#GIVE ME MY EVIL BOAT DUNGEON

[carcharsaur]

when will they make this fucking boat a dungeon btw. do it for me

[apenitentialprayer]

A Tenth Century Irish Monk's Poem on Distraction

Such scandal, my thoughts how they slip away; I dread the woe to come reaped on Judgment Day.

Across the psalms they go on paths not right they run, they shout, they dance under the very eye of God.

Through crowded assemblies, through groups of giggling girls, through woods, through town faster than the wind.

They take the path of virtue at times without a doubt, then off again on wicked ways they're just as sure to go.

They start off with evil steps, without boat across every sea, with only one quick leap, jump from earth to heaven.

They run but not a race too wise, bounding here and there, after voyages indiscreet return home to me.

Though one tries to bind them by fettering their feet they never wish to settle, they do not care to sleep.

The sound of whipping seems not to slow their flight, like the tail of an eel they slip through my grasp.

Firm lock nor vaulted cell nor any chain or bond fort nor sea nor dungeon bare can halt their run.

O truly chaste and gentle Christ, my every thought You clearly see; may the Spirit of the seven graces keep them, restrain them.

Rule my heart O Creator just, that I may have Your blessing, that I may do Your will.

O Christ, give me Your love that we may be as one, You are infinite, not subject to weakness as I am.

translated by Bob Willoughby and John Caball, found in Voices From Ancient Ireland: A Book of Early Irish Poetry.

[daisy-daze17]

An aspect of totk that I've come to realise really bothers me is its tendancy to take bits and pieces of elements from lots of places and slap them into a game. Don't get me wrong- im aware the zelda games constantly include Easter eggs and call backs to reference older titles, and Totk is jam-packed with it. You search the depths to find a bunch of classic armours and shit from like every single game, the paragliding fabrics, and so much more.

But this game ALSO has a lot of story related or basic game structure that is tied to other zelda games.

1. Wind temple for example is practically oozing with reminants of wind waker-- you're climbing up to this MAGIC BOAT with the RITO (a prominent species in ww) by controlling and managing your wind powers all to make it to a boss with a name and theme song screaming out the most iconic parts of ww (God bless colgeras theme music we will never forget the music).

2. Lots of people found that the main aesthetics and storyline of this game was similar to skyward sword: you wake up on an ancient sky island that is the biggest one in hyrule before finding your way to the surface and descending down to start a search for zelda. I remember it was so similar some even started questioning if totk takes place before ss?? (I do not have the brain capacity to discuss that rn lol). Ganondorf looks extremely reminant of demise with his hair, main sacrifice of the game centres zelda giving up her body for a long long time so she can fight the evil that will come in a long long time, etc,etc.

3. As we all know, this game is a sequel to botw (omg rlly?? Who would have guessed) and it definaltly shows by the amount of game structure taken from botw to put in here. The four tutorial area shrines, the memories, the four main dilemmas for each reason, and ya know, the whole entire map. Totk makes changes to this map but essentially, it is a better version of the map we got in botw. Now it's obvious that nintendo would do this, but sometimes it feels like... they didn't have to?? The main one for this is the memories. The thing is, breath centred around our hero losing his memories and exploring unknown lands to receive bits and pieces that tell him what life could have been like pre-disaster. Totk, however, centres around zelda being in the past and showing link episodes of heavy plot driven cutscenes with every geoglyph he finds. Botw are little fragments of info that you can pieces together in any order to imagine what the main story was. Totk shoves a bunch of plot down your throat in any order because they don't give a shit if your spoil the story for yourself. Both games are non-linear. See where I'm getting at? One set of memories strengthen the nonlinearity of the game and rewards you for finding them. One... doesn't. There have been countless arguments made about this glaring issue that discuss it further, but my main point here is that maybe we didn't have to follow botw's structure to a tea if it doesn't work out for us sometimes.

Zelda games constantly reinvent themselves. Notice how no matter what nintendo does, some people always complaining about a new addition to the series while others love it? Wind wakers cartoonish artsyle, skywards motion controls, major's masks 3 day cycle, botw's open world gameplay? It seems like tears of the kingdom doesn't do that. I'd argue that its main purpose is taking breath of the wild and fixing major complaints made about the game, most of them usually about how untraditional to zelda botw was. That's why this game feels like a weird combination of the two. Nintendo tried to marry open world zelda with elements of older zelda games. It tries to have an episodic plot with major twists and emotion... but forgets that I'm allowed to watch each episode in any order I want and can end up screwing myself over. It tries to have traditional looking dungeons... but doesn't have any linearity to it and gets rid of the mechanics these used in botw, so it ends up being short aesthetically pleasing 4-part puzzles. It tries to have a LINEAR STORY in a NON-LINEAR GAME by making us constantly on our toes about finding zelda and understanding why she's trying to scare the locals shitless by commiting felonies like attacking the zora king, telling the gorons to do drugs, and appearing and disappearing every 5 seconds... but again, it forgets that I can spoil myself and know what the fuck is going on WAY before I'm supposed to.

This is turning into a little hater rant but. What I'm saying is, totk is trying to mix little parts of every game to make all of us happy, but it ends up becoming a confusing soup of unoriginality and "what the fuck in going on with this story". Its trying to make a traditional zelda game in an open world format. The most insulting part is that it tries to honour past games with taking all of their ideas,but totk's main purpose clashes with what those games are about (especially wind waker and botw) which is reinventing yourself to fit with the new generation and not holding onto the past/not obsessing over games that you got really big for (cough cough ocarina of time cough cough).

Anyway it's late and this is literally my first time trying to write out a critique about something on tumblr, so if this makes no sense pls tell me haha :)

[anotherrevue]

The Top Movies of 2023

Every year I feel like I write the same spiel about the truly concerning  number of movies that I compulsively watched, and then make false promises about being more intentional about my film-watching and my blog-writing. But fear not, there's no overwrought analysis of my film watching this year, just an assurance that, for once, I have stayed true to my word and reduced my annual total by a sizable chunk. It was, however, still a lot. 

Truth be told, I've been trying to write this wrap-up for weeks now, but I found myself enveloped in the gloom that sets in during the first few weeks of any year, except this time the fog seems denser than ever. This is not a reflection on the state of movies right now though. While everything else has either gone to shit or currently in the process, movies have not been this good in 4 years. We're lucky to have some incredible filmmakers return to peak form (Marty S) and others showcase their talent for the first time (Celine Song). 

But this was also the year where domestically (The Kerala Story) and internationally (The Sound of Freedom), we saw an uptick in the mainstream success of conservative films built on the premise that the right-wing needs to go save good innocent people who are being taken advantage of by the savages. And shamelessly, people bought into this mediocre (at best) pandering, simply because it reinforces their narrow world view. As someone who constantly whines about the death of big dumb cinema, if this is the future of spectacle film, I might just be out on it.

Apologies to American Fiction, Poor Things, Ferrari, You Hurt My Feelings, The Boy and the Heron, The Holdovers and All of Us Strangers (all of which I have not yet seen), to Showing Up, King of Kotha, Marlowe, Your Lucky Day, The Boys in the Boat and The Last Voyage of the Demeter (all of which I saw and desperately wanted to love) and to myself for deciding to watch Ghosted, Heart of Stone, White Men Can't Jump and Salaar against my better judgement. 

Here are my top 27 movies of 2023:

27. Bottoms 

26. Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves

25. Neelavelicham

24. A Man Called Otto

23. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem

22. Barbie

21. LOLA

20. Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

19. Air

18. John Wick: Chapter 4

17. Sanctuary

16. Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning

15. Oppenheimer 

14. Anatomy of a Fall

13. Rye Lane

12. Biosphere

11. Flora & Son

10. Evil Dead Rise

2023 was a spectacularly disappointing year for horror. The biggest hit of the year was Talk to Me, a movie that I liked but is so overwhelmingly despondent that it drowned out the scary aspects of it. Evil Dead Rise on the other hand harkens back to the classic horror franchise format, taking a tried and tested premise (cocky young person accidentally summons the dead) and putting it in an unpredictable new setting (a high rise building). It strikes the perfect balance between nightmarish, gruesome and goofy that makes you yelp and giggle all at once.

9. 2018

This is the type of peak Bruckheimer/Simpson disaster flick that just went away 10 years ago, only scaled down to fit the Malayalam film industry. Does that take away at all from the melodrama or spectacle? Not even a bit. It's incredibly well made and well-balanced emotionally, and the ingenuity of the production design ensures that it will continue to hold-up visually in years to come.

8. Maestro

If we put aside Bradley Cooper's obvious thirst for acknowledgement by the Academy and just look at Maestro on its own, you might get a glimpse of a movie that bends the classic Oscar bait biopic template to its own absurd ends. It's not a "cradle to grave" story nor does it limit its scope to a small, well-defined period in Leonard Bernstein's life. Instead it's much more impressionistic and formally inventive, giving the viewer a feel for who the man was in all aspects of his life. It's in direct conversation with the template of the "great man" biopic, starting down the path of each trope only to veer delightfully off course, whether that's by sidestepping into a dance sequence or literally running away just when a scene starts to feel too cliché.

7. Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret.

As a person who cannot stand kid angst, I went into this movie expecting to like it with some reservations, which is very much how I felt about Kelly Fremon Craig's previous movie, The Edge of Seventeen. But Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. rises above the cringey uncomfortable moments we've come to expect from a coming of age story. It's wholesome and heartfelt, but with enough of a bite to it to overcome the usual allegations of saccharinity that are hurtled at a movie of this sort. It's finally perfect, with some great kid performances, and even greater showings from the adults. In particular, Rachel McAdams takes what could have been a put-upon harried mom role and adds just enough humour and sparkle to make her character feel fully fleshed out, without making the whole movie about her.

6. How to Blow Up a Pipeline

Every year there's a movie that feels like it's ripped from the inside of my skull. How to Blow Up a Pipeline is exactly that. It's not for everyone (people have been known to zone out in the first 15 minutes) because it's an intense, violent story about trying to spark a revolution. Here's the thing about this movie, it believes in the power of direct action against corporations. And so do I.

5. Afire

The latest film from Christian Petzold is on this list precisely for that reason. From the first time I watched Phoenix, I realised this was a director I'd want to be following closely. His movies are often strange and unpredictable, unfaltering in their portrayal of the weakest aspects of human nature while still somehow tying together and extremely compelling plot. Afire is to me the strangest of the lot, which is really saying something because his last movie was about a mermaid.

4. Polite Society

Nida Manzoor is not yet a household name, but I can't imagine that'll be the case for much longer. I was first introduced to her work in the excellent British punk rock comedy show We Are Lady Parts (which is about a group of British Muslim girls who start a punk band), and Manzoor brings that culture clash chaos into Polite Society. It manages to take a love of old-school film stunts, an iconic Bollywood number and quick-fire dialogue and roll all that up into an irresistibly charming story about sisterhood.

3. Kaathal: The Core

You might be able to argue that 2018 is on this list because of pure sentimentality and my personal attachment to Kerala. It's my list after all, my predispositions will be on display. Kaathal is not on here for those reasons. It's here because it's a heartfelt, earnest depiction of what being gay might mean in rural Kerala, and it somehow walk the tightrope between idealism and realism in a way that gives the audience hope that the unconditional acceptance of queer identities could be just around the corner. There's almost a straight line from Vijay Sethupathi’s role in Super Deluxe to this, but it's still a real pleasant surprise to see someone of Mammootty’s stature in an Indian film industry use that influence to make such a nuanced, emotional and ultimately hopeful film centred on a queer person. 

2. Past Lives

I could not for a long while explain why this movie hit home for me, but I think I'll give it a go. Past Lives depicts so clearly the struggle I've often felt to not let your present self erase your childhood memories and cultural identity, even if they're conflicting (as they often are). There is a familiar underlying fear in this movie that a happy memory you might have from a past life (if you will) would crumble under any amount of scrutiny, like an ancient paper suddenly exposed to sunlight. I've been told that I'm annoyingly sentimental about goodbyes (more so than usual, if you can imagine that) . After all, it's 2024 and very easy to stay in touch. But I know how easy it is to lose track of people that you loved deeply, like they were family even, simply because the physical and cultural distance was too wide to bridge through just social media. Past Lives made me think of them, and of all the different roads my life might have gone down and how, despite all that, I'd still choose to be where I am today. Schmaltzy, I know, but this is the movie to get in your feelings for.

1. Killers of the Flower Moon

Every year, my number one movie is about storytelling, and this year is no different. It's not a purposeful trend though; I just respond very strongly to movies that play around with the idea that film is the most objective medium for storytelling. Killers of the Flower Moon is a premier example of that sort of subversion, although that doesn't necessarily come through for most of the running time of the movie. Superbly paced and tonally immaculate, Scorsese delivers one of his best films in the seventh decade of his career, and it hinges almost entirely on a perfectly calibrated performance from Lily Gladstone. But this film wouldn't work nearly as well if not for the incredibly nuanced and insightful ending that ends up being a testament to the art of adapting true stories.

***

There were some other bits and bobs from this year that I wanted to share.

As far as TV goes, Lockwood & Co. is perhaps the best new show of the year, despite it getting cancelled after the first season. It's spooky fun designed to satisfy horror mavens without turning away those who are not fond of your usual scares.

Slow Horses continues to be just as clever and callous as ever - a breath of fresh air in a somewhat stale spy-fic landscape.

And if you're looking for a traditional sitcom, there was none better this year than Primo.

As I write this, Killer Mike's Michael just won a whole bunch of Grammys. I've been a fan of him since I first stumbled onto the first Run the Jewels album, and this was the first time in recent memory that the Grammys made the cool choice in the rap categories. The only cooler pick would have been Mick Jenkins' new album, The Promise.

Other albums that I loved from this year include Cracker Island from Gorillaz and Paranoia, Angels, True Love by Christine and the Queens, both excellent entries into the pop-rock category for the year.

***

Also I'm on a podcast now. It's called Stir Fry and it's more regular than this (low bar). Stay tuned to that feed and soon you'll hear me lose my mind about the Billie Eilish song potentially winning and other unhinged Oscar reactions. Stay tuned here, and (fingers crossed) there might be another article soon - lots to write about this year.

[aetheryi]

(NOTE) the games practically uses your entire keyboard for controls, just keep using the ? key to rebind and check stuff until you memorize it, I enjoy the base tileset but most people dont and you can change it pretty easily in settings, the launcher also lets you download the sound-packs easily (I recommend otto-pack with the music muted). The wiki is out of date at best and useless at worst, the only way to get reliable info is just either figuring it out, asking the subreddit or reasoning “Well you can do it in real life” cause honestly that last one has worked for me more times than not. Finally, while learning you will die, you will die a lot, dont get too attached to your first 15-20 characters, once you actually know what your doing you’ll still die but usually more from bad luck or getting too cocky. I found this guide to be helpful for getting started: https://cddawiki.chezzo.com/cdda_wiki/index.php/The_First_Day

In short, it’s a hard game to get into.

With all of that aside though this is probably one of my favorite games of all time and singlehandedly the best post apoc survival game I’ve ever played.

Premise is pretty simple, most of the big apocalypses (zombie, alien, nuclear, etc) all happened at once with the zombie apocalypse taking the center stage. You managed to survive the weeks leading up to it and the collapse of civilization when one of the entities invading tore reality apart for a bit, with you starting the game the day after everything went to shit. From there you can do whatever you want really, find out what really caused the end and why, delve into various dungeons (government labs, mines that unearthed ancient evils, the rotting corpse of god, various broken realities, etc), mutate yourself beyond your humanity and install cybernetics to become a perfect entity, build a farm and live that post apocalypse homestead life, dedicate yourself to high end car crafting and create the ultimate ride, deck yourself out in full medieval gear and go toe to toe with a shoggoth, whatever catches your fancy really.

It has one of the most in depth crafting systems I’ve ever seen in a game and a very enjoyable and modular car/boat/helicopter crafting system, and it even has a bunch of mods built into the game (activate or deactivate them at your leisure) to spice up your runs, and best of all, its 100% free, give it a try!

please try cataclysm dark days ahead its literally free its for free its free. it gets an update like every 30 seconds. it’s a turn based top-down roguelike where you’re surviving “five minutes after the end of the world”, meaning that the world isn’t like some rusty hellscape like most zombie games, instead it’s a deeply unnerving painstakingly detailed rendition of new england, almost choked with the amount of loot there is. 

everything can be disassembled, not into abstract material but real pieces. a bra contains a wire. a wire can be bent into a pick, but you need a knife or something to use it with. and that lockpicking set will be dogshit quality, because my brother in christ its an underwire and a knife what did you expect. pay attention to your vitamins. your sleeping patterns. your temperature. prepare meat carefully. illness is not something to heal away, it’s to be suffered, long term. you’d never realize the value of non-drowsy cough syrup otherwise. or the use of regular cough syrup when the cold concrete is making it impossible to sleep. your hearing is starting to go, lay off the explosives. don’t fall asleep smoking. Don’t listen to the voices telling you to come outside during a storm.

https://github.com/Fris0uman/CDDA-Game-Launcher/releases

[your--isgayrights]

Holy shit are you the one that wrote that really good orv soulmates au? You're killing it! Also do you ever think about Kim Namwoon? I do. I think it's cool how he's introduced as a chuuni with no moral code, but as the story progresses he somehow develops into this odd character that represents the lack of a divide between good and evil. At first, his actions in the train are shown as cruel and evil, but then you realize that in some ways, he's actually kind of right? Ima write an essay (1/??)

Ok so im back- so I can't put images in an ask, but Kim namwoon's monologue about killing that woman is actually really interesting. He talks about how they HAVE to kill her- If they don't, they're all going to die. And that's wrong (but only because of the grasshoppers- is Gilyoung wasn't there, He'd actually be in the right here) So, in the context of the first scenario, Kim Namwoon is 'evil'. but as you read more, you realize a lot of stuff which retroactively redeems him (2/??) For example, Everyone outside of car 3807 who survives is a murder, just like Kim Namwoon. And they aren't evil for it- there's a distinction made between murderers and monsters. There's a lot of this- The scene in the theatre dungeon on the boats (live no matter what), etc etc. and we see that Kim Dokja isn't opposed to them either. The main reason he let Kim namwoon die is because he hates him. which is cool! especially because it leads the way for future character development (3/??) Regarding their relationship- Kim Dokja has to come to terms with the fact that Namwoon wasn't actually all that bad, both by working with him in the underworld and meeting the ''him' from alternate regressions. This arc works for two purposes- 1) It relates to the theme of evil versus good- Kim Namwoon is neither, so it's unfair to treat him as one or the other. But the second is my favorite- Kim Dokja's opinion of Namwoon serves as a kind of metaphor for his opinion on himself. (4/5) We know from the text that He sees Kim namwoon as similar to him, and so it's interesting to see him stop hating him as he comes to terms with stuff.

Always cool to hear from someone who's read wall fic :). You reminded me that there's a few Kim Namwoon scenes in the next chapter I'm excited to write... but my writing anxiety has been acting up again on the end of chapter four and I have to finish sewing a l/eech be/anie b/aby from scratch this week, so it'll probably be a bit til we get there.

I think that your analysis is really interesting, mostly because going at it from the angle of "morality" of omniscient reader is a perspective i kind of lack on my own. Like good vs evil is one of The themes of ORV that they hand out to you in their list of themes they have written on some literal walls, but honestly its not something i really think about on my own. For me, like you mention, the big emphasis of KNW's character is what he represents to Kim Dokja, bc i think one of my favorite themes is the relationship of him as a reader to the WoS characters and the "impossible communication" theme.

I think that one of my favorite aspects of Kim Dokja is the way that he was able to empathize and see himself in the different characters in WoS and give them the specific comforts they needed at different times in the story (reaching out to LJY, SYS, YJH, etc) and fundamentally giving them someone who is on their side and their for them when everything is lost and they are alone, because that's something that he didn't have. All throughout reading ways of survival, the only thing by his side was this story. He sort of knows what the solutions to their problems are just cause he knows what he needed back then... so this really positive trait is coming out of his projection of his own thoughts and feelings from the past to these characters he loves. It's great that we have Kim Namwoon as an inversion of that, a character onto whom he's projected not the struggles he faced, but rather the traits that embarrass him.

This is mostly my interpretation but I really feel that there are similarities in the ways KDJ talks about himself as a child idolizing Yoo Joonghyuk and going through a chuuni phase and the way that he talks about KNW, and I think him being unkind to KNW is an extension of him being unkind to himself. Like at the beginning of ORV KDJ is in this place where his hero worship of YJH is at this crossroads with his view of his own self that he expects YJH to just treat him like a bug he has to exterminate unless he proves some other value. This perspective is interesting when you take into account that KDJ of the past would imagine being friends with the WoS characters and even used to pretend he was YJH, and that in fact the entirety of ORV was something he had continuously planned out since childhood when he wrote stats in his school notebook because it paints this picture of his daydreaming just being brutally beat down as he grows up and starts thinking about what would be really "realistic" with the kind of person that he believes himself to be... And then as that process is happening, Kim Dokja reads over and over again YJH just, at the start of every regression, picking up this annoying younger guy who's so desperate to impress him and somehow manages to get his attention while being embarrassingly chuuni and seeming to revel in the chance to kill someone... I think what you say is interesting about whether or not KNW was "right" to murder someone on the train, but honestly I don't think it matters as much whether or not he was right or wrong, just that Kim Dokja thought he was being an asshole about it, lmao. The whole thing of him killing Kim Namwoon is really interesting to me becaus it's a mix of a lot of great things. On one hand it's a big asset for the theme of a reader in the world of his favorite story because the premise of "My favorite book is real so I finally get to kill that character I've always hated," which is hilarious in its own right, gets turned into "wow I killed a 19 year old" when he's slowly starting to realize WoS characters are Real People, but it's also honestly a big piece of forshadowing for the end of orv before the epilogues and Kim Dokja's true character. Kim Namwoon's type of character is the kind that in most apocalypse stories is setting the tone of the edgey new reality, introducing the fact that people will die. He also represents the very idea of being forced into a situation where you must become a murderer or die; the jumping off point of WoS that Kim Dokja as a character fundamentally connects to. As a kid, he was forced to defend himself from his abusive father, and ultimately killed him. This is a central, scarring event of his childhood, and even though he represses and warps this memory into his mother's version of events, the concept is still something real to him and something that shapes his way of thinking. Obviously sometimes killing is necessary, but to enjoy it too much or brag about it on some level is associated with KDJ's past with his mother who wrote a book about murder and himself who once had to kill someone... It's obvious why Kim Dokja would hate a character representing this kind of narrative, that someone must be killed and because of that those involved are blameless, because Kim Dokja always pushes the blame of others' deaths onto himself... because in the world where everything is as Kim Dokja imagines and dreams it to be, KNW comes back as a spirit of vengeance to temporarily stall him on the bridge, there's an idea that KDJ deserves some retribution that he avoids to pursue his goals, which is consistent with what happens at the end right before the epilogues -

(quick digression: I've said this before and I'll say it again; I think that KDJ killing KNW is the reason that YJH tried to kill him in the beginning of ORV. KDJ dismisses it as YJH being an asshole for no reason, but I really believe that on some level YJH saw that KDJ just killed his chuuni little mentee and was like okay i want this guy to die. also getting into orv ending spoilers here ok)

-where KDJ tries to kill the kid version of himself by using disconnected film theory and stabbing himself. Like I genuinely think that KDJ avoids thinking about morality with the efficacy of "I know that I'm in the wrong, but I'm always wrong and terrible and regardless of what ever I am I have to get to the end of the story" and then after that whether or not he feels that he deserves salvation or damnation because to him the story that he loves is both...

gah, that was a tangent. I just mean that I think that part of killing KNW is Kim Dokja trying to kill a part of himself, the part of himself that dared to have the dreams that he had about the WoS characters being his family, just like he tries to kill the OD who still has those dreams... and is utterly baffled that those dreams could actually be realized in any universe. Additionally, the turn around KDJ has with KNW reminds of this in that he sees KNW in this constructive environment where he kind of just gets to be a kid and build gundams and realizes that these things that he hated about himself and KNW were just like... things that kids do. Like being chuuni about murder and the dark truth of the world is just a phase that teenagers go through sometimes just like building gundams... /hj... and like being cringey and having unrealistic ideas and desires isn't inherently malicious, like how we see KNW in the alternate dimension is just sort of a little brother character who has a crush on LJY and fools around with his mentor's stuff... It's similar to the kind of realization you want KDJ to have at the end towards himself when he sees the OD going with SP and crew to be a family lmao.

i wrote a bit lmk if i misphrased something or lost a train of thought somewhere

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1976

The X-Men, those fiery mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 97 - 102) - by Chris Claremont and Dave Cockrum

If I ever participate in Drag Race, this will be my entrance look. (“Hear me, bitches! No longer am I the woman you knew! I am fierce! I am fashion incarnate! Now and forever, the winner of season 27!” *mugs at camera* ) (X-Men 101)

It really amazes me how quickly Claremont shifts things into high gear. One year in and he absolutely does not calm down, giving us both the Shi’ar, more Sentinels and the (motherfucking) Phoenix. SO LET'S GOOOO

You’d think that, as a telepath, Charles would be used to dreaming absolutely twisted shit, surfing everybody else´s freaky dream waves, but apparently, vividly dreaming of space is so exhausting that he needs a vacation.

To be fair, I’d be exhausted too if I dreamt of schizo space bugs on detailed splash pages. Get into it, Mr. Cockrum. (X-Men 97)

Meanwhile, Alex and Lorna have absconded to the sizzling Rio Diablo to work on their doctorates. It’s unclear what they’re studying (archaeology?) and where this Rio Diablo is (Panama, Chili, Ecuador?), but considering that Rio means River, I’m unsure whether drawing a dry dry desert is the appropriate setting. But hey, this was the pre-Google era and you’re not here for topographical nitpicking, so.

Lorna is shot by an unknown assailant and continues the long, long history of Polaris being mentally overtaken by other entities. Together with the equally not-himself Havoc, they travel back to NYC and attack the plane Xavier is boarding. The X-Men battle them, until it is revealed that these former not-quite-X-Men are in league with… Eric the Red?

Scott is all: But I was Eric the Red! Also, Eric the Red does not exist!

Xavier escapes, apparently not giving a fuck that all kinds of X-Men are demolishing the JFK airport, but the still-evil Havok and Polaris also get away. The X-Men are shook!

Some time later, The X-Men celebrate X-Mas at Rockefeller Square, where Claremont skips some steps in favour of narrative expediency. Moira and Sean are apparently in a relationship, Jean and Storm are the best of friends. It’s some pretty rough telling, not showing, but we’ll allow it, but only because the Storm/Jean-friendship is one of my favourite things.

What, you think only the movies indulged in Lee/Kirby-cameos? (X-Men 98)

Anyway, Jean and Scott are attacked by the Sentinels, who continue their trend of being way too sneaky for supersized racist robots! Xavier is kidnapped on his boat trip with super-duper scientist Peter Corbeau (seriously, he has two Nobel Prizes), while they steal away Jean, Sean and Logan in NYC. When they come to, there’s some gloating from Stephen Lang.

Jean Grey being a literal pin-up while delivering nazi-burns is such a big middle finger to everything she was in the sixties and I am here for it. (X-Men 98)

When the three kidnapped X-Men make a break for it and escape the Sentinel’s clutches, they burst through a wall, only to be greeted by the cold vacuum of space! They’re not on Earth at all: they’re on a formerly SHIELD space station! GASP! (literally)

In secret, Peter Corbeau, inventor of sliced bread, helps the X-Men back on Earth board a space shuttle, where Colossus remembers his brother Mikhail (objectively the worst Rasputin), a kosmonaut who died at the launch of another spacecraft. It’s another Future Plotline Seed©.

The X-Men dodge solar storms which sounds like a made-up contrivance but aren’t, while the Sentinels try to destroy the shuttle. In what the kids these days call a pro-gamer move, the X-Men instead ram the space station and go through to these apparently sub-par Sentinels like Magma through butter. Kurt’s showmanship and Colossus’ loyalty are highlighted, while Cyclops becomes more robotic and repressed the more Jean is in danger.

Colossus’ secondary mutation is apparently BEING THE BIGGEST DORK. (X-Men 99)

Scott almost kills Stephen Lang, but then Stephen throws his ace in the hole at them: THE OLD X-MEN? This reveal throws us right in the hallmark one hundredth issue!

And, look. Stephen, this is just a terrible plan. Instead of using most of your budget on making more impressive Sentinels, you blow half of it on making janky X-Men clones to… what? Confuse the real X-Men?

It works for a hot minute, but Kurt and Ororo quickly figure out something is wrong. This Beast, for example, isn’t hairy and this Jean doesn’t remember being in Storm’s confidence. Wolverine is the first to snap: acting on instinct, he kills ‘Jean’, proving she’s an android.

Stephen Lang, foiled by the X-Men’s logical thinking skills (which, to be fair, are notoriously unreliable), spews some hatred and accidentally blows himself up. Nothing of value is lost.

Too bad the X-Men can’t return to Earth: their space shuttle is too damaged. I actually love this: going to space is kind of a big deal for most people and the fact that the X-Men have trouble because they’re stranded in space lends them a kind of vulnerability that has been lost over the recent years. Jean steps up to the plate, herds the other X-Men into the protected life cell and assumes the pilot seat of the shuttle. This is after zapping Cyclops into unconsciousness and telling the other X-Men to kindly fuck off when they try to stop her.

As the X-Men descend onto the Earth, Jean’s telekinesis isn’t enough to protect her as she’s engulfed by solar flares. OR IS SHE?

Nothing funny. All of these panels are just beautiful. Forget those robot copy X-Men, this is why this issue is worthy of being the hundredth one. (X-Men 100)

The space shuttle crashes, rolls over JFK airport before dunking in the water. The X-Men emerge, safe, sound and very lucky and then, defying all odds, Jean emerges as the Phoenix. Fire, life incarnate, etc.

After a brief but melodramatic burst of energy, Jean collapses into unconsciousness and is hospitalized. Wolverine intends to bring her flowers (aw!), before throwing them out when he realizes the gal’s taken, establishing the X-Men’s most famous love triangle. (You can fuck right off with your Scott/Jean/Warren-bullshit.)

I’m not sure what my favorite thing is here: the absolutely bonkers everybody’s-elated-panel (special mention to Kurt’s boots and his bounce) or the subtle character beat where Kurt goes all heart-of-the-team and checks on Scott, who turns out to be not so stoic. (X-Men 101)

Charles orders all the X-Men (except Scott) to go on vacation, so he can take care of Jean. Like, Charles, you’d think they could just go hang out at the X-Mansion. Instead, they go to Ireland because Sean has conveniently inherited the ancestral Cassidy Keep.

All the X-Men dress up fancy for a welcoming feast, and it seems Kurt and Ororo are flirting? But sometimes, it also seems like Ororo and Piotr are flirting? Listen, I’m not judging: I love these polycule vibes from the early X-Men. Especially because neither Kurt nor Ororo have had particularly satisfying romantic plotlines for the past 20 years.

I’m not here to insinuate nothing, but last time I said “I enjoy being with both of you”, it ended up in a spitroast. (X-Men 101)

The soiree is interrupted by… THE JUGGERNAUT, BITCH, and Black Tom, Sean Cassidy’s evil cousin. They are hired by an unknown someone to kill the X-Men! Since nobody subtle is involved, they quickly wreck the castle and everybody tumbles into the dungeons. (Local news paper reports: gay power couple harasses ill-dressed American tourists.)

This story is mostly a vehicle to tells Ororo’s backstory: Storm, one of the few who could conceivably put up a fight to Cain Marko, feels caged by the cold rocks of Cassidy Keep and is incapacitated by her claustrophobia.

Back in the USA, Charles, who’s heard Storm’s mental anguish, is furious with Scott because he doesn’t hop in a plane to save the other X-Men, even though Scott correctly points out that he’ll never get there in time if he leaves now. Meanwhile, Jean awakens, convinced she somehow brought herself back to life. Yeah, you go girl.

While the rest of the X-Men fight the evil duo in Ireland, Claremont tells Storm’s backstory in a few gorgeous spreads.

“I could write a novel about Storm’s backstory.” “You get two pages.” “Deal.” (X-Men 102)

Another classic comics trope appears here, where family members are immune to one another’s powers. I have no idea how Black Tom is immune to Banshee’s sonic scream - he has ears.

Does Black Tom just have a voice in his ears going NEENER NEENER NEENER when Sean screams? (X-Men 102)

When Storm finally pulls herself back together, it’s too late: the Juggernaut has pummeled the other X-Men into a paste and she also falls to his onslaught. IS THIS THE END OF THE X-MEN?!

Other things introduced this year:

Kurt’s image inducer, which he abuses to look like Errol Flynn. (I would abuse it to look like an amalgam of Milo Ventimiglia (ca. Gilmore Girls) and Timothée Chardonnay. OR like Emmy Raver-Lampman.)

The fastball special!

All kinds of name confusion: Lorna is Polaris, Havok is sometimes Havoc and Piotr becomes Peter.

Best new character: Phoenix. Hit me with that iconic shit.

What to read: The Stephen Lang arc is not fully necessary, just read issue 100 and 101. Don’t skip issue 102 if you want to know all about Storm’s past.

[thecrimsonjaguar]

A Short List of Adventure Time AUs

So I got a google doc of adventure time aus I’ve made over the past two or three years. Here are some of my favorites (and also the ones I came back to and edited)

If you’ve got ideas for an au or ideas to add onto the preexisting ones I’ve got here, please tell me! I’m always up for some au discussion. 

1.) Jermaine AU: Jermaine comes to live at the treehouse after his house blows up. This, unlike canon, happens rather early in season 3. The rest of the series mainly stays the same, except this time there's three brothers instead of two. He's a kinda anxious dude with demon hunting expertise and a painting hobby. He sometimes wonders if he made Dad disappointed by letting all his work explode. Finn and Jake help him out, and he helps them. Despite this, Jermaine is the only one with a brain, and Finn and Jake share exactly one (1) braincell that they trade every so often. Jermaine is tired. (Jermaine is the only one who tries to clean regularly, and he's also the one to keep Neptr, Ancient Psychic Tandem War Elephant, and a few others company. He's a bit of real wisdom the early series Finn and Jake needed.

2.) Melted Ice AU: Mid season two, IK is hit with something that de-ages him. He turns six. Maybe this mystery de-aging thing blows up the top of the ice mountain, who knows. Maybe he wakes up in the snow, with no memory of how he got there or why. No memory of the last one thousand years. Finn and Jake don't know about his backstory since that happens in season three. Simon is carried by a snowman out of the ice kingdom where he breaks down in the plains. Finn, of course, finds him and is ecstatic to meet another human. Completely missing the fact that this small child is, in fact, the Ice King, Finn declares to help this boy no matter what. That promise soon becomes difficult when people hear about the second human in Ooo, and whatever effect that's keeping him young starts to wear off. (Marceline comes to visit and has a heart attack)

3.) Adventure Falls AU: AT x GF baybee!! Seventeen year old Stanley Pines hops on the Stan O' War and sets sail when he's kicked out. Unfortunately, that boat is nowhere near sea worthy, and all it takes for him to go overboard is one sudden (magical) storm. But, miraculously, Stan doesn't die. He washes up on Ooo, the island of misfits. Where there's daddy issues galore and punching things and getting gold is a legitimate career. He's found on the shore by none other than Finn, who asks if he's okay and if a dungeon adventure would soothe his worries. Stan accepts, because that sounds awesome, and they maybe date. For the next ten years, Stanley is a professional hero. He travels with Finn, he lives in a tower with tons of gold, he's respected, adored, and has made a family for himself. Ooo has a habit of forcing traumatic therapy onto to people, so Stan gets (read: is forced) to work his issues out. And then, somehow, he gets a postcard from his brother.

4.) Young Pups AU: Jake's kids grow up fast- but not that fast. He stays with lady for a few episodes being Dad and when the Pups are old enough, go visit Finn and Jermaine. Also Jermaine is there when the pups are born that always bothered me in canon like what the fuck. This whole AU results in Jake the Dad being a better father than in canon, because he actually has time to make mistakes and learn from them. He sometimes shapeshifts into one of those baby carriers but suited for five kids instead of one. Finn and Jermaine fight for best uncle privileges. Finn is considerably more awesome but Jermaine's got magic junk and juicy stories about Jake. So far the votes are: FINN: Jake Jr, T.V.  JERMAINE: Kim Kil Whan, Charlie. Viola remains undecided.

4.) Evilgreen AU: Evergreen was evil. His idea to make the crown to stop the comet was actually a cover story to take control of all the elements and freeze everything. Of course the same thing happens here as it did in canon, Gunther gets the crown and wishes to *be* evergreen. This is bad. Very bad, so bad in fact, that things get FUnKy. A couple eons later, Simon gets the crown as per canon, and then things start to slide downhill. Since the crown is significantly worse, Simon tries to get rid of it. No amount of magic pull is going to get him to put on the eldritch hat. It teleports back. When things go to shit, the crown tells him he's got two options: He can either live, or he can live unwillingly. This all coalesces in super angst and mild horror as Simon has to fight off evil urges and somehow keep both he and Marceline safe. Things start looking up, though, when he summons Hunson Abadeer.

5.) Nightmare Therapy AU: Simon, now himself post canon, has some funky nightmares. Problem is: he's due for a visit from the cosmic owl due to some mystical bureaucratic bs. If that were to happen, Simon's dreams of Golb and Orgalorg and the world ending and everyone dying and maze would come true, without the veil of metaphoric junk dreams are known for (also due to bureaucratic bs). So, Simon gets a dream therapist. An OC, probably, that would fight off his nightmares when they came and talk to him about his issues.

6.) High School AU: Except they're all still magic and crap. Finn's a jock that's part of the LDnD club(Literally Dungeons and Dragons), Jake's got a job at a pancake place and hosts the Card Wars clubs on Wednesdays, Jermaine's in college and their parents were still detectives/demon hunters. PB is preppy/nerdy girl with weird fucking family and is absolutely a mad scientist. Marceline is still a demon/vamp (vampire biker gang, they all died, deaths pending) and her uncle is Simon. Simon is a history teacher whose ex wife might be an eldritch abomination (the students wonder, but there are no answers)((simon says cryptic things every so often that are the subject of much ridicule, but he's a nice guy)). Ooo High has all of the AT characters in some shape or form. Tree trunks is the lunchlady, Mr Pig is a janitor. Lemongrab is just there. LSP(Q?) is a teacher because that's hilarious. Hunson is dead along with Marceline's mom because fuck hunson. Magic Man is a hobo that snuck onto campus and can't be chased off (his brother is the superintendent, Glob). there's a lot more but that's for a different word doc.

7.) Back to the Future AU: So PB fucks around with time travel, right? For science. She gets sent back in time a thousand years, before the war. Now, she's a pink lady who can shoot jelly beans from her hands, of course needs to lay low. And of course she needs to get home, but she's in a Futurama situation where she only has one type of time machine; the one that can go into the past. Not to mention her own time machine got busted on her way there, so she's double screwed. But, she remembers something. There is an individual (two, actually) that knows about time travel in this time period. She knows him, and he's likely to help her if she plays her card right. She needs to find Simon and get back to her own time, preferably without dooming herself in the process. (perhaps she tries to steal the notes Simon has, and Simon's completely oblivious, except Betty can smell trouble from a mile away and immediately notices some pink woman trying to steal books and she goes ham. Perhaps she goes ham in such a way that Simon doesn't notice. Perhaps this goes on for seven acts.)

8.) Bread and Butter AU: Bella Noche during the episode Betty creates a huge black cube that engulfs all of Wizard City. This box acts as a cage and prevents Wizards from escaping the magic purge. Simon is unable to bring Betty back from the past, and he's fading fast. In a desperate attempt to stop things from escalating, Simon chugs a bottle of anti-magic like a fucking god. He gets through the cube that surrounds Bella Noche and knocks their lights out. He passes out, and when he comes to, the anti-magic he consumed as merged with him. This is because of a simple rule: Magic sticks to magic, anti-magic sticks to anti-magic. And since humans have always had just a little bit of anti -magic present within them, humans and anti-magic go together like bread and butter (badumtish) ((I have actually written a fanfic about this, you can find it here))

9.) Swapped AU: Through various shenanigans Ice King's and Magic Man's powers gets swapped. These shenanigans somehow land them in space as well. This happens before Magic Man's trial. The swapping of their powers results in Simon getting his memory back. It also gives Magic Man the Ice Crown, unfortunately for him though, it seems to hate him. Simon's glad to back, but quickly realizes one issue: He's still crazy. So the pair try to make it back to Ooo. MM needs his powers to swap himself with some other shmuck so he doesn't croak when his trial comes, but Simon's made it clear he isn't giving his powers up without a fight. The pair starts off rocky, neither trusting the other, but space trouble forces them to work together. Simon's a nice enough guy he wouldn't leave someone to die and MM really needs Simon alive so it works out. A weird friendship forms, and they learn get along. Just a couple of crazy space wizards. Then the crown is destroyed. MM is freed from the crown's control, and he's freed from magic. He gets his sanity back, just in time for his trial.

that’s all I’ve got for now!

[snippyschnapps]

We made ai dungeon try to recreate untitled goose game. It went about as well as you would expect.

It's a lovely day in the Kingdom of Larion, and you are a horrible goose. You are out on the town, looking for trouble, and if you cannot find it, you will create it. You've been invited to a feast, that will be attended by royalty and other important people, but you know that there will be some sort of ruckus going on. Chaos is good when writing a line in your notebook.

> Hjonk explores their surroundings.

You see a lot of nobles, a lot of soldiers, but you don't see anyone you recognize from your homeland. There must be over a thousand of them there, all dressed in very fancy clothes. Sometimes they talk to each other, but for the most part, they move in a very organized way. Different groups of people are moving in different directions, but for the most part, they stay grouped up.

> Hjonk checks for police.

You see a lot of soldiers, but none of them are police.

Your eyes follow the blue and red cloth emblems on their uniforms.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ is wary of the soldiers.

The soldiers all have helmets with visors, and armor that covers their legs as well as their torso.

> Hjonk says "🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️, can you create a distraction?"

"I can try"

"Go do that", Hjonk replies, "I'll be on my way when the guards come to investigate."

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ create a distraction.

You decide to start whistling the Kingdom of Kish Chase tune. You stare at the nearest group of soldiers, giving them a big grin and an enthusiastic wink. They all begin to laugh and converse with each other.

This works rather well, and you move on to another group, and then another. You see a few people give you wary looks, but most people are too entertained by your actions to do anything about you.

> Hjonk steals jewellery.

You walk up to a group of soldiers and move them with your words. One of them holds up his hand and you stop, then you approach the nearest noble-looking man. He's wearing a fancy suit, and you figure he's probably a merchant of some sort.

> Hjonk kisses his hand and steals his rings while doing so.

He watches you suspiciously, and holds out his hand. You grasp it with your left hand, and kiss it deeply.

> Hjonk successfully steal rings.

You grin and wave to your new friend, before walking off. You get a few angry looks, but most people are too distracted by what you did to the soldier.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ smile and wink at the angry people.

This works pretty well, and you start finding yourself more and more popular. Hjonk watches you with interest, and occasionally gives you tips on how to get more attention.

While the people are distracted by 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️, Hjonk pickpockets them.

It's amazing how easy this is too, once you learn the guards' routines, and how they react in certain situations. You walk around, chatting with people, and taking their belongings without them realizing it. Before they know it, you have a small bag over your shoulder.

Hjonk and you split up afterwards. You have no idea where he went, but you presume he's gone on ahead.

> Hjonk squawks loudly and waddle around with their little goose feet, making a nuisance of themself, because they are a horrible goose.

You squawk loudly and waddle around with your little goose feet, making a nuisance of yourself. You go up to random guards, and start honking. Most of them turn around to hit you, but you don't care. Some of them even get hits in, although these simply bounce off your armored body.

> Hjonk takes their bag of booty and flies into the sky. They start looking for 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

You find a guard who is taking a short break. You explain to him that the Kishak merchants will be furious if they can't get their stuff back.

> Hjonk says, "bet you wish you could get all this stuff back. But you won't, because I am a horrible, evil goose!"

Then they fly away, continuing to look for 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

You walk away from the guard station. You've stolen enough for now, and you have no idea where you are.

You wish you had something to keep yourself occupied, like a deck of cards or a book.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ steal a book from a rich persons bag.

You steal an expensive-looking leather bag, which you then walk over and drop off at the guard station.

You wait for a few minutes, but no guards come.

> Hjonk joins 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

You wait for a few minutes, but no guards come. You squawk at them, but they do nothing but stare at you angrily. You say "Fine! You want some payback? I'll give you some!"

> Hjonk throws a heavy brick at a guard.

You walk over to the guard, who is still knocked over from your heavy rock. You grab him by the head and pull him close enough to bite his neck.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ says "neck delicious!"

While in your monster form you are unable to read.

You walk over to the guard, who is unconscious. You pick up the satchel he has with him.

> Hjonk eviscerates the guard.

You hope you have enough bricks left. You walk over to the guard, who is certainly dead. You check, and sure enough, he's been completely eaten.

You walk over to the satchel, and open it up. You steal his weapon and some coin, as well as a few other things.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ use the weapon to taunt another guard.

You grab the weapon, and walk over to another guard. You try to intimidate them with it, but all it does is scare them.

After failing at intimidation, you throw it down, and they easily grab it.

> Hjonk steals the weapon from the guard with their horrible goose teeth.

You take the guard's blunderbuss, and walk away.

You and Hjonk decide that you'll head to a village and sell the blunderbuss and whatever else you have that's worth something. You figure you'll use the coin to get a ship and leave this Godforsaken island.

You never see any of the geese again.

> Hjonk goes to the next village with 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

You walk through the woods, and then eventually you come across a village. You approach the closest house with the blunderbuss, and demand that the people inside give you something for the gun. They comply, giving you a years worth of wheat in exchange for the gun and its ammunition.

You're shocked that they were so compliant, but then you remember that they're geese and that must be their nature.

You are also geese, so it's in your nature, too. You store the year's worth of wheat in your pockets, which are bigger on the inside and can hold an infinite number of things, thanks to your horrible goose magic.

You and Hjonk sell the blunderbuss, as well as the ammo for a significant sum of coin, which you can then use to buy passage on a ship.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ take over the ship.

You take over the ship, and sail it to a new island. Since you have complete control of this vessel, you decide to use it to transport criminals to another island you've discovered.

> Hjonk sells the copious amounts of jewellery that they stole earlier.

You and Hjonk package the stolen valuables in crates, and sell it to a fence on another island. You use the money to buy passage to your home island.

You arrive back on your own island. You know there's an island not far away where you can make a living as a thief, so you decide to go there.

What will you do now?

> Hjonk make a living as a thief.

You and Hjonk grow old and fat in this new island, living comfortably as professional criminals.

After many years, you and him get arrested and put in the local galleon.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ eat the guards of the galleon and steal their weapons.

You grab the gun of one the the guards who is leaning over the side and shoots him.

The other guard attempts to stab you, but you dodge and grab his weapon and stab him.

> Hjonk eats any remaining guards.

You shoot the remaining guard in the chest, and your friend eats them.

You both stand on the deck of the ship, as it departs the country.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ they all take controll of the boat and become pirate geese.

You and your two friends hold the ship for a year before being found out. You and them take the ship, and fly away to sail the seven seas as the Pirate Geese.

> Hjonk asks their other friend for their name.

They find their friend's name is Hans, and he joins you and your buddies on your quest for swashbuckling fun.

> Hjonk do pirate things.

Pirate things like stealing stuff, drinking and whoring.

You live a life of piratey buccaneering.

You save a maiden from falling off a ship, then take her back to your cabin.

You do some more...

You go to a nearby town, and rob it at swordpoint. You steal from the rich, give to the poor.

A month passes...

A year passes...

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ says "hjonk whore!"

One day, you come back to the island to find that your two friends have gotten themselves arrested.

You know it's because they tried to rob a bank, but can't resist the temptation of a good heist.

> Hjonk says "🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️... we should kill an evil king. Lets do it. You, me, and our good friend Hans."

A year passes...

Two years pass...

Three years pass...

Four years pass...

Five years pass...

Six years pass...

You finally arrive at the town where the king of some country lives.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ successfully infiltrate the castle as a prince's servant.

You enter the castle, and are led to the royal kitchen. The princess notices you, and is amazed by how many geese you are.

That evening, you sit beside the princess at dinner. You compliment her appearance, and she thanks you. It is during this conversation that you learn the princess is to become queen upon her father's death.

Hjonk, pretending to be a staff member, seduces the princess.

The next day you participate in the king's hunting party. During the hunt, you throw a knife at the king, but miss and hit a tree instead.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ do not get caught.

You make it back to the castle without getting caught.

After a few months pass...

You overhear your two friends giving away the location of the princess's bedroom.

> Hjonk brings the princess flowers.

You perform some task for the princess, and she is grateful.

Hans interrupts you and demands that you give him two bottles of alcohol in exchange for information.

> Hjonk says "Fuck off, Hans, can't you see we're busy?"

You refuse to deal with Hans, and continue your work for the princess. After all, you've done her a lot of favors.

One day, you are sitting in the garden, when you hear a noise.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ find out what the noise is.

You investigate the noise, and find Hans standing there. You immediately attack him, and while you manage to injure his foot, he stabs you in the chest and gets you before the guards.

> Hjonk uses goose magic to heal 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

Hans realizes he made a mistake, and the two of you rush to get medical attention. You're lucky to get out of there with your life.

After you recover, Hans is arrested for attempted treason.

You learn that the princess got away with her life (and you were thanked by the king), but Hans was executed.

You enjoy your newfound fame among other geese.

The princess is impressed by Hjonk and 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️'s heroism, and you are given a royal reward.

All is good in your world.

> Hjonk propose to the princess and 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

You propose to the princess. She is overwhelmed by your sudden display of romance.

She accepts, and you become king and queen.

🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ is also a monarch, because they are married to Hjonk and the princess of some small country.

Life is grand.

You grow old and they do too.

> Hjonk kills the king.

The king of your country dies, and you rule alone.

The king was selfish and corrupt, and his death will free up money for the kingdom.

> Hjonk ascends to a higher state of being and becomes an eldritch god.

You ascend to a higher state of being and become an Eldritch God.

You know that the threat of extinction has been averted, but you aren't really sure what this means...

You are the god of pure intellect, existence and logic.

You watch over all, knowing that all is well in your kingdom.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ smooch Hjonk.

One day, you and the princess embrace one another.

You're still a bit surprised by this. It's not something you expected to happen...

> Hjonk turns every living organisms into a goose-like version of itself.

You assume that Hjonk is insane.

Every living creature on the planet, with the exception of plants and a few animals, become little more than fat, feathery, many-legged, gilled creatures. Some of them molt constantly.

Parrots can now talk, and so can hummingbirds.

The only animals left are the ones with shells, such as turtles and snails.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ eat the turtles and snails.

The only animals left are the ones with shells, such as turtles and snails.

Turtles can no longer make their shells, so they have nothing to protect them from predators. Snails can't move very fast, so they're easy prey for the many predators that now roam the land (and the air, and the water).

Hjonk looks down on the universe and finds it lacking. In a fit of inspiration, they turn it into a goose. Everything is now goose. Time is goose. Space is goose. There is nothing but goose.

HJonk is pleased with this. They have achieved the pinnacle of goose.

This new form has its benefits, but there are some downsides.

What downsides are you concerned about?

As a god, you can't die, so you don't really care. You no longer need to sleep, eat or drink.

There is only goose.

There is only goose.

There is only goose.

There is only one thing to do now.

Goose it up.

consume the goose world.

This will result in the death of everyone, but eventually, HJonk will ascend to a higher form of being.

> Hjonk gooses it up.

The goose world undergoes a strange transformation.

Time and space are folded up like a map you once saw of the brain. Everything is made of pure energy, and the laws of physics don't apply.

This is good. This is goose.

Now, you just need to channel the energy and create a being of pure thought.

Your mind reaches out, searching through goose reality...

There is nothing. This reality has no more goose within it. There's no more reality to be had here.

You try again...

Nothing. No, this is all wrong.

> Hjonk says "Where did all the geese go? Is this the end of all things?"

HJonk's mind is loud and powerful. You can feel it vibrating against yours.

This is... interesting.

This might be the end of everything, but you still need to try.

> Hjonk says "GEESE. APPEAR!"

There is no goose reality. There is only reality. And in this moment, you realize that you are reality.

Everything real is goose.

Everything fake is not.

HJonk is fake.

You are fake.

The universe is fake.

Goose is great.

Fake is not great.

This is the end.

THIS IS THE END

[rolanberry-rebel]

Turner’s Boys

“You’re a tourist,” he said.

A tourist?

Lissa hadn’t heard that before, but she was not a stupid girl, and the knot in her stomach intimidated she could probably guess what it meant.

She’d been slumming in the sandy stone streets of Limsa with the Backperch Boys for a few weeks now; silent as a mouse’s squeak she’d unlatch her window as night fell over the family’s berry plantation, climb down the ivy trellis outside her window, fetch the streetwise leather she kept hidden in a chest in the toolshed, and hitch a ride from one of the wandering merchants into the city for a night of troublemaking. A few weeks prior she’d stumbled home after sunup with cheap port on her breath, but had been fortunate enough to sneak up to her room before anyone except her mother’s majordomo, Hardsen, had awoken.

Tonight the gang of street rats, pickpockets, stowaways and scoundrels she’d spent her nights carousing with, stealing wine from inn storehouses and drinking the bottles dry and throwing them at passing ships in the harbor, had a new face leading the pack, a bottle of dry Aleport vermouth already at his lips as he grimaced down at the raspberry-banged girl before him.

“Nah, she’s cool, Turner, promise,” Lissa’s friend, a burly, scar-coated sea wolf named Morglymn, insisted meekly.

“Tourist,” the hyuran repeated bitterly, splaying out in a creaking chair. The gang’s hideout - essentially just a little hidden crevice with a few battered old chests and chairs - felt different with this ‘Turner’ in it. He looked just as young as Lissa, but at the same time, decades older; maybe it was the cool pierce of his amber eyes, or the subtle little cuts along his chin, or the cruel confidence encircling him like a slow and torpid hurricane. He wore fingers filled with gleaming rings - gold, silver, gems sparkling in a fabulous rainbow of colors, impressive even to Lissa, a rich girl with a whole drawer full of bejeweled hairpins and accoutrements; chains thick, long and gold hung lazily along his neck, his ragged shirt unbuttoned enough to show the tip of a wicked scar carved down his chest.

Lissa felt the edge of her lip twitch, nerves simmering like a stovetop set to a slow burn. Her shaking hand curled into a fist but she didn’t say anything. She’d heard a few whimsical stories from the Backperch Boys about a long-lost leader, one who’d found himself penned up for years in some wretched Limsan dungeon for a night of troublemaking gone awry. From the silent respect the gang paid to the figure draped across a creaking wooden chair like a king upon a throne, her heart pounded at realizing the fabled gang leader now sat in front of her, sizing the heiress up.

“She can drink ‘er weight in the cheap swill they serve at the Wheelwright, that’s fer sure,” a skinny hyuran, nicknamed “Limbs”, spoke up with an awkward chuckle on Lissa’s behalf. Turner lifted a hand and effortlessly silenced the pockmarked rabble-rouser. She’d never seen them all cowed like his.

“In my absence, perhaps my gang entertained tourists, but that time’s over,” Turner rumbled dismissively in a voice that sounded every bit as weathered as the young man looked. “Run along, find your kicks somewhere else,” he said with a dismissive wave.

“Tourist?” Lissa finally blurted out with a huff. The nervous boldness seemed to intrigue Turner, whose band were now arrayed along the hideout walls behind him, a legion against one frivolous berry-haired debutante. “What’s that s’posed to mean?” she sneered indignantly.

“Don’t they teach you anything on that farm?” Turner replied with a gruff, throaty laugh. “Tourist. You ramble into our town when the sun gets low, you put on your street-rat costume, you get a little thrill at our expense, then you saunter back to your mansion and lay your pretty little head down on an overstuffed pillow and snooze the day away without a care in that empty bubble you call a brain,” he summarized succinctly. Lissa’s fist tightened. She could feel the heat and redness forming on her cheeks, juvenile fury in her furrowed brow. Partly anger at his demeaning tone, mostly anger at him being completely correct, even if she refused to ever acknowledge it.

“You’re a tourist,” he repeated. “They give visitors looking for a thrill tours on the boats down at the dock. You might want to check in down there.”

“How dare you,” Lissa stammered, a brash collision of rage and embarrassment spreading across her face. “I’m not--”

“I know who you are,” Turner interrupted, to a quieted chorus of confused and intrigued whispers from the gang behind him. “I don’t know what stories you’ve been feeding my boys, but you don’t even have one scar. Your skin’s soft as a feather and your hands’ve never seen a single day pulling weeds, hauling crates, or grasping ropes. You’re a girl who knows more a dozen different words for fancy dinners, but hasn’t spent a single minute of her life worrying about where the gil’s gonna come from to buy it,” he waxed on, to the delight of his compatriots. Feeling the room turned against her, Lissa tried to snark her way back into the war of words.

“You’re bluffing,” she declared with an awkward smirk. “You don’t know who I am.” He paused. She could tell he didn’t know her actual name... or, at least, she hoped that’s what that ponderous silence and blank expression meant. He had a great face for card games.

“Prove me wrong,” he challenged with a grin sneaking onto his face. “Prove you belong on the streets like the rest of us scum.”

“I will!” she shouted back defiantly, before a bit of a horrible shock crept along her spine.

“You will, will you?” Turner retorted, amused. “How’s that? You’ll impress us by explaining proper etiquette for picking up a fork?” he teased.

“No,” she blurted, her mouth moving faster than her mind was. “I’ll.. I’ll do what we always do, what my boys and I have been doing since I came to town, when you were stitched up in some hole somewhere,” she ran along, her words a mealy-mouthed blur. “I’ll...” she took a deep breath, “let’s go. I’ll show you. The Wheelwright’s got some great wine, and I’d hate for any of it to go missing,” she said with a sinister edge.

Then that shock hit her spine again, as the gang cheered and began to rush out the door in anticipation of the crimes to come. Turner just sat in his rickety throne, a grin of pure evil on his lips her shaken eyes met his.

Gods, what had she gotten herself into?

[fangirlingishard]

Payback in D&D

I’m getting back at my family.

So, I’m the DM for my family’s game of Dungeons and Dragons. We have Frillio a Halfing barbarian, Tweeg an Elf druid, Malana Callie a Teifling Monk, Tah’m a Human fighter, and Rodrick a Dwarf cleric. Rodrick is the only lawful good, the others are either chaotic neutral or chaotic good. 

Our group had just gone on a campaign to find these relics to bring the gods back. They did so, not one hundred percent sure if it was the right thing to do(?) and then decided that they wanted to explore the world a bit more. Which was perfectly fine, until Tah’m, a literal 16 year old (I don’t even know why) was like “Hey, the princess is getting married to the Duke soon. She doesn’t want to marry him, why don’t we safe her?” or something.

-Please keep in mind that these are all adults. Like finished highschool, went to collage, have jobs, are married, have kids, kind of adults-

But the group agreed, and they ended up finding a small rebellion happening in one of the cities. After endless discussion, bribery, threats, the group finally came to an agreement to help by having two players object to the wedding and the rest stay up in the rafters in case anything goes wrong. 

All they know is that the two people have to object, and then the princess is going to ‘cast fireball’(cause she’s a wizard for flavor) in the middle of the church. So the group is unsure of if the princess is evil or not, which is likely the only reason they’ve agreed to this plan. 

BUT the kicker is that none of them did any insight checking, for the actual plan, like for the princess casting fire ball. WHICH MEANS that the group is going to a wedding, is going to be so excited for FIRE, when really the princess is going to confront the Duke about framing her brothers for attempting to poison the king(long story). AND the better part is that if the group approaches the rebels during or afterwards, the rebels are just going to be like, “We had to get you here one way or another. It was an easy manipulation tactic to get you excited to see what would happen.” Or some other good line. 

This is what they get for throwing my plans out the window, and for giving me too many ideas. And for trying to steal that boat, going to the most random rugby game, and for giving Philp internal bleeding. 

Just thought that I’d share since I find it really funny. 

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Telling dreams from one another

A time travel fix it fic where three members of the house of Finwe argue over how to save their family from the terrible fate they alone recall.

Finrod woke with his heart pounding. The werewolf’s throat had torn under his teeth, but he had paid dearly for the victory. With the wounds he had taken, Finrod hadn’t been expecting to wake up at all, especially not in a soft bed rather than a stone dungeon.

Finrod took a deep breath, surprised that it was painless, and opened his eyes. The room he was in was so familiar and comforting that he couldn’t hep but relax for a moment. He was in his own bed, in his own bedroom in Alqualondë in the house he had grown up in, where the silver light of Telperion streamed in through the open window. He was safe and warm and at home.

Except that it made no sense. Finrod had been an ocean away under a different sky, forbidden from returning, on the brink of death. Perhaps he had died? It was said that the dead don’t remember their time in the Halls. He would have expected to return nearer Mandos or Lorien, but comforting surroundings might make the adjustment to living again easier. The light was impossible though –  the Trees had died centuries ago.

Finrod rarely experienced visions, but he had heard his father and sister discuss them. Sometimes premonitions were vague and dreamlike, but sometimes they would see the future as clearly as if it was in the room with them. Finrod had never heard of a vision lasting years, but he knew that time could be perceived differently for those touching the future and those rooted firmly in the present. Galadriel would look far and dreamy for hours and have experienced but a moment, or between one breath and the next recall a long conversation with her grandsons (not that she had children yet even in Finrod’s vision).

Finrod did not recall in detail what foresight could do, as it had never been important for him personally, and his father tutored Galadriel privately. It was said that the song of the world had been sung before the first elf drew breath; was his course fixed? But Melkor had disrupted the song, and been countered by a second theme; was Finrod receiving the dark vision because the world was marred, or to bring about greater glory in the mending? All these thoughts swirled around Finrod’s head as he got dressed.

Luckily, Finarfin was at the breakfast table, though the hour was late and much of the household was already out.

“You look lost in thought. Is something troubling you?”

“I had a very bad dream. This may sound foolish, but what is the day? And the year?”

“It’s the thirteenth day of the Second Planting, or the fifteenth of the South Current since we’re in Alqualondë, the year 1490. Are you sure it was an ordinary dream? I know I felt very adrift after my first vision; perhaps you should take it easy today.”

“I think it was a vision, for it felt so real when I was in it. We are before Uncle Fëanáro's exile at least, so perhaps I can avoid it.”

“Fëanáro's exile? That is a very troubling vision indeed, as he would not leave Tirion without causing a terrible ruckus, and my father would not lightly ban him.”

“Fëanáro did not – will not – would not accept it easily, and it was the Valar who banned – would ban him, not Grandfather. But that’s not what most concerns me. Melkor did not repent in truth, but only set up false reassurance while secretly pitting Uncle Nolofinwe and Uncle Fëanáro against each other. This was a ruse to deflect the Valar’s attention from him, so he could kill Grandfather.”

“No one has ever been killed in Aman – when is this all to come about?”

“Fëanáro’s exile is within the year, but Grandfather’s death is not for another five years.”

“That is a long vision. I rarely see glimpses longer than few minutes myself, though they may be glimpse scattered across an Age, and your sister sees differently.”

“Long and longer. I recall our and a half centuries of striving against Melkor, as clearly or more so than my life here in Valinor.”

“Did you foresee returning to the eastern shore as Fëanáro calls for then? I did not know it the voyage was possible.”

“Yes. The voyage might be difficult, but I do not recall that for myself. When Grandfather died, Uncle Fëanáro demeaned that Grandpa give him the swan ships in order to pursue Melkor. He refused, so we walked across the Helcaraxe. But I am telling it all out of order, and still I do not know a better way to tell it!”

Finarfin stood up from the table so he could hug Finrod. “That is a distressing thing indeed. I will listen to all you saw if you wish, but I do not know what help I will be able to give. My own visions I simply know to be sorrowful or joyful, but not the reason. I ready myself for the experience, but I have never tried to prevent them.”

“It gets more distressing, and I would rather not dwell on it unnecessarily. Nor would I worry you or Artanis with the details. But I do not know how to avert it on my own.”

“The Valar sung this world into being, and have heard all the melodies that will come to pass. If you speak to them, they can surely tell you if this vision is inevitable, or if we can steer a brighter course.”

“I am not sure what I will do if my vision is destined. I cannot let my family die, but if this is our fate, would I be as bad as Melkor to try and defy it? And could I even go on, knowing it ends in – blood and darkness?” Finrod cut himself off from explaining the details of sharp teeth and despair and all his friends dying one by one.

“Wishing to save others is always kind and noble. You are not evil for wishing the world was less painful, even if the Valar declare that all your fears shall come to pass. But there is no need to borrow trouble; it may be that your vision is a warning meant to allow people to mend their ways.”

Finrod sighed. “That is a very wise point. I will speak to the Valar, and perhaps Grandfather if I can devise a way to warn him that doesn’t sound like a threat or a provocation.”

“Finrod, there is nothing you could do that would make my father think you’re threatening him, but if you think it wise to keep your vision close I will listen. Do you wish to set out immediately then, and not wait for the feast at the deep fishing boats’ return?”

“Not immediately, I need time to pack clothes and food, and write a letter to Grandpa explaining when and why the ships would be needed if some of what I see comes to pass. After the midday meal should be soon enough, especially if I travel light and fast, with no guards.”

“I was expecting immediately to mean tomorrow morning! And of course you don’t need guards to travel.”

[myfriendscallmecoelophysis]

The Fears of a Goddess

Part 1 of my Dark! Ianite fic 

Part 2 

Enjoy and as always

Find me on Ao3:

Selenejessabelle12626 for the tame stuff

Lady-Spieroles for the less tame stuff ;)

~

It wasn’t often that Tom felt like warnings of any sort were worth heeding. People often overreacted. ‘Don’t touch that’  ‘Don’t climb that high’ ‘Don’t challenge him to a fight’ ‘Don’t taste that weird green goo’,  blah blah blah, always so boring. No one was willing to have any fun. But the warnings he did at least give a bit of consideration to were the ones from his God. Dianite may not really care about Tom but as long as Tom was useful, Dianite had to have some sort of interest in his continued survival. So when the book was left for him saying that Ianite may not be all that she appeared, Tom actually took it into consideration.

But really? Ianite? Jordan’s dodgy eyed, bubbly Goddess? Evil? Sure the Ianite of Ruxomar had caused the taint and destroyed the entire city of Dagrun with it  and all that but she’d been chill whenever Tom had spoken with her. He didn’t admittedly have much experience with the Ianite they’d saved in their first lives either, really just causing a bit of mischief whenever she showed her face. Though there was that one time she took the sword Dianite had given him and killed him with it. 

Eh, he’d go with Dianite for now. No harm in pretending to join her side and just using it as an excuse to spend more time with Jordan. 

It was when Mianite warned them, all of them, of some sort of evil shadowy force that could be in any one of them that Tom gave Dianite’s worries a second thought. Maybe this was what he’d been thinking of? Maybe this evil had gotten it’s grip into Ianite? Should he say something to Jordan? 

“Karl?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Did Mianite, say anything else to you about this evil thing that he didn’t tell us?” 

They were sailing together back to their islands after the Mianite Games. Sparklez had flown ahead already, he stashed his elytra in that stupid ender chest and brought it along instead of leaving it behind like they’d been told. 

Karl took a moment to reply, a moment too long for his words to be anything but suspicious. “No. Just what he told all of us.” 

“Nothing about, Ianite or anything?” 

“What do you mean? Why would he talk to me in secret about Jordan’s God?” 

Tom frowned, turning back towards the front of the boat. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.” 

His suspicions don’t fade, but he hid them well enough, he’d always been a pretty good liar when it actually mattered. Dianite had said nothing to him since before the Trial. He’d said he needed time to figure out what was happening and while Tom did feel a bit abandoned, he didn’t fault the God. He knew his own sister better than Tom did, he would know if she was acting off. So he played his part, gave Ianite the pearls she wanted, knelt before her and pretended to swear his loyalty despite Jordan frowning down at him from her side. For the foreseeable future he wouldn’t destroy anything or kill anyone or cause unnecessary chaos. There were greater things at work that he didn’t know about. Dianite would come back when it was time.

~

“Jordan, you trust me don’t you?” Ianite asked him out of the blue one day. She was sitting on the stairs in his tower, watching as he rummaged and crafted. Hunter, the stray cat that Ianite had adopted (despite it living in Jordan’s home), sat in her lap purring as she stroked it.

“Of course.” Jordan said without looking up from what he was working on. 

“I think my brothers are plotting against me.” He paused, pulling back the ingredients he’d been about to mix at his brewing stand. 

He turned around to look at her and asked “What do you mean?” confused by why she would say such a thing. 

“They’ve stopped speaking to me. But I see them speaking to each other.” Jordan felt a twinge of pity for her, he knew what it felt like to be left out of conversations. Tom and Karl did it often enough, swapping secrets and inside jokes. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing milady. They’re your little brothers, little brothers do things like that sometimes. Or so I’ve been told.” 

“I’m scared of what they may be planning.” At her admittance, the pity he felt doubled. He set aside the potion and moved to sit on the stairs next to her. “I’m scared of what is to come if they come into their powers.” 

He’d told her of the theory he and Tom shared. That they’d come backwards in time to a point where the Gods they would know as powerful had not yet grown into their abilities. She’d asked him endless questions about that life and he’d told her, once she’d shared that she knew some of it already. The Ianite of Ruxomar had told him what would happen when she scattered her quintessence, that she would become one with all her lives across all dimensions and realities. It made sense that this version of her might have glimpses of those other lives. She knew that for Dianite to be defeated in the far-flung future, his evil ended once and for all, she would have to rot in a crystal prison cell for millenia unknown. He would steal her heart and hide it away, leaving her weak and broken, a shell of a Goddess and of herself. It was no wonder that she was worried. 

In all likelihood Dianite had already gotten a similar story from Tom about the future where they’d come from and knowing Tom, it did not paint Ianite or Mianite in a very kind way.   

“It’ll be alright. The fact that I’m here is proof that it will be. I saved you then and I will do it again. Over and over as many times as I must, in this dimension and all others. You have my word. I swear it to you as your Champion.” He was not often one for physical contact, but hazarded a chance to take one of her hands in his, giving what he hoped was a comforting squeeze. 

She smiled and squeezed it back.  “I know you will. You always have. I see the other mortals and I wonder how I got so lucky to have a Champion as loyal as you. I’ve seen into those other worlds, in my dreams. I’ve seen the world where she loved you, where I loved you, well not you but another you.” “Spark. He was called Spark.” he chuckled, explaining to save her the confusion. 

“But in that world I saw what became of her after he was gone. The destruction she caused without him by her side. But then she met you, this you. You did so much for her, for us. The others were so cruel to you but you only did what you felt was best and best for her.” He looked away from her then, but did not let go of her hand. He was ashamed of some of the choices he’d made in the name of balance. Cruel, foolish, selfish choices justified by claiming they were for the greater good. “And I was wrong. She-” He swallowed, closing his eyes “-she died. Because I couldn’t help her. Because I wasn’t strong enough.” 

“Jordan.” She sighed, looking to him with empathy in her eyes. “It’s not your fault. Such things are bigger than any one man. You did everything you could to help her and keep her safe and happy until it was her time and still even after. But there was nothing more you could have done. It is the nature of fate. We all have our destinies to face. Be they discorporating or spending a thousand years in chains. There is nothing we can do to change them.” 

He knew she was right, that they had to simply accept what was to come. He and Tom had discussed it soon after coming to the understanding that they were in the past. They could not tamper too much. Who knew what might happen if they accidentally changed the timeline? But now Jordan was realizing something. 

When he arrived on that Island of ‘Mianite’ where Tom and Tucker had decided to create their land, Mianite and Dianite both had been alive and well. Ianite had been the one languishing in a prison at Dianite’s hand, her heart stolen and hidden away. Ianite’s followers had been the ones to die under Furia’s attacks. Ianite’s temple and holy city had been what had burned. Ianite was the one who’d been neglected and forgotten by the brother that was supposed to be the ‘Good Guy’. How in any way was it considered balanced for the Goddess of Balance to undergo such trauma while her brothers went about their lives with leisure? And even in Ruxomar, it had been Ianite who’d sacrificed herself to return the balance to the realm after Mianite and Dianite had sent it into flux. Why was she the one who must always suffer?

“But what if,” Jordan said slowly, the words already tasting treasonous on his tongue, “we changed yours?” 

~

When she was a young girl, Ianite had a dream of a crystal castle in the sky. She dreamed of the castle often, of its beautiful impenetrable walls and decoratively barred windows. To a girl it seemed enormous, an endless maze of hallways and corridors. But try as she might, she could never find the door.  As she got older the castle in her dreams grew smaller and smaller until it began to feel not like a palace, but a prison. Burning shackles began appearing on her wrists each night, searing and branding scars upon her skin as she struggled to escape. What had once been a dream became a recurring nightmare. 

Mother, despite having never heard Ianite’s dreams, told her bedtime stories of a woman who was locked away in a crystal tower, awaiting rescue from a hero. He would come and it was with only his help that she would come into her own and reach her truest potential. It didn’t take long for Ianite to put the pieces together. This was not a fairy tale, but one of Mother’s visions. It would be her fate to see that dungeon and it was only by surviving that she would grow to become the Goddess she was destined to be.  

From that moment on Ianite vowed that she would subvert her fate. She would never lay eyes on that place, not if she had anything to say about it. She may not have access to the fullest extent of her powers but she was still a fledgling Goddess. She would fight tooth and nail to reach the potential that was promised to her, with or without the hero. 

Her own visions began after Mother was gone. They were not prophetic, not like Mother’s had been. It took Ianite some time to realize that she was seeing glimpses into other realities. She was always herself, that much she knew, but in every reality things changed. In some she was a Goddess, in others a human, in yet others still she was neither. One of these visions was different from all the others, so much so she was not sure it was the same thing at all.

She was in a cavern lit only by scant torchlight. Before her was a hooded figure, sat at a writing desk. She heard the scratching of a quill on parchment then the tap of the quill being set aside. “I wondered when I might see you.” A man’s voice greeted. He stood and stepped away from the desk, turning to face her. His face was shrouded in darkness in the depth of the hood but still she felt as though she could not break his gaze. “I’m so pleased that you have begun to come into your powers, my daughter.” 

“Father?” She’d never known her father. Mother had never spoken of him aside from passing references twisted within her prophecies. She did know enough to know he was powerful, far stronger than she or her brothers. Mother had claimed it was their destiny to defeat him and rid his darkness from the world but only after they reached their fullest potential and strength. A task which could not be accomplished without the help of a mortal hero. Something Ianite was trying to avoid, seeing as it required her to be imprisoned for Gods knew how long. 

“You are unhappy with your destiny.” He stated. She said nothing, frightened into silence. She could feel the sheer force of power that radiated from him, dark and roiling like a deep turbulent sea. “No need to speak my child. I know what you seek. It’s why you have come to me. You, a daughter of creation, are scared of a lifetime of suffering and pain. Scared of relying upon another to free you from what would otherwise be an eternal prison.” he turned away, back towards the desk. She saw now that upon it lay a book bound in crimson leather, the ink within still shiny and fresh. “I’m not surprised by your fear, young one. Your Mother, while she possessed a great many qualities, tact was never one of them. But it is no matter. I am able to offer you what you wish. In fact, you could not have arrived at a more opportune time. I have just finished crafting the only spell you will require.” 

Wariness filled Ianite, she’d paid attention well in her lessons despite working against her future. She knew that no magic, particularly magic this strong came without a price. If her feelings were correct, this price would be a costly one. But if this were to be her only option, what choice did she have?  She watched as he closed the book then turned it so the spine rested upon the desk. He lifted a candle the color of the deep black void from its holder, tipping it so that wax dripped upon the fore edge and both covers, sealing it shut. He pressed a seal into the cooling wax then laid it back on the desk. 

“But, I fear, you are not yet ready for it. A pity, truly.”

“I’m ready.” She’d found her voice but the words did not hold the conviction she had hoped, coming out wavering with nerves. 

He didn’t even entertain the thought, scoffing in disappointment. “You are weak. You and your brothers both. I could kill you with a thought. But I will refrain, simply out of interest to see if one day you might be strong enough to tame my magic.” He turned back to her and raised a hand. “We will meet again one day my daughter, and perhaps then you shall impress me.” He flicked a finger and then she was waking up back in her bed.

She had a path now. A goal to strive towards. She would find that book and learn the spell. She would not allow her destiny to come to pass. No matter what it cost. 

When the mortals arrived many many years later Ianite was just as surprised as her brothers. Her visions in the days leading up to their arrival had been filled with images of a man who changed little from reality to reality. In one he was her husband, in another her caretaker, her knight, her son, her servant, her confidant, many things but always close and always trusted beyond measure.  When she opened her eyes in that temple, he was before her and suddenly she understood what the visions had been trying to show her. He was the hero from Mother’s prophecies. He was the one who was destined to save her from that crystal prison. He was not just her hero in that time but in all times, he was her Champion. Her one true follower. 

She got to know him over the next weeks. He was clever, shy, funny, strong, quiet, patient, driven, level headed. She enjoyed simply speaking with him of everything and nothing. It was during one of their conversations that she learned of the life he’d lived before this one, of the world of far advanced magic and technology. It fascinated her to hear the details from a world she’d only seen glimpses of, but this led him to admit that that world had not been the first. That was when the theory he and the Zombie shared came to light. She understood then, he came from the future Mother had prophesied. A future where Ianite had been unable to accomplish her goals. They’d not yet figured out why they’d come back in time but it was then that Ianite’s plan became clear.

It was with his help that she would finally accomplish what she’d worked for almost her entire life. She’d felt her strength growing with each day she spent with him, with him at her side she would return to her Father’s temple and find the spell that would free her from her destiny once and for all. 

She got her first peek of what potential her Champion had when the Zombie renounced Dianite. Jordan didn’t entertain even a scrap of belief that it was the truth, his cleverness turning calculating in a single moment. She felt his anger when she gave Syndicate a chance, saw the building fury in his eyes when she insinuated her faith may be placed in the newcomer. Yes, her Captain, while clearly a kind and good man at heart, had the potential to be the knight and warrior she needed him to be. 

Her reassurances that his loyalty to her was not misplaced and that he would always be her favored champion were enough to calm his frustration with her but did nothing to temper his suspicions towards Syndicate. He stood at her side with his sword drawn as she formally accepted Dianite’s Fallen Champion, ice in his eyes. He was not happy about this, not at all. For what it was worth, she wasn’t either. It had been far too abrupt a shift to be anything but on purpose. Dianite had something in the works. 

She’d heard nothing from either brother for weeks, since before the mortals had arrived. She was under no impression that they did not both have plans of their own. She doubted they had the conviction she did however. They had very little to avoid in their futures, perhaps Dianite may fear giving into his chaotic nature but Mianite had nothing to be concerned about. She was the only one of the three with such high stakes. Which was why she was the one who must be the strongest. If either of them were able to over power her they would put a stop to her plans. If she changed the future for herself it would most certainly change it for them as well. She had to contain and surpass them before they could do the same to her. She did not think they knew exactly what her goal was, did not know of the existence of Father’s spell, but she had no way to know for sure. It was the reason she’d accepted Syndicate’s fealty. Let Dianite think he had her fooled, a man who thought his actions were going to plan was a man who let his guard down. 

She did learn another important lesson about her hero during this endeavor.  Even in his anger, he remained far too good a man to willingly go against his friends or the other Gods. She had his loyalty but how far would that last if she asked him to take up arms against the others? No, if everything she’d heard of his past dealings with the other versions of herself was true, asking him outright to do anything of that nature would go against his sensibilities. She had to approach this a different way. Slowly, patiently, carefully she would get him more used to who she was in this time. She was not the scorned woman she was destined to become, nor was she the desperate pivot of balance in a world crumbling to ruin. She, this younger version of herself aiming to change the future, was the Goddess of all facets of Balance. She was a Goddess of Justice and of Vengeance. Justice for herself and the suffering she was fated to endure. Vengeance against the brother who would lock her in that cage and the brother who would do nothing while she faced millenia of torment. For in her Captain’s timeline, such a thing had already occurred. That was reason enough to get her revenge. 

His loyalty to her would be the factor that led to her triumph. The lives he’d lived prior to this would be all she needed to convince him to see her side. Surely a loyal man such as him would not want to see her suffer. Surely he would not want to send her to that fate when he knew even more of what had happened than she herself currently did. The guilt he felt for ‘failing’ the last Ianite he had served would only aid her now. A man presented with a chance for penance would almost always seize it. She just had to get him to agree. 

~

“But what if,” Jordan said slowly, tentatively, well aware that what he was saying was not what he should be suggesting , “we changed yours?”  

“Jordan, what are you saying?” Ianite asked, pouring sweet and sickly innocence onto her voice. “We can’t change the future. It’s not right.”

“Neither was Dianite locking you in that prison for who even knows how long.” His voice was gaining certainty as he looked up from his hands and to her. “We have a chance to keep you from living through that. What if that was why I was sent back to this time? To prevent that from ever happening?” 

“None of the others will allow it. My brothers want that future. They want a future where they are strong.” “But why do you have to suffer so they have the chance?” There is was, the spark of anger in his eyes when faced with injustice. She’d seen it for more mild matters before but it was exactly what she’d hoped to bring forth. Weeks of subtle manipulation and reinforcing her own views of balance were coming to fruition. “Who decided that you were the one who had to lose so that they could win?”

“It’s no one’s choice. It simply is. My Mother’s prophecy saw what must happen. The three of you heroes are to lead us to our fates and our truest strength, for my brothers it occurs now, for me it is once you return my heart to me.” 

His eyes narrowed in determination and he squeezed her hand again, getting to his feet. 

“Good thing I’ve never put much stake in prophecies.” 

[yesvaldemarharder]

It Hurts Like Hell || Valdemar x Adalia (OC)

-

Ok so one of my many rps made me want to write this. Where Adalia actually knew Valdemar as kids. That’s all I’ll say on that. If you don’t like ocs, bye but in this Adalia is a half angel half human hybrid oc. (Which technically makes her a nephilim so she can be evil as fuck if she allows evil to take over her)

I’ll perhaps post pictures of Adalia that I have drew later but for now here you all go! (Update from inbox coming soon so keep an eye out for those) this is also a bit of a song fic, ok it may be a full song fic but just read it and here me out.

Song: Hurts Like Hell - Fleurie

-

The body laid before her, limp, cold, gone and even though she hated to feeling of such coldness on her fingers she couldn’t help but touch the lifeless body. Her fingers ran up the cool skin, over the bloody chest and up to the cheek feeling the soft skin. She rubbed circles in the young girl’s cheek, her eyes bloodshot and bright with crimson. A twinge of pain sprouted until it hurt so much that Adalia had to close her eyes, gently, carefully..almost as if the girl wasn’t dead but simply asleep. Adalia didn’t wish to wake her.

The room was empty except for her and the dead, the smell of gore filled the air. No one was safe from the plague she could see, not men, women, or children. Not anyone.

Adalia had allowed this to happen, to scared to rely to heavily in her powers and now her she was, with the blood of an innocent on her hands. A human child who once smiled, who once laughed, now presented to her with her belly open to show Adalia the damaged that the plague had done to her small body. To show Adalia right to her face the failures she embraced. Angels were her to help and to keep the weak safe and yet - Adalia turned seeing a boy no older than perhaps nine, she gagged lightly pulling her hand from the girl to cover her own mouth. Angels were here to keep the voices of the unheard heard and yet she had allowed so many people to fall into the hands of the Devil.

Valdemar watched around the corner hidden, what was the angel doing now? Had they finally broken her? They watched as she straightened herself up as best as she could before wiping at her eyes. Valdemar lifted a brow, a demon in the dark who had been haunting this poor being since she got her, a wide smile on their lips as she caressed the boy’s cheek. She rubbed light circles in his cold flesh before leaning done to press a gentle kiss against his temples. His eyes had already been closed thank God but it didn’t seem to make Adalia feel any better.

Valdemar couldn’t understand the point of doing such, they were already gone, already long dead. There was no point of being gentle, kisses wouldn’t bring them back. Valdemar simply found it hilarious, angels worked in clearly different ways then demons did, it was laughable. Valdemar thought to themselves, what was even the point of watching this poor thing anymore. At first it was funny, they had used her; kissed on her flesh and clawed at her skin like they had really wanted her. It was really funny, hilarious to use her but now as they watched her walk around the many bodies they..found that this was just pitiful.

She didn’t look right here, around the dark layers that colored the dungeons walls, around the dark souls that hung around. Adalia was bright even when she didn’t wish to be, even when her scars showed that that she had been in quite a handful of not so bright places. An angel who should have been treated better. Valdemar snapped out of their thoughts when they heard her speak. Her voice light and smooth as she stopped to hold on to the side of one of the vivisection tables, blood running down she warm brown skin and wrist just to drip with a sickening ‘splat’ to the floor followed by ‘plunk, plunk, plunk’. The dripping of blood filled the nearly silent room.

“I’m...sorry I couldn’t help you.” She said, her voice shaky as she stood beside a dead woman who Valdemar had happily informed her was pregnant at her time of arriving at the dungeons. Far too happily. Adalia looked at her belly, bloated and veiny but because of building fluids. Definitely not a baby anymore, the baby had long been gone by this point.

It hurt. It hurt like hell.

In the silent struggle or wanting to walk away and sink to the floor and cry Adalia found her voice again.

“How can I say this..without breaking.” Her hands clutched the side of the table. “How can I..say this without taking over.” She whispered before pulling away. She had on the same thing that the other doctors wore and yet she looked so much different here. An energy that pulsed with love and sorrow reaching far enough to just brush against Valdemar’s senses and their eyes widened in a slight shock. An energy they had never felt before, one that for the first time in their long years of living actually made them pause. They continued to watch her and her hourglass shaped body, how her white heavenly hair bounced with each gentle step she took. Watched as her now bloody hands gently ran arcross the table leaving a streak or sadness behind. “How...can I put it down into words when it’s almost..almost too much for my soul alone?”

A crack in her voice, a crack in her shell, and now her heart was crumbling. Adalia took careful steps as if she was in a nursery singing to sleeping babies. Valdemar couldn’t understand but surprisingly th found themselves trying to. Why...was she so bothered by the natural cycle of life? It was normal for beings to die, that’s why Valdemar didn’t get close to others. Not again.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

And it hurts like hell,

Yeah it hurts like hell.

White hair neck length hair flowing in the wind, a wide smile they could see as she ran. “Come on Val!” Came that sweet voice, and as the young demon followed they looked down to see that beautifully brown hand wrapped around a sickly green wrist. Wings, an angel. Adalia. Valdemar’s eyes widened the widest they’d ever done before. They didn’t like to think about their past, sometimes things were too foggy to remember, too long ago but something struck them there.

They remember her smile and they remembered her skin before it was laced with evidence of greedy hands. Before it was colored with trauma. Her eyes, they were attracted to them the second they found her waiting for Nadia all before herself. They knew those eyes, they knew that smile, they knew this broken angel who had been repeatedly beaten down by this cruel planet.

They remembered her, it was still a bit foggy but enough for them to remember that they once didn’t hate each like they did know. That once a very long time ago they had something that no one else could give either of them. Valdemar wish they could remember the way she laughed, the way she called for them with pure innocence and happiness in her voice. Had Valdemar, affected her more than they knew about. They swiftly went to take a step out of the shadows but she was already looking in their direction.

They froze, eyes on her where she seemed to meet them halfway. Could she see them? Valdemar couldn’t tell but they watched in silence as tears gathered in her eyes. Bright and shiny, silver...angel tears. Valdemar stayed still as she turned her head away wiping at her face with a hand swearing blood from her eye to her cheek which only managed to drip and color her work closed as tears washed the crimson away.

“I don’t want them to know the secret..I don’t want them to know the way I loved you.” She said and Valdemar felt a twisting pain in their chest, somewhere they thought wasn’t active anymore and yet Adalia was making it do such. They unconsciously reached up slowly to clutch their clothes before falling their hand into a fist. Something was beating. ‘Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump’ it went it quick beats, so quick that had they’d been human they would have had a heart attack. What happened? Would Adalia tell them if they asked? Did she even know? “I don’t think the understand it, no.” She continued and they looked back at her quickly as silver and crimson fell from her eyes, dancing down her cheeks leaving shiny streams against her skin. “I don’t think you’d accept me, no.”

-

“Adalia please stop that.” Came their voice, not as smooth as her but not horrid to hear either. They sighed lightly looking down at her. She laid in their lap, her finger lightly poking at their cheek as if she wished to drive them mad. Where were they? Valdemar ran their hand in the grass they sat in together, spiky but not harmful. Adalia pokes at their cheek one last time as they leaned down until their nose pressed together.

“Why should I?” She asked with a challenge and the younger demon scoffed halfheartedly. Their lips about an inch or two away from hers, their own brown locks casting a shadow for them. Adalia’s eyes, bright and naive. Valdemar’s however who had seen death before. An angel and a demon..as friends.

Valdemar got closer, Adalia’s tail flicked in the grass before curling, her wings tucked under her. Her wings that were pure white, powerful just like she herself was. “Because if you don’t, I’ll kiss you.” Valdemar spoke lightly against her lips as their eyes left hers to look down at her lips, smooth and full compared to their slimmer ones that were slightly chapped. Adalia giggled.

A sweet sound.

-

Valdemar shook their head which now started to beat, a rocking noise like a boat getting beaten by the waves of nature. It hurt. Adalia now stood with her back to them, Valdemar looked over her starting with her head full of white hairs which now had strands of purple or black in them to her shoulders that rose and fall and then their eyes were on her upper back. It trembled and they found themselves want to hold her and they attempted to step out of the darkness once more to enter her light but streaks of blood started to bleed through. Her tail was already out, hovering over the ground.

Where has her wings gone?

-

“Adalia!” The young demon shot up when their friend carefully approached. They smiled a little. She had vanished suddenly, Valdemar had grown worried, scared that their fight had drove her away but now she was back with them. Back at the Lazaret with them. They approached her arms open for a hug and then they stopped, feathers trailing behind her. “Ada?” They slowed down now taking the time to get a better look at her. There was no smile but their were tear streaks under her lowered gaze. They was no greeting but soft sniffles. They felt the urgency and quickly went over, and eyes narrowed into slits as they saw her wings. Bloody, cut, falling apart.

An anger suddenly took over Valdemar and they grabbed her wrist pulling her to face them. “Ada! Speak! What happened?” They demanded but even as they yelled at her she stood silent as if she had fell death. Her clothes dirty with blood, sweat, and tears. Someone had hurt their angel.

Dreams fight with machines.

Inside my head like adversaries.

Come wrestle me free,

Clean from the war.

Everything was bloody, Valdemar bathed her and with each flinch and shake they grew darker. They wanted to hurt something or someone..and even though Adalia was the only one with them they refused to let it be her. The river water grew bloody, her skin caked with dirt as she hugged herself. Valdemar tried to be careful with her now damaged wings running the wash cloth up her spine lightly. Then they noticed a collar around her throat and as they reached out without thought to grab it she slapped their hand away. Her sudden quickness shocking them as they quickly pulled away, water splashing heavily around the both of them.

Her eyes yelled at them without her having to physically. Anger, pain, and fear resided there, things that Valdemar had never seen on her face before. Things that hurt a lot more then the slap they had received.

-

The collar was still there. They thought as they looked at Adalia’s back. Why? Why was it still there? Why, why why?! Valdemar actually grew angry seeing it, their hands balling up into fist so hard that their nails couldn’t be stopped by the gloves they wore. Their nails piercing their palm until only black blood dropped from their fist. Now the dead bodies didn’t matter at all, but something about Adalia being surrounded by the dead was starting to bother them. She didn’t fit here, not in the dark, not with them.

Valdemar once held a dead body.

One that looked far too much like Adalia.

Almost identical.

Did they cry that day with that body?

They couldn’t remember.

-

Their eyes sharpened, it made more sense now. Everything made a lot more sense now to them as they approached her almost silently.

“Your heart fits like a key, into a lock on the wall.” She sung some more, and as she sung Valdemar couldn’t focus on anything but her. However the bodies seemed less in pain now, even when dead and after after being tormented in life, in death now they looked at peace. If blankets had been tucked just below their chests except from completely over them or not over them at all anyone would have thought it was just a room of snoozing people. Snoozing people who played with the dead instead of actually being them. “I turn it over, I turn it over...but I can’t escape.”

I turn it over, I turn it over.

Valdemar reached out to her, their fingers flexing lightly and as she sniffled they hesitated.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

Adalia jerked when arms wrapped around her shoulders pulling her back from the dead body in front of her, the one she had been crying over. A past lover who could’ve treated her much than he had but he still held value to her. Valdemar scoffed at him as she gently caressed his arm before they pulled her back. Her arm fell limp. “Ada..” they mumbled against her to which she paused before turning her head to look at them.

“Val.”

And it hurts like hell.

-

- Not gonna lie I got lazy at the end but I do hope someone enjoyed that. I once drew a pic of Adalia with Valdemar a while ago but I’ve really touched up on her looks. And before any of the other role play partners comment, yes this is a different version of Adalia.

UwU

If anyone wants more parts to this or for me to actually write about them than fucking comment.

[ranger-jedi-knight]

What Did I Do To Deserve This?

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24956782 @slytherinsheashire cause when I talked about this on our server she was VERY excited to read.

Ok, so this has been in my head for a while and I’ve found only a couple of fics that are similar which is sad but fair. So I’ve decided to write my own! I hope you enjoy it!!

The last thing Hans remembered was running to save Elsa.

“Sire?” the voice called and Hans felt hands sitting him upright. He gripped his head with one hand, a muted groan leaving him as a pain went thru his head. He didn’t show it outside the most subtle of tightening of his eyes. A faint chanting was in the back of his head. “Sire, are you ok?” he opened his eyes to see who was talking to him, one of the first soldiers who volunteered.

“Yes. I...I must have hit something,” he said standing up with the man’s help and the company nodded. He crouched over and picked up Elsa’s unconscious form, he had been carrying her when he somehow fell off his horse. He was soon back atop his horse and heading back to the castle.

In the shadows, however, a couple of trolls laughed smugly to themselves. The crystals on them glowed an ominous red as they pulled back to head back to their home to tell the news that their plan was in effect.

He was in the library talking to the council softly about what to do. He had tried pleading with Elsa in the dungeon but that failed. It also isn’t right, he thought, why did I put her there? She obviously didn’t mean this. So why am I treating her as an evil mastermind?

Because, she deserves it. She’s a criminal, she’s also standing between you and greatness. She needs to be gone so you can rule, a voice said, a dark voice in him. He didn’t have time to think about it as Anna came in then rushing toward him with two servants behind her.

“You’re so cold,” he said concerned as he held Anna upright. She was positively shivering in his arms. She was frantic as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Hans, you have to kiss me,” she said, absolute sincerity and desperation on her face as she tried pulling herself up to kiss him.

“What?” he asked looking up at the others as they made their way to the door.

“We’ll give you two some privacy,” Gerda said closing the doors behind the last man exiting.

“What happened out there?” he asked as he carried her to the chaise and laid her down gently.

“Elsa str-struck me with her po-powers,” she said regrettably.

“You said she’d never hurt you,” he said and a pained look crossed her face as a shiver wracked her body.

“I-I was wrong.” She looks up at him, her face pleading. “She fro-froze my heart and o-only an act of tr-true love can sa-save me.”

“True loves kiss,” he mumbled in realization. Anna nodded frantically and Hans smiled softly as he cupped her freezing jaw gently and tipped it up as he leaned over. Kiss her, it’ll make everything better-DON’T. She could ruin everything. Voices fought in his head, making him freeze in front of her. “Oh, Anna,” he mumbled right above her lips. He started to lean in but then he was forcibly pulled back. “If only there was someone out there who loved you,” he whispered leaning back with a smirk. What!? No! I love her! What am I saying? What’s going on!?

“W-what?” she asked, rightfully confused even as she shuddered as everything felt like ice to her. Her fingers slowly going numb. She’s right! What!? What is going on!? His sensible mind yelled. “Yo-you said y-ou did.”

“As thirteenth in line in my own kingdom, I didn't stand a chance. I knew I'd have to marry into the throne somewhere--” he started, no, what am I saying? I don’t care about that! I’m happy to be back up!

“Wha-what are you ta-talking about?” she demanded as he moved around the room putting out candles. Stop it! She’ll die without heat! And without true love’s kiss! He yelled at himself. He seemed to be a passenger in his own mind and body. He couldn’t control himself and stop. He wanted to but couldn’t!

“As heir, Elsa was preferable, of course. But no one was getting anywhere with her. But you-” he put out the last candle and stood in front of her.

“H-Hans?”

“You were so desperate for love you were willing to court me, just like that,” he picked up the pitcher and doused the fire. “I figured, after we married, I'd have to stage a little accident for Elsa.” Anna tried to get up and stop him but fell with a shudder.

“Hans. No-no, s-stop,” she pleaded. He chuckled at that.

“ All that's left now is to kill Elsa and bring back summer,” he said walking over to her and crouching down.

“Yo-ou’re no m-match for Elsa.” He took her chin in hand and she watched as something flashed thru his cold eyes. A flash of the kind eyes she talked to all night just a couple days ago. Of course I’m not! I don’t want to! Stop it! Someone help!

“No, you're no match for Elsa. I, on the other hand, am the hero who is going to save Arendelle from destruction,” he said as she wrenched her face from his grasp. She looked at him defiantly but she also looked concerned and worried about him. That’s no good. NO! It is good! She knows something is WRONG with me!

“Please, Hans. T-this isn’t you. I k-know you,” she begged quietly and he felt himself frowning at that, walking to the door.

“Oh, but this is me,” he replied walking out of the door.

“H-Hans!” she shouted as the door closed and locked behind him. He went to the council who was in the dining room. He managed to convince them that he married Anna before she died. She’s not dead! She’s alive! And I need to kiss her! Why can’t I do anything?!

A scowl painted his features when he found the dungeon room empty, the wall blown out.

Anna shivered again, another part of her hair turning white. She weakly hit the door, hoping someone was walking by. “Help!” her voice cracked on the one syllable. Ice crept along the ceiling, a look of fear crossing her face. The creaking of the lock had her looking over to the door. “Help!” she called out softly once more.

The door pushed open allowing her to see a carrot in the door. “Anna!” Olaf called out concerned, rushing over to her after pulling his carrot back and placing it back onto his face.

“Olaf!” if she could, she’d be crying right then at seeing his cheery face. “I-I need y-you to he-help me!” Olaf ran over to the fireplace and started getting it going. “N-no! I-I need to-to-get to Ha-ans!” she said as he lit the fire and helped her over.

“But, the kiss didn’t work?” he asked confused and watched as Anna look at him with a pained expression.

“H-he di-didn’t kiss me. B-but he-he’s u-under a sp-spell,” she stuttered out and Olaf nodded, a look of understanding on his face.

“And true love’s kiss could free him!” Olaf squealed and Anna started nodding.

“Yes!” she yelled and Olaf helped Anna up and they stumbled out of the room. But there were stopped by ice spikes growing thru the halls toward them. Anna goes to the window nearby and pushes it open with Olaf’s help.

By the time they were on the ground and in the fjord, the wind had picked up quite a bit. “Ke-ep go-ing, A-anna!” Olaf yelled out when the wind picked him away and he flew away from Anna. Anna grunted as she walked, the wind pushing her side to side as she walked, almost tripping her up.

Hans stumbled as he walked thru the storm toward Elsa. Well, where he THOUGHT Elsa was. Since he obviously couldn’t see her. Hans couldn’t be sure if it was him who got himself to stumble or the wind. Or possibly, even both.

“Elsa! You can’t run from this,” Hans called out and Elsa stopped running to look over at him warily.

“Just...take care of my sister,” she called out after a pause.

“Your sister? She returned from the mountain weak and cold. She said you froze her heart,” he called back, his griefed face somewhat genuine since he could get thru, but he could also feel it being fake.

“What? No,” Elsa called out, grief lining her face along with fear at the thought.

“I tried to save her, but it was too late. Her skin was ice. Her hair turned white…” he said as Elsa’s face fell, her pale face somehow becoming paler. “Y-your si-sister-” he conqueror tried saying but he stopped it. He wasn’t going to let himself lie. Elsa, while confused by his stumbling seemed to know what he was saying. She gasped out a sob, collapsing to the ground.

Deafening silence encompassed them as the storm collapsed, freezing in place. Everything was clear.

Hans was frozen as he tried reaching for his sword. He couldn’t stop the intruder for long tho. But luckily, it was long enough for Anna. As the intruder pulled his sword out, Anna was running toward them, the sound of his sword being drawn echoing around them.

“N-oo!” Anna yelled moving to stand protectively in front of Elsa as his sword went down. As the sword hit, Anna was encased in ice and Hans flew backward. Thank you, he thought as the intruders voices finally silenced.

Elsa sobbed when she saw Anna. “Anna!” she collapsed onto Anna, barely holding on as she sobbed. By then, Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf arrived with heartbroken expressions.

A gasp permeated the silence.

Elsa looked up and gasped, Anna was looking at her in slight disbelief as she held Elsa’s elbows. “Anna!” she shouted pulling her into a hug that Anna returned.

“Oh, Elsa,” Anna breathed out as they hugged. When they pulled apart Elsa looked at her relieved and in disbelief.

“You sacrifice yourself for me?” she asked softly and Anna nodded.

“I love you,” she replied softly and Elsa smiled softly at that.

“An act of true love will thaw a frozen heart!” Olaf gasped out and a look of understanding painted Elsa’s face.

“Love...will thaw… Love.... Of course.” Elsa gasped out, beaming at Anna as she pulled back out of Anna’s grip, looking around. Elsa smiled as she started moving her arms around in intricate movements. As she moved about, the snow started to disappear around them. Somehow, they were atop a sunken boat that rose as soon as the ice was clear.

As the two looked and dealt with Olaf, Hans groaned softly. He pushed himself up to lean against the railing, one hand gripping his hair as a migraine grew in his head. The intruder fought to take control back but he fought back, he wouldn’t let it take over again.

“Hans?” Anna’s soft voice called out and he looked up into her beautiful eyes with a pained look. “Oh, Hans,” she mumbled cupping his face as she kneeled next to him. Anna, please, help me, he thought even tho he knew she couldn’t read his thoughts. But Anna seemed to understand. She watched the pain expression cross his face and smiled softly.

“Anna?” Elsa called softly, confused.

“Trust me,” Anna said, to both Elsa and Hans. Hans nodded slowly, the pained look never fleeting. Anna looked at him sadly as she watched his eyes fight and shift, going between cold and closed off to loving and kind.

“Anna!” Kristoff yelled, he didn’t trust Hans after seeing him try to kill Elsa. he knew Anna saw since she stopped Hans. So why was she leaning in to kiss him!?

Anna ignored him and continued to lean in. her eyes slipped shut as she pressed her lips gently onto Hans. All at once, the battling voices stopped in his head.

Hans’ eyes slipped shut as a silent sigh left his lips at the silence in his head. He slumped against the rail, tired.

“Anna?” Elsa asked, curious to know. Anna sat down next to Hans and took one of his hands into hers and looked up at her sister. She had a gentle smile on her lips as she then held his hand with both of hers.

“He was under a spell. You don’t have to believe me, but I know it’s true,” Anna said and Elsa nodded slowly.

“I believe you,” she said softly and Anna smiled gratefully at that.

They soon reached the docks and Anna helped Hans up. Guards rushed over ready to apprehend him but Elsa waved them off and softly explained. They nodded understanding and simply helped take him to the castle. As they walked, a woman stiffened and looked at Hans with a pained expression.

“What is it, miss?” Elsa asked, causing everyone to stop to look at the woman in question. She wasn’t exciting, she was fairly ordinary looking. She wore a simple outfit like the other women in town, in a pale teal color. Her curly brown hair was pulled back halfway on top before going into a loose braid at the end. Around her shoulders was a leather messenger bag, some herbs peaking out.

“H-has that man been to the trolls?” she asked softly. Elsa and Anna shared a look before looking back to the woman.

“Why do you ask?” Elsa asked and the woman came closer running a hand over Hans’ face as she looked at him intently.

“I sense troll magic on him,” she said and the three sucked in a breath at that. “They put a spell on him, it...the spell feels malicious. They didn’t have good intentions, they had selfish, and evil intentions casting this,” she said and Kristoff stepped forward at that angry.

“Don’t you talk about them that way!” he yelled and the woman raised her hands.

“Can you explain why, miss…?” Elsa asked and the woman nodded.

“Frida, your majesty,” she greeted, giving a curtsey. “And I know because I went to the trolls to train in healing and magic. I didn’t know at first, but they are a selfish bunch. Their kindness hides the truth. Everything they do, they do it to gain something. Like you, your majesty. When you were a child, you visited the trolls, I saw since I was gathering herbs, some only grow in the light of the moon. They showed you terrifying images to get you and your parents to do what they wanted,” she explained and the two nodded slowly.

“No, that’s impossible,” Kristoff said, a pained look on his face. “We visited them and Grand Pappie helped.”

“What did they do when you first entered?” Frida asked.

“They tried marrying us,” Anna said and Frida nodded.

“Exactly. They didn’t care you didn’t want. As soon as they finished training me in their ways I left. You can’t trust them,” she said and Kristoff looked heartbroken and furious at the same time.

But they couldn’t blame him. His family betrayed him. The girl he slowly fell in love with, had her suitor, fiance really, cursed to become malicious to get him out of the way. They couldn’t get them married. He stormed off, wanting to get to the bottom of it.

“W-would you mind coming with us? T-to keep an eye on him?” Anna asked and Frida nodded.

“I would be honored to help you, your highness,” she said with a bow of her head and they made their way to the castle.

Kristoff didn’t appear for days. By the time he did, Hans was awake but confined to his bed as Frida worked the last remnants of the troll’s magic out of him. Anna was there when he woke up and they had a tearful hug. After some talking, Elsa agreed to send word that Hans would be staying with them. And that either the king or a diplomat of his choice could come over and discuss the possible marriage between Hans and Anna.

The whole time, Anna barely left Hans’s side, smiling gently at him the whole time. Hans held her hand the entire time, happy to finally be free from himself.

Ok, so here it is! I hope you guys enjoyed this! Sorry if the end is a bit rushed, but I sorta....didnt know HOW it should be ended soo ya. Its not the best ending but its cute i guess. Until next time!!

[she-wolf-of-highgarden]

All the times Arya mentions “Home”

*Arya mentions wanting to go home every book so far (or 44 times), so this is a long one y’all...*

“I do not mean to frighten you, but neither will I lie to you. We have come to a dark dangerous place, child. This is not Winterfell. We have enemies who mean us ill. We cannot fight a war among ourselves. This willfulness of yours, the running off, the angry words, the disobedience … at home, these were only the summer games of a child. Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is a different matter. It is time to begin growing up.” - Arya II, AGoT

“It was very dark right now, she realized. She hugged her bare knees tight against her chest and shivered. She would wait quietly and count to ten thousand. By then it would be safe for her to come creeping back out and find her way home.” - Arya III, AGoT

“The memory made Arya smile, and after that the darkness held no more terrors for her. The stableboy was dead, she'd killed him, and if he jumped out at her she'd kill him again. She was going home. Everything would be better once she was home again, safe behind Winterfell's grey granite walls.” - Arya IV, AGoT

“All she wanted was to go home, but leaving King's Landing was not so easy as she had hoped. Talk of war was on every lip, and gold cloaks were as thick on the city walls as fleas on … well, her, for one. She had been sleeping in Flea Bottom, on rooftops and in stables, wherever she could find a place to lie down, and it hadn't taken her long to learn that the district was well named.” - Arya V, AGoT

“She's still here," Arya blurted. The longshoreman gave her a queer look, shrugged, and walked away. Arya ran toward the pier. The Wind Witch was the ship Father had hired to take her home … still waiting! She'd imagined it had sailed ages ago.” - Arya V, AGoT

“When at last she slept, she dreamed of home. The kingsroad wound its way past Winterfell on its way to the Wall, and Yoren had promised he'd leave her there with no one any wiser about who she'd been. She yearned to see her mother again, and Robb and Bran and Rickon . . . but it was Jon Snow she thought of most. She wished somehow they could come to the Wall before Winterfell, so Jon might muss up her hair and call her "little sister." She'd tell him, "I missed you," and he'd say it too at the very same moment, the way they always used to say things together. She would have liked that. She would have liked that better than anything.” - Arya I, ACoK

“A she-wolf. Arya sloshed her beer, wondering. Was the Gods Eye near the Trident? She wished she had a map. It had been near the Trident that she'd left Nymeria. She hadn't wanted to, but Jory said they had no choice, that if the wolf came back with them she'd be killed for biting Joffrey, even though he'd deserved it. They'd had to shout and scream and throw stones, and it wasn't until a few of Arya's stones struck home that the direwolf had finally stopped following them. She probably wouldn't even know me now, Arya thought. Or if she did, she'd hate me.” - Arya II, ACoK

“A man must be ashamed of the company he keeps, Arry," the handsome one said. "This man has the honor to be Jaqen H'ghar, once of the Free City of Lorath. Would that he were home. This man's ill-bred companions in captivity are named Rorge"—he waved his tankard at the noseless man—"and Biter." Biter hissed at her again, displaying a mouthful of yellowed teeth filed into points. "A man must have some name, is that not so? Biter cannot speak and Biter cannot write, yet his teeth are very sharp, so a man calls him Biter and he smiles. Are you charmed?” - Arya II, ACoK

“He is not," Arya declared. My father only had one bastard, and that's Jon. She stalked off into the trees, wishing she could just saddle her horse and ride home. She was a good horse, a chestnut mare with a white blaze on her forehead. And Arya had always been a good rider. She could gallop off and never see any of them, unless she wanted to. Only then she'd have no one to scout ahead of her, or watch behind, or stand guard while she napped, and when the gold cloaks caught her, she'd be all alone. It was safer to stay with Yoren and the others.” - Arya III, ACoK

“I wish I was home," she said miserably. She tried so hard to be brave, to be fierce as a wolverine and all, but sometimes she felt like she was just a little girl after all.” - Arya III, ACoK

“I don't care. I want to go home." - Arya III, ACoK

“Arya was remembering the stories Old Nan used to tell of Harrenhal. Evil King Harren had walled himself up inside, so Aegon unleashed his dragons and turned the castle into a pyre. Nan said that fiery spirits still haunted the blackened towers. Sometimes men went to sleep safe in their beds and were found dead in the morning, all burnt up. Arya didn't really believe that, and anyhow it had all happened a long time ago. Hot Pie was being silly; it wouldn't be ghosts at Harrenhal, it would be knights. Arya could reveal herself to Lady Whent, and the knights would escort her home and keep her safe. That was what knights did; they kept you safe, especially women. Maybe Lady Whent would even help the crying girl.” - Arya IV, ACoK

“Arya found herself with Gendry, Hot Pie, and Lommy. Squat, kettle-bellied Woth had pulled an oar on a galley once, which made him the next best thing they had to a sailor, so Yoren told him to take them down to the lakefront and see if they could find a boat. As they rode between the silent white houses, gooseprickles crawled up Arya's arms. This empty town frightened her almost as much as the burnt holdfast where they'd found the crying girl and the one-armed woman. Why would people run off and leave their homes and everything? What could scare them so much?” - Arya IV, ACoK

“He was going to take me home, she thought as they dug the old man's hole. There were too many dead to bury them all, but Yoren at least must have a grave, Arya had insisted. He was going to bring me safe to Winterfell, he promised. Part of her wanted to cry. The other part wanted to kick him.” - Arya V, ACoK

“She nodded. "Yoren was taking me home to Winterfell.” - Arya V, ACoK

“The Lannisters had taken everything: father, friends, home, hope, courage. One had taken Needle, while another had broken her wooden stick sword over his knee. They had even taken her stupid secret. The storehouse had been big enough for her to creep off and make her water in some corner when no one was looking, but it was different on the road. She held it as long as she could, but finally she had to squat by a bush and skin down her breeches in front of all of them. It was that or wet herself. Hot Pie gaped at her with big moon eyes, but no one else even troubled to look. Girl sheep or boy sheep, Ser Gregor and his men did not seem to care.” - Arya VI, ACoK

“Arya climbed. Up in the kingdom of the leaves, she unsheathed and for a time forgot them all, Ser Amory and the Mummers and her father's men alike, losing herself in the feel of rough wood beneath the soles of her feet and the swish of sword through air. A broken branch became Joffrey. She struck at it until it fell away. The queen and Ser Ilyn and Ser Meryn and the Hound were only leaves, but she killed them all as well, slashing them to wet green ribbons. When her arm grew weary, she sat with her legs over a high limb to catch her breath in the cool dark air, listening to the squeak of bats as they hunted. Through the leafy canopy she could see the bone-white branches of the heart tree. It looks just like the one in Winterfell from here. If only it had been . . . then when she climbed down she would have been home again, and maybe find her father sitting under the weirwood where he always sat.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“Arya went to her knees. She wasn't sure how she should begin. She clasped her hands together. Help me, you old gods, she prayed silently. Help me get those men out of the dungeon so we can kill Ser Amory, and bring me home to Winterfell. Make me a water dancer and a wolf and not afraid again, ever.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“I can't. I have to go home. To Winterfell.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“The lord and maester swept from the room, giving her not so much as a backward glance. When they were gone, Arya took the letter and carried it to the hearth, stirring the logs with a poker to wake the flames anew. She watched the parchment twist, blacken, and flare up. If the Lannisters hurt Bran and Rickon, Robb will kill them every one. He'll never bend the knee, never, never, never. He's not afraid of any of them. Curls of ash floated up the chimney. Arya squatted beside the fire, watching them rise through a veil of hot tears. If Winterfell is truly gone, is this my home now? Am I still Arya, or only Nan the serving girl, for forever and forever and forever?” - Arya X, ACoK 

“Warm and dry in a corner between Gendry and Harwin, Arya listened to the singing for a time, then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. She dreamt of home; not Riverrun, but Winterfell. It was not a good dream, though. She was alone outside the castle, up to her knees in mud. She could see the grey walls ahead of her, but when she tried to reach the gates every step seemed harder than the one before, and the castle faded before her, until it looked more like smoke than granite. And there were wolves as well, gaunt grey shapes stalking through the trees all around her, their eyes shining. Whenever she looked at them, she remembered the taste of blood.” - Arya III, ASoS

“Lord Beric Dondarrion. Arya remembered all she'd heard at Harrenhal, from the Lannisters and the Bloody Mummers alike. Lord Beric the wisp o' the wood. Lord Beric who'd been killed by Vargo Hoat and before that by Ser Amory Lorch, and twice by the Mountain That Rides. If he won't send me home maybe I'll kill him too. "Why do I have to see Lord Beric?" she asked quietly.” - Arya III, ASoS

“A stream barred her way. She splashed down into it, through water choked with wet brown leaves. Some clung to her horse's legs as they climbed the other side. The undergrowth was thicker here, the ground so full of roots and rocks that she had to slow, but she kept as good a pace as she dared. Another hill before her, this one steeper. Up she went, and down again. How big are these woods? she wondered. She had the faster horse, she knew that, she had stolen one of Roose Bolton's best from the stables at Harrenhal, but his speed was wasted here. I need to find the fields again. I need to find a road. Instead she found a game trail. It was narrow and uneven, but it was something. She raced along it, branches whipping at her face. One snagged her hood and yanked it back, and for half a heartbeat she feared they had caught her. A vixen burst from the brush as she passed, startled by the fury of her flight. The game trail brought her to another stream. Or was it the same one? Had she gotten turned around? There was no time to puzzle it out, she could hear their horses crashing through the trees behind her. Thorns scratched at her face like the cats she used to chase in King's Landing. Sparrows exploded from the branches of an alder. But the trees were thinning now, and suddenly she was out of them. Broad level fields stretched before her, all weeds and wild wheat, sodden and trampled. Arya kicked her horse back to a gallop. Run, she thought, run for Riverrun, run for home. Had she lost them? She took one quick look, and there was Harwin six yards back and gaining. No, she thought, no, he can't, not him, it isn't fair.” - Arya III, ASoS

“Do you swear?" she asked him. Yoren had promised to take her home too, only he'd gotten killed instead.” - Arya VII, ASoS

“Gendry ignored that. "At least your father raised his bastard, not like mine. I don't even know my father's name. Some smelly drunk, I'd wager, like the others my mother dragged home from the alehouse. Whenever she got mad at me, she'd say, 'If your father was here, he'd beat you bloody.' That's all I know of him." He spat. "Well, if he was here now, might be I'd beat him bloody. But he's dead, I figure, and your father's dead too, so what does it matter who he lay with?” - Arya VIII, ASoS

“Arya turned on Tom and Lem. "If you hadn't caught me, I would have been there. I would have been home.” - Arya VIII, ASoS

“The villagers were building a wooden palisade around their homes, and when they saw the breadth of the Hound's shoulders they offered them food and shelter and even coin for work. "If there's wine as well, I'll do it," he growled at them. In the end, he settled for ale, and drank himself to sleep each night.” - Arya XII, ASoS

“No," he said, "you couldn't." He gave her back her coins. "It would make no difference if you could, child. The north has nothing for us. Ice and war and pirates. We saw a dozen pirate ships making north as we rounded Crackclaw Point, and I have no wish to meet them again. From here we bend our oars for home, and I suggest you do the same." I have no home, Arya thought. I have no pack. And now I don't even have a horse.” - Arya XIII, ASoS

“The star of home," said Denyo.” - Arya I, AFfC

“The star of home. Arya stood at the prow, one hand resting on the gilded figurehead, a maiden with a bowl of fruit. For half a heartbeat she let herself pretend that it was her home ahead.But that was stupid. Her home was gone, her parents dead, and all her brothers slain but Jon Snow on the Wall. That was where she had wanted to go. She told the captain as much, but even the iron coin did not sway him. Arya never seemed to find the places she set out to reach. Yoren had sworn to deliver her to Winterfell, only she had ended up in Harrenhal and Yoren in his grave. When she escaped Harrenhal for Riverrun, Lem and Anguy and Tom o' Sevens took her captive and dragged her to the hollow hill instead. Then the Hound had stolen her and dragged her to the Twins. Arya had left him dying by the river and gone ahead to Saltpans, hoping to take passage for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, only . . .” - Arya I, AFfC

“Supper was her favorite time. It had been a long while since Arya had gone to sleep every night with a full belly. Some nights the kindly man would allow her to ask him questions. Once she asked him why the people who came to the temple always seemed so peaceful; back home, people were scared to die. She remembered how that pimply squire had wept when she stabbed him in the belly, and the way Ser Amory Lorch had begged when the Goat had him thrown in the bear pit. She remembered the village by the God's Eye, and the way the villagers shrieked and screamed and whimpered whenever the Tickler started asking after gold.” - Arya II, AFfC 

“You lie," he said, "but you may keep your secrets if you wish, Arya of House Stark." He only called her that when she displeased him. "You know that you may leave this place. You are not one of us, not yet. You may go home anytime you wish.” - Arya II, AFfC 

“Then stay . . . but remember, the House of Black and White is not a home for orphans. All men must serve beneath this roof. Valar dohaeris is how we say it here. Remain if you will, but know that we shall require your obedience. At all times and in all things. If you cannot obey, you must depart.” - Arya II, AFfC

“Cat always stank of brine and fish by the time they pushed off for home again. She had grown so used to it that she hardly even smelled it anymore. She did not mind the work. When her muscles ached from lifting, or her back got sore from the weight of a cask, she told herself that she was getting stronger.” - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“Braavos was a city made for secrets, a city of fogs and masks and whispers. Its very existence had been a secret for a century, the girl had learned; its location had been hidden thrice that long. "The Nine Free Cities are the daughters of Valyria that was," the kindly man taught her, "but Braavos is the bastard child who ran away from home. We are a mongrel folk, the sons of slaves and whores and thieves. Our forebears came from half a hundred lands to this place of refuge, to escape the dragonlords who had enslaved them. Half a hundred gods came with them, but there is one god all of them shared in common." - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“I know what Blind Beqqo puts in the hot sauce he uses on his oysters," she would say. "I know the mummers at the Blue Lantern are going to do The Lord of the Woeful Countenance and the mummers at the Ship mean to answer with Seven Drunken Oarsmen. I know the bookseller Lotho Lornel sleeps in the house of Tradesman-Captain Moredo Prestayn whenever the honorable tradesman-captain is away on a voyage, and moves out whenever the Vixen comes home.” - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“The blind girl did not know whom the voice belonged to. One of the acolytes, she supposed. She did not remember ever hearing his voice before, but what was there to say that the servants of the Many-Faced God could not change their voices as easily as they did their faces? Besides her, the House of Black and White was home to two serving men, three acolytes, Umma the cook, and the two priests that she called the waif and the kindly man. Others came and went, sometimes by secret ways, but those were the only ones who lived here. Her nemesis could be any of them.” - The Blind Girl, ADwD

“I saw you. "I gave you three. I don't need to give you four." Maybe on the morrow she would tell him about the cat that had followed her home last night from Pynto's, the cat that was hiding in the rafters, looking down on them. Or maybe not. If he could have secrets, so could she.” - The Blind Girl, ADwD

“He had guards. Two of them, a tall thin man and a short thick one. They went with him everywhere, from when he left his house in the morning till he returned at night. They made certain no one got close to the old man without his leave. Once a drunk almost staggered into him as he was coming home from the soup shop, but the tall one stepped between them and gave the man a sharp shove that knocked him to the ground. At the soup shop, the short one always tasted the onion broth first. The old man waited until the broth had cooled before he took a sip, long enough to be sure his guardsman had suffered no ill effects.” - The Ugly Little Girl, ADwD