim and for everything I did before that. I'm sorry that I was selfish, I'm sorry that I didn't trust you, I'm sorry I made you cry and...I'm sorry I wasn't a worthy friend to you."

"...Loki," her voice is soft, "That happened centuries ago. I'm not...I'm not even the Sigyn you need to apologize to."

"You're still Sigyn. You deserve one regardless."

Sigyn has that look on her face. That gentle, pensive consideration tinged with something soft and tender that he can't quite name. She used to look at him like that whenever he did something nice (whether unprompted or as an apology for something not so nice he'd done earlier).

Norns. This is getting awkward. Existential fear at the potential cessation of his existence and his childhood night terrors featuring improbably large unicellular organisms notwitstanding, Loki thinks he might not mind if that giant purple cloud trundled in right now and swallowed him up.

"Well, I'd best get on, hadn't I? Surviving and all that?" He coughs, "I...I'm...it was good to see you again. Thank you for not kneeing me in the crotch mid-apology. I appreciate it."

He turns to leave. He doesn't have a clue where to go, but the opposite direction from the purple cloud monster seems like a good start.

Maybe he'll survive long enough to come across Mobius. Half of him wants to find the man as soon as possible (perhaps also be complimented on his intelligence and the betterment of his moral condition). The other half hopes that he never sees him again (because brainwashed amnesiac variant or not, Mobius has subjected him to very unpleasant situations designed to psychologically shatter him. Loki is the last person in the universe who would hold someone entirely responsible for actions undertaken after their minds have been tampered with, but still. Just because he understands doesn't mean he can forget.)

As for Sylvie...Loki doesn't want to think about it, but if the TVA is smart, they wouldn't prune her. They wouldn't risk a repeat of whatever had happened on Lamentis-1, and since he is already here...

"Catch."

The improbable sound of Sigyn's voice startles him from his ruminations and without thinking his hand shoots up to intercept the small rectangular object wrapped in plastic and foil before it hits his face.

Loki stares at the granola bar (expiry date 12/12/2075) incredulously and then at Sigyn, walking briskly at his side and keeping pace with his long strides.

"I thought you-"

"You looked hungry."

"Sigyn, I believe this is what the Midgardians call 'giving mixed signals'."

"Look," she sighs, "I've been looking for...someone very dear to me for a very long time. I can't deny I feel some resentment for everyone I meet wearing his face. My baggage isn't an excuse for my rough treatment of you. It was unfair of me, and I apologise."

He blinks, not quite sure what to make of what she's telling him. Sigyn had never been one to mince words, she either said exactly what was on her mind or nothing at all.

That she is being deliberately vague and yet throwing up strong implications with her choice of words means that she does not want to lie but believes the truth is not something that he will be happy to hear.

Well, by now he's had a lot of experience dealing with unpleasant truths. Another one added to the pile is hardly going to hurt.

Sigyn has just started drinking from a battered metal canteen when he voices his suspicions.

"It's Theoric, isn't it?"

She chokes and spits out half of her drink.

"What?!" She wheezes, "What in Ymir's hoary arse gave you that idea?!"

"Didn't you fancy him back in-" Loki grimaces, snapping his fingers as he tries to pinpoint the date in question, "That year when burgundy was all the rage. Burgundy, scandalously low necklines and uncomfortably tight trousers."

"I went on a date with him because he was handsome, he was annoying me and I was young and stupid," she sneers, "He tried to put his hand up my skirts an hour into the picnic so trust me, after that I wanted nothing to do with the louse."

Something a little too much like that old familiar selfish anger bubbles up in his chest.

"He dared," he growls, "He dared to put his hands on you. He should have had his filthy paws struck off at the wrist for the insult to your dignity."

"Eat your granola, don't crush it," Sigyn says calmly, "In any case, I resolved the situation quite easily and without bloodshed."

"Shame," Loki mutters. He takes a bite of the now somewhat crumbly Midgardian snack and wrinkles his nose at the taste. "So how did you handle that son of a bitch?"

"I rendered him impotent for a year. I would have kept it permanent but he came crawling on his hands and knees begging for my forgiveness, swearing on the souls of his ancestors never to trouble me again, vowing to gift me his firstborn as my thrall etcetera etcetera..." she shrugs, "What can I say? I'm soft."

Loki doesn't remember the last time he's laughed this hard.

#loki #sigyn #mcu #logyn #more implied than anything #this thing has been sitting in my drafts for a week and a half

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beauty-and-passion · 3 years

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My True Identity: foreshadowing and cruel irony

I promised this analysis long ago. I promised I would have finally started the rewatch.

And here I am. After all this time, it's finally rewatch time.

Before proceeding with this, let me clarify a couple points:

These analyses won't have a clear schedule. As you know, some episodes take a lot of time, while others are much simpler and/or shorter. I will just post every time I finish an analysis.

Not all episodes might be worth an analysis. Some might be fused into one post, others might be completely ignored. That doesn’t mean they’re useless, but only that I personally have nothing to say about them.

For now, I don't plan to talk about episodes I talked about, like DWIT and POF. But who knows, maybe there will be something else to add, when I'll come back to them? Still, for now don't expect anything new for these two episodes.

These are all my personal thoughts, so I could be completely wrong about everything. If you disagree/agree/want to add something, please feel free to do it.

As always, I might talk about all sorts of themes, so read at your own risk.

And now, let's begin.

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An unclear plan

When he looked back at the first episode of what would've become Sanders Sides, Thomas himself admitted he had no clear plan about what he wanted to do. Would he film just a bunch of vlogs with these characters taken from his Vines? Would he do silly, funny sketches and talk about some random theme every time? He had no idea.

And this episode shows it: it really looks more like a simple, light-hearted vlog with funny characters, rather than what it would've become.

And this is probably what makes it a very intriguing start. Looking at it in retrospect, you can find a lot of stuff. You can see a lot of cruel irony, considering what these characters are saying and who is saying what. You can see a lot of points that will actually be discussed throughout the series. And you can even notice a lot of foreshadowing.

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The main point of Sanders Sides

[Thomas]: Do I really know myself as well as I should? (...) I need to have a sit-down with myself, figure myself out, and maybe come to a better understanding that we all could learn from! Let’s do this!

This first episode might not take the future developments of the series into consideration, but the main point was still here.

Thomas doesn't know himself well enough. There's a lot he has to figure out. He needs to talk with himself and learn more.

Considering who are the last two sides Thomas learned about, this is just adorable. Look at this young Thomas, so cute and naive, thinking: "Oh yes, I will learn more about myself and it will all be fun and games! :DDD". So adorable, he has no idea what the future has in store for him.

This also connects to another point I mentioned in my analysis about the Dark Sides: before starting the series, Thomas didn't know his sides well enough. And we can see it in the way they interact between them and with Thomas.

For example, this part:

[Morality]: And no matter what, no one knows you better than yourself. Am I right, Tony? [Thomas]: Not my name. [Morality]: Then what is it?

I know it was a joke, but it was also a confirmation. Not even his own heart knows him well. Thomas never truly spoke with his sides - and they never truly spoke between them. They've always played a role - the teacher, the prince, the dad. Now they can start knowing each other.

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Possible foreshadowing about Roman's arc

[Thomas]: Like, okay, relationships (...) where do I stand in those regards? [Princey]: I have a pretty ideal vision of love... There's someone out there for me... One true love... [Logic]: But you tend to overthink things, rule out possibilities with logic, dream up obstacles with each new connection you make... [Thomas]: And that when the anxiety kicks in. Maybe that’s why I haven’t found a person for me yet.

Oh boy, I can feel the last episodes and Asides looming over me.

Let's analyze each part of this conversation:

1) Thomas (and Roman) has a pretty ideal vision of love. One true love waiting for him. And now, guess what? Thomas is in love with Nico. And we all remember how Roman welcomed the idea of this new love in their lives.

[Roman]: I so... SO badly want this. I- I'm desperate for it...

And also how amazed he was, when they came back home:

[Roman]: A POET! To top it all off, he's a poet!

Considering the above premises, would it be so difficult for Roman to start idealizing this relationship with Nico? To consider Nico the “one true love” he talked about? To put him on a pedestal and, at the same time, search inside him all the characteristics the one true love should have?

This could lead to a very interesting possibility: Thomas putting Nico under the pressure of being his perfect man, to have all those characteristics his dreamy, romantic side wants to see. All while considering him incredibly perfect to the point of becoming inhuman.

All of this could end up only one way: scaring Nico. Maybe to the point of driving him away from Thomas.

2) Thomas overthinks, “rule out possibilities with logic” and dreams up obstacles. Could this also be a possible foreshadowing?

At the end of FWSA, when Thomas asked if they were ready for this relationship, Virgil stopped smiling, all while the camera slowly zoomed on him. The message was clear: Virgil isn’t ready for a change yet.

So we have Roman, who sees Nico as the perfect, ideal man of his dreams. And we have Virgil, afraid of changes, overthinker by nature and prone to self-deprecation.

The ingredients are all here: it is very possible that Thomas/Roman will put Nico on a pedestal and, the moment Nico is scared by Roman's adoration, Virgil starts to freak out and to talk bad about himself, because why someone so perfect and dreamy like Nico would ever love someone like Thomas?

This could potentially lead to a heated confrontation between Virgil and Roman that could be the metaphorical last nail on the coffin: Roman is already hurt because Patton sided with Janus. Nico drifting away from Thomas and Virgil's self-deprecation might convince him that yes, Thomas is truly bad and unworthy of love like Virgil says. He himself is bad and unworthy because he's not the perfect Creativity he should be.

And this can be a great starting point for his character arc.

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OH THE IRONY part 1: no one learned anything (yet)

[Morality]: But that’s okay. The important thing to keep in mind is nobody’s perfect. Everyone comes with their own flaws. [Thomas]: Including me. [Princey]: Yes, someone will accept us, flaws and all. Until that day, I shall learn to love... myself.

Oh hey, look: the end of POF and Roman who still hasn't learnt nothing.

Jokes aside, I love how Patton is the one who says that everybody has flaws, but he excludes Thomas. It's Thomas himself who says he has flaws as well.

Doesn't that remind you of anything? Like this moment in SvS?

[Patton]: Well... Nobody's perfect... Except for Thomas! He loves his friends!

Patton saw Thomas as perfect and pure from the start. I love this, because it's very subtle and you don't notice it - until the events of SvS and POF.

But while Patton is finally learning (after almost 30 episodes) that Thomas isn't perfect, Roman is still very far from his goal of loving himself.

That's probably why he needs a romance this much: by focusing on someone else, he can easily ignore how much he doesn't like himself and his flaws.

And hey, I can even guess the name of these "flaws" he doesn't like so much.

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These words are not foreshadowing at all

[Logic]: Um... Are we bringing up flaws now? Because if so, get ready to take a lot of notes. [Thomas]: Oh, uh... [Logic]: -continuing- Okay, you ready? Here we go. You procrastinate A LOT. [Morality]: You can be a bit selfish with your food and your other belongings... [Princey]: You’re definitely not the most adventurous person... [Thomas]: Okay, maybe this was a bad idea if I'm supposed to be learning to love myself. [Logic]: Ah, but remember, everyone has flaws.

Let's not forget that Thomas still had no clear plan, while filming this episode. This was supposed to be just a vlog.

But look at how the universe made these characters say these things. Look at dear sweet Patton, bringing up Thomas’ selfishness. How cute, he really has no idea what episodes are waiting for him.

And Roman brings up Thomas’ fear of changes. Awww, how cute, he has NO IDEA of the guy that will become his worst nightmare and his bestie at the same time <3

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OH THE IRONY part 2: just look who's talking

[Morality]: Well, it’s important to be nice to ourselves and cut ourselves some slack every once in a while... [Princey]: Wouldn’t want to be our own villain, would we?

LOOK WHO’S TALKING.

Just look at the absolute irony of Mr. Selflessness talking about the importance of being nice to ourselves. Mr. Thomas-Should-Be-A-Martyr saying that cutting us some slack is good.

All while Mr. I-Thought-I-Was-Your-Hero tells us that we don’t want to be our own villain, right? Right?

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Three fundamental questions

[Princey]: Well, what do you wish to look for in a relationship? What are you hoping to gain from having another person in your life? [Thomas]: Um... I don’t know. Someone who’s a nice compliment to me... someone who wants a long stable relationship... someone who indulges in the same sense of humor, and um... someone who can binge-watch cartoons with me.

This might be considered another foreshadowing of Thomas and Nico's relationship - maybe even the solution of the drama that will take place, after Roman and Virgil's fight we suggested before. The best solution: not putting Nico on a pedestal and seeing him as the perfect man, but appreciating him for who he is, for the normal guy he is - a guy Thomas loves and nothing else.

[Logic]: With everything you've learned, what do you wish to do with your education? [Thomas]: Ooh... I am not sure... I’d love to figure out ways to help the environment. Science was always my strong point and I love chemistry.

As I said multiple times, I think Thomas' decision to leave chemical engineering and become an actor will play a huge role in Logan's arc. And this question slighty hints at this.

At this point in time, Thomas still wants to use his education in a fruitful way. He still wants to use science, it's still his main goal. Doing silly videos is just an addition. "A good start", as he said:

[Thomas]: I think just being able to put out silly light-hearted content into the world is kind of a good start. It makes me really happy to do that. [Logic]: Well there you go. A good foundation.

And that's how Logan considers it as well: just a foundation. Not something that will take a huge part of Thomas' life. These videos are just a start.

This explains his reactions in the following episodes, especially how much he insisted on Thomas having a real job: after all, these videos are not something serious. Why focusing so much on them?

This could potentially be the starting point of Logan's increasing frustration and the reason of his final snap in season 3, that would also start his character arc.

But Patton’s question is what really surprises me:

[Morality]: What positive impacts do you inevitably hope to bring to this world?

Not only this screams POF, but it shows something for the first time: that Patton is silly, but he’s also clever. He’s not a complete idiot. He likes to be silly, he IS silly, but this question proves he's a lot more mature than he seems.

And if you think this is just a one-time thing, don't worry, we'll see it again in the future.

Is this a foreshadowing of my next analysis? Well, the episode was all foreshadowing, why can't I foreshadow something as well? ;)

( Support me on Ko-fi )

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TAGLIST:

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#sanders sides #sanders sides theory #rewatch #thomas sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts patton #ts roman #ts logan #remus sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #ts remus #ts virgil #ts janus #my true identity #analysis

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herenortherenearnorfar · 3 years

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This Tornado Tolerates And Respects You

A little story about Gothmog and orcs that I’ll probably put on other sites later. But for now, a tumblr exclusive! CW for the terrible reproductive politics of evil (implied reproductive coercion, forced childbearing, light eugenics), orc awfulness, disdain for incarnates, radiation poisoning, chemical weapons, Fingon’s fate, mentions of cannibalism, malnourishment, ear cropping, and all of the above with the implied harm to children.

Orcs, Lord Melkor’s special pet project, a blasphemy first and a strategic asset second, didn’t make the best troops. They could swarm over a target in a useful mass of bodies but they lacked skill and drive. For the Captain of Angband’s own force of fire and shadow, spirits sprung free from the tyranny of the Valar, orcs were a sea of troublesome bodies, cluttering up the field of battle. More flesh to whip through, barbed wire quick, more lungs to choke with lime gas. An annoyance, not an ally.

He didn’t have very high expectations of them as a source of soldiers and there were very few individual orcs who he respected. Gorfaunt was one of those rare exceptions.

They’d fought on the same battlefield under the taunting stars, in those blissful days before the heavens changed, and he’d been impressed by the orc commanders ability to marshal troops. Very few in that division ended up trampled beneath Balrog feet. Even the retreat was prompt, almost orderly, without sacrificing that wild spirit which was one of the orcs’ few redeeming qualities.

When it came time to capture the stripling-king of the elves he’d requested Gorfaunt’s orcs in particular. Once again they’d proven their mettle and the commander had become of of the Captain’s favorites. If orcs had to be stationed next to their betters it was preferable that it be Gorfaunt’s orcs, who knew how to comport themselves and could fight near Balrogs without dying in droves.

Now with the latest glorious battle (and another successful collaboration, the Captain still glowed at the memory of the Noldor’s latest king cracking open to spill his red insides over his silver banner) behind them and Lord Melkor demanding Nargothrond and Gondolin, they met once a month to strategize, share intelligence, and complain about everyone else. To an outsider they might have passed as friends. There was less formality between the two of them than another high general of the iron fortress might have demanded, they sat at the same table and spoke freely.

(The Lieutenant still asked commanders to bow before him; that was why even his own troops called him Sauron behind his back. Gothmog was a superior appellation, less insulting, more fearful, but he still didn’t hasten to encourage its use.)

Despite their surface level amicability and the handful of tried-and-true inside jokes—mostly having to do with how enemies had died— they could bat at each other, they knew very little about each other’s lives. Meat and smoke only mixed when making a brisket, trying to relate two such different ways of being seemed impossible.

But when he saw Gorfaunt waddling into their monthly kvetch with a belly round and swollen like a tick’s, the Captain felt driven to say something. He was the marshal of Angband, he couldn’t let his king’s forces go to seed.

“Are you ill? Cursed?”

Gorfaunt managed to pull out a chair, made for a Balrog three times the size of an orc, and hoist themselves into it with rangy arms. “No? Just five months with a baby kicking around in my insides. The little bugger’s finally starting to show itself.”

That took a second to decipher. “You’re having a baby?”

Of course the Captain knew the basics of how incarnates made more of themselves. It was a topic of great fascination in the old days, when Yavanna was first figuring the system out, and of course the Lieutenant would prattle on about warg breeding to anyone who’d listen. They had sex— another thing that did not come naturally to beings of spirits, though some Maiar had made astounding progress in the field, for pleasure was pleasure and even Nienna’s acolytes sought catharsis and comfort—then there was lots of squishy biology on a level invisible to the incarnates themselves, then a little parasite was somehow blessed with Erú’s fire, to be nurtured until it could nurture itself.

He also knew that orcs, like elves and dwarves, had little distinction between men and womenfolk. Useful when it meant you could channel your entire adult population to battle. Startling when you realized that a key ally had been quietly pregnant for months without you, a greater being able to perceive stalactites growing and the scales on insect wings, noticing.

In truth he’d been doing a lot less noticing of late. His senses were dulling. Perhaps it was the light of the cursed gems, which painted everything in blinding, indistinguishable holiness. Or he was just losing his touch.

If he focused now he could see it. It was easiest to sense on the plane of wraiths. There was Gorfaunt, a guttering candle; wheezing, weak. All orcs had that fire, however dim. No one had managed to fully extinguish it though it had been much suppressed. Tucked against her, nearly imperceptible, was a little spark. Not much yet but given tinder and carefully fanned it could grow. “You’re having a baby,” he marveled.

Gorfaunt’s face was… orcs were hard to read at the best of times, bubbling over with noisy pain and anger that obscured their true emotions, prone to skin diseases and horrendous eye infections that muddled their expressions. She didn’t wear her gas mask around him anymore, though most were quick to cover up around any Maia of Morgoth. It helped little, her face was still opaque as the mountain itself. “Yep, Captain.”

“Good?” You congratulated an ally on a new weapon, a new bond, a promotion. Which one was an infant classified as? What was the correct form?

“Hopefully it’ll be over and the little goblin will be in the caves with the old’uns by the time we find either of the cities.” Gorfaunt provided, only barely contextualizing his felicitations. She was chewing on the inside on her cheek; sometimes she would gnaw until she spat black blood. “Terrible time for it. Terrible time. But the high ups are worried about reinforcements down the line, I suppose.”

Orcs came from orcs. It was a fact so simple it barely bore considering. Another department handled it. The new ones just showed up, springy and long limbed, faces still soft and unmarred. “Goblins” he’d heard older orcs call those fresh pale creatures. Barely even monsters, more like stunted, crepuscular versions of the elves and dwarves they fought.

“How much longer?” They had a few good leads on Nargothrond, a promising word about Túrin Turambar. The Captain could not sack that city himself, the honor had already been promised to the sulfurous worm. Apparently they wanted to test the mettle of these dragons. But Gothmog could assign a few good orc commanders to supervise, make sure the worm was not overstepping his bounds.

Dark blood trickled out of the corner of Gorfaunt’s mouth. “Five months, I’m told. Could be more, could be less. Then I have to wait until the thing is independent enough to leave alone, that’s another few months.” She was probably counting months as the orcs had started to, by the moon. Wretched traitor, Tilion, who’d laughed with them at the idea of running away then turned his face when the time came to flee for freedom. They hated it as much as everyone else but in their hatred they were aware of its cycles. They rejoiced when it went dark.

“You’ll still be able to manage your underlings?” Orcs, and freed Maiar, were fractious. They did not respect a leader who lacked the strength to force them to obey. It could be exhausting. And Gorfaunt was already so round. The Captain did not wish to lose her support over one orcling.

“I think so. So far… in old days you’d den up somewhere for a year, avoid everyone prowling for blood, but I don’t want to fight my way up the ranks again. I’ve got an ax and I’m using it.” Despite that she sounded tired.

Long heartbeats stretched between them, that exquisite embarrassment of two coworkers suddenly forced to talk about private affairs.

“This is your first,” the Captain didn’t reach the tone of a question with that one.

“Yes. The recruiters were getting growly so I grabbed a fellow. I’ve been avoiding it for too long.”

“You don’t want a child.” Again, not quite a question. He was feeling it out as he goes along. This is the longest conversation about orc reproduction he’s ever paid attention to, for the Lieutenants diatribes we’re always dull.

It was no matter to him, except that this was the only orc commander he could tolerate working with and she was chewing through her own cheek in discomfort.

“They take something from you,” Gorfaunt admitted. “Dame and sire both, but worse for the dame since she has to carry the clot. You go… stretchy. Bleached like old bone. I’ve seen soldiers and after twenty children they’re not good for anything but shoving onto a line of pikes. Raw meat for the wargs.”

That didn’t make sense to him, but he was never a scholar of flesh or spirit. He knew how a skull split and how a soul fled, how this matter-sprung life withered, how it died. That was all that counted. He also knew how to value a resource.

“There won’t be any after this,” he said firmly. “Not if you don’t want them.” If need be he’d escalate to Lord Melkor, frame it as sapping strength from their command structure and propose making officers off limits from breeding programmes.

“As you command, Captain,” she said with a bowed head, but she looked gratifyingly relieved, and their conversation could finally move on to the latest stories of occupied territories and the search for the hidden cities.

The next few months Gorfaunt somehow managed to get bigger and bigger, until she was no longer able to swing herself into a chair and had to take their meeting standing. Her leather armor no longer fit and with just a thin layer of rags over her distended stomach it was easy to see the squirming creature inside.

Ferocious little animal. It would go so still and then kick out again, as if it could burst free of its creator by force of will alone. The kernel of its mind was forming too, a hazy bubble of sensation and half formed emotion. He could see what had the Lieutenant fascinated. It wasn’t his field but it was morbidly interesting, seeing the shape of something new and moldable come together right in front of you.

But he had not been made a sculptor or a craftsman. He’d been born a wild thing, a tornado, a volcano, every disaster meant to fell cities, and though he had not known the words yet he’d sensed in his core, seen in glimpses in the song, that he was a creature of war. Like many other wild things—Ossë, the simpering coward tied up in Uinen’s tresses, excluded— he’d found his way to Melkor in the end. Oh, he’d idled for a time with Vána, heard Námo’s dolorous call, but it was Melkor who he came back to and Melkor who he picked in the end.

Melkor taught him so many more ways to be. The smoke, the blood, the screaming not in sorrow but in anger. He taught the others who came to him as well. In the Captain’s little squad alone there was one who learned the slaver’s whip and the threat of fire, one who learned the ooze of pus and malodorous air, one who came to appreciate the ravenings of rabid beasts. From the dragons in the treasure-caves to the cat in the kitchen to the vampires in the highest towers, they were all Melkor’s creations.

Gorfaunt, born and raised here in the shadow of his ancient power, was even more Melkor’s than most. This was how the Captain rationalized his continuing fondness for her as she weakened, his interest in her spawn. Works of the same maker might gravitate together. They could see parts of themselves in each other, the way he could once see himself in other Ëalar born of the same bit of song.

When Gorfaunt came in four months after their revelatory meeting with a sagging belly and a bundle nestled against her chest he was excited to finally see what had been made.

It took a bit of coaxing to get her to show him the baby but no orc would outright refuse an order from anyone stronger than them, they knew better than that. The newborn was dutifully unwrapped and presented, though Gorfaunt’s expression suggested that she considered this all a silly waste of time.

It was a rumpled wet creature; mostly skin and bones, with a cranium as big as its rounded torso. Small too, barely bigger than Gorfaunt’s hand, and Gorfaunt was smaller than all elves and many humans; based on overheard complaints failure to grow was an ongoing issue with their kind. When it was unswaddled sticklike limbs flailed out and began batting at the air ineffectually. Despite this wriggling its face remained in a sleepy scowl. It wasn’t until Gothmog moved one cherry-hot finger closer to it that it opened its hazy grey eyes and tried to focus on him. Even then the dismayed frown stayed put.

An unscarred orc was always an interesting sight; for it revealed the scale of their reworking. How much orcishness was self-replicating, as the Lieutenant liked to claim, and how much had to be beaten in? This one had a droopy brow bone and already peeling corpse-grey skin but it did not look much like an orc besides that. It even had hair, which most orcs lacked (aside from a few lank patches). The fine red down covered its whole body, thickest on the head and face and arms.

“It’s supposed to fall out,” Gorfaunt said, “Everyone says it’ll fall out soon. Even the prisoners lose their hair after a while, especially in the deep mines.”

That was probably because of the miasma of decay that emanated from the ores of Angband. Not macro-decay, of skin and bone (that came later) but the infitesimal decay. Every piece of metal— every piece of existence, when you got down to it— was made of little stars. There was a gaseous center of energy and little orbiting specks around that, spinning in probabilistic loops. Like stars some were bigger and some were smaller and some were ready to collapse. Ilmarë loved to speak of supernovas. The yellow and blue metals below the mountain were full of little stars collapsing, reforming, giving off energy in great sums as they did so.

The Captain had noted the negative effects of this energetic output on incarnates some time ago. Elves sickened and humans just died— Lord Melkor had moved the man he hoped would give him the location of Gondolin far from those mines for a reason. A few of the spirits with natures inclined towards metal, salt, and industry had already incorporated the burning energy into their signatures. The Lieutenant doubtless had some wicked little experiment running with it. It was a part of life here, that background hum of a trillion crumbling particles, and the Captain never thought of the effect on orcs, though they were exposed from birth.

Now that he focused he could see the little crumbs of decay glancing off the baby.

Hmm.

It would probably be fine.

It was already rubbing its eyes and going back to sleep, one hand curled next to a crumpled, not-yet-cropped ear.

“Are you recovered?” he asked Gorfaunt.

“I’m fit enough to fight,” she said shortly, defensively, as if afraid he’d snatch her command from her. “I’ll be better soon when this thing is gone.”

The Captain’s huge palm hovered over her infant. He knew better than to touch; his ability to change forms was not what it once was, he could not stop being a bipedal avalanche, to strong, too close, too dangerous. Even just containing the noxious gases— the pustulent yellow and choking green— simmering inside this war shaped body was difficult. If he kept a few feet distance the chaotic heat of his skin faded into the air and the baby wriggled contentedly in the ambient glow, like a little lizard.

“And how long will that be?”

Gorfaunt’s hand twitched. Another few months, till it can manage worm meal and listen to the grands.”

It seemed impossible that anything could be big enough to leave alone in such a short time; but incarnation was not the Captain’s specialty. “And that’s the accepted practice?”

“A little young, but safe now that the master put a stop to the baby eating problem.”

“I wouldn’t want it to be a concern,” the Captain said very seriously, even though his fingers curled slightly around the baby’s limp body. “We can make modifications if the child must stay longer.”

Gorfaunt glanced down at her sprawled offspring. “I don’t— I don’t want this to last any longer. I’d rather have my life go back to normal.”

That, at least, he could understand. It has been a rather troubling experience overall. Revelations are not always useful and though he’s gained some knowledge it’s not very practical stuff.

“One more question, commander, then I’ll drop the matter. What is it named??”

That nascent mind bubble had sharpened with time and experience but was still comprised mostly of sensation. He could not even grasp at a basic sense of self. The child’s mother should know what if calls itself, if anyone did.

(He wanted to remember the name, for forty years from now, when he needed more good orcs. All those rants about the fundamentals of inheritance left him with some ideas about how incarnates develop traits. Another Gorfaunt would be a helpful tool to have on hand.)

The question left Gorfaunt unimpressed. “It doesn’t name itself anything yet, it hasn’t got the common sense. And no one’s given it a name because it hasn’t done anything interesting.”

“It has an interesting look” the Captain pointed out, “Tell them to call it Red Cap,” he slipped into the elf tongue, which had better color words than the one the Lieutenant devised, and in the process accidentally named the child after a former king of the Noldor. “Or something like that.”

Gorfaunt apparently had a better memory for politics than he gave her credit for, or perhaps just a distaste for the elf cant, because she quickly translated it back into Angband’s crackly tongue . “Rotbint.”

“Yes.” A Balrog, even the chief of Balrogs, could not give much to something so soft and incarnadine. A name, incorporeal, existing in the plane the Captain knew best, was the only thing he could offer. “Now, to business?”

Gorfaunt wrapped the little creature away— it woke halfway through the rolling to stare at them once more— then tucked it against her chest.

The Captain was sad to see it go, though he couldn’t say why.

He remembered that he had come to this physical world for a reason once. He had wanted to see all there was to see, to feel and taste everything, chew chunks of Arda up and spit it out new. Disasters hungered as much as anyone. Yet all he’d had lately was war fare; blood-soaked mud and rage-tinged fear.

Deprived of fresh experiences, he clung to the potential, the novelty, of new life.

Perhaps Gondolin would see him out of his funk, he thought. It couldn’t hide forever.

“We’ll find it, Captain,” Gorfaunt assured him stubbornly. “And we’ll tear it down brick by brick, raze their gardens, fill their streets with blood.”

Even with a baby trying to gum her collarbone her firm tone allowed no questions.

Orcs were, as a rule, bothersome, unruly, walking corpses. Fractious, ugly, difficult, bothersome, recklessly stupid. The Maiar serving under the Captain were sometimes stereotyped as simpleminded brutes but at least they were able to perceive the world around them, even if few bothered to use that perception. In comparison orcs were stumbling around in the dark. They were inefficient as well, you needed three of them to take down any decent enemy. But when they were well made they were well made. Those were the ones that made it all worth it.

It had to be worth it. This was freedom, after all.

#the silmarillion #gothmog #orcs #silmarillion fanfiction #angband #fanfic #Sauron gets some mentions

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sculderfan · 3 years

Text

Never Give Up On A Miracle

Also on AO3

Mulder sat quiet, not daring to breathe, not daring to hope, the anger in his gut white hot as it burned out of control. Here he was again, at her bedside and this time was just too Goddamned close. ‘Why?’ He asked of Whatever it was “out there”. ‘Why are you doing this, what’s your grand plan?’

Scully’s faith had always been such a part of everything she was. Her unbending Irish Catholicism had always been the one thing she counted on. He knew this, because she had told him this many, many times.

“I just wish I could believe”, he murmured. “but how can I when You keep pulling this shit?”

He slowly got to his feet, his knees aching with their refusal to kneel and pray. Walking to the window, he looked up at the sky where a shadow of a sliver of moon floated in the not night of the city lights. Leaning his forehead on the cool glass of the window, he closed his eyes over tears of pain left over from years of loss and broken hopes.

“I can’t.” he cried softly, “I can’t!”

The door to the hospital room opened softly and a nurse entered. She was tall and sturdy, with dark hair cut in a short bob. Mulder turned as she entered and was met with the kindest, most loving gaze he could remember. She smiled gently and reached out to touch his arm. The anger that had been raging within him at the unfairness of the situation and his own impotency to do anything dissipated with that one touch. He felt the love coming from this woman in a wave that quenched the burning embers of his soul and instead left a soft wonder.

“I’m Nurse Owens”. She said. “I’m here to care for Dana.”

“I’m ….” The lump in his throat kept him from speaking.

“I know.” She said moving towards the bed where Scully lay unconscious. “It’s so hard when they’re beyond our reach. We just have to trust and have faith.” She looked up at the sound of Mulder’s derisive snort and waited until he met her gaze.

“You always have wondered how she never wavered. How she always believed so fully in the face of challenges. Faith knows that no matter what the situation, in our lives or someone else's that things will turn out for good; that there’s something bigger than us at work, guiding us; watching out for us.

You think yourself a non-believer, yet you trust so deeply. Your faith in her would stun her if she could feel it.”

“How do you know?” he asked quietly, overwhelmed that someone he just met would know him so well.

“I know.” She said almost in a whisper.

Nurse Owens bent to softly kiss Scully’s forehead and looked up at Mulder standing by the window, transfixed by grief and the feelings he wasn’t used to experiencing. “You were right to come tonight. Dana has a choice to make and you always are at her side for the hard ones. She needs you here.”

She straightened the sheet covering her patient lovingly and left the room almost without sound leaving Mulder in the not-silence of beeping monitors and Scully softly breathing.

Walking slowly to her bedside, he gently took her hand as if it were a fragile baby bird. He stood silently, the truth within him swirling in his gut and squeezing the breath from his lungs.

“Scully, I hope you can hear me.” He said choking on the lump in his throat. “I’m here. I have to tell you. You can’t leave me. Please! I need you…. I …I… I love you” he sobbed.

He crumpled at her bedside to his knees, his forehead bowed, remembering all the times he could have said something but was too scared by the enormity of what he felt for the diminutive redhead, her prone form belying the strength and power she had within her. His lips found the back of her hand, disturbed by the loop of IV tubing taped there.

“Scully, please”, he whispered. “Come back to me”.

The IV pump started alarming on the other side of the as the infusion was complete. One of the other nurses came in quietly to check it and turn it off, looking at the broken man before him. His own eyes burned with tears for the shattered man before him. Mulder didn’t even look up. Another person entered and spoke softly to the nurse.

“Time to drain the tubing and do my vent check. How’s she doing tonight, Mike?”

“Holding her own”. Said the nurse.

The Respiratory Therapist nodded and stepped over to where Mulder knelt in front of the vent. She lightly rested her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Sir, but I need to get behind you. Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you?”

Mulder looked up into young old eyes. The RT didn’t look like she had been long out of high school yet had a wisdom and a weariness of having seen too many things for her age. No judgment was there, only kindness. He sniffed and stood up, moving out of her way but still holding Scully’s hand.

“Sorry” he mumbled.

“Oh it’s no problem,” she said, “I just need to do my vent check and I’ll be out of here.”

As she was checking the seal of the tubing and the machine breathing for the woman in the bed, she reached over and thumbed the nurse call button. Mulder heard the beeping outside the room and Mike came back in, looking askance at the standing occupants.

“You rang?” he said with a small smirk.

“Yeah, Thought you should know, she’s starting to fight the vent. Might want to let her doc know”.

Just then the alarms began going off on the monitors and the ventilator. Mike quickly went to assess the patient and the screens. Assuring Mulder that this was probably nothing while he urged him out of the room, he quickly pulled the curtains. Closed out and dismissed, Mulder looked around, seeing the hospital around him for the first time in hours. He stepped to the Nurses’ Station.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“Hard to tell, we’ll see. Don’t worry. Mike’s one of the best and Tabitha knows her stuff.” The nurse at the desk told him. “Why don’t you go get something to eat while they’re busy? You’ve been there for hours without a break. You’re no use to her if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Mulder was obviously not in the same world she was, so she stood and reached across the desk to him, lightly touching his arm. “Agent Mulder. I know you don’t want to leave your partner, but you need to take care of yourself. Go. Grab something downstairs. I’ll call you if anything changes, I promise. I have your cell number.”

Mulder nodded slightly and turned to walk off towards the elevators like a lost little boy, each step dragging with the weight of his sadness. The nurse at the desk watched him go and shook her head, sitting back down. “Hmph,” she mumbled. “Just partners my ass”. At the next desk, another nurse smirked and shook his head.

“I know, right?” he said. “Who does he think he’s fooling? That man is in love!”

Just then Mike came out of Scully’s room with a kilowatt smile. “Call Dr. Daly. Stat! I think we’re waking up! Too early to tell, yet. ”

“No shit?! Well, all right!” she said reaching for the phone as Mike returned to his patient.

***

Mulder wasn’t hungry as he came out of the elevator, but he knew the nurse upstairs had been right. He had to eat something. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything. He got himself a cup of coffee and a bagel, almost breaking down again as he reached for the silver foil packet of cream cheese – they had regular and light. ‘I’ll never let her eat light cream cheese again’, he thought to himself, remembering how she always made it a point to go light or diet conscious whenever possible. He chucked to himself at her constant war against calories. He found a table off to the side and sat down, lost in his thoughts.

“Excuse me. Mr. Mulder, is it?”

He looked up to see the Scully family priest, Father McCue standing there.

“I thought it was you. I was in the hospital for another parishioner and was going to stop in to see Dana while I was here. You look like you could use a friend.”

Mulder motioned for him to have a seat. With a sigh, he told him what he knew and didn’t know. There was something about the man that just made it easy to talk to him.

“You know she has to make up her own mind about this. Dana has always been a stubborn little thing.”

“You’ve known her a long time?”

“Her mother and I go way back, to before she married Bill. We were in school together. I know all the Scullys. Look, Mr. Mulder. I don’t know if you are a religious man, but I think you know there’s more than meets the eye out there. Sometimes you just have to have faith that things will work out. It’s hard sometimes in the face of struggle, but you can’t give up on miracles.”

Just then Mulder’s cell phone rang. He almost dumped his coffee on the priest in his hurry to get it out of his pocket. As he listened to the caller, a smile began and grew. He looked over at the priest as he disconnected the call and held out his hand.

“You’re absolutely right, Father. Miracles happen every day. Scully woke up. I have to go.”

As he hurried out of the cafeteria with a spring in his step, Father McCue looked heavenward and smiled to himself and nodded.

#txf a little angst mulder has faith one breath

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bellakitse · 3 years

Text

part of the deal (of loving you)

Carlos reminds TK that worrying about him is part of loving him.

Written for @carlosreyesweek - Day 1: “I love you, but stop talking” + fluff

Carlos Reyes has learned many things about himself in the year and a half of dating one Tyler Kennedy Strand.

He’s learned that he’s capable of having more love in his heart for one person than he ever thought possible. He’s learned that soulmates are real and that his, is a brave, cocky, tenderhearted, often bratty firefighter. He’s also learned that TK’s health and safety are vital to his mental state. Unfortunately, given that his boyfriend is all the previously said things – brave, cocky, and a damn brat – Carlos’ mental health is continuously getting tested.

He gets the call from Judd. The deep, aggravated sigh the cowboy lets out when he says hello, tells him what kind of call it’s going to be. “Man, come get your idiot boyfriend. Michelle says he might have a concussion, and someone needs to watch him.”

Carlos isn’t sure what sound escapes his throat, but it causes Judd to mutter under his breath.

“He’s fine,” he assures him. His tone tells Carlos that the older man is looking for patience and finding none. “But he took his helmet off before the all-clear in a house fire earlier, and a bit of the house fell on him. Michelle says he doesn’t have to go to the hospital, but he needs a sitter.”

Judd stops for a moment, and Carlos can hear someone shouting in the background.

“Yes, you do because you’re obviously an accident-prone baby!” Judd yells back, making Carlos wince, both at the comment’s volume and the words themselves. Knowing who they’re directed at, he knows they aren’t well-received. “Seriously man, come and get him. Cap is still out of town on that conference of his, and I already have an infant at home. I don’t need one at work too.”

Carlos sighs as he hears more grumbling from the other side of the call. “I’m coming,” he says, already heading for the door. “Stop antagonizing him.”

Judd chuckles, his petty amusement clear. “But he makes it so easy.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, praying for patience himself. That’s another thing he’s learned to have more of since TK Strand came into his life. “Don’t make me call Grace on you.”

The silence he’s met with makes him smile for the first time since the call started – and when Judd calls him a dick, he’s finally calm enough to enjoy it.

֍֍֍

He arrives at the firehouse fifteen minutes later, shaving off at least eight minutes of his usual time by turning on the extra light bar he keeps on his Camaro. He parks at the side of the building, hurrying out of the car in his need to get to his boyfriend. As he makes his way through the firehouse’s bay doors, he spots Nancy first. He gets a knowing smile from the pretty EMT, and, with a finger towards the station’s common area, she shows him where he needs to go. Carlos flashes her a grateful smile of his own before heading in the direction she pointed at.

He finds the usual suspects lounging around in the living room. Paul, who is to the side eating a banana, sees him first. He gives him a smirk around his mouthful, jerking his head towards the couches.

There, in the middle, with Buttercup on his lap, sits his boyfriend. He seems determined to focus hard on the dog as he pets him, ignoring the mean look Judd is giving him from the sofa across from him. Marjan sits next to TK, stroking his hair the way TK is doing with Buttercup, while poor Mateo sits a little farther away, looking anxious the same way the poor kid always looks when someone from the team gets hurt.

He clears his throat, drawing their attention while his focus goes to TK. He looks okay, at least physically. The thundercloud that is currently his face is a whole other story.

Marjan gets up from the couch, leaving the space open for him, and Carlos squeezes her arm in thanks as he passes her. Sitting down next to his boyfriend, he finds his pretty green eyes already watching him. The frown on TK’s face causing a wrinkle between his brows.

“Judd shouldn’t have called you,” he says, shooting his friend a dark look before turning back to him. “I’m fine.”

Carlos lets out a deep breath. It’s echoed by more than one person in the room, causing TK’s frown to deepen further. “TK, I love you,” he starts to say, hoping the declaration will lessen the sting of what he says next. “But stop talking nonsense.”

Judd lets out a snort at his words before getting up from the sofa, silently signaling everyone to follow him out of the room and leave them alone. Sensing TK’s turbulent mood, even Buttercup gets up from his special spot on his favorite person’s lap, also going away. Smart dog.

Once alone, they’re left in silence as TK stews. Carlos studies his boyfriend, taking in his shoulders’ tight lines and the way he clenches his hands.

“Hey,” he whispers, getting a little worried by TK’s strange mood. “What’s going on?”

TK doesn’t answer. Instead, he bites down on his bottom lip hard enough that it looks painful, making Carlos wince. He reaches out, pressing his thumb on it, pleased by the gasp TK lets out at the touch. As a result, his mouth parts, finally releasing that poor lip.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he says, hoping his voice is calm and reassuring. Patience, he remembers, is the key to TK.

TK looks at him; those green eyes of his are thankfully clear, as Carlos also remembers that Michelle checked him for a concussion. It takes him a moment to notice the blush working its way over TK’s face. His eyes distracting Carlos as usual.

“I’m embarrassed,” TK finally tells him in a low voice. “That was such a rookie mistake,” he continues, rolling his eyes at himself. “I know I’m not supposed to take my helmet off before we’re clear. It was stupid of me.”

“No,” Carlos shakes his head. He just hates the downtrodden look on TK’s face. “Sometimes mistakes happen, baby, but you’re an amazing firefighter. Okay?”

TK shrugs his shoulders, not agreeing but thankfully not disagreeing either.

Carlos looks at him again, the first thing TK said when he came in coming back to him. “Why didn’t you want Judd to call me, Ty?” he questions quietly, concerned.

TK lets out a sigh before he reaches out, touching his hand. There is a small smile on his face when Carlos turns his hand to intertwine their fingers. “You already worry so much about me,” he says, not adding anything else.

He doesn’t have to; Carlos can hear the rest of the thought without TK speaking them out loud.

Almost two years into knowing him and it still breaks Carlos’ heart that TK thinks he might be a bother to him. But unlike when they first started, he understands now where it comes from. Growing up with loving but often absent parents and then later a boyfriend that ignored him has conditioned TK to think he’s too much to deal with. When they first started, Carlos didn’t know how to fix it. Now, he understands it’s not about fixing it but helping TK realize it isn’t true for himself.

“Do you worry about me when I’m at work?” he asks, biting down on the urge to smile at the wide-eyed look TK gives him.

“Of course,” he rushes to say. “I always worry about you.”

“Hmm,” Carlos hums, all-consuming love for the man in front of him coursing through his veins. “Why is that?”

TK frowns deeply. “Well, I love you, of course, I–“ he trails off, eyes narrowing as Carlos finally grins, amused. “You think you’re slick, don’t you?” he says with a grumble that makes Carlos laugh.

“I think that I love you,” he corrects him, smile still in place as TK gives him a soft, almost shy look. “As much as you love me. I think we have jobs that involve risk, and I worry about you every time you clock in. Something I think you’re familiar with.”

“Yeah,” TK whispers, letting out a breath. “Yeah, I do.”

“Yeah,” Carlos agrees softly. “We’re always going to worry about each other, baby. It’s part of the deal of loving someone. But we’ll both worry more if we try to keep things from each other, right?”

TK nods, looking remorseful. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Come here,” Carlos says with a small tug on TK’s hand, letting out a content sound as TK immediately turns his body towards him, tucking his face into the crook of Carlos’ neck as he hugs him. He holds him tight, running his hand through TK’s hair the way Marjan had been doing earlier. Smiling into it as he feels TK all but melt under his touch. “How about I take you back to my place? I’ll make you something yummy to eat, and we can relax with a movie as I try to keep you awake for the next few hours, hmm?”

“Throw in some fooling around, and you have yourself a deal,” TK mumbles against his skin, giving his collarbone a quick bite when Carlos laughs.

“You drive a hard bargain, Strand,” he says, still chuckling. He leans in to kiss the tip of TK’s nose as he pulls back to look at him with a silly grin on that face Carlos loves so much. “So, home?”

TK’s smile grows as he nods once more. “Yeah, babe. Take me home.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic #carlosreyesweek2021 #tk x carlos #my writing

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linkspooky · 4 years

Note

What do you think of Mahito, his role in the story's future, and what he might represent? I can't stop thinking of how he literally acts as an antithesis to Yuji (besides being his primary foil), humanity and the narrative itself and how that might mean that he is the main antagonist of Jujutsu Kaisen.

What are your thoughts on the new JJK chapter? With what Mahito said to Yuji at the start of the chapter?

Answering these asks together. Thank you both for sending them!

I’m going to center this analysis around Mahito’s statement that you are me, and his role as antithesis to Yuji as the anon stated above. There are two big ways you can interpret Mahito’s statement. They are the same in the sense that they are character foils, that Mahito is the Jungian Shadow to Yuji and all of his actions. The second one is based around the idea that Jujutsu Kaisen at large plays with Budhism, and BUdhist ideas, it’s an argument that Mahito and Itadori are spiritually the same. Not contradictory forces but complimentary, the whole of them each containing parts of the other. I’m not the best at explaining japanese budhism, because I myself am not a japanese budhist, but I will try my best under the cut.

1. Spiritually the Same

So, Mahito’s arguments are ones that require a certain amount of abstraction to make sense.

For example, is saving people the same as killing people? No, obviously not.

Alright, there’s your answer. Let’s go home, give me notes please. To understand Mahito’s argument you have to understand how far away from other living people his perspective is.

Mahito positions himself as a third party observing from afar. From his position everything has a tendency to look the same. Let me explain: if every living creature has a soul, then what gives weight to human souls?

Heart, weight, both of those are words that are essentially trying to give human lives “worth.” Are human lives “worth something?” Are they more worthy than the lives of animals, plants, curses, etc. The way Mahito sees it everything has a soul. Even plants have a soul. However, there’s nothing too different in the souls of humans, from the souls of say bugs. The only difference he himsel sees is that humans have a capacity for reason.

“The so-called dignity obtained by human reason”, humans assume their lives are more worthwhile, more dignified then say, the life of your dog, because a human has the intellectual capacity for logical reasoning and a full range of emotions on display, and your dog has been barking at his reflection in the mirror for twenty minutes because he thinks it’s another dog.

Ideas of good and evil are not natural laws of the universe. They are made up by human reason. They only exist because humans said they do, and give reasons to them. Mahito’s perspective is a natural one on the world.

The reason that humans are different from monkeys is just a quirk of evolution that enabled them to gain more brain mass over millions of years, and then gained higher amounts of intelligence. Everything else was reasoned out, ex posto facto. Humans come up with reasons why things happen after the fact, but they just happened. Humans just happened to evolve.

If the natural state of the universe is chaos, and there’s no foreseen hand guiding everything, then things that happen just happen. There is no particular meaning to them. You can make up a meaning, but who is to say one invented meaning is more important than the other?

There’s life on this planet, because we just so happened to be a certain distance away from the sun to enable an ideal climate for liquid water on the surface. Therefore, life is not some necessarily some thing that needs to be protected. It’s just there.

If both Mahito and Yuji are fighting up with their made up value of life, Mahito believing there is no value, and Yuji believing there’s value worth preserving, then Yuji needs to actually make an argument. If no objective right or wrong exists, Yuji needs to prove why he’s right, rather than insisting he’s doing the right thing without thought.

Yuji and Mahito are each other, because they both embody an ideal in the way life should be treated.

When Mahito is saying this, it’s because Yuji gives weight to human lives, but not weight to the light of curses. That is to say, Yuji is fixated on the idea of giving humans a “good death” because he believes they’re owed that dignity, but will absolutely brutalize and tear curses to pieces. This is something Gojou commented on in chapter three, HUH ISN’T IT WEIRD THAT YUJI DIDN’T REALLY GROW UP SURROUNDED BY CURSES AND ALL I NEEDED TO DO WAS GIVE HIM A KNIFE AND POINT AT THAT AND SAY GO KILL THAT THING AND HE DID IT.

Let’s say it wasn’t a curse for a moment. Let’s say Yuji wrestled and killed a tiger with his bare hands and afterwards you saw him skinning it. From a certain perspective his actions might look brutal. You killed and skinned a cat. Well, yeah, but I wouldn’t do this to a human. From a certain perspective his actions might look justified. There was an old lady nearby and I didn’t want to maul her. However, if you believe spiritually that humans are nothing special and all living things have equal dignity, Yuji killing and skinning that tiger is a violation of that dignity.

Yuji believes that humans have dignity and wants to perserve that dignity even in death. That’s not objective fact though, that’s his own personal belief that he’s fighting for.

The official translation even has Yuji call it a natural death rather than a good death. However, is Yuji just imposing what he believes to be good and insisting it’s the natural order of the world instead?

Mahito’s argument is essentially that there is no right or wrong, and therefore the two of them are just both presenting ideas. If the order of the world is one where creatures constantly consume each other in order to survive, then what is so wrong about the curses fighting it out with humans against who becomes top dog? Curses are shown to have sentience same as humans. They don’t have human kindness, or compassion but they’re capable of assigning thoughts, and reasons behind their actions the same way humans do. What makes one life more worthy for another? Mahito’s words are a challenge, to come up with some reason to defy him.

However, there’s a flaw in Mahito’s argument.

Mahito’s argument is one that states nothing is a reason. All life is equal therefore one life doesn’t matter or is worth more than the other. However, then he uses that to give himself moral permission to do whatever he want.

What do I mean by he needs moral permission?

Mahito is justifying his actions, excusing his actions, the same way that Yuji is.

The appearance of the black flash this chapter signifies that the universe is a neutral party to both Yuji and Mahito’s fight. The universe is indifferent to both of them. However, Mahito presents himself as someone who is also indifferent, and objective, when he’s not.

Mahito isn’t doing what he does for no reason at all. Mahito does it because he loves humans, while Yuji does it because he hates humans. Mahito tries to give permission to Junpei, he tries to give permission to himself. His views are not that of a true nihilist, because a nhilist wouldn’t seek permission like that. Mahito’s are that of a moral nihilist. All life is worthless, therefore I can do whatever I want with it. That’s not an expression of nihilism, or the abstract idea that there are no set goals or values to life. That’s just Mahito giving an excuse to why he wants to toy around with human life.

(Also, I don’t really understand japanese budhism from the perspective of a japanese person, so please feel free to correct me on any of this, I’m just trying to go off of what was presented in the story! I’d love to hear other people’s perspectives).

But basically what I’m talking about is expressed here by Mr. Yoshimura if you read Tokyo Ghoul.

If all life on this planet is just trying to survive, and in compettition with one another to survive, then the taking of all life is equally evil. A human killing a curse for survival, and a curse killing a human for survival is the same FROM THAT PERSPECTIVE.

However, I would argue that this assertion that “Life is Evil” is being said by a PERSON and that person is making a VALUE JUDGEMENT. Evil is an idea same as good. Life is neutral, life is random, life is indifferent, life is just atoms smashing around in pure utter chaos but it’s not necessarily evil and definitely not in the way Mahito takes it to be.

2. We’re like the Same Dude

The second is that Mahito and Yuji are character foils. They are characters in a narrative who are meant to reflect each other, specifically that of the protagonist, and their shadow.

Jung stated the shadow to be the unknown dark side of the personality. According to Jung, the shadow, in being instinctive and irrational, is prone to psychological projection, in which a perceived personal inferiority is recognized as a perceived moral deficiency in someone else.

If Yuji and Mahito were two parts of the same whole person, like two halves of the brain, Yuji would be the sensible, reasonable half, and Mahito would be the one acting on pure emotion and instinct.

Mahito and Yuji are both curse/human hybrids. They are both individuals that blur the line between humans and curses. Mahito is specifically, a curse that was created from the human fear of one another which makes him the most human of the curses and the most adept to change or growth. Yuji is a normal kid (as far as we know) who swallowed a finger, and his entire body became curse energy. He is half curse, and half human, in the regard that he is Sukuna and he is Yuji at the same time.

Yuji and Mahito are people who both embody a vague area between human and curse, a curse that acts like a human, a human that acts like a curse in vice versa, however they choose to cling onto different apsects of their being. It’s ambiguous whether or not Mahito is a humanlike curse, but Mahito himself defines himself as only ever being a curse. Just like Yuji sees himself as a human too, he sees himself as Yuji, and not Yuji and Ryomen Sukuna at the same time.

It’s Mahito who encourages the others to act more like curses, to live on impulse than desire, instead of trying to restrain themselves for the sake of reason. However, this is ironic, because the reason that Mahito is getting raised up as the leader of the curse family is because he is the mirror to humans, and is the most humanlike of all the curses.

Mahito wants to be a pure curse, but his path requires him to become more and more human. Yuji wants to be a pure human, but his path in ingesting fingers will require him to become more and more curselike as time progresses. He will over time become more Ryomen Sukuna and less Yuji Itadori until the time comes for him to be executed after ingesting all twenty fingers. They are like opposite reflections in the mirror, clinging onto opposite parts of themselves.

It’s even shown in their foiling in the Junpei arc. They both encourage Junpei to do the opposite things. Mahito encourages Junpei to follow his baser instincts and curse other people, to resent them for what they have done to him.

Yuji however, applies to Junpei’s sense of reasoning and higher thinking. He suggests there’s a better plan than Junpei’s simple acting on. He asks Junpei not to do what he thinks is best in the moment and lash out on those feelings alone like Mahito suggested, not to follow his instinct to curse, but rather try to follow reason to find who is really at fault and then punish the correct person. Yuji appeals to the fact that Junpei have both empathy for the people he’s randomly lashing out at over his own pain, and that he has the ability to separate himself from his pain and try to search for what’s right instead.

These are opposite ideas, and Mahito and Yuji clearly look at the world with completely opposite perspectives. However, these perspectives don’t contradict, they are complimentary. The existence of a shdaow doesn’t mean the conscious mind is right. The existence of the consious mind doesn’t mean the shadow isn’t there. In other words, light and shadow don’t negate each other, light cannot exist without shadow.

In less poetic words. Whenever you make any action, your good intentions are equally as valid as your bad ones. There’s no such thing as a person without bad intentions. Anything can be seen from a both good and bad light. What Mahito argues to Yuji, is that Yuji was ignoring all along how dangerous an individual he was. Yuji uses his powers to save people, and he wants to become strong, but as has been pointed out in the manga before having all that strength collected in one person can be used oppressively and violently.

This is what Getou says to Gojou. If he was Gojou he’d have the power to kill every last human being alive and spare only the sorcerers. Gojou is someone sitting on all that power. Power alone doesn’t justify itself. Equally as important is the choices and the reasoning behind wielding that power. What Mahito was pointing out, and what the plot is emphasizing is that Yuji was wielding that power, especially the power of Ryomen Sukuna in a way that was poorly thought out.

Which is the point of this scene when Yuji realized the scope of Sukuna’s rampage. Yuji didn’t seriously think of the possibility that he was a walking bomb waiting to go off. This was brought up as an argument in the Kyoto arc, that it might be safer for everyone to just kill Yuji now so Sukuna doesn’t have the chance to get out. And then. Sukuna got out. And that’s what happened.

Mahito isn’t saying that Yuji is good or bad, he’s saying Yuji hasn’t thought about what good or bad even is. Yuji only ever saw the good intention of his actions, he saw himself as a person saving others, and because of that he didn’t think properly about the risk he inherently carrying. He didn’t realize how dangerous of a person he was for carrying Sukuna around like that. Mahito is the unacknowledged shadow of Yuji’s actions, following him through the plot, and punishing him for his ignorance.

Yuji is a good kid, but sadly the nature of the universe being true neutral good intentions don’t always lead to good results. It’s just a burden that Yuji has to think about, and carry with him as he moves on. Which I really, really want him to do. Yuji can think more, live on and live with his regrets, and still try to do the right thing even after enduring all of this because that’s what makes him human.

Just like how all reasons for fighting are made up, humans are able to make up whatever reason they want to keep fighting. It goes both way. If all lives have equal weight. You don’t have to take it from Mahito’s perspective that they’re worth nothing. You can also take it from Yuji’s perspective, that every life is worth fighting for, worth living, because you and I are worth just as much as one another.

#Anonymous #jjk meta #this is going to be really abstract and nihilistic because it's mahito #sorry #jujutsu kaisen meta #mahito #yuji itadori #itadori yuji #yuji analysis #yuji meta #metasks #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen mahito #jujutsu kaisen theory

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the-melting-world · 3 years

Text

Strength | Side B: “Chasing Dials”

Art by @ligiawrites

~ In which a secretive barhand brings in the new year…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Lucio | Valdemar

Track Origins: “Chasing Dials” by Blanco White

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: Strength

Khleo is Non-binary and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably

cw: alcohol, implications of vampirism, mentions of blood

~ 2.3k words

***

Fireworks broke and rained hot glitter over the southern border of Center City and Goldgrave. A handful of bartenders were off duty and on the move.

Khlee von Heine walked among them. She was the only one who hadn’t taken the time to change out of her work clothes. Her coworkers were loud, merry, and prone to recklessness as they stumbled from one pop-up bar crawl to the next.

“Another year,” Gabe managed to roar over the next round of fireworks. “Can you believe we fucking did it?” He took a deep swig from the communal growler. The night was far from young and the barhands had lost track over how many times they refilled it. Gabe reluctantly handed it off to the next coworker so they could say their piece.

Khlee hung back in order to stand under a wooden arch whose sign was eclipsed in dead vines. But Khleo had committed its message to memory years ago.

Der Biergarten.

The plot of land overgrown in weeds and other invasive species was still up for sale, to Khleo’s relief. Though it was out of the way on most of her delivery routes, Khleo did her best to stop by every now and then. Just to make sure no one had bought up the property.

The barhand checked to see that her coworkers were distracted as she stepped up and snatched a flyer with the lot info off the gate. She folded it up and quickly tucked it in her pocket before the arm of a good friend looped around her neck.

Basil leaned on Khleo as he pressed the convex surface of the growler against her sternum.

“Your turn.”

Khleo playfully shoved him off of her, but kept the growler. She took a sip. Basil and the other barhands chided her — she was supposed to make a toast.

“Fine. Fine.” Khleo held up the bottle. “To progress.”

They made a show of peering into the depths of the amber glass. “Maybe this year we’ll get lucky and actually make some, yeah?”

Someone snatched the growler out of their hand. Gwendolyn? Max? The streets were too dark to tell.

Khleo’s friends were off. They blended in with the city’s bar crawlers as they chased down the next booze cart. People wanted refills that night, not whatever Khleo was about to say next.

Later when Khleo had returned to her apartment, she traded her work clothes for something softer and more comfortable. Then she dug through the pocket of her discarded jacket and retrieved the folded up flyer.

It was a short walk from her kitchen to the bedroom. There was no bed frame or vanity, just three lumpy mattresses stacked on top of each other that she rescued from the alley when she first moved in.

The room was already small, but it felt even more congested thanks to the uneven piles of text, of which there two types — loose leaf recipes or pages ripped out of cookbooks and cheap serial novels with depictions of bejeweled dragons on the covers.

The only piece of real furniture around was an antique dresser, the drawers of which were broken and jutting out like crooked teeth.

All except one.

Khleo took a deep breath before crouching and using both hands to work the bottom drawer open. Like always, it did not come quietly, but with a little patience and a lot of swearing, Khleo managed to pull it out.

Most of the drawer’s contents belonged to her late adoptive father, Hans von Heine. However, it was an unmarked jar that Khleo reached for. She screwed it open and tucked the flyer for the piece of real estate between old flyers and newspaper clippings back when the garden used to host events. The jar had cash in it too. Whatever Khleo could spare went into the jar. Most of it came from what was left of her tips after paying rent, bills, and whoever she needed in order to keep certain people off her back and out of her business.

Khleo sealed the jar and did her best to ignore the tightness in her chest as she struggled to get the drawer to shut all the way. Once she had, she found that her breathing had become more than a little unsteady. It only got worse when she heard the fireworks going off outside.

Khleo shut their eyes and leaned their forehead against one of the crooked drawers, trying not to dwell too much on where they were this time last here. As it turned out, they were right here, drunk and crying at the foot of this very dresser.

Khleo curled up on their side. Yes, tonight their head was buzzing from the alcohol, somehow both heavy and light. Yes, the tears had found their way to the surface again. Khleo was never one to hold them in as long as they could find the space to spill them.

Things would be different this year, Khleo told themself. They would make sure of it this time.

***

(Lucio’s POV)

Lucio hated the smell of this place. Rotting and damp. It was hard to believe that they were still in Vesuvia.

“You always have such a sour expression on your face whenever I come to feed. Why so, my Count?”

The silky, sardonic voice belonged to Lucio’s host, Quaestor Valdemar.

“Don’t call me that,” Lucio snapped. He wanted to fold his arms and stifle some of the shivers running up his back, but he couldn’t as long as he was hooked up to Valdemar’s device.

“My apologies, Lucio,” Valdemar corrected themself coolly.

Another shiver climbed up Lucio’s neck as he bit back the urge to say, I don’t want to be called that either.

“Tell me, what plagues you?” They added with a chuckle. “Don’t you like your living arrangement?”

Ever since cutting a deal with the scientist turned demon, Lucio had been living out his days in the lowest cellar of the Lazaret. When he was first brought back from the Devil’s realm, he had been too weak to demand anything else. At the time, all he cared about was that he was alive and wouldn’t be devoured by the courtiers.

Lucio glanced at the tube looping around his forearm, its transparent pathways already inflated with his blood.

But at what cost?

Lucio grinded his teeth. It was too late to consider that now.

This was how it always went anyway. Lucio would be presented with an opportunity — a way to improve what he could not on his own. He would leap at it, no questions asked.

Why, after all this time, after all those treacherous dealings could he not bring himself to stop and think things through?

As the last of Valdemar’s toll left his body, Lucio started to wonder what his mother might say about all of this. But he’d rather eat another shitty bargain than go down that road right now.

“Your contribution to our arrangement hasn’t been as satisfying compared to when we first began.”

“What are you trying to say?” Despite his nasty tone, Lucio was grateful for the distraction. “My blood’s not tasty enough for you?”

“It used to be,” Valdemar said. “I’ll be honest with you, Lucio, I agreed to keep you around as an energy reserve primarily for that reason. The notion of devouring you in one sitting and having to share with my dear contemporaries was not nearly as attractive as the possibility of having your flesh to dine on whenever I needed to during this indefinite campaign in your current reality.”

Lucio hissed as Valdemar unceremoniously removed the needle from his vein. He wasn’t sure how to react to what he had just heard. Thanks to Valdemar’s mask, all Lucio could read from their expression was the growing crow’s feet at the corners of their blood red eyes.

“So?”

Valdemar applied a cotton wad to the puncture wound and dug it in with their thumb.

“Ow! Hey – Owie!” Lucio yelped.

“So, my Count,” they sweetly clarified as they kept up the pressure, “I need you to find a way to restore that vitality you once possessed. Technically, you’re in peak physical health. I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror lately, but the evidence of your tussle with the plague has all but disappeared from your eyes. Your hair has been growing…” they took a moment to scan their critical gaze over the pale blond patches clinging to Lucio’s jaw. “You could easily blend in with the citizens.”

Lucio swallowed. “B-blend in? Why the devil would I want to blend in?”

Valdemar made a less than human sound as they peeled back their mask and bared their needle-sharp teeth at the former Count.

“Right now you taste like a boneless, gutless, gill-infected inferior breed of mackerel. And I prefer to have rare, mercury-rich, vinegar-glazed bluefin tuna. Captivity is poisoning your blood. So I’m giving you permission to get out there in your beloved city and find a way to sweeten it.”

The Quaestor gave Lucio a not-so-gentle shove in his chair. They replaced their mask as they straightened up. The former Count’s eyes widened as he covered his hand over his arm. The last thing he wanted was to piss off Valdemar. But he didn’t know the first thing when it came to what they were asking him to do.

“What happens if I can’t, erm… make my blood taste better? What if spending time in the city doesn’t work?”

The Quaestor sighed, their emotions back in check. They were already half occupied with cleaning their instruments and storing the sacks of Lucio’s blood in a portable cooler for later.

“Then I will have no choice but to invite my courtier companions over for a nice potluck dinner.” They glanced up. The crow’s feet were back. “And you’ll be the forgettable appetizer that no one asked for.”

Later, when Valdemar was kind enough to row Lucio across the stretch of water to the mainland, they suggested, “You should find some people who are very healthy. Outside of captivity, fish are the most robust when they’re in competition with other capable anatomies.”

Lucio hugged what was left of his royal uniform – a tattered speckled cape – around his shoulders. He grumbled, “Would you, for fuck’s sake, stop comparing me to a fish, Quaestor?”

Unperturbed, Valdemar said, “We’ve arrived.”

Lucio lowered his hood and blinked out at the morning overcast sky. His top lip curled into a distinctive snarl as he recognized where they were.

“Not here. Anywhere but here.”

Valdemar gestured to the nearest dock. “Get out, Lucio.”

The former Count wanted to blot out the images of the slumped architecture and purge his nostrils of the stale watery stench.

“Not the Flooded District. I can’t stand this place. Can’t you see that it’s a failure that I don’t need reminding of?”

“Lucio, don’t be so foolish,” Valdemar said almost tenderly as they nudged him out of the boat. “The entire city is your failure. Much of which is hard to see. Oh, but it’s there. Now go on,” they said as if encouraging a child at the fairgrounds, “go find someone healthy. I’ll come to retrieve you in a fortnight’s time.”

Lucio couldn’t believe he was watching Valdemar row off into the mist. He tried to take a deep breath, but the air was so bad that he just ended up coughing.

Even though Valdemar had been correct about Lucio’s appearance, looking nothing like he did in the days when he was the Count, he still found himself trying to crowd off his features with his hood any time a resident passed him by on the floating, rickety streets. But to his relief, no one seemed to know or even care about who he was or might be.

As soon as Lucio relaxed his shoulders and began walking with more confidence, the inner walls of his stomach suddenly contracted. Then he remembered. He had just given blood. Lots of it. Usually, the Quaestor supplied him with something to eat, but this time they hadn’t.

“Damn them,” Lucio hissed. He cradled his abdomen like it was made of glass as he tried to make his way towards some kind of common plaza. He had no money, but perhaps he would be able to find a dumpster to rummage through.

He was passing by a narrow alley when he caught a glimpse of the impossible out of the corner of his eye.

A lion.

Its coat was creamy and short all over. Its size was nothing short of mythical.

Lucio was tempted to shout at the two idiots occupying the alley with this beast on the loose, but they seemed both aware of its presence and entirely calm about it.

One of them was slumped against the wall of the grimy building. Despite their threadbare attire and weary expression, they were smiling at the other.

“No, Khlee. Please don’t. You’ll be late for work.”

The person squatting before the first seemed to be focused on the task of sewing up what appeared to be rips in a heavy cloak. Even with their short jacket, Lucio could detect the shape of their arms. Their brown curls had enough volume to hide most of the details in their profile.

“Nah. I’m already late. This’ll only take a minute.”

There wasn’t much time to take in the rest of their features before the big cat stepped up, blocking Lucio’s view of them.

< Can I help you? >

Lucio ran. He nearly tripped over himself getting out of there so fast. But he didn’t go far. He gripped the edge of a building and poked his head out, waiting for the lioness and her human to emerge. When they finally did, Quaestor Valdemar’s words from earlier echoed in Lucio’s mind.

Go find someone healthy.

Well, the individual strolling confidently down the street with a full grown lion at their side was definitely looking like the healthy sort.

At the moment, Lucio wasn’t really thinking about what would happen to him if he failed Valdemar’s taste requirements.

Right now, his stomach was hurting.

If the body of this lion tamer was any indication, they knew where Lucio could find himself a meal.

#the arcana #khleo the barhand #arcana albums: strength #arcana albums #count lucio #lucio #lucio the arcana #quaestor valdemar #valdemar #valdemar the arcana #montag morgasson #the arcana fic #the arcana fanfic #the arcana fanfiction #my writing #cw alcohol #cw blood mention #cw vampirism

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digitaldreams0801 · 3 years

Text

Spirit Fuse AU

Posting Note: I was unable to post this until after the story ended because this contains spoilers for the last two chapters, but now, it is here. I typed this months ago, but now you get to see it. Fucking finally. Anyways, on with the show!

It’s been a while since I did an info dump about Frontiers Unexplored, so here we go. This is a long one. The Google document for it is seventeen pages. Yeah. Anyways, the concept of this AU is basically ‘what if traces of the Spirits were left to share bodies with their vessels after the adventure ended?’ I gave all of them personalities, and it took FUCKING forever. Spoilers for Frontiers Unexplored. Enough talk; let’s get into this!

Spirit Fuse AU

In which the Legendary Warriors share mind and body with the Spirits who call human children their vessels.

Each of the Spirits acts as common fragments of the current Legendary Warriors and the Ancient Digimon who once saved the Digital World. They act as checkpoints throughout the lives of both, sometimes taking on certain traits from their hosts or offering what their vessels need most. Hybrid forms are often closest to the personalities of the Ancient Digimon since they have combined broken memories from the Human and Beast Spirits, though this is not always the case.

Warrior of Fire

This collective includes Takuya Kanbara, the current vessel of Fire, along with Aguni the Human Spirit, Vritra the Beast Spirit, and Alda the Hybrid. The body itself is immune to heated temperatures and feels significantly warmer than all others. They are also immune to burns and can breathe in smoke easily. Their strength is replenished when in the presence of fire.

Takuya

Takuya is known for his endless passion and confidence. He is naturally charismatic and a strong leader, though he can be stubborn to a fault. His loyalty and courage cannot be understated, and he cares for those who get close to him above all else. Takuya has a strong sense of justice, but he rarely thinks before he acts, and this can very easily get him into trouble. He hides insecurity involving his body behind his brazen optimism. Takuya is the most casual out of the Warriors of Fire in posture and movements.

Aguni

Aguni is known to be a somewhat chaotic person, and he’s openly talkative with the people around him. He’s a leader at heart, very easily earning the trust and admiration of others without even trying. He can be stubborn at times and refuses to give up even in the face of opposition with every power to crush him. In the Ancient Warrior of Fire, Aguni manifests as the leadership needed following the death of the Ancient Warrior of Steel. In Takuya, Aguni is meant to reflect Takuya embracing his true self following his transition.

Vritra

Vritra is detached and borderline confrontational in his wish to be kept secure. He despises physical contact under most circumstances and is prone to snapping in the name of safety. He personifies the Ancient Warrior of Fire from the start of the war with Lucemon when times were chaotic and lives were being lost constantly. In Takuya, Vritra reflects his host’s struggle with dysphoria and a wish to stand up to his intrusive thoughts. Vritra takes control on bad days and is known for his general snappiness and cynicism.

Alda

Alda is known for his endless confidence and stoic nature. He easily rallies others to his causes and has gained a reputation as a powerful soldier who bows to no one. He also has a strong sense of leadership modeled after his peers and those he looks up to. Alda is analytical by nature, doing what he can to get the upper hand in and out of battle. He reflects the Ancient Warrior of Fire’s time as a fighter during the war after he grew used to a life of combat. For Takuya, Alda is meant to reflect someone who Takuya came to admire and rely on throughout his youth (Chihiro).

Fire Collective

The Warriors of Fire get along well, though the most distant out of their group is easily Vritra, who tends to clash with Aguni while Alda acts as mediator. All of them can be endlessly stubborn at times, though Alda is the best at listening to the issues of others. Aguni is the best at imitating Takuya followed by Alda and then Vritra. Their prominence order is the same, though Vritra notably makes an appearance when they begin to suffer from dysphoria-induced struggles on the worst of days. Since they’re so similar, they both get along very well and clash simultaneously, leading to frequent shifts in dynamic depending on if their various senses of stubborn confidence get the better of them.

Warrior of Light

This collective includes Koji Minamoto, the current vessel of Light, and Lobo the Human Spirit, Garum the Beast Spirit, Beowolf the Hybrid, and Erocia the False Fusion. The body has perfect eyesight in lighted spaces but struggles in darker areas. Their temperature is naturally slightly higher than most humans. They gain strength in daylight and well-lit areas, and they rarely require sleep.

Koji

Koji dislikes interacting with others and prefers his own company. He is rather quiet, but when provoked, he can be sarcastic almost to the point of irritating those around him. He believes firmly that actions speak louder than words. Koji does possess communication issues though, and he’s prone to times of being snappish and angry when rubbed the wrong way. He struggles to convey his emotions, specifically sadness and grief, due to being forced to hide them from a young age. His actions show how closed-off he is, and he only relaxes around those he trusts.

Lobo

Lobo has an incredible sense of justice, always believing in what he finds to be right regardless of what others say. He’s a white knight of sorts, wanting to defend those who are unable to save themselves. He can be somewhat stubborn in his ideals, sometimes refusing to accept it when he’s wrong. He reflects the Ancient Warrior of Light’s wishes to keep the Digital World and its occupants safe from Lucemon’s tyranny. For Koji, Lobo personifies his stubborn wish to defend those he cares for. He is confident in his movements, refusing to bow or otherwise yield to anyone.

Garum

Garum acts as an ideal fighter of sorts, unbending in his loyalties. He’s somewhat reclusive, only showing his face when he has to. He’s somewhat distant from the world but possesses more than enough determination to make up for it. He manifests the Ancient Warrior of Light’s resolve to end the war following the death of most of his comrades. Garum also personifies Koji’s stoic mask that kept him from spiraling into despair throughout childhood, causing him to come off as a brick wall at times. He moves somewhat slowly and often makes uncomfortable eye contact with others.

Beowolf

Beowolf is fueled primarily by his emotions, and he’s incredibly caring for those who are suffering. He’s also empathetic beyond imagination and often offers others quiet motivation to keep them going even through difficult times. Beowolf can be swayed by his feelings at times, most notably when it comes to grief. He manifests the Ancient Warrior of Light’s sadness during the battle with Lucemon when his comrades fell in combat. He reflects Koji’s often excessive emotions as well, causing him to be a bit rash when it comes to jumping to conclusions. Beowolf moves fastest out of the group’s members and has the worst posture.

Erocia

Erocia, unlike many of the other Warriors, isn’t entirely a stable presence on his own. Instead, he’s the combined might of the Spirits of Light and Darkness, leaving him often unstable and difficult to predict. He’s rarely present, but he holds heavy emotions tied to grief and anger that cause him to look rather spaced out at a first glance since he tends to ignore the emotions to keep from being crushed by them. He doesn’t speak much either, preferring to keep to himself. Erocia may take control during times of extreme emotion or chaos since he can defend the others from suffering too much under the weight of negativity. He is incredibly protective of those around him, but Koichi in particular is a target for Erocia’s defensive nature.

Light Collective

The Warriors of Light are close for the most part, but Erocia is somewhat distant from the rest. Garum is the best when it comes to imitating Koji followed by Lobo, Beowolf, and Erocia, though there’s a wide gap between Garum and Lobo. Lobo is most prominent followed by Garum, Beowolf, and finally Erocia. Beowolf and Erocia tend to keep to themselves outside of times of extreme emotion, and Erocia very rarely appears unless he’s absolutely required to ensure that everyone else is kept safe. Erocia is prone to notable bouts of fear and anger, so the rest of the group tries to defend him to the best of their abilities.

Warrior of Ice

This collective includes Tomoki Himi, the current vessel of Ice, and Kuma the Human Spirit, Blizzar the Beast Spirit, and Daipen the Hybrid. The body is incredibly cold to the touch and immune to chilled temperatures. They cannot freeze either, and they feel at their best when in cooler environments.

Tomoki

Tomoki is on the shy side, easily made nervous and anxious by his surroundings. He longs to connect with others but is often too wrapped up in his own fears to actually reach out. He can be rather clingy at times because of how fiercely loyal he is to those who are able to earn his trust. Tomoki has issues with hiding his feelings as well, rarely expressing his pain until it is pushing him to the point of nearly breaking down. He has a heart of gold beneath all of this and hates hurting others. Tomoki moves quickly and often seems rather jittery.

Kuma

Kuma is free-spirited and laidback, uncaring as to the opinions of others. He simply wants to go through life at his own pace, and he doesn’t mind what others think of him along the way. Kuma’s connection to the Ancient Warrior of Ice is that he acts as a fragment of childhood and innocence. His link to Tomoki describes Kuma as the person that Tomoki would have been if not for his traumas, and as it is, Kuma acts so young and carefree to embody the childhood that Tomoki had taken from him. He is energetic and moves quickly with confidence.

Blizzar

Blizzar is careful and contemplative, often abandoning his connection with emotion to concentrate on survival. He’s rather quiet and enjoys reading and meditating. Blizzar acts as the manifestation of grief in the Ancient Warrior of Ice, representing his sadness when the war with Lucemon began to take the lives of Digimon. In Tomoki, he reflects the way that his host cut himself away from his emotions at times to keep from being harmed too heavily by his brother. Blizzar’s lack of emotional connection is a coping mechanism to balance out Tomoki’s overwhelming compassion. He walks slowly and heavily and often appears to be spaced out.

Daipen

Daipen is caring and gentle, handling every subject that comes his way with a certain degree of logic and emotion that balances out perfectly. He is the personification of the Ancient Warrior of Ice’s care towards the rest of his team during the war, and he is incredibly self-sacrificing, though he does understand his own limitations. Daipen acts as the older brother that Tomoki never had due to Yutaka’s treatment of him, and he is seamlessly able to ease Tomoki’s anxieties when he gets afraid or otherwise worked up. He is quiet and firm in his movements.

Ice Collective

The four Warriors of Ice get along rather well all in all, though there are occasional spats between Kuma and Blizzar due to them being polar opposites regarding emotions (all at once versus none at all). Kuma is the most prominent of them followed by Daipen and then Blizzar. Daipen is the best at pretending to be Tomoki where Kuma is the worst and Blizzar falls in between them. Kuma enjoys bright colors and exciting environments such as amusement parks and playgrounds, and he’s the most social of the three. Blizzar is rather defensive and keeps the group from getting into trouble. Daipen is the best at easing Tomoki’s fears, causing him to appear when paranoia hits a peak.

Warrior of Wind

This collective includes Izumi Orimoto, the current vessel of Wind, along with Kaze the Human Spirit, Zephyr the Beast Spirit, and Aero the Hybrid. The body has an incredible sense of hearing along with amazing stamina and speed. They have amazing lung capacity as well and feel strongest in windy areas.

Izumi

Izumi is a kind and caring person who prefers to keep to herself rather than interacting with others. She is naturally empathetic and often maintains a perfect mask of what she wants to show the world with a smile on her face. She wants to make sure that others are happy and isn’t above self-sacrifice to unhealthy extents to satisfy those around her. Izumi has an awful complex regarding perfection though, and she can be self-destructive in pursuit of her goals. She is known for consistently having a demure smile on her face.

Kaze

Kaze is confident and flirtatious in a way that not many others are. She’s playful and bold, often believing that everything will work out regardless of what is taking place. Kaze represents the Ancient Warrior of Wind in youth, nonchalant and laidback about the world around her. Kaze is a manifestation of Izumi’s ideals of the person she wishes that she could be. She possesses incredible optimism that she often uses to rally others into action. She is far more energetic than Izumi, and she moves and talks faster than anyone else in the collective.

Zephyr

Zephyr is detached and emotionless by comparison, the complete opposite of Kaze. She is self-assured and intelligent, but she can get a bit stubborn and wrapped in her own ideas of tough love. Zephyr reflects the Ancient Warrior of Wind when she was a general in the war against Lucemon, stern and unflinching. She is Izumi’s hidden pragmatism made real, a reflection of Izumi’s slipping faith in others following her years of struggling with an eating disorder. Zephyr’s gaze is always unbreaking when she is in control, and she generally seems scarier than usual.

Aero

Aero is soft-spoken and sympathetic, caring for others in a motherly way. She understands the emotions of others easily and is able to slip into the shoes of those around her seamlessly. Aero is a representation of the Warrior of Wind in her older years prior to the war when she shifted her overwhelming energy towards empathy. Aero represents Izumi’s deceased mother as well, and she acts as a natural caretaker. She is the best at pretending to be Izumi, but those who watch her carefully will notice that she walks slower than Izumi slightly.

Wind Collective

Izumi is the vessel for the Warrior of Wind, and she gets along rather well with the other three extensions of herself. Zephyr is the most prominent of the three easily due to the heavy ties Izumi and Zephyr formed when the latter took control after being discovered. However, it’s rare for Zephyr to actually take control unless she finds it to be necessary, instead being a constant close presence for Izumi. Kaze takes control most often followed by Aero and then Zephyr. Aero is the best at acting as Izumi followed by Kaze and finally Zephyr. Kaze prefers social situations to anything else, and Aero takes control when another person needs comfort that Izumi cannot provide.

Warrior of Thunder

This collective includes Junpei Shibayama, the current vessel of Thunder, and Blitz the Human Spirit, Bolg the Beast Spirit, and Thundra the Hybrid. The body is naturally charged with electricity, and they can charge technology if they hold it for long enough. When stressed, they emit small sparks and shock others, and they are immune to electrocution. They feel at their strongest when surrounded by technology or during storms.

Junpei

Junpei is deceptively cheerful around others, showing off his true nature from the very beginning. He’s open about the sort of person that he wants to be and the fact that he wants to make others smile. Despite this, Junpei possesses a strange sense of nihilism, believing that he should be loyal to himself since there’s a chance that nobody else ever will be. He also has anger issues that stem from his self-loathing and inability to satisfy those around him. Junpei moves slowly and often shows off his awful posture.

Blitz

Blitz is a people-pleaser who longs to satisfy those around him. He’s openly very cheerful and enjoys teasing others, almost as if he doesn’t know how to stop smiling. Blitz goes with the flow most of the time and often encourages the mischief of others. He’s the manifestation of the Ancient Warrior of Thunder’s hope for the world. In Junpei, Blitz is an ideal that Junpei wishes he could achieve. He often moves quickly and seems to always be smiling in an over-the-top and goofy way that attracts the attention of others.

Bolg

Bolg is, in a word, volatile. He’s very easily pushed over the edge by the words of others, and he’s incredibly defensive of those around him. He’s not above getting explosive in his anger when it comes to protecting himself and others. Bolg has good intentions but can go too far at times due to the strength of his emotions. He’s somewhat nihilistic, knowing that everything ends sooner or later. He represents the Ancient Warrior of Thunder’s anger at Lucemon for harming the innocent. In Junpei, Bolg reflects and protects from extreme moments of upset. His steps are heavy and often perceived as aggressive even without harsh intentions.

Thundra

Thundra is an incredibly curious soul who longs to learn more about the world around him. He loves tinkering around with small devices, and he is absolutely fascinated by various obscure inventions. Thundra has an amazing mind and always longs to do something productive and creative. He’s the Ancient Warrior of Steel’s creativity and ambition from the war that helped him to survive. Where Junpei is concerned, Thundra is the manifestation of Junpei’s coping mechanisms when he was left on his own. He moves quickly and seems unable to sit still. He also has a wide vocabulary that differs from the others in the Thunder category.

Thunder Collective

The group of four gets along well, but when there are occasional arguments, chances are they are between Bolg and Blitz since they utilize their excessive emotional capacity in different ways. Blitz is the best at acting like Junpei followed by Thundra and finally Bolg. Blitz is most prominent, and Bolg comes after him leaving Thundra last. They tend to do more talking under their breath than the rest of the Legendary Warriors because of their general banter being constant. All of them are talkative to some extent, leaving them to hold extended conversations with one another when left alone.

Warrior of Darkness

This collective includes Koichi Kimura, the current vessel of Darkness, and Lowe the Human Spirit, Umbra the Beast Spirit, Rhihi the Hybrid, Dusk the False Human Spirit, Velge the False Beast Spirit, Malkako the False Hybrid, and Erocia, the False Fusion. The body is slightly colder than others, and they possess perfect vision in the dark while struggling to see in overly bright areas. They regain strength when in darker areas.

Koichi

Koichi is unsure of how to interact with others due to his fear of reaching out and making a connection. He fears being a burden on others, causing him to retreat into his shell when he feels that others are trying to get too close to him. Koichi is immensely kind and curious though, and he will do what he can to cheer up those around him without getting too close. He is shy and sweet, and even though he’s introverted, he is rarely hated due to his caring nature. Koichi is slow when he walks, and he often keeps his eyes locked on the ground.

Lowe

Lowe is on the introverted side, tending to keep to himself above all else. He’s quiet and takes a while to open up to people, but he possesses a gentle sense of charm that most others lack. He’s also positive and optimistic, there to soothe others enduring tough times. In the Ancient Warrior of Darkness, Lowe acts as a manifestation of the middle of his life when the war was going on but he did his best to remain optimistic. Lowe also reflects Koichi’s hope for life to get better in the future, and the two get along well due to their similar soft-spoken natures.

Umbra

Umbra is the quietest out of the Warriors of Darkness, rarely speaking unless he absolutely has to. He’s reclusive and chooses to keep to himself when he can. He’s starved for attention and, despite wanting to be around others, fears making connections with others. Umbra acts as the manifestation of grief for the Warrior of Darkness in the time leading up to his death. For Koichi, Umbra reflects how he would hide his problems out of hope to not inconvenience others. As such, Umbra holds considerable amounts of sadness and fear for the future.

Rhihi

Rhihi is upbeat and talkative, easily able to connect with anyone he comes into contact with. He has an endless sense of optimism and creativity, loving the arts and spending much of his time making anything that he can to get out his extra energy. In both the Ancient Warrior of Darkness and Koichi, Rhihi reflects childhood and the potential for infinite possibilities. Rhihi represents the way that Koichi would have been had he not been distrubed by his trauma from such a young age, and despite being the Warrior of Darkness, he rarely allows life to get him down.

Dusk

Dusk is honest to a fault, and he’s known to be rather confrontational. He speaks his mind regardless of how others will react, and he can be quick to anger, causing many to find him to be abrasive and harsh. Dusk is not a manifestation of the Ancient Warrior of Darkness since he originates from the corruption of the Spirits of Darkness, so he only holds memories of Koichi’s past. In Koichi’s case, Dusk represents his anger towards his father, and Dusk absolutely despises Kousei despite Koichi’s (albeit hesitant) attempts to make amends with him.

Velge

Velge has a reputation for being anxious and easily unsettled. Nearly anything out of the ordinary will upset Velge and send him into a panic, often leaving him defensive and agitated. He sometimes goes to unsettling lengths to feel secure in a situation, and he chooses to not interact with people unless he deems them safe. Much like Duskmon, Velge holds no memories from an Ancient Legendary Warrior. Instead, Velge acts as a manifestation of Koichi’s insecurities brought on by his unorthodox upbringing, and Velge makes sure that everyone is able to survive when times get tough.

Malkako

Malkako is confrontational and angry much like Dusk, though he doesn’t ever seem to need a reason to be upset unlike Dusk, instead carrying himself with an aura that makes him seem dangerous. He chooses to not spend time with others when he can. While Malkako is open to speaking with those he finds to be safe, it takes a lot to reach this level, and he’s a harsh judge of character. He holds no Ancient Legendary Warrior’s memories. Malkako holds Koichi’s desires to be cared for by his father, so he has a strong grudge against Kousei just like Dusk.

Erocia

The fragment of Erocia that Koichi holds is completely different from Koji’s half. This version is rather soft-spoken and doesn’t talk a majority of the time. He is similar in appearance to the other variation of Erocia, always seeming to be off in a world of his own. Erocia holds immense sensations of sadness and fear, specifically the fear of death. He prefers to write as opposed to speaking, and he can very easily be pushed too far by the words of others. He is distant from most others out of his own paranoia, but he feels a certain connection to Koji due to the two halves of Erocia caring about each other even from afar.

Darkness Collective

Despite the varying personalities found in the Darkness Collective, they do get along rather well and rarely get into full-on arguments with one another. They make up for one another’s weaknesses and look after each other when times get tough. In order of prominence, the list is Lowe, Umbra, Rhihi, Velge, Dusk, Malkako, and Erocia. When it comes to imitating Koichi, the best is Lowe, followed by Umbra, Erocia, Velge, Rhihi, Dusk, and then Malkako. This group is the least open to trusting new people, and it takes a long time to earn the full confidence of any member of the group, much less each Warrior of Darkness. They are all notably defensive over Erocia, and they fear death above all else.

Warrior of Earth

This collective includes Chihiro Ayumu, the current vessel of Earth, along with Aeoel the Human Spirit, Cybele the Beast Spirit, and Yaia the Hybrid. The body has perfect balance and cannot be knocked over. They can smell better than most others and possess immense physical strength and stamina. They feel best when outdoors in particularly rocky environments.

Chihiro

Chihiro generally keeps to themselves out of a pessimistic belief that the world is a difficult place to be in. They are incredibly stubborn about remaining detached from the rest of the world, often ignoring their issues until they blow up in their face. Chihiro is rather snarky and sarcastic, using jokes as a way to keep people from getting too close. They are independent but struggle to rely on others, and they can be rather temperamental when rubbed the wrong way. They walk with detached confidence as a way of silently keeping others at bay.

Aeoel

Aeoel is known for being snappish and almost rude at times, and they are blunt and honest in all situations. Their number one priority is self-preservation, and if they have to resort to being mean to do it, they will. They are caring deep down, but they prefer not to let emotions interfere with their work. They act as a bearer of trauma for the Ancient Warrior of Earth, recalling the life or death nature of the battle against Lucemon and the pain that came with the deaths of their comrades. For Chihiro, they are a defender who prevents others from crossing any lines. They walk roughly and heavily and have a broody aura about them.

Cybele

Cybele is defensive in the same way that a caretaker is, and they care greatly for the other members of their collective. Despite their stoic nature, they act similar to a parent to the others found within the collective, doing what they must in order to keep everything running smoothly in and out of the group. Cybele represents the Ancient Warrior of Earth from times of chaos during the war when they worked to help others above all else. For Chihiro, Cybele is meant to act as something that they never had: parental connection. As such, they look after their host as they would their own child.

Yaia

Yaia has a strong sense of charisma and leadership, knowing how to get the attention of others and use it to their advantage. Despite having a laid back and casual personality, they know how to get down to business when needed, and they use their endless confidence to rally the spirits of those around them. Yaia acts as what the Warrior of Earth was before the war, always looking on the bright side and believing that everything would work out fine despite evidence to the contrary. For Chihiro, Yaia is meant to represent an ideal that they always wanted to reach, and they're incredibly similar to Chihiro’s best friend from childhood (Takuya).

Earth Collective

The Warriors of Earth rarely get into disputes with one another and act as a family of sorts. Even though Aeoel and Yaia are polar opposites in many respects, they still get along well and look after one another through thick and thin. When there are issues among the members of the group, Cybele takes on the role of a mediator and calms things down before anything can go too far or cause serious damage to their relationships. Aeoel is the most prominent out of the group’s members, and Yaia follows them while Cybele takes up the rear. The order is the same as far as imitating Chihiro is concerned as well. Despite what one would expect, it takes a while to earn their trust as a whole, though Yaia is the most open to accepting the good found in others.

Warrior of Wood

This collective includes Yumiko Mihara, the current vessel of Wood, and Fiore the Human Spirit, Calanthe the Beast Spirit, and Lyseir the Hybrid. The body possesses a natural ability to ease the worries of others, eliminating panic easily. They have a natural green thumb as well and can talk to plants in a limited capacity. They feel best when outdoors in areas with many plants.

Yumiko

Yumiko is rather shy and reclusive, preferring to spend time alone rather than with others. She has an incredible sense of compassion that can overwhelm her if she isn’t careful. She tends to repress her emotions rather than expressing them out of a wish to not inconvenience others. Yumiko is naturally graceful and elegant as well, easily earning the trust of others even if she isn’t enthusiastic to hand out faith of her own. She possesses a naturally calming presence. Yumiko tends to somewhat hide herself when in control, rarely making eye contact unless she trusts the other party greatly.

Fiore

Fiore is a dreamer above all else, tending to drift through life without a care in the world. She is a wonderful dancer and always seems to be moving rhythmically or humming a song. Fiore is a representation of the Ancient Warrior of Wood’s past as a performer prior to the fighting starting. She also acts as a manifestation of the person Yumiko was prior to her trauma. Fiore glides everywhere that she goes, and she has a relaxing aura that can almost put others to sleep. She’s also an incredible singer, putting even Yumiko, another talented performer, to shame.

Calanthe

Calanthe is incredibly shy and tends to avoid speaking with people where possible. She’s very easy to overwhelm and absolutely detests being touched. She enjoys writing poetry and taking care of plants and animals, operating under the logic that none of those things can hurt her. Calanthe is the manifestation of trauma and grief from the Ancient Warrior of Wood, leaving her as a hollow shell of her former self. She’s the embodiment of Yumiko’s fears, prompting her to be easily frightened and agitated by Yumiko’s triggers involving assault. She moves quickly in an attempt to keep from being touched and speaks softly and carefully, sometimes stammering if she’s particularly nervous.

Lyseir

Lyseir is proud and firm in herself, possessing a confidence that many others lack. She exudes an aura of pure power, the type of boldness found only on the battlefield. She can be rather morbid without meaning to, saying something casually tragic like it’s nothing due to her experience in combat. Lyseir personifies the Ancient Warrior of Wood’s battlefield prowess and preparedness from the early days of the war with Lucemon. In Yumiko, Lyseir is an ideal companion, the type of person who can defend her from anything negative. She walks confidently and at her own pace, making others wait for her rather than the other way around.

Wood Collective

The group rarely argues, if ever, possessing incredible skills of communication that allow them to easily understand each other. Fiore is the most prominent followed by Lyseir and finally Calanthe. Fiore is also the best at pretending to be Yumiko, but Calanthemon is second in this category, leaving Lyseir last. Lyseir protects everyone in times of turmoil while Fiore cheers them up in dark moments. Calanthe soothes the group similarly to Fiore, but her primary job is to keep Yumiko from giving in to her overpowering empathy and spiraling as a result.

Warrior of Water

This collective includes Hinoka Sakatami, the current vessel of Water, and Oceania the Human Spirit, Aquaria the Beast Spirit, and Cerulea the Hybrid. The body can see, breathe, and hear perfectly underwater, leaving them immune to drowning. They feel at their strongest when in the presence of water, and they heal quickly when completely submerged in liquid. They also enjoy rainy weather.

Hinoka

Hinoka is gentle and jittery, often keeping others away out of a fear of getting hurt. She is open about her anxiety and doesn’t even try to hide it when she’s struggling. Hinoka finds herself to be weak and longs to be strong without being nervous over how others feel about her. She is incredibly emotional both for herself and others, but she has a lot of compassionate energy that doesn’t seem to have a place to go. Hinoka is very kind as well, almost to the point of naivete. She moves quickly and awkwardly, and she often seems rather jumpy.

Oceania

Oceania is a shy and soft-spoken person, and she struggles greatly with anxiety and the fear that comes with being around others. She takes a long time to open up to others, believing that it’s rare for other people to be worthy of hearing about her struggles. In the Warrior of Water, Oceania acts as a manifestation of youth from before she had a sense of confidence and struggled greatly with self-esteem. For Hinoka, Oceania holds anxiety and fear, and Oceania bears part of Hinoka’s trauma so that the vessel of the system doesn’t have to. She speaks the least out of the group’s members.

Aquaria

Aquaria is described by many as the manifestation of strength, rarely allowing the words of others to get to her. She has an undying sense of confidence and faith in herself, and she helps out others with a heart that many would describe as endlessly noble. For the Warrior of Water, Aquaria reflects her personality during the war when she completed her journey of self-discovery and set out to aid those who were struggling under the weight of the fighting. For Hinoka, Aquaria is an ideal that she longs to reach but finds to be impossible, leading to Hinoka admiring the Beast Spirit of Water greatly.

Cerulea

Cerulea has a maternal aura that allows her to easily connect to others. Many find her to be easy to trust, and she is seen as a shoulder to cry on when times grow to be difficult. She has a naturally soothing presence to counteract the stress placed on other members of the group. For the Ancient Warrior of Water, Cerulea acts as the halfway point between Oceania and Aquaria when she was focusing on finding herself in the final days leading up to the battle with Lucemon. In Hinoka’s case, Cerulea is the mother figure that Hinoka always wanted but never got due to her mother’s various personality flaws.

Water Collective

All four of the Warriors of Water are very close, and they rely on each other through thick and thin. They never get into arguments since they simply understand one another well and know how to talk out issues when they arise. Since they can soothe one another’s anxieties well, the Warriors of Water help to ensure that Hinoka doesn’t fall apart under her issues with stress, greatly improving their shared quality of life and mitigating the impacts of severe anxiety and depression. Oceania is the best at imitating while Aquaria is the worst, leaving Cerulea to rest in the middle. Prominence is a different story entirely though, and Cerulea is the most prominent most of the time followed by Aquaria and then Oceania.

Warrior of Steel

This collective includes Saki Fushida, the current vessel of Steel, and Lyra the Human Spirit, Onyx the Beast Spirit, Aeris the Hybrid, Seraphi the Hope Celestial, Ophani the Light Celestial, and Cherubi the Destiny Celestial. The body can read minds and move small objects, though the ability is limited and can induce severe migraines if care is not used. They can also touch electronics and immediately access the data contained within. Their memory is also above average. They feel best when the presence of excessive amounts of metal.

Saki

Saki is a distant strategist, always wanting to find the best solution to a situation. They care about survival more than anything else, and they refuse to hurt others unless the person in question is a threat to Saki or those around them. They hide their emotions as a defense mechanism, unwilling to show weakness in case those they distrust exploit it. Saki struggles to open up to others, but their intelligence and quick thinking is second to none. They always move with a purpose, shoulders pressed back and watching everyone critically to frighten those who may pose a threat to them.

Lyra

Lyra is emotionless at a first glance, always viewing situations from a pragmatic and logical eye. They have an incredible natural feel for tactics and strategy, and they often notice even the smallest actions and note what they mean about a person. Lyra is the manifestation of the Ancient Warrior of Steel during the war against Lucemon, reflecting their stoicism as the team’s strategist. For Saki, Lyra is the embodiment of a wish for survival, and they will do anything to ensure that prolonged safety is secured. They move stiffly and tend to glare without meaning to.

Onyx

Onyx has immense ambition and a powerful sense of what is right and wrong. They want to defend those who have been hurt by others, and they detest those who misuse their positions of power to harm those around them. They act as a defender of the weak when given the chance. Onyx reflects the Ancient Warrior of Steel’s righteous anger at Lucemon and others who willingly inflict pain on others. In Saki, Onyx acts as an idol figure who will keep them safe from the pain that others have caused them. They move quickly and with purpose.

Aeris

Aeris is easily the most passionate and emotional out of the Warriors of Steel. They fully understand the wide range of emotion and how to properly utilize it. They are a strong leader and know how to appeal to both the emotional and logical sides of others. Aeris is the personification of the Ancient Warrior of Steel at their peak before their death when they acted as the leader of the Legendary Warriors. In Saki, Aeris embodies the feelings that Saki spent many years repressing and ignoring in favor of control. Aeris moves with a sense of casual authority.

Seraphi

Seraphi is the personable type, and he excels in strategy as well. He’s caring as well, believing that all creatures are deserving of care. He has a fatherly aura, and he often attempts to understand the perspectives of others. Seraphi has an interest in reading. Since he is not a direct Legendary Warrior, Seraphi does not embody anything in the Ancient Warrior of Steel or Saki. Instead, he simply holds all of the memories of Seraphimon from the Digital World after Saki scanned his memory data. He walks with an air of authority.

Ophani

Ophani is charismatic and confident, knowing what she wants and how to get it. She’s elegant and tends to attract the admiration of others without even trying. She’s a natural leader and can easily get others on her side regardless of the situation. Ophani cares greatly for those around her and will do what she can to cheer them up when possible. She is not connected to an Ancient Legendary Warrior or Saki, instead only manifesting as the memories of Ophanimon prior to Saki’s scanning of her data. She is known to have a motherly aura.

Cherubi

Cherubimon is the shyest and most reclusive out of the Celestial Three. He tends to keep to himself and is rather passive. He dislikes conflict but suffers from an awful sense of paranoia that can leave him worried and anxious. Cherubi wants the best for others but isn’t the best when it comes to expressing his emotions. He lacks a connection to an Ancient Legendary Warrior, and he isn’t linked to Saki either. Instead, he holds the memories of Cherubimon from before he was scanned. He moves slowly and avoids eye contact.

Steel Collective

There are rarely issues of dispute between the members of the Steel group. Lyra is most prominent in the group followed by Aeris, Onyx, Ophani, Seraphi, and finally Cherubi. Aeris is the best at acting in Saki’s place followed by Lyra, Onyx, Ophani, Seraphi, and Cherubi. The Celestial Three are nowhere near as prominent as the Warriors of Steel, often preferring to stick to their own devices. There is communication among all of them, but the Celestial Three spend more time with each other than the Warriors of Steel when push comes to shove.

Warrior of Energy

This collective includes Mayumi Reiku, the current vessel of Energy, and Kiris the Human Spirit, Sheyu the Beast Spirit, and Aether the Hybrid. The body is naturally energetic and can operate incredibly well even under stressful circumstances. They also have incredible speed and can sense the chaos and energy found inside a person. They can give limited doses of energy to those around them, and they feel at their strongest along other energetic people.

Mayumi

Mayumi has more energy than she knows what to do with, and she’s incredibly chipper. She’s incredibly optimistic and has a natural way of rallying others to look at the bright side of a situation. She often takes risks without thinking the consequences through, leading to her being somewhat clumsy and disorganized. Mayumi has a short attention span as well, but she always puts her heart into something when it captures her full focus, and she’s filled to the brim with love. She moves quickly and practically never stops moving, always fidgeting with a small toy if she can.

Kiris

Kiris is an unapologetic trickster who doesn’t care what others think of her in the slightest. She’s hyperactive and bubbly, and she almost never stops moving. She has a strong sense of humor and always knows just how to cheer others up. Kiris acts as the manifestation of the Ancient Warrior of Energy’s youngest years before she found a purpose with her allies. For Mayumi, Kiris reflects childhood and optimism prior to when Mayumi suffered abuse at the hands of her mother. Kiris moves similarly to Mayumi, but she never stops smiling regardless of the situation.

Sheyu

Sheyu is rather somber and expresses guilt and detachment from the rest of the world. She fears being a burden and wants to be as productive as can be for the sake of satisfying others. Sheyu is an extreme contrast from the others under the Energy name and is calm and self-deprecating by comparison. For the Ancient Warrior of Energy, Sheyu is the manifestation of guilt prior to her betrayal of her allies to side with Lucemon. In Mayumi, Sheyu holds negative emotions regarding the way that Mayumi was treated and cast aside throughout childhood. Sheyu moves and talks far slower than anyone else in the group.

Aether

Aether is confident and outgoing, putting her all into the subjects that she cares for. She is charming and can be a bit of a flirt at times, playing around with others as a way of getting them where she wants. Aether cares for those around her though, and she wants to keep them safe. She manifests the Ancient Warrior of Energy’s endless love for the rest of her team. As far as Mayumi is concerned, Aether is a protective figure, the type that Mayumi idolized for being strong throughout her youth. She walks the fine line between Kiris’ speed and Sheyu’s slowness when it comes to movements.

Energy Collective

The four get along well and bounce off each other rather well. They know how to lift one another up when they’re down, taking their unique perspectives and helping one another through them. Kiris is the best at imitating Mayumi followed by Aether and then Sheyu. The order of prominence is the same, starting with Kiris before shifting to Aether and finally Sheyu. During negative times, Sheyu’s prominence rises because she’s closer to Mayumi when she has an awful issue with her mental health. They talk to themselves a lot since they’re mostly energetic and upbeat.

Warrior of Cosmos

This collective includes Haroi Tsurumaki, the current vessel of Cosmos, and Orion the Human Spirit, Cygnus the Beast Spirit, and Sirius the Hybrid. The body is usually calm and also operates well despite outside stressors. They have an amazing capacity for knowledge and an incredible memory. They are drawn to areas of peace and can sense a person’s balance. They naturally calm those around them without needing to try. They feel best in spaces far from others, especially if the sky is easily visible.

Haroi

Haroi is relaxed and calm, always thinking through every situation that comes his way. He’s logical and quiet, preferring to observe rather than act. He enjoys seeing the people that he loves happy more than anything else, and he’ll do what he can to cheer them up. Haroi often worries about bothering others though, and he sometimes makes excuses when others hurt him due to his low self-esteem. He tends to get caught up in his head a bit much at times, causing him to often stay within the confines of his comfort zone. He’s focused when in control, and he can be spotted due to his habits of people watching.

Orion

Orion is endlessly curious about the world around him, and he tends to talk to himself almost constantly. He yearns to figure out more about how various things work, and he loves fiddling with both technology and scientific subjects, though astrology is his favorite topic for obvious reasons. In the Ancient Warrior of Cosmos, Orion shows off how he behaved in his youth before the war disturbed his years of development. Orion is a manifestation of how Haroi would have acted if not for his trauma as well with Orion showing signs of being outgoing despite Haroi’s introverted nature.

Cygnus

Cygnus is the most outgoing out of the members of the group, and he isn’t afraid to speak his mind, though he’s always careful to be respectful to those around him. He has endless energy and practically never stops moving and spending time with others unless he hits the point of crashing. He’s the best at handling social situations since everyone else in his collective is so shy. For the Ancient Warrior of Cosmos, Cygnus reflects the charisma and respect he needed as a general in the early days as a war. For Haroi, Cygnus is an ideal that he wishes he could reach, causing him to admire Cygnus greatly.

Sirius

Sirius is introverted and quiet, greatly enjoying reading and writing in his free time. He is more than content with his own company despite easily getting along with others. He is also analytical and logical, easily able to find answers to puzzles that have no solutions at a first glance. For the Ancient Warrior of Cosmos, Sirius is a manifestation of a need for self-preservation born of the war’s existence, something that ultimately led to the Warrior of Cosmos turning traitor before being killed by Lucemon. For Haroi, Sirius holds negative memories of the past, most notably those involving his insecurity after his mother abandoned him.

Cosmos Collective

The members of the Cosmos Collective mesh well and are easily able to communicate their problems thanks to their desire to avoid long-running conflict. Even though most of them are quiet, Cygnus still gets along with the other members of the group, always willing to pull them out of their shell when they need it most while still respecting their boundaries. Sirius is the best at pretending to be Haroi followed by Orion and finally Cygnus. On the other hand, Cygnus is the most prominent with Orion in the middle and Sirius at the end of the list. They all share love of the world around them, and they have a common hobby in stargazing due to their elemental affinity.

Warrior of Heaven

The Warrior of Heaven refers to the combined might of all of the Legendary Warriors when placed together. They share fragmented memories of Susanoo, the Warrior of Heaven, and Luce, the Angel of Hell, that grow stronger when they are near one another.

Even when separated, the Warriors all share similar passive effects on their bodies. They are able to understand animals when they focus enough due to their inherent connection to nature. They develop muscle faster than normal humans as well, and they rarely tire despite their differing levels of stamina. The Warriors can all sense one another’s presence as well, and they can temporarily indulge in the passive abilities of the others if they put enough effort towards it. Being able to sense one another and use the abilities of the others are both side effects of becoming Susanoomon and merging to become one being temporarily. These effects are all permanent.

Susanoo

Susanoo has a strong sense of justice and is very rarely deterred by any of the ups and downs of life. They are eternally confident and get along with others well. While all of the members of the group hold fragments of Susanoo that reflect their power and loyalty through their own personalities, the strength of Susanoo grows when they are together. They are all bound by Susanoo’s thread between them, and while Susanoo lacks the ability to take control, the various Legendary Warriors are able to share thoughts when they are close enough physically as a full group of twelve. Susanoo is characterized by all of the group’s members talking in sync, though this is incredibly rare.

Luce

Luce is the complete opposite of Susanoo. Rather than being passionate and confident, Luce is detached and quiet, rarely finding interaction with others to be worth their time. Unlike the Digimon they are based on, Luce isn’t downright malicious, instead simply choosing to keep to themselves. Since they are scattered into fragments across the Legendary Warriors, Luce is nowhere near as prominent as the others, and they even lack strength in comparison to Susanoo. When Luce is in control, the group also talks in sync, though this is even rarer to see than Susanoo being in full dominion of the Warrior of Heaven.

Heaven Collective

As a whole, the Legendary Warriors have a powerful dynamic, something that can be shown through their connections of Susanoo and Luce. Susanoo is the stronger out of the two by far, and their sense of justice can be seen in all twelve of the Legendary Warriors thanks to the time when they united as the Warrior of Heaven. Luce is benevolent and quiet, though since they are less open with their emotions, they tend to slip between the cracks. The prerequisites for the members of the Heaven Collective to appear and take control are already notably difficult to overcome, causing Luce to be widely unheard and unseen.

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years

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Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85

~^~

Friday, 21:21

Song: Haux - Seaside

Lucas finds it hard to believe that he’s been wandering around the city for two hours. He feels like he should be exhausted—he had been, before he left. But as he follows Jens through unfamiliar streets, he feels wide awake.

There’s finally enough room for them to skate side by side, which means Jens isn’t looking over his shoulder every two seconds and making Lucas worry that he’s going to crash. Instead they glance across at each other every few seconds, Lucas with curiosity and Jens with barely-contained excitement. Lucas has no idea where they're going. For all he knows, Jens is currently leading him to his death.

Still, he gladly follows.

“You remember I’m still on curfew, right?” Lucas reminds him, still, even though he himself is glad to ignore the looming deadline right now.

But Jens simply nods and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “We’ve still got a bit over an hour left, right?”

Lucas nods.

“Okay, good. Plenty of time.”

“For what? Where are we going?”

Jens huffs a laugh. “Don’t you like surprises?”

“In the dark, in an unfamiliar place, with a strange guy…”

“Hey,” Jens protests, reaching out and giving his shoulder a shove. “I’m not strange.”

“Who may be prone to violence,” Lucas adds.

Jens snorts, and doesn’t argue any further, focusing on the destination ahead—wherever it may be. Lucas doesn’t really mind. He takes the opportunity to appreciate the other’s profile; he catalogues the curve of his lashes, the straight slope of his nose, plump lips and a sharp jaw, and then he tears his gaze away. He shouldn’t feel so excited. He shouldn’t be acting like the air between them is electric, magic, when Jens has been nothing other than friendly and welcoming. He shouldn’t forget the possibility that he’s getting his hopes up for nothing.

But he��s still getting his hopes up.

It’s hard not to, with Jens. Lucas isn’t sure what he expects him to think, when he’s taking him on a tour of his favourite spots in the city and buying him ice cream and shooting him smiles every few seconds. He supposes he’s meant to think that Jens is a good friend. A nice guy. He isn’t supposed to be thinking about how pretty he is or how nice it would be to be more than his friend. He’d gone through this process with Kes already, over a much longer time-period, and he hadn’t managed to knock himself out of it just to come here and have him fall back into the same trap—just with a different boy.

The ‘boy’ part seems to be the recurring problem, but Lucas isn’t too keen on the feelings aspect in general. It’s already caused him more idiotic heartache than it’s worth. He has to stop being crushed every time his expectations are met. He should be learning to control the fury of pain in his chest when he sees the boy he likes with a girl they like. He should not be stoking the flames.

Jens is making it very, very hard.

He rolls to an abrupt stop and catches Lucas by the waist so he does the same, and Lucas’s pulse jumps and then settles into an unsettled rhythm. Jens laughs and releases him much too quickly, leaving Lucas watching him mournfully as he climbs down a few steps to the doorway of a dark building. Lucas raises his brow as Jens leans his weight against the door and shoves, grinning excitedly back at Lucas when it swings open.

He beckons him forward with a tilt of his head. “Come on. This is the main event,” he wiggles his brows.

Lucas picks up his board and takes a few skeptical steps closer. “Is this legal?”

Jens shrugs. “Live a little.”

Lucas takes that as a maybe not.

He trots down the steps and lets Jens lead him inside.

The entryway is nothing more than a square of space, only leaving enough room for the two of them to take three steps through the door before getting to the open space. It’s shrouded in darkness, invisible to Lucas beyond a few vague shapes that are illuminated, Lucas realises, by the gaping hole in the center of the ceiling. It brightens further when Jens flips on a softbox light in the corner, grinning at Lucas as the space finally becomes visible.

The ground drops away about a foot from Lucas into a long slope, which curves up at the opposite side. It twists around the expanse of the room, winding in and out, stretching and gapping. Inside the dugout space there are scattered heights, varying from bumps to slopes with tops level with the ground Lucas currently stands on.

“Jens...what?”

Jens walks slowly over to rejoin him, spreading his arms wide to showcase his discovery. “It’s an indoor skatepark. Well, park probably isn’t the right word, and it isn’t really anything anymore, but it’s cool, right?”

Lucas can do nothing more than nod, having been rendered momentarily mute. There’s nothing particularly special about it, really. An artfully carved out space lit up under a half moon and a sprinkling of stars. Yet there’s something about it—about the hidden quietness of it, the secrecy the rundown walls seem to hold, the forgotten, abandoned tone that entice a sort of intimacy in those lucky enough to still witness it. The truth is that it’s the kind of place Lucas loves, and one he can’t believe Jens found.

More than anything, he’s awed that Jens has thought to share it with him.

“How’d you find this?” he asks, once he’s finally found his voice again, when Jens has returned right to his side.

“My dad took me here once when I was really young, before it shut down because they went out of business. But then a few years ago, it went on fire.” Jens points at the ruined ceiling. “Or someone set it on fire, I guess. But it only seemed to be the roof that was damaged, and they cleared it away so it wouldn’t be as tempting to throw a match in the ruins and do the rest of the place. But they never thought to get a proper lock.”

Lucas huffs, shaking his head. Marveling. At the space, no, but at Jens. His ease, his cool, even when overshadowed by nerves, rocking on his heels as he watches Lucas impatiently.

“Do you like it?” He asks eventually, carefully.

Lucas says, “It’s amazing,” and means you’re amazing. It makes Jens beam all the same.

“So? You wanna give it a try?”

Lucas is stepping on his board before Jens can even finish. “Race you.”

“Hey,” Jens calls after him, protesting, and Lucas laughs as he soars down the ramp. He hears Jens’s board follow, and passes him after he turns halfway up the far curve, catching his high-five as they pass.

It’s thrilling and freeing and achingly good, to be alone with Jens in such a place. To not have to care about anyone else, but move around as he pleases, look at Jens however he likes, laugh as loudly as he wants. He’s been happier the whole evening than he’s been since moving here, but there’s something about this that takes it to a new level. Something anticipatory, something in the making, something waiting. Lucas isn’t sure what it is, but he can imagine it’s only so long before the tension finally breaks. It’s flying closer and closer to a crescendo as they fly over the ramps, and Lucas is filled with elation as he reaches the peak.

He comes back down with a little too much speed, and his heart spasms in panic for a split-second, but there’s no need.

Jens is there to catch him.

He has already abandoned his board a few feet away, and he catches Lucas easily, bodily, arms wrapping around his torso and keeping him on his feet. He’s laughing, right next to Lucas’s ear, letting his joy seep right into Lucas’s skin and blend his own into something even warmer, brighter. Lucas laughs with him, not knowing why, ridiculously giddy, and watches as Jens lays himself out on the floor. He collapses down at the bottom of the half-pipe, letting his body be elevated by the slope and tossing his arm over his eyes, breathing deeply.

Lucas lowers himself next to him and settles with one arm behind his head and the other between them.

“This is a very good apology,” he says, looking through the hole in the ceiling at the moon rather than at Jens.

Jens hums. “This earns me back some brownie points?”

“The ice-cream earned them back. This triples it, or something.”

Jens huffs. Lucas can hear his smile. “Or something.”

They lay in silence for a few moments, getting their breath back and staring at the faint glimpses of stars. Lucas feels calm in the quiet—peaceful in a way he doesn’t usually manage unless he’s alone. Being alone with Jens is possibly even better.

Jens drops his arm and it settles against Lucas’s. Their pinkies overlap. He looks over at Lucas, and Lucas can hardly make him out in the light of the night and the softbox, yet the glow surrounding him is almost ethereal. “I’ve never brought anyone else here before.”

Lucas keeps his breath even. He raises a brow. “No? What about Robbe?”

“No,” Jens shakes his head. “Just you.”

Lucas’s lips want to smile. He lets them. “I’m honored.”

Jens smiles. It’s contrastingly bright and soft.

“How often do you come here?” Lucas asks.

“Not that often.” Jens shrugs, turning back to the stars. “Usually just when I’m really down. If I need to get away, be on my own...I come here. Skating helps, and no one else skates here. I can come here and just be.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to take people to the place you go to be alone.”

“Well,” Jens says, “you’re the first.”

Lucas lets the words settle over him and desperately tries to figure out what they mean. He examines Jens’s profile for answers in the second it takes him to turn his head again, and then he looks for them in his eyes. They’re gentle and open and don’t seem to be hiding anything, but Lucas still doesn’t understand what he’s seeing.

Jens gets up suddenly, first pushing himself up with his hands and then climbing to his feet, walking backwards into the middle of the space and looking up out at the sky. “You know the whole thing flooded, a while back.”

Lucas sits up and watches him.

“It was during one of the really bad storms. Obviously with the roof there was nothing to keep the rain out. And the place is basically a big bowl, sunk and everything. It just filled it right up. Turned it into an indoor swimming pool.”

He looks at Lucas as Lucas gets to his feet. “You saw it?”

“Yeah. I think I’m the only one who did. I didn’t even think, and I was just coming here as normal with my board and everything. The water was so clear too. It didn’t go right up to the top, but it was close.”

“You didn’t strip down and go for a swim?”

Jens laughs, free and melodic, and Lucas walks a little closer as he grows mock serious again. “We should do that right now.”

Lucas freezes in his steps, jaw dropping just slightly, but Jens is still smiling. Then he propels his arms in mock swimming motions, zigzagging towards Lucas as he does, and Lucas laughs and bats his arms down when he reaches him. Jens grins, and keeps walking, only stopping when he’s right in front of Lucas, where he seems to freeze up.

Lucas hears his breath catch, and his eyes flicker between Lucas’s, and Lucas has only a moment to think he’s even prettier up close.

Then Jens’s body shifts as if he intends to step away, and Lucas locks his hands around his neck and pulls him down into a kiss.

He doesn’t give himself any time to doubt, to talk himself out of it, and neither does Jens. He responds instantly with a sigh, hands flying up to hold Lucas’s face as he kisses back, lips firm and insistent and yet soft. Chapped and careful and needy as he presses against Lucas and melts.

Lucas lets out something more embarrassing than a sigh—a groan or a moan of utter relief. His body, his skin and his veins and his blood are all alight, his heart pumping fire as Jens steals the breath from his lungs and Lucas kisses him with everything he has. It’s easy. To find a rhythm with their lips and to part them at Jens’s request, to grip at the back of his neck and tug at his hair and urge more out of him, to feel pleasure shoot down his spine and happiness swarm his stomach with an unknown intensity.

He has never, in his life, felt anything like that.

Even though he has kissed softer lips, and thread his hands through longer hair, and had gentler hands on his cheeks, he has never, in his life, experienced anything as good as this. He has never wanted, ached for anything more, and he has certainly never imagined he’d be lucky enough to get what he wants.

But Jens kisses him, and breathes, and then kisses him again, and shows no signs of stopping.

Lucas could happily live on this, forever. He doesn’t need anything else. He can’t even bring himself, at any moment, to wish for air.

It has never felt easier to breathe.

Jens finally breaks away to pant, chest heaving against Lucas’s and shaking with a laugh as Lucas raises up to kiss his cheek, pressing his nose to the same spot and breathing him in before he’s able to meet his gaze. Jens looks back in complete and utter awe, then leans down to kiss him again.

It’s impossible, and disgusting, just teeth against teeth because they’re smiling too wide, unable to hold themselves at bay, and still they try, giggling against each other’s mouths. It becomes easier when Jens slides his hands over the slope of Lucas’s shoulders, skimming down his ribcage to settle at his waist. Lucas’s breath hitches, and Jens kisses him quiet, and Lucas’s heart shudders and simmers, the flames quieting down to a low heat.

Jens’s hands move to his back, the dip of his spine, and pull him closer. Lucas goes easily, pressing up onto his toes to bring them chest to chest, and the kiss gentles and deepens, lips wrapping around lips and tongues gliding over the swollen skin.

Lucas is glad, at least, that he already knows how to kiss.

But he’s struck dumb by the fact that this is the first one he’s ever really enjoyed.

Then again by the fact that it’s Jens.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” Jens mumbles, seconds or minutes or hours later, somewhere in the time Lucas has lost track of.

Lucas doesn’t even think before answering an honest, “Me too.” Quiet and private—a whisper in the dark, a confession witnessed only by the moon and the stars.

Then it hits them, and they break, giggling again, and Lucas tucks his face into Jens’s neck and wraps his arms tightly around his waist. Jens shifts a hand into his hair and presses a kiss to the top of his head, his temple, the tip of his ear, and Lucas basks in the glow, no longer feeling like he’s on fire.

He’s finally been set afloat.

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

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vampiresuns · 3 years

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🍋 Two Is A Crowd, Three Is A Party | Amparo x Rodrigo x Jacqui

Written or the @midsummer-masquerade, Day 5, using the prompt ‘degradation’ and a little bit of ‘lingerie’, if you squint. In which Amparo has no patience for Rodrigo, and Jacqui gets to know her a little better. 1.9k words.

Posting this one day late, because it got too late yesterday.

Rodrigo and Jacqui belong to @apprenticealec, my beloved. You can read the rest of City of Delights here.

CW: Light degradation, oral sex, anal fingering, penetration, spitroasting.

After she had ran into him after her opening performance, Rodrigo lost no time suggesting they found their own little corner to fuck. Amparo snorted inelegantly, an incredulous and amused look on her face, while Rodrigo called Jacqui over, who excused himself to the people he was talking to and began making their way towards Rodrigo and Amparo.

“What?” He said, annoyance palpable.

“I do not fuck in little corners, I’m not you. I have a room, you inelegant thot. Oh, hi Jacqui, long time no see!”

Jacqui kissed her knuckles to say hello to her, congratulating her on her performance.

“Why, thank you! You don’t suppose you’d like to join us, would you?”

She began running patterns over his chest with her finger, ignoring Rodrigo who complained about not being given attention. Jacqui swallowed as Amparo’s tone became sweeter.

“You wouldn’t leave me all alone with him, would you?”

“I’m right here.”

Amparo rolled her eyes. “You’ll take what you’re given, and you know I don’t like brats, honey. A valid quest, just not my cup of tea. So are you going to keep complaining, or do you want me to suck your dick while Jacqui fucks me?”

Rodrigo and her bickered almost the entire way to her room. Like Rodrigo she didn’t mind not wearing a mask, though when Jacqui asked, she shot him a witty: “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask personal questions here?”

He was about to apologise when she smiled at him — she had a wide, beaming smile that was very charming. She explained her reasons with ease, the same presence and poise he remembered from the time Rodrigo insisted into a theatre to rob someone rich who had something he wanted. It was petty, but he was determined. Rodrigo never found it. Instead he found Amparo.

Or rather, Amparo found him.

He didn’t know much about her, other than what she did for a living and the fact she was a Cassano. In that way, he knew more of her family than he did of her; whether she knew or not she didn’t say. From what Jacqui remembered she was not very prone to explaining herself. Ever.

He had no chance to take the room in, because the moment they were inside, Rodrigo was already on it. He had waited long enough for his standards, so he was already kissing Amparo, rough and fast and a lot. Amparo still made him wait a little, solely so she could give Jacqui some attention of her own, but she still was going straight to the point. As soon as she could, she handed Jacqui a bottle of oil, telling him to make her feel good.

She began fingering while the three of them exchanged kisses and Amparo took both Jacqui’s and Rodrigo’s dicks in her hands, sandwiched between them. As soon as she was ready, she told Rodrigo to lie back, as she moved to get on her hands and knees between them — she leant against Jacqui first, her lips parting as his cock sunk into her ass slowly. Once she felt comfortable, she got fully on all fours. However, Rodrigo was kneeling back on his heels, talking some talk about doing what he wanted.

Jacqui couldn’t see Amparo but he could feel her roll her eyes.

Before he agreed to get into this, Jacqui would’ve never thought the hottest part was going to be Amparo taking none of Rodrigo’s bullshit. First, he tried to pull her hair, which she didn’t like so she pinched his inner thigh very unpleasantly, picking at the soft skin there with her fingernails. Rodrigo whimpered, which he denied. Jacqui almost stopped moving but Amparo told him not to.

“Oh no, handsome, I think he’ll like it best if I chew him out while he doesn’t just see you fucking me, but also when he can hear it in my voice.”

Lo and behold, she was correct. Every time Rodrigo got too cocky, or too comfortable running his mouth, Amparo pinched him. She never just pinched him too, for every thing, she had a witty turn of phra. Some were witty, some were meaner, but all of them bothered Rodrigo one way or another in a way that was both really arousing and really funny.

At some point Rodrigo threatened to leave. Jacqui knew him enough to know he didn’t mean it.

“Leave them, you know brat aren’t my thing.”

“I’m not a brat.”

“Oh, my mistake — you preferred ‘loser’, didn’t you? The door’s wide then, because I don’t fuck losers. I’m keeping Jacqui, though.”

“Nuh-huh you’re not.”

“Yes, yes I am.”

Amparo wasn’t even touching Rodrigo any more, and yet Jacqui didn’t miss how his cock twitched. Neither did Amparo, who sounded incredibly unimpressed.

“Seriously?” She sighed, though with how Jacqui was fucking her, it sounded more like a moan. “Do you want your dick sucked or not, Drigo?”

To Jacqui’s surprise, Rodrigo gave in. Amparo told him to remember: no more hair grabbing, which he didn’t, and to not get too frisky — which he did anyway, gaining him more thigh pinches, but at this point, Jacqui suspected Rodrigo was into it. Still, Amparo didn’t stop sucking him off now. Instead she swayed between them, the wet moans coming from her against Rodrigo’s dick as Jacqui began pressing against her prostate.

The longer he thrust into her, the more her hands gripped Rodrigo’s thighs. Proper grabs this time, not the retaliation pinches she was giving him before. Rodrigo came first, Amparo swallowing around him and then whipping her mouth with the back of her hand. It didn’t take him long to leave afterwards, Amparo patting his cheek and telling him to “not be too unbearable” around the party.

Once they were alone, Amparo asked Jacqui if there was anything he wanted, her demeanour changing from contrary, to the same stuff her beaming smile was made of. Jacqui took it slower, spooning her as they fucked, changing the position. Amparo took his hand to her chest, and turned her head to share indulgent, deep kisses with him.

She came before him, but Jacqui followed soon after, kissing her neck gently as they both caught their breaths, enjoying each other’s company.

“Do you mind if—?”

“You get up?” She said, finishing her sentence for him. “Not at all! Let me move.”

She did so swiftly but stayed on the bed, stretching with a pleased whine and lying there for a while. She told him to feel free to take a bath if he wasn’t ready to leave yet, she didn’t mind if he wanted to wind down. As always, she didn’t elaborate if that was politeness or an educated, albeit correct, guess. Jacqui wanted to ask, but didn’t, settling for getting in the bath instead, enjoying the water and the flowers floating in it.

He could hear Amparo move in the background, shuffling around as she hummed a song Jacqui couldn’t recognise. She was an odd woman, Jacqui determined once they were alone. Even in loneliness she carried a presence to her, something he couldn’t quite place. Pizzazz was the closest word for it. Yet, despite her fiery personality and charming frankness, Amparo was not a talker. The moment the extrovert (Rodrigo) was removed from the room, she felt no need to talk. If Jacqui was being honest with his own observations, she didn’t even do so when Rodrigo was with them.

To his embarrassment, she caught him staring. Amparo smiled at him again.

“I don’t bite unless you ask, or you earn it.”

“Like Rodrigo earned his pinches?”

She shrugged. “That depends entirely on you.”

She asked him if he minded if she joined him in the bath. He didn’t. Without prompting, she let him know he didn’t mind him watching — a good look was just as powerful a form of flirting than any other. She was now wearing a deep red robe that was completely sheer, and that was casted aside before she sunk into the bath, giving out a little sigh of pleasure with the temperature.

Keeping her hair out of the way, she lied into the water as much as she could, her piercing green eyes closed, and a placid expression on her face.

After a while, she spoke again. “You have questions.”

“Which I’m sure you won’t answer,” Jacqui said, amused.

“Smart man… but I like you, you’ve always been the nice one. So ask if you want, I promise to at least answer one.”

If that was how it was going to be, then Jacqui better think his question thoroughly. After some moments of consideration, he fired away: “I remember, I remember from when we met you with Rodrigo that someone asked you about your family. I don’t think they noticed you never answered their question, because you sounded really excited to talk about how much you appreciate them, but Rodrigo asked you about your cousin on our way here and you simply didn’t answer. Do you never talk about them?”

Amparo sat up, turning to face Jacqui, her green eyes looking directly at him. They were dark green, like a very lush forest after the spring rains, and very, very piercing.

“You were a scholar, weren’t you not?”

Jacqui froze.

“As I suspected. You don’t resemble them, in the slightest, I wouldn’t let you near me if you did. You’re too good for them, clearly… but I can tell that you were,” her tone was heavy, almost sad. It didn’t sound like pity, Jacqui felt like she wouldn’t be the type, but it felt like something else he couldn’t tell. Jacqui didn’t even want to ask what it was.

“How can you—?”

“Do you really think the Valerian Cassano didn’t teach us how to spot you? Even before the Valperga joined us, the Scholars and my family have not gotten along.”

Jacqui had to admit she had a point. He knew this.

“I assume you do not speak of them.”

“Your family cannot be anything like them—”

Amparo interrupted him in a snap. “Of course they’re not. The Scholars do not deserve to walk the same soil as my family, but that wasn’t why I said it. You don’t speak of them because it is safer, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So, what do you think Jacqui? I am very protective of my loved ones. I will not be one to bring harm to them.”

“Is all your family like this?”

“Take a guess.”

Jacqui let out a snort, but he let the topic go, Amparo sinking back into the water and looking as if she had no intention to continue that line of talk. Eventually, Jacqui got up to leave the bath, but Amparo stopped him, peaking one eye open and smiling at him once again.

“You know, if you’d like, I would not mind another round, if you’d like one too.”

She paused to move towards him, the water moving around her with gentle sounds. She put her hand on Jacqui’s thigh, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t have anywhere to be in a while, but the call is yours.”

She began retreating, but Jacqui took her hand, softly pulling her back to him and kissing her. She immediately deepened the kiss; it had the same fire than before, but it lacked the rush — it was more like a constant flame, a steady movement.

Naturally, Jacqui said yes.

#the arcana #the arcana lemon #minors dni #vesuviaafterdark #my writing #city of delights #midsummer masquerade #amparo cassano #captain rodrigo #loser boy i love you so #jacqui #the janiverse

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alientoastt · 3 years

Text

cod masterpost

cod info under the cut! because the tags on my art of them are always very confused but supportive, this... might clear things up a tiny bit?

as for the other characters mentioned, i have a post here that i try to keep updated that has a basic rundown of every player character on my friends’ server (and who plays who). update 10/25/21 its so fucking out of date but in my defense we haven’t played in a very long time

Cod is a faerie cursed into the body and occasional mind of a cat. He is a bit of a bitch (affectionate). They are overly emotional, though not overly empathetic, and he has been known to shut down when overwhelmed. On her best days, they're showy, chatty and cheerful; on their worst, he is nonverbal and bitter. She is working on relating and communicating with people, and has made vast strides compared to where she started.

Despite coming across as not the most open being, Cod really does care for others that he trusts, and will often work hard to help them in any manner she can with their cat form. They try not to be overbearing or annoying, and he does a great job letting her family know how much they care about them all.

Due to the nature of the curse on them, she occasionally loses herself. During that time, he acts exactly as a chubby calico cat should; napping, biting, and curling up in Icarus' lap because he won't stop crying. They lose their memories at this time, and she either wants more physical affection or is better at yowling for it in this state.

Appearance

Pre-curse

Cod was created as a thin white faerie. They freckled easily, and the white side of her white-and-orange hair sported fewer brown steaks as though he's greying in reverse. Both their eyes were blue. They had a pair of comparatively large (to their short stature) ethereal wings like those of a tiger moth, and a long pair of antennae sprouting from her thinner hair. Her ears were long and pointed, as any faerie's are, as were his canines, both top and bottom. They rarely wore clothes except for formal events when dealing with other fae courts, and even then, just barely so; he is more comfortable in the buff.

Current

Cod is cursed to be a smallish long-furred calico cat. He has two dark spots above her mismatched eyes (the left green, matching Icarus' right) like eyebrows that give their expressions more emotional range than a standard domestic cat. Her coat is very soft, with a fluffy tail, and he is fairly chubby. By all rights, they resemble a particularly adorable spoiled housecat.

Post-curse

Having spent so long a pampered cat, and Cod's appearance as a faerie reflects their affectionately spoiled state. He has a scruffy goatee and fluffy brows, as well as light hair anywhere else one would expect. Their ears are pierced, and somehow slightly more rounded than before, resembling Icarus' hybrid ears. Likewise, his teeth are more catlike, with the two teeth behind each canine sharpened. Her body is splattered with burn scars, and he sports two thin white scars on their back where her wings were previously. He exudes comfort and confidence, knowing his body is exactly as he likes it. They are slightly more prone to covering up, though only because they travel around and don't wish to offend with their preferred nudity.

On The Server

He lives in the minion house with The Wisp, Icarus, and The Nomad. She does not need to sleep, usually only able to take light naps, and spends their nights curled up on the pillows or in the covers of the rest of the house's inhabitants, providing comfort from nightmares and stress with an eager purr and listening ear.

He is staunchly anti-minion, despite living with two minionologists, which is a real thing in-universe. help

They have several shrines, all of which are valid points of contact with them; though it is unclear who writes the answers in the books, the words are their own.

She has... channels through which they read most anything he can. While she'll rarely admit it, he's particularly fond of journals.

They are stuck as a cat the entire time. This does not dissuade her from considering The Nomad to be his daughter.

Post-canon

She is briefly captured by the court of the Sidhe again, and Icarus saves him and brings them home. The queen Titania uncurses her because Icarus shows he's wanted. Read the story on AO3 :3

Insufferably married (insufferable for everyone else, not for Icarus and The Wisp) once they're no longer cursed. Icarus is the first to kiss them. It's all very sweet.

She takes on the name "Samir", an Arabic name meaning something like "companion in evening talk"— he just picked it up from a list of names meaning "friend", and they liked being able to trill the r at the end, as it feels like a purr.

Trivia

even before being cursed, they purred

she has an extremely limited ability to change her form, mostly using it to affirm her desired gender presentation

his nap spot rankings are as follows:

Icarus' lap (warm and safe)

The Wisp's lap (cold and safe)

The Nomad's pillow, just by her head

Window nest in the minion house, padded with spare flannels (and shed feathers, and a few nice shiny scales) and smelling perfectly like home

The Frost's shrine, tied with The Dryad's

The Dryad's shoulders, despite the stiffness

they never really cared for written or fairytale romance

he doesn't consider Cod to be his name, just a nickname. she's had a lot of those

stims

chews on everything. EVERYTHING. except her nails

fast tail flicking

constant bouncing leg

flicking his ears

hand flaps (full body wiggle when a cat)

cats can't really taste sweets, and they usually favored savory foods in Annwfyn, but they have one helluva sweet tooth later on

loves beautiful vistas, hates hiking

makes some pretty okay wine. it takes a lot to get them drunk

#cod #minecraft #whispers smp #babble #long post #alientoastt ocs #thats a rare tag here. why do i forget that dnd characters are also ocs. anyway yes this is a minecraft character yes hes all i think about

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shinjaeha · 4 years

Text

itsay ep 4 (thoughts + spoilers)

idk even know how to even start this bc i feel like i’m just a big ball of emotions, and this ep was wild. so much happened. last ep was so wonderful and almost languid with how everything played out (esp since it focussed much more specifically on the shift in teh/oh-aew’s relationship). this ep had a bit more of everything, not just the two of them in their bubble anymore. societal forces at play, and hence much more angst. again, this isn’t a proper analysis, it’s just me ranting and raving as usual as i semi-rewatch this again. this is very long, and there are a lot more things i want to think about in more detail at some point bc i’m mostly just skating over a lot of what happened but i gotta get these thoughts in my head out of me somehow. and i’m not sure if what i’m typing will even make sense bc i MYSELF can barely make sense of what i’m feeling but here i go anyway.

so we start off with the both of them kind of awkward after the night before which is fair enough considering what happened. actually when oh-aew’s habit started playing up again, i thought teh wasn’t going to scratch his back bc he was trying not to ~go there again after the night before, but he did and i was pleasantly surprised like oh...maybe things aren’t that bad?? (YET). also, i can imagine that it would have been reassuring for oh-aew too. like things have changed, but it’s not like teh has completely abandoned him. the touch itself is comforting, like when they were kids.

teh’s mum talking about how she wants both of her sons to bring their girlfriends around (and hounding him about bringing tarn around again) is giving me war flashbacks to my own asian relatives and i can feel the way that must crawl under his skin. I HATE when family members do that (and they always do). but for teh it must be esp hard bc he’s already constantly feeling like he’s vying for his mum’s attention over his brother, and now hoon’s bought back a girlfriend so it’s yet ANOTHER thing he feels like he has to compete with his brother over. in the back of his mind, he knows that he can’t give his mum what she wants if he’s with oh-aew (he can’t ‘win’ over hoon bc heteronormativity). teh is def prone to jealousy fairly easily, but i always feel like his emotions on that base level are also very easy to understand. i’ve been in positions like that before where i’ve felt like i’ve constantly been compared to someone else, and it makes you feel like shit. but also oh-aew having to sit through teh’s mum telling him to let her know if teh and tarn are dating?? ouch.

cue teh trying to avoid what’s going on with them and oh-aew being sad :((( they’re both in so much pain and i feel it and thank god i am no longer a teenager that’s all i can say about this.

the guitar in skyline instrumental is just...making me feel some kind of way. they have so many versions of this song and they always use the right version at the right time how is that.

so the tarn scene!!!!!!!!!!!!!! first thought: holy shit she looks so cute i love her crop top where did she get it i want one. second thought: but why did they make her wear a dark bra under such a light top?? i love that i was thinking this and then it all unravelled in front of me and like...the brilliance. the contrast between the scene in ep 2 (i think?) where teh accidentally peeks at her bra through the buttons of her shirt and gets noticeably flustered, and then this one where she literally wears the same bra under a light shirt ON PURPOSE to get his attention, but he doesn’t even notice?? the way she expects him to colour the hibiscus purple, but he colours it red for oh-aew instead?? it’s so incredibly telling of where his heart is at, and how his feelings have changed. anyway, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s just not all there with her anymore, and tarn isn’t stupid...she’s been picking up on the signals since the beginning (why was he so weirdly obsessed with beating oh-aew at the start? why was he willing to wake up at 4am for oh-aew but not for her? willing to tutor the rest of his friends but not spend time with her?). the way she sees him colouring the hibiscus red and it’s her wake up call, like wtf am i DOING bc of this guy????? i love how she acknowledges that her feelings for teh have made it so she’s solely focussed on him and that she hates the things it makes her do (like wearing the bra to gain his attention). ngl i was slightly worried with how they were going to use her character during these later eps with teh being so conflicted (since girlfriends in BLs are usually handled pretty poorly), but i appreciate that she’s still as fleshed out and full of feeling as she ever was. she’s so sweet, and i just wish she had better than this, but i’m glad she called teh out on it. i know he’s confused af rn, and tbh i don’t think he’s handled this as badly (atm at least) as i thought it could have gone, but at the same time, if he doesn’t decide and set his heart on what he really wants, he’s just going to end up hurting them all. LOVE that she basically tells him to get his shit together first before coming back to her. i like her so much. and that scene of teh just walking around and around at the back feeling conflicted while she drew? really reminds me of the squiggly line timeline(?) of how ep 4 was going to go that nadao released before this ep went live. also cmbyn vibes were real in that one.

the devastation in oh-aew’s voice when he asks teh to at least reply his messages ;;; it’s like teh wants to go back to just being friends and oh-aew has kind of accepted that at this point, but at the same time, teh’s not backing that up. he says he wants to be friends, but he doesn’t know how to act ‘normal’ about it anymore, so he pushes oh-aew away instead. good on oh-aew for not taking that shit and standing up for himself too. i absolutely cannot stand seeing oh-aew sad bc pp’s sad face/voice is so good it actually pains me.

notice how teh ALWAYS uses studies/tutoring as an excuse to get closer to oh-aew again...hmmm...does oh-aew see it for what that is now too? that “you’ve never understood me” hit me like a fucking train. to think that they were so attuned to one another last ep, but now teh’s too caught up in he’s own world to realise just how much he’s hurting oh-aew. thanks, i hate it.

i know that he’s needs to figure himself out more and i absolutely stand by the fact that he needs to do that without messing around with either oh-aew or tarn (and also that he’s using studies again to get into oh-aew’s good books instead of talking through feelings and all that), but the chinese idiom book that he made for oh-aew was actually SO CUTE and romantic. all this stuff he does for oh-aew to show that he clearly cares so much, yet he can never accept it enough to get the words out...

I SWEAR THEY PLAY THE INSTRUMENTAL SKYLINE JUST TO CHOKE ME UP. the darting around each other after the neck kiss COUPLED with the skyline instrumental?? it’s like a sad beach scene 2.0. teh making the first (intimate) move this time. every time he’s trying so hard to convince himself he’s not in love with this boy, and every time he keeps coming back. i always feel such a weird mix of happy and sad when i see them together bc i love them but i know teh in particular, is just not ready yet. like the hug scene made my heart leap, BUT they did it in hiding (under the staircase). all their big intimate scenes are in hiding and that just :(((

teh saying that he loves the seawater on his back bc it holds him up, and oh-aew saying but you have to hold your breath in that posture and it gets uncomfortable so he likes letting it go and just sinking sometimes instead (obv paraphrasing but you get the drift)?? THE WRITING IN THIS. it says so much without telling the audience directly...so poetic. everything about this show is so poetic. the way they sink into the ocean and into that space of oh-aew’s where you can just let yourself go without holding back, and then and only THEN does teh finally kiss oh-aew. and it’s beautiful, after holding back for so long, but it’s also painful bc he’s let go but only within this tiny pocket of space and time. in hiding again. that bird’s eye view shot where you can’t see them at all sealed it for me. like you want to be happy, but you can’t really bc you know that they’ve still got so much more to go...like when teh’s hand grazes oh-aew’s chest and you see oh-aew realise again...like that’s partly what stopped teh the first time in ep 3. when his hands stopped at oh-aew’s chest like it hit in for him that he was a boy. anyway, love that they gave us a skam kiss but i’m also very sad. on another note, how the hell did they hold their breath for that long?????

love that they gave us a further 2 more seconds of teh/oh-aew being cute (CONSTANTLY thinking about teh’s fingers dancing across oh-aew’s face and smushing his face in his hands...oh-aew holding the back of teh’s head...just a brief moment of carefreeness) before they went for the jugular. watching teh fight against himself in this way is what hurts. oh-aew begging him to just let go and accept what they are (the way he keeps going “what did i do wrong?? you feel it too!!”) but he’s so tortured he can’t do it. it’s downright fucking heartbreaking. the “one day i’ll stop feeling this way”...could have just stabbed oh-aew and it would have hurt less. all i know is i’m hurting for the both of them. the repression is real, and it just sucks. this whole thing fucking sucks for both of them (and tarn and bas too at that). idk it just gets me that oh-aew is coming out of this having been rejected once again bc teh isn’t ready yet. and i know this but it doesn’t make me any less upset. not at any of them bc it’s hard i know it’s hard...just at the situation. sometimes it feels like teh’s taking a step forward but then he takes two more back instead. the look on teh’s face when oh-aew was like let’s stop being friends...total devastation. i’m done. don’t want to think about it anymore.

i’m glad that oh-aew’s parents are so supportive of him though. i wasn’t sure how close they were based on their previous interaction but they really love him and i’m glad he has that stability to help him through this.

THE SCENE WITH OH-AEW AND THE BRA FUCKING BLEW ME AWAY. this show is always keeping me guessing, and again yet another thing that i wasn’t expecting but it was so visceral. the red of the bra in comparison to tarn’s bra with the purple hibiscus flowers on it...everything connects. oh-aew looking into the mirror with that bra on and thinking about how things would have been different if only :((( and then his breakdown when he realises that it’s not and that’s the reality of the situation. the feeling that gave me sits so deep within my chest i can’t even begin to carve it out.

teh masturbating when he sees that picture of oh-aew and to that picture of yongjian on his wall (idk why it only now just occurred to me that yongjian is always in red too)?? the self-hatred in this scene. the internalised homophobia. my heart feels so heavy.

he KEEPS reaching and it’s going nowhere bc it won’t ever be enough, and that’s not fair on himself and it’s not fair on tarn. like i understand what he’s going through, and i get that he’s extremely confused and needs the clarification, but when he asks tarn to tell her she loves him and he can’t do the same back for her...i just feel so, so, so fucking bad for tarn.

oh-aew hoping that the worksheets left for him were from teh (which would be very on brand of him), but then seeing bas :( maybe in another world, in another life (like teh and tarn)...but he’s such a sweetheart. bas, best boy ;;;

legit as soon as the gang came to see teh off to bangkok and talk to him about how oh-aew was doing terribly (and wasn’t planning on going to the admission exams) i knew where this was going to go. there’s been so much foreshadowing leading up to this, and this was also one of (if not my main theory) with how things were going to eventually play out. but tbh for some reason i thought it was going to play out later in ep 5...but like damn. damn. the way i understand but at the same time i kept going OH TEH :( throughout this. the utter STRESS this bit put me through. THE MISCOMMUNICATION.

anyway, teh’s love language is clearly acts of service. but it can really be to his detriment when he does things impulsively (albeit with care and good intentions), but he doesn’t use his words so things get lost in translation. sometimes actions just aren’t enough and you really do need words to communicate.

the confirmation scene was so tense...even now i’m just sitting here thinking about it and there’s a hole in my stomach at the thought of what teh must be going through and what he ends up doing. like when that last person on the list shows up and you KNOW it’s going to happen but at the same time it’s like a punch to the chest bc there’s just no doubt that teh’s going to turn it down for oh-aew...OF COURSE he would. oh-aew’s split moment of happiness before realising what teh’s done...the absolute dread i still have in me at the realisation of this.

the tension really kept increasing from here on in...teh coming home and his mum just being so fucking proud of him and telling everyone in the restaurant about how happy she is for him (all while teh is absolutely depleted), then tarn coming in and everything bubbling over when she realises what teh’s done too. realises that teh’s in love with oh-aew (smile is so great in this btw like WOW). the “you hurt me and i’m alright with that, teh, but right now you’re hurting yourself” broke my heart. absolutely love tarn as a character and only ever want the best for her.

when he tells his mum :((((((((((( and his mum just goes on about how hard he’s worked and how much he’s already sacrificed only for him to throw that away. he wanted her to be proud of him SO BAD, wanted to not be compared to his brother for once, only for him to give away his place bc he loves oh-aew more than he wants his mother’s praise. more than he wants to compete and ‘win’ against his brother. when she points to hoon and goes “why can’t you be more like him?” and he just loses it. like rubbing salt in the wound. i’m so glad hoon finally hugged him the way i’ve been wanting to this whole time. the banner congratulating him that teh’s mum made with all his materials from before :((( hoon giving him money for uni :((( you ever watch some things and feel like you’ll never be happy again...

okay the way that everything spiralled during the ig story fight?????? what gets me is that teh sacrificed his place thinking that oh-aew wasn’t going to sit the exam at all (he could have just talked to him and convinced him instead but ughhh i understand i get it). oh-aew thinks he did it bc teh didn’t believe he could get in himself (which of course then spurs him to give it up so he can get in through the exam instead). and when teh sees that, it’s like a smack in the face, like he went through all that only for oh-aew to reject it (him). it’s just layers upon layers of miscommunication and the anxiety of it all absolutely guts me. and then the anger mixing into devastation when he opens his book and sees how it’s all cut up. the remnants a reminder of everything he’s done for oh-aew. this boy that he adores but can’t accept he has feelings for. it’s just this mix of anger and sorrow and what have i fucking done?????? and how could he????? the cast were all fantastic but billkin really had to go above and beyond in this one and i could absolutely feel his pain throughout this.

TO PIGGY BACK ON THIS, like i said before, teh has always used studying/tutoring as a tool to get closer to oh-aew, but seeing that book with all the words gone was in part also him realising he doesn’t have that anymore. he can’t use that tool to get close to oh-aew anymore. the only way forward would be to actually get close to oh-aew without the pretences. and the saddest part of this all is that oh-aew doesn’t even NEED all of that (the tutoring, the book of idioms, the relinquishing of his uni spot)...the only thing he wants is for teh to ADMIT his feelings out loud. to admit that he feels the same way about oh-aew that oh-aew feels about him.

it’s funny bc in the last ep, the conversation that had me feeling the most nervous was when they’re talking at the cape, and oh-aew’s telling teh that he’s a rival and inspiration to him. i always KNEW this was going to come back to haunt them. like a constant circle. friends to rivals to friends to more than friends(?) to rivals. it’s a fine line. narratively, it always had to happen, and now they’re back to competing against one another yet again, and it’s going to be so tough bc they’ll have so much more competition on top of that as well.

next ep is going to be very, very hard on teh, but somehow after this ep, i just feel a lot more hopeful about it? i’m pretty convinced at this point that it won’t end in tragedy (which was the thing that i wanted least of all). of course i want both teh and oh-aew to end up together, but i can understand if they don’t. if this ends with them rekindling their friendship again, that’ll be enough for me. their relationship has been so turbulent and passionate that it needs some stability, and hopefully when teh’s in a better state of mind, when he’s at a place when he’s finally accepted all parts of himself, they’ll get there. so if that means it ends on them running to the cape together (even if they’re not technically together) fulfilling their promise to one another in the sunset, then that’s fine with me. i don’t mind an open ending if it makes sense in the context of the story, and i think something like that would. it’s like after such an angsty episode, you need a slight reprieve from it. i have no doubt in my mind that ep 5 will contain darkness, but i do think that there will be light at the end of the tunnel. so for once i feel truly hopeful about it.

i can’t believe we only have one more ep left to go...

#i told sunset about you #itsay #like there's more angst to come but the real climax of it was in this ep that's how i feel anyway #idk if both of them will get in. i HOPE both of them do.#but i just think that when things get angsty at this point of the story there's always a chance for it to turn around #you just need to worry when things are too happy UNTIL you get to the last ep #tbh though i would like a kiss between them out in the open when teh's finally stopped repressing himself #just so he can show the character growth of his whole arc. so he can be free.#i would obv very much like for them to end up together but there's only one ep left so idk if they can get to that point when there's still #so much that teh has to learn to come to terms with #and he's going to be so so stressed with the exam too (i saw the previews and am bracing myself for more heartbreak as he cries)#i did not mean for this to be as long as it was but i was sporadically writing it as i worked and kept thinking of things to add #and it somehow became an essay #i wrote more in this than i've ever written in any of my uni essays GOD #if you read this whole thing you need some kind of medal or something idk man #also random note but teh's mum's kebaya looks like one that my mum owns #text

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

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ok, now I need to know, so sorry if I am annoying!

👀, 🪞, 👄, 👤

ok I am done, thank you in advance!

have a lovely day!

-𝒪𝒸𝓉𝒶𝓋𝒾𝒶

You are never annoying. How dare you!

Well since you did not specify, I will be annoying and use a different OC for each one. I’m sorry these got fucking long.

👀 What is your OC’s eye color? Do they have any eye-related habits, like winking or rubbing their eyes? Do other people tend to notice their eyes?

Rudy’s got black eyes that look like ink splotches on a page. Most people find his eyes creep and out of place. Rudy just jokes that it’s because he’s possessed which is half true. He tends to roll his eyes back to scare people (specifically Constantine).

🪞 How does your OC perceive themself? Do they believe themself to be attractive, unattractive, or average? Does their view of themself affect their self-esteem, or are they unbothered by their physical appearance? (If your OC does have things they’re confident or insecure about, what are they?)

Ok, I’m gonna do two for this one cus these two are on opposite ends of the spectrum. Make no mistake. Mila Furlan is nothing if not vain. She knows she’s pretty and not only owns it but weaponizes it. Sure, she has a few nicks and scratches but she can see how people look at her and she knows that those nicks and scratches can be overcome by pure bluster. She is bothered by a couple of things. While she does like her face (it’s gotten her far in life and it is objectively pretty), it looks too much like her mother’s and that dredges up too many complicated feelings so despite her vanity you won’t actually catch her looking in the mirror beyond just checking if her make up is ok. Another thing that bothers her is her left leg. For one, it’s got a huge scar and second it’s hard to hide her limp sometimes. Somedays it bothers her and thinks it makes her look week but most days she just doesn’t notice it anymore. It’s taken her years to learn to live with it and damn if someone’s gonna take that from her. She can still strut like a queen and everyone else can fuck off as far as she’s concerned. Deere thinks of themself as average. They don’t find any feature on their body horrendous or particularly remarkable they just think of themselves as the stock model for being a human (partially a product of not having too many interactions and being extremely quiet). They make up for this averageness by wearing clothing and accessories that are lousy with bright colors. They also often change the color of their hair alot but it’s usually some variation of pink. Why? Because I like pink haired characters :) Do these loud color over stim them visually? Yes to hell and back but they’ve grown to like the loud colors and find it funny how easy they are to spot in the crowd.

👄 What is your OC’s smile like? Is it bright and wide, or thin and reserved? Does your OC wear any lipgloss or lipstick? Do they chew their lips?

Eddie’s got a couple of smiles in his pocket. He’s got his trusty customer service smile. It’s not too wide and not too thin, just calculated perfectly not to annoy anyone or make them feel the need to annoy him in return. He’s got his ‘I will eat you for breakfast’ which is less threatening because of the sharp curve of his lip. It’s in the way he tilts his head ever so slightly and the arch of his brow. He knows something you don’t and he’s going to twist it in your gut like a knife. (He probably doesn’t but he knows the value of a good bluff)But my favorite is his ‘I hate you so much smile’. It’s the one you get when you catch him off guard with something stupid or funny or sentimental. The lines of his eyes soften and his posture looses his hand edges. He’ll either press his lips to his palm to try and hide the wide smile growing on his face or he’ll try to burry his face in his arms and you’ll only get to see the smile when he tilts his head to try and scowl at you only for him to smile even wider.

Does he wear lip gloss? Absolutely. His lips get cracked too easily. Bloody lips aren’t good for business. Does he bite his lip? No but he does twitch it side to side when he thinks. For reference watch this .

👤 What is your OC’s skin like? Is it unblemished, or are they prone to breakouts? Do they have any scars, tattoos, or other skin markings? Does their skin tend to be sensitive to things that get on it (lotions, cleaning products, etc.)? Faust’s skin is her pride and joy. Her skin is a rich brown, dark and pigmented and pretty like inlayed bronze. Her skin is also covered in tattoos and scars from running into too many situations without a plan. Her skin is festooned with bangles of coiled serpent tails and glittering blades. Her tattoos are gold in the right light. I’m trying to describe exactly how many she has but they’re mainly weapons due to her ability to make them come to life. As for the snakes they come to life too but only one of them is sentient. The other two snakes kind of just fancy grappling hooks. (I’m sorry I just love Faust’s tattoos.) She takes care of her skin mostly using various lotions. Her weapons are less effective when they’re chipped. Dick teases her that it’s ok to admit that she’s a little vain about her skin. (She is but shut up Dick.) She also keeps herself hydrated to keep her skin healthy.

#OCs

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morwensteelsheen · 3 years

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Do you have any advice for someone who wants to write Éowyn x Faramir fanfic in a way that remains authentic to who they are/how Tolkien envisioned them? Of all the fics I’ve read on this pairing, yours just stands out to me as being most in character, whether you’re writing them in Middle Earth or a modern!au. I agree with you about Faramir being gentle but NOT a crybaby and Éowyn not a loose cannon and actually somewhat frosty! Any advice you have would be appreciated. Cheers!

bro... 🥺❤️ that is so kind of you, thank you so much!!!! Like holy moly I am going to be riding high on that compliment all week hahaha, i’m giddy thinking about it.

i’ve been fretting about how to answer this question because i think i still struggle quite a bit with their characterisations. also i’m terrible at framing advice, so i’m going to try and answer this by giving my interpretations of certain things and how that effects how i write about them, and hopefully that will be helpful? also i’m so sorry, this is literally 6,000 words, this totally got away from me.

To start quite generally, i think it’s super helpful to realise that almost all of the characters in LOTR are devoid of any significant internal life because the book is structured as a retelling of historical events to frodo, which are later written down and then “translated” by tolkien. unless a character is explicitly telling frodo/someone else what they’re thinking, we don’t really know what’s going on in there (except éowyn and i’ll come back to this later). But the other reason we don’t really get a sense of most characters’ internal lives is because they function as, essentially, heroic/fantastical archetypes and responses to other elements of literature. People tend to shy away from this because of this weird postmodern backlash against tropes, but it’s, i feel, extremely important to remember that these characters aren’t in the books because they’re fully-fleshed out human beings, they’re there because tolkien needed characters to fulfil certain narrative roles. this is not a value judgement, but acknowledging that’s what’s going on here is helpful for us as we try to figure out what these characters would be doing when canon doesn’t explicitly tell us what they’d be doing (or what they’d be doing in an au/a rewrite/whatever).

All this to say: all of these characters are born out of a specific literary and historical context, and i think in the first instance its suuuuuuuupa helpful to go back and figure out what that context is, because it helps you to build out a character profile in your head that feels true to character even when you’re operating in the great canon unknown.

Okay so for some general thoughts on each of the kiddos:

Éowyn

I’ll start with éowyn because i think i’ve spent the most time thinking about her lately and i feel like i’m finally starting to get in her head a little better. I’m not super confident in my take yet, but it’s getting there, i feel.

éowyn’s metatextual character history is really fascinating and really important for understanding who she is. éowyn is, essentially, a direct response to the character of lady macbeth and what tolkien saw as a massive disservice to her character at the end of the play. I had a much better pull quote from tolkien talking specifically about that, but i can’t seem to find it right now so you’ll have to use this really brief overview instead — sorry! I will update this if i come across the quote again.

understanding that foundation in lady macbeth, we can start to ask certain questions about éowyn vis a vis lady macbeth. What are the things that we know — in text — make lady macbeth and éowyn similar? Quite a lot, actually. They’re both ‘fully realised’ women (and i’ll come back to this in a sec), they’re both not naive about the mechanics of power — lady macbeth is a conniver, éowyn is left in control of a whole ass kingdom while the menfolk are away etc —, they’re both hindered by their gender (this is obvious for éowyn, but i HELLA recommend reading lady macbeth’s come you spirits/unsex me here speech and thinking about the relationship between womanhood and violence, especially in light of éowyn’s experience of battlefield violence and later decision to give it up to go be a hippie in ithilien), and they both have to deal with men being frustrating. I love and will defend théoden quite explicitly, but it’s important to realise that he did, in essence, fuck éowyn over entirely and abdiate on his familial responsibilities to her, before you even get to his abdication of duty to the crown etc.

The other big — very big, i feel — similarity between éowyn and lady macbeth is that they are both tremendously emotionally distant and restrained. But éowyn, unlike lady macbeth, is capable of camouflaging her emotional distance when necessary. Here, from ROTK, is a passage of crucial important to understanding éowyn:

‘Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?’

‘I marvel that you should ask me, lord,’ he answered. ‘For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Éowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king’s bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. But that did not bring her to this pass!’

‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

‘Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden’s ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue at home wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips; you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?’

Emphasis my own.

there’s a whole hell of a lot going on here, but i’m going to try and boil it down to a couple main things:

1. gandalf and aragorn immediately see misery in éowyn, but they are both very good at reading people. faramir (later, in the steward and the king) also senses the misery, but he is explicitly talented at reading people, and even he takes a while to fully understand what’s going on in her head

2. Éomer, who éowyn feels obligation and duty to (both as her brother, but also her superior in rank) has no idea that éowyn is suicidal. he knows she’s not happy, but he thinks it’s not until aragorn shows up that she finally becomes despondent and is amazed to hear that that’s not the case, to which gandalf responds, essentially: you weren’t meant to know, she was working with a will of steel to hide her emotions from you because she wanted to protect you from it. So éowyn is well versed at controlling her emotions when she needs to, and is not prone to showing them where she doesn’t want to.

3. Gandalf describes éowyn first as wrought from steel (which, short of an incredibly hot fire, is not easy to break), and then amends it to say that she is made of ice. Ice, compared to steel, is far easier to melt. Maybe inadvertently on tolkien’s behalf, i think this speaks to the nature of éowyn and faramir’s relationship — first she is melted by fire (battle, the witch-king, etc) and the she is warmed by the sun (faramir! Minas anor! The winter has passed, etc).

4. Earlier i said the characters in lotr don’t really have a huge internal life, except for éowyn. This is where that comes in: éowyn, we are supposed to understand, has a really intense internal life, because her mind is really all she has. We are meant to understand that she’s got a lot going on internally, but there is a very specific reason we’re not privy to it. That’s important to think about.

what this does is widen the gulf between what éowyn’s thinking and feeling, and what she’s actually saying and doing. If you’re writing (as i tend to prefer) in a way that deals with her inner life quite intensely, building that gap up is much easier to do. She’s going to have a lot of thoughts, and almost all of them are going to be hindered by either other people’s expectations of her, or her own expectations of herself. And that’s going to cause problems for her — maybe not always throwing-herself-at-death level problems, but certainly problems.

so there’s that. Then i think there’s a lot to be said for widening the net on éowyn inspirations. I’ve looked to joan of arc (which i kind of hinted at here) quite a bit. I feel like the joan of arc comparison is easy to understand so i wont waste too much time on it, though i will say i’d actually recommend reading catholic interpretations of joan of arc, not later protestant Girlboss interpretations because i think those miss the point of joan of arc entirely.

I was going to try to comment more on the gender element but i feel like i’m not on great footing with that yet so i will leave that to the side for now.

Faramir

tbh i was kind of dreading getting to this because i still find it exceptionally hard to get into his head, so wish me luck lol

I’m going to be a total bore and recommend you check out this article. Bear in mind that that was written by a dude at the citadel so it’s going to stray into the realm of Military Brain at points, but i think it’s a worthwhile read anyways.

ah christ, faramir. okay. cowabunga.

faramir, more so than aragorn, is the platonic ideal of a romantic hero. Both in the genre sense (as in, romance novels) and in the sense of the artistic movement of romanticism, i know i’ve said exactly this before but it’s worth reiterating. I’ll start with the romantic influence and then go onto the romance.

So the romantic movement is a really important intellectual, cultural and political movement, and you will have to forgive me because i am only loosely a modernist and more a contemporary historian, and not at all an expert in literature or art history, so this is going to be, like, a 101 level understanding of what was going on.

The romantic movement is kicked off as a reaction to both the emphasis on rationality and quantifiability promoted during the enlightenment, and the bourgeois economic revolutions (this is the french revolution, mostly, but the later revolutions across the european continent in 1848 and the kickstarting of the industrial revolution in england). Romanticism was, essentially, a return to intense emotionality, reverence for nature, and appreciation of that which is, ultimately indefinable. Not necessary for writing a fanfic, but reading about the idea of the sublime is kind of a fun rabbit hole to go down if you’ve got time to spare.

A lot of present day writers will talk about the romantic movement as a break with the past, which is, i guess, kind of true, but is also not really true. The romantic movement — as much as the enlightenment — took its inspiration and logical from classic art and thought. But it interpreted the classics differently to the enlightenment. Whereas the enlightenment era thinkers were fascinated by the rationality and mathematical precision of the greeks and romans, the romantics were more interested in their emotional liberty, and the epic (in the truest sense of the word) shows of emotion and experiences of human life.

but what does this mean for faramir? A lot!

The first time we’re introduced to faramir (if not in name) is in fotr, when boromir talks about the destruction of the bridge at osgiliath, when he describes an epic story of war and heroism, wherein only four total people survive swimming from the bridge: two unnamed others, boromir, and faramir. right from the off we know that, if nothing else, he’s not a limp-wristed little lordling, he has the fortitude to survive what few others can.

Then, barely half a breath later, we get a description of faramir’s premonition, the fact that it came to him repeatedly, and that he immediately volunteered to go blues clues his way through it. We get the sense that he’s a guy who doesn’t back down from a challenge. And then faramir goes away for a while, until two towers, when we meet him again in the brilliance that is ithilien. And here i’m going to go back to our friend from the citadel for some interesting character insight:

the rangers under the command of Faramir are armed with long bows, giving them the capability to wage war over distances greater than most of their foes. This is the same type of warfare deemed cowardly and dishonorable by the chivalric knights, but is far more effective and less perilous than the face-to-face [...] This tactic also reveals Faramir to be a conscientious leader, minimizing the risk to his subordinates while maximizing their effectiveness in battle. Faramir was considerate of the risk he put his men to and sacrificed the idea of glorious face-to-face combat in favor of a weapon system that would be less desirable in the eyes of men such as Boromir, but also much more efficient. [...] Using camouflage and stealth, the warriors un d er Faramir's command set themselves apart from all other military units besides the elves in The Lord of the Rings and ultimately align themselves more closely with the soldiers of modern warfare than with the ancient heroes prevalent in the work of Tolkien.

Okay enough of the military history because it’s soul-crushingly boring, but the gist is that faramir is, (whatever else he is) a very unique figure. Taking this as a value neutral statement, we get the sense, before we even hear him own to it himself, that he’s a man apart from the rest. I think it’s important also to think about the extent to which he is situated as a part of nature when we first meet him, even if we later know that he is from this big, awful stone city, we are meant to immediately associate him with nature. And not nature in a primitive sense, i’d argue, but nature in the romantic sense, where it speaks to the beauty of creation etc etc etc

Then there’s the bright sword speech, which im not going to say anything on because cleverer people than me have dealt with it much more efficiently, but i would say that the takeaway from that, besides that he loves peace yada yada yada, is that he likes talking about peace. He has opinions on the war, perhaps even a controversial opinion, and by god, he wants people to know it. So thinking about what that level of immediate and almost impolitic honesty says about him is worth thinking about as you try to write him.

Later, we get to see faramir in the white city, and what we see is that he’s kind of a drama queen! I say this lovingly, but it does correspond to him going off on one immediately about how the war sucks ass and how he’s above it and how all the other people of middle earth are shit, including his own, and how much better life was In Númenor (which is, essentially, the crux of a lot of romantic poetry. And my headcanon of faramir’s connection to romantic poetry is here).

The other thing we learn in the white city is that faramir is very aware of himself as a person, and is actively altering whatever his base inclinations are to fit his desired personality. Here’s what i said in a comment on swaddledog’s excellent hearts and minds:

When Denethor hits him with the "ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle," he's not saying it because he thinks that sort of behaviour comes naturally to Faramir but because he knows he has to work really, really hard at it. I think inherent in that desire is also the failure — he tries, but sometimes he comes up short (often, even — that kiss on the wall wasn't exactly gracious and gentle!), and it's because he sometimes comes up short that Denethor knows it doesn't come naturally to him. And you get that perfectly, just so, so perfectly.

That gap between what faramir thinks he is and whats to be versus what he actually is is very important for understanding him. Though, as i say, i really struggle with writing faramir, so it’s definitely not an easy thing to work into a fanfic.

I realise i’m probably not articulating this as well as i should, but that’s because dealing with faramir is a tremendous arseache for me, lol. I think basically my advice here is to familiarise yourself with a lot of these romantic figures and try to bear them in mind as you write. pierre bezukhov from war & peace actually fits quite closely to what i imagine young (as in, pre-ring war) faramir is like, with some necessary alterations for canon, and the fact that faramir seems like he’d be slightly more responsible than pierre. And certainly far, far, FAR more confident.

So that’s the romantic, and then there’s the romance. I saw a post a few months ago that identified faramir as, essentially, a love letter to women. And he totally is: he’s this fucking baller guerrilla warrior who quotes poetry and reads widely and falls in love deeply and sweeps a woman off her feet because he finds her beautiful and incredible and worthwhile even when she’s at her absolute worst. emotional intimacy is real, hallelujah! And so i think any time you’re writing faramir you’re going to have to keep that in mind, because he is this sort of breathless romantic. He’s a character that exists (inadvertently because tolkien couldn’t predict the future) to act, outwardly, as an antidote to the All Men Are Shit mindset. How much you actually keep him on that pedestal is up to you. I like to nuance his character with a bit more chaos, let him be a bit of a shameless flirt in his younger years, let him be so high and mighty in his romantic behaviour that he doesn’t realise that sometime éowyn just wants to fucking chill, that sort of thing.

There are lots of other character moments that stick out to me that i dont want to say a huge amount about, but will instead link to this incredible meta about faramir’s númenóreaness, with the disclaimer that dealing with that sort of capability in any serious way scares the shit out of me, so i have mostly just Pretended I Can’t Read every time i think about it, except for a super brief reference at the end of this fic.

Okay onto the meat of this (oh my god, i’m so sorry for how long this is)

Faramir + Éowyn = true love

Before i start, i just want to point out that in terms of seeing their relationship, we only really get it in the steward and the king, which is significant for a lot of reasons. For one because tolkien got a huge amount of shit for how quickly they fell in love (people accused it of being war-bride stuff, which typically was not a great arrangement for those involved) — tolkien himself said ‘shut the fuck up dude’ to that, and this is probably because tolkien married his wife, edith, right before he went off to war. I’ll come back to that in a sec because it’s important.

The other reason it’s important is because the steward and the king features some of the most consistent lofty and high-fantasy prose of the entire series. Tolkien does this magical thing where he weaves high brow purple prose in with deeply casual, familiar (for the early 20th century) vernacular, and to great effect. And he does this for a reason, he wants to create the sense of this deeply developed, fantastical world that extends well outside the bounds of what we are allowed to see in text while also allowing us the rhetorical space to relate to the characters we see. It is, then, significant that there is almost none of the “low-brow” vernacular speech in the steward and the king. It means tolkien’s got all thrusters on full, so to speak, in terms of the romance. He wants to evoke arthurian romances, courtly/chivalric love, the sort of fated-by-the-stars love that nobody would think to deny because of the time constraints because it seems so abundantly obvious that this love is Meant To Be.

But that’s just what he’s doing tonally. In terms of content, he’s weaving a more complex picture.

We’ll start with the obvious. Emotionally, both éowyn and faramir are at their worst. Sort of. éowyn’s worst might have been when she did her suicide run on the pelennor in terms of self-destructiveness, but i think her real low point is actually when she wakes up in the HoH, basically immobilized, prevented from dying, and now aware she’s going to have to do the One Thing she refused to do, which is watch everybody she loves go off to die, and then sit about and wait for her own death. faramir, meanwhile, went off to a hopeless battle (expecting to die) after mouthing off at his father, then wakes up to find out he’s not only alive, but the only surviving member of his family (for some reason! because don’t forget gandalf is very clear that he shouldn’t find out about denethor’s death until Later), is now the fucking steward of gondor, and also this mythical king is Back. also he too has to sit around and wait for death. So emotionally neither of them are doing too great.

Their first impressions of one another are very important.

faramir, of éowyn: “and he turned and saw the Lady Éowyn of Rohan; and he was moved with pity, for he saw that she was hurt, and his clear sight perceived her sorrow and unrest.”; “He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart.”

So he knows who she is, and he can see that she’s physically hurt, but also can see she’s feeling all kinds of fucked up. And the first emotion he feels is pity. He’s assessing her in terms of pain and sorrow, and all of these sorts of emotions éowyn seems desperate to divorce herself from. And he offers her pity. That’s significant.

éowyn, of faramir: “she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.”

She doesn’t know who he is, not really, but she does immediately think he could kick ass. And that’s her first and only real assessment of him. That’s also significant.

And éowyn is miserable, and she’s so miserable she’s actually willing to openly talk about if (if only to a limited extent) and faramir does what is, I think, one of the most incredible things in the entire book. He functionally disarms her, lets her down gently, and places them on equal footing with a single joke:

‘What would you have me do, lady?’ said Faramir. ‘I also am a prisoner of the healers.’

There’s merit in interpreting this straight, but I actually think it's quite funny to relate the safety and security of a hospital in wartime to a prison, to a cage. And I think tolkien’s aware of this, and not really intending us to read it straight. What this does is soften éowyn up enough that she asks for what she wants, but also seems to make her more interested in dealing with him, even if she reacts badly to his compliment of her.

And then they fall in love, and whatever. The chapter’s there, there’s a million fanfics out there about it, whatever.

But faramir’s proposal is Big, and deserves thought for what it says about their relationship. People like to bitch about it because they take it to mean that éowyn has had to change all this stuff about herself, give up her desire to be a firebrand or whatever to go off and be a lovely prince’s wife in this noble hippie commune over those hills yonder. I think that’s totally wrong.

I think what’s going on in faramir’s proposal and éowyn’s response is a really fascinating illumination of the accord they’ve reached with one another through their (admittedly brief) courtship. Here’s why:

First, faramir tries to approach the conversation with a bit of subterfuge. Not in the weird negative way, just in that he’s not hitting it head on at the start. He obviously still doesn’t understand what’s going on inside her head fully, so tries to ask around the question (‘why aren’t you at the cormallen?’) instead of asking the question he’s obviously interested in. éowyn has no time for this, and tells him to nut up or shut up. And he does!

But then there’s this line:

But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.

Two things going on here: one, faramir’s rescinding his initial emotional reaction. He felt pity for her, but has now come to know her well enough that he realises she doesn’t need pity, and isn’t dumb enough to try and force it on her. But the second thing, almost more important, is that he assesses her in the terms that she prefers, which is that she has won herself renown and has shown her valour. These are not the things Faramir values, we know this, that’s the whole point of the bright sword speech. But they are the things éowyn values, and he loves her, and is willing to acknowledge what her desired self image is. That’s a huge concession she’s won off him, that’s big.

And then éowyn responds:

I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.

here’s my potentially controversial take. I don’t think she’s giving up on her desire to be a fighter of some sort, but she’s giving up on some specific traditions, which is that of the mythical (but, let’s be clear, functionally nonexistent, save for éowyn) shieldmaidens, and of the riders of the Mark, who, as we have been told throughout the books, are given to valorising warfare and martial acts above all. This is supported by her saying “nor take joy only in the songs of slaying.” she’s not saying she won't take any joy in it, or that she won’t still praise it when it earns her admiration, but that’s not going to be her only raison d’etre anymore. Her life is going to move beyond the realm of death and killing and battlefield survival to growth and life and the future. That’s also a concession on her behalf.

And then there’s this hella romantic kiss on the walls, which is fucking brazen behaviour, but is also i think representative more of the unique situation than setting a trend for them. It is, i think, the positive equivalent of éowyn’s slaying of the witch king in terms of its uniqueness. In the same way that she’s not going to keep going around throwing herself headlong into fights she’s not meant to win, she’s also not going to be publicly playing tonsil hockey. This is the big moment, and then it’s back to the reserve from there.

Really, their entire relationship is, to me, about a series of negotiations. One culture and another, wives and husbands, old and new, war and peace, life and death, etc. they are similar in a lot of ways — both are intensely headstrong — but they’re similar primarily in character, not necessarily in belief, and so much of what they’re going to have to do as a pair is work to find their harmonious accord, if that makes sense. Sometimes they’ll do it peaceably, sometimes they’ll have blow up fights, but their entire relationship is going to be predicated on negotiating the space between, if that makes sense?

Okay i said i’d say some stuff on the relationship of tolkien and his wife edith to faramir and éowyn. Tolkien was adamant that they were beren and lúthien (that’s on their tombstones), and i’m full willing to grant him that. But i think it’s complicated by the fact that faramir is, in some senses, tolkien’s self-insert. Obviously authors can have stand-ins for their opinions without the character having to be them exactly (and i think there’s more merit certainly to saying that tolkien’s 100% self-insert is tom bombadil) but i think there’s something worth exploring to the connections between beren and lúthien and faramir and éowyn. I know the morality issue makes B+L more closely comparable to arwen and aragorn, but, as I argue for here, the mortality issue (or lifespan issue) isn’t totally alien to faramir and éowyn.

As i write them, there are some core themes i’m pretty consistently thinking about, so i’ll just list em here in case that’s any help to you.

Family

This would be: life after orphanhood, life as the last of a family, what your obligation to your family is, how you go on and have your own family after having had a less than ideal childhood, etc.

Duty

Here’s what I said about their differing approaches to duty in a now-abandoned draft chapter from willow cabin:

Faramir has said, not in as many words, that she should not begrudge him for following orders. This, she knows, is a crucial difference between them. They each hold duty above all other charges, but their interpretation of what exactly that means is different. It comes from the differences in power they wield: he has ever been empowered to change the course of decisions before they are made, while she is forced to react to them after. To him, then, it would be unreasonable to disobey direct orders, given that a failure to change them in advance is a reflection upon his skills, not the legitimacy of the command. She, however, has rarely had control over how and when orders are given, and so sees no inherent legitimacy to them, and thus no reason not to disobey orders that are unjustly given.

Time

As I alluded to above, éowyn is going to live a significantly shorter life than Faramir, and she is no doubt very aware of this. But this also means that they’re going to experience time differently, and that will have an impact on their behaviour. What might seem like foot-dragging to éowyn seems like impatience to faramir, etc

Healing

We never actually see faramir’s reaction to finding out denethor tried to burn him alive. That’s a lot. We have no idea if he knows when he proposes to éowyn. When does he find out? What does that do to his mood? Etc. but also, éowyn says she’ll become a healer — what does that really mean? Is she going to be nurse/doctor éowyn from now on? Will she broaden the definition of healing (for my part, i say yes, which is what i’ve been trying to do in willow cabin, though a little less successfully than i’d hoped)

Gender

This is a slightly less popular theme in the bookverse fics, but i think as part of éowyn and faramir’s relationship of negotiation, they’re going to have to deal with éowyn not feeling one hundo thrilled about being a woman. And i think that raises some interesting questions about what faramir’s response to that will be. men/manhood is often treated as the historical default — so what happens when someone like, say, éowyn, starts challenging the notion of gender and gender roles around faramir? How does he react? What does that do to his own self-image? Etc.

Okay. yes. That’s all i can think of right now. I am so, so sorry this is so long, i just totally brain dumped there. If you have any questions at all though please please do hit me up and i’m super happy to read whatever you’re writing (literally gagging for farawyn content rn lmao), if you’re comfortable sharing etc.

#oh my god this is ridiculously long i am SO sorry #asks #faramir #Éowyn

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