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matthewtangemanphoto · 4 months ago

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A Season of Spring Skiing in the San Juan Mountains

Or, my test-drive blog post.

I started skiing when I was 2. My approach to skiing has gone through a lot of different phases over all that time - from not really enjoying it at all, to being a wannabe racer, to just wanting to ski the backcountry, to being a park rat, a wannabe freerider, a Baker bro, a turns-all-year acolyte, to someone whose ski season doesn't really start till April. I'm still adjusting to the continental snowpack after moving to Colorado from the PNW four years ago. Ice climbing tends to fill my winters, though I did ski more powder in 2024 than other recent years, but those six weeks from the middle of April to the end of May are still my favorite six of the year.

After a month on a work assignment in Baja, my ski season began with a series of epic powder days on the Trout-to-Ophir tour, a popular shuttle mission in the NW San Juans.

Yours truly in Gemini (top). The Himalayan Face, always calling (lower).

After one T-to-O day, Dani made me take a picture with my photo of her in Backcountry Mag, and I'm quite glad she did.

One day skiing Gemini with Dani, I brought the drone along. Check out the video here.

Shortly thereafter, stuck again yearning for someone else to get into the mountains with, I did a solo mission, Trout-to-Ophir-and-back-to-Trout (nixing the shuttle option in favor of my own legs: the hermit's choice, not the smart one). I skied the Big O, one of the more prominent couloirs in Waterfall Canyon, made some GS turns through hero hippy pow into the bottom of the canyon, and upon realizing it was too warm to stick with my original plan of climbing back up an adjacent couloir to regain the ridge and descend back to my car, I took the long way out, tracing Waterfall Creek through low angle but consistent terrain, safe from the warming slabs and cornices that would haunt me otherwise. Not safe from dehydration and sleep deprivation, which always hit me like a train those first couple warm spring days.

Hero turns upon exiting the Big O.

I regained the ridge at a new-to-me location on the west shoulder of Pilot Knob, with a steep, exposed, unknown face between me and my car. My "safer exit" suddenly was feeling much less safe. I had a lot of words that day to describe the position I found myself in, dropping in blind on a face that I knew deadends in cliffs for 95% of it's width. Today, 3 months later in the middle of a record setting July heatwave, I don't seem to have as many. I trusted my intuition, ski cut a windslab, and followed my gut down towards what I hoped would be a sneak line through the cliff band. It went, but barely - just a couple centimeters wider than my 184cm skis through it's gut, I made almost 1000 feet of hop turns before exiting onto familiar below-treeline terrain and lovely cruise back to the car.

Is it gonna go?

It goes! We got lucky. The 'Pilot Pinner' is a couloir I would actually welcome skiing again.

Next stop, The Coors Face, on Shandoka (Wilson Peak). This line needs no introduction. For me, it had been the only line in the San Juans to ever turn me back, having attempted it 3 times in the previous year (wind slab, a late start, and a rocky, not-filled-in crux being the 3 reasons I bailed).

Three previous bails left me feeling stubborn, I guess, and Nick and I skied it in mediocre conditions that I would not repeat again. Of all the '50 Classics' I've skied, this was by far the worst in the given conditions. An inch of sugar snow often covered large, lurking sharks. I blew out an edge on one of them. It was kinda scary, and not really in the calculated, controlled sort of way, more of the 'this is stupid' kind of way. The crux was largely rock, and I booted a small section. I'm glad I did it, but it truly felt like checking a box, which is not the way I want any of my mountain experiences to feel. I would need a record setting snowpack to come back.

Nick on the thin face. Shark attack!

Once through the choke, the lower couloir and apron was phenomenal. I would ski that section any day.

Photo by Gus Bosch, who skied the line a couple days later. You can see my and Nick's tracks in the central couloir, lower on the face.

After that, I racked up 30000 feet of vert in a week of skiing in the Elk Mountains. I skied a couple more San Juan classics too, such as the Naked Lady.

The last Colorado ski mission of the season was in the La Plata Mountains, whose western facade presides over Montezuma County and is a never ending source of beautiful sunset landscapes from the mesa above my house in Dolores. The small sub range of the San Juans offers incredible powder skiing in the winter (often receiving greater and wetter snow than other parts of the range, comparable in some ways to Wolf Creek Pass or Marble) and plethora of fantastic couloir descents, complicated only by long and difficult access. A sled helps. On this day we chose mountain bikes to cover 5 or 6 miles of singletrack before reaching snowline.

We skied a perfect north-facing couloir off of Spiller Peak, which I have heard referred to as Ray's Couloir, though I'm also partial to 'The Spillway'. Owen Basin, the headwaters of the not-so-mighty yet vital Mancos River, was criss-crossed with bear tracks and packed with fun-looking ice climbs, and one incredibly good looking quartzite boulder. An inspiring amphitheater indeed.

Bear report, above treeline, all aspects: active.

Nick climbing the couloir. Dibe Ntsaa (Hesperus) and Lavendar Peaks behind. An inspiring mountain venue indeed, if only it were easier to get to.

3, 2, 1....

#alpinism #skimountaineering #colorado #san juan mountains #skiing #southwest #matthew tangeman #photography

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cicada-bones · 4 years ago

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The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 8: A Golden Afternoon

Its the middle of the night - so Im definitely going to post this again in the morning - but here you go! thanks for the nice words I really appreciate it ❤︎

word count: 4120

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Barely five minutes had passed before Lysandra was sauntering down the stairs, arms now empty and her gaze lazily sweeping over Rowan’s bare chest. Her eyes burned with intent, but he knew she was cataloguing him, marking the strength, height, weapons in his hands – the gaze of a spy. And Rowan couldn’t help but wonder if she really was just spying for Aelin. With those wildcat eyes…who else would she be serving but herself? Was there a chance she might betray them?

Rowan could practically feel Aedion’s eyes on him from behind, his scent burning with jealousy. Rowan had to keep his own eyes from rolling.

Lysandra shot Rowan a wry smile as she passed them, and Rowan caught a whiff of her scent on the breeze. It was strange, almost…layered. He couldn’t quite figure it out, and before he could get a full breath, Lysandra had wrenched the rolling door open and left the warehouse, pulling it shut behind her.

Then Aelin appeared on the stairs, a pile of garments in her arms. “These are for you,” she to Rowan. “Looks like I owe Nesryn a favor, she asked Lysandra to bring them this morning.”

Aelin continued as Rowan started up the stairs to take the clothes off her hands. “She also brought news. Arobynn received a report last night that two prison wagons were spotted heading south to Morath – chock full of all those missing people. We need to send for Chaol.”

Aedion nodded, already heading out the door, while Rowan continued into the apartment to see if the new clothes would fit. When he passed Aelin, she smirked at him.

So that’s a no on the fit. Rowan held in a sigh. Knowing Aelin, she’d put him in tight clothing on purpose.

···

To Rowan’s relief, the clothes hadn’t been all that tight. The pants were loose enough that they no longer restricted his movement, even if they were nearly four inches too short at the ankle. But Aelin had still given him an overly-pleased once over when his back was turned. She was spending too much time with Lysandra.

By late morning, Chaol was standing in the middle of the clearing, his eyes fixed on the map between his fingers. His steel, cotton, and birchwood-flavored scent was exactly as Rowan remembered from when he’d first tasted it in Aelin’s blood all those months ago, in that reckless first bite.

The memory alone was enough for ice to crack through Rowan’s veins, freezing his expression in place. This man had been responsible for sending Aelin across the sea, with no warning and no protection, right into the arms of his former queen. Who had been responsible for the broken heart she had arrived with. And then, when she returned here, he had the impudence to tell her that it was her fault he had failed to protect his King. That it was her fault her cousin had ended up in prison and Dorian the walking dead.

Rowan wanted to rip his face off with his teeth.

But instead, Rowan just stood guard by the door. Keeping his eyes locked on the former captain of the guard.

The man was of slightly higher than average stature, with brown eyes and hair, and hardened features. He held his broad shoulders straight back, his spine rigid, but his limbs were unsettled. He couldn’t stop shifting in place, discomforted.

Rowan suppressed another grin.

The man’s eyes also kept shifting to Aelin, and as he moved in place yet again, Rowan caught the slightest hint of jasmine and flame in his scent – Aelin.

Even though he couldn’t detect even a trace of the captain’s scent on Aelin anymore, the captain was still holding on to her. Still carrying her scent. Fury bubbled in Rowan’s gut.

Despite the vile words he’d hurled at her, the captain still wanted Aelin, and now that Rowan was looking for it, he could see the pain from her rejection written all over him.

Rowan almost regretted being polite to the man. But he knew Aelin would be rightfully furious with him if he attacked Chaol when their alliance was already so fragile. So he stuck to the door.

But that didn’t mean Aelin didn’t notice his icy stare, nor the captain’s discomfort. Her eyes glinted. “You know, he won’t bite,” she crooned.

Chaol leveled a stare at her. “Can you just explain what these maps are for?”

“Anything you, Ress, or Brullo can fill in regarding these gaps in the castle defenses would be appreciated,” she said.

His lips pursed as he folded up the map, tucking it into the inner pocket of his tunic. “For you to bring down the clock tower?”

“Maybe,” Aelin said flatly.

Chaol bristled. He was still obviously avoiding Rowan’s gaze. “I haven’t heard from Ress or Brullo for a few days,” he said tersely. “I’ll make contact soon.”

Aelin just nodded, pulling out a second map – this one of the sewer network. She weighed it down on the table with two of the daggers hidden up her sleeves.

Chaol shot her a disapproving look that made Rowan want to snarl.

Aelin ignored them. “Arobynn learned that the missing prisoners were taken to Morath last night. Did you know?”

Chaol tensed. “No.”

“They can’t have gotten far. You could gather a team and ambush the wagons.”

“I know I could.”

“Are you going to?”

He laid a hand on the map, his face darkening. If Rowan didn’t know any better, he might have felt sympathetic. The man was obviously in pain.

His words were low, but hard. “Did you bring me here to prove a point about my uselessness?”

Aelin straightened. Rowan leaned forwards slightly, readying himself. Aelin spoke, choosing her words very carefully, “I asked you to come because I thought it would be helpful for the both of us. We’re both – we’re both under a fair amount of pressure these days.”

“When do you make your move?” the captain asked, his eyes roving over the map.

“Soon.”

Another purse of the lips. Apparently, he didn’t like her non-answers. “Anything else I should know?”

“I’d start avoiding the sewers. It’s your death warrant if you don’t.”

“There are people trapped down there—we’ve found the nests, but no sign of the prisoners. I won’t abandon them.”

“That’s all well and good,” Aelin said calmly, even as Chaol slammed his teeth together, “but there are worse things than Valg grunts patrolling the sewers, and I bet they won’t turn a blind eye to anyone in their territory. I would weigh the risks if I were you.”

The captain was angry, but he kept silent as Aelin combed her fingers through her hair and asked, “So are you going to ambush the prison wagons?”

“Of course I am.”

Rowan couldn’t doubt the sincerity there, and it seemed Aelin couldn’t either. Her eyes softened in concern, her scent flickering. And Rowan knew that there was still some affection left for the old captain of the guard. But how much?

Aelin sighed softly. Then said, “They use warded locks on the wagons. And the doors are reinforced with iron. Bring the right tools.”

It was Rowan’s turn to clench his jaw. Aelin would know, she had spent weeks in one. Chained up and in the dark. On her way to slavery.

It took all of his self control to remain still and standing.

The captain straightened up, making to leave.

“Tell Faliq that Prince Rowan says thank you for the clothes,” Aelin said. And even though confusion passed over Chaol’s face, he nodded his agreement. Rowan stepped aside with a murmur of farewell as the captain stepped into the bright sunlight of the golden afternoon.

···

To his great surprise, Aelin told him that there wasn’t anything pressing they needed to take care of that day, so instead, she spent the time showing him her city.

She took him through the slums, keeping to the shadows whenever possible, and they walked all the way through the capital to the elegant residential districts and the busy markets squares, now crammed with vendors selling goods for the summer solstice in two weeks.

She talked all the while, pointing out paths and walkways, busy intersections and guard postings, along with all those little details that made this place her home, the good and the bad. And so much of it seemed to be connected to Sam.

Places they had walked together, ate together, laughed together – where they had grown up. She even pointed out the place Sam had rescued her from the sewers when she had been kidnapped and nearly drowned.

The cobbles were warm with the afternoon sunlight, and despite the darkness of the Valg guards, the pair of them walked through the city as if belonged to them. As if the streets and buildings were but a carpet unrolled before their feet.

“The man who runs that store always used to give me free tarts.”

“That dressmaker was my favorite, she always knew exactly how to alter a garment to suit you perfectly.”

“I had dance lessons here for years, the instructor is an amazing woman, you would have loved her. She let me play her piano, even if my back was never straight enough for her. She helped me rescue Aedion.”

They even spent almost half an hour in an old music repair shop, wandering among the aisles of old instruments and piles of music sheets. Even if, in Rowan’s opinion, no piece of music could be more beautiful than the sound of her laugh as he nearly tripped over some twisted pieces of metal she told him belonged to a broken brass horn.

Aelin also took him to one of Nesryn’s family bakeries, where she tried force him to eat some of a pear tart, no matter how many times he told her that it smelled sickly sweet to him.

At the docks however, Rowan actually managed to convince Aelin to try some pan-fried trout. She cringed and swore at first, but once she’d tried it, she finished her fish in record time and soon was trying to sneak bites of his. Rowan snarled at her, but he couldn’t keep his lips from twitching into a smile.

After their late lunch, they sat at the edge of the docks and cooled by the water. They were mostly silent, instead listening to the sounds of the shipyards, seabirds and waves.

Rowan found that his thoughts kept sliding to Sam. He’d been just a boy when he died, barely eighteen. They’d had so little time together. And before Aelin had gotten a chance to deal with his death, she had been sold into slavery.

Rowan tried to find the words to ask her about Sam, about how she felt for him, but before he could, the sound of a whip cracked through their pleasant silence.

Aelin met his eyes, her face grave. Soundlessly, they stood and walked away from the water and back to the shore, where they watched as a cluster of chained slaves hauled cargo onto one of the ships. People who, no doubt, were captured and enslaved because of their opposition to Adarlanian rule. Rebels in chains, allies of Terrasen and its queen.

They watched, and could to nothing.

A cold, endless fury burned in Aelin’s eyes; a fury that made him want to call a storm of ice and wind so strong it would turn the shipyards to rubble, the slavers with them. But he couldn’t, and not only because his magic was locked inside his body. Instead they just stared. And swore to themselves that soon, perhaps very soon, those slaves would be freed.

He and Aelin wandered away, back through the market stalls from which they came, though now the silence between them felt heavy with darkness.

Now the wooden paths were full of the scent of roses and wild lilies, the ocean breeze sweeping petals of every shape and color past their feet as the flower girls shouted about their wares. Husbands leaned over bouquets to bring home to their wives, bachelors picked out arrangements for their intended, while girls giggled over daisies and shot the boys looks from beneath their lashes when they thought no one was watching.

Rowan stopped in his tracks. The smell, the laughter, the color – it was all so familiar that it made his heart wrench in two.

There was a woman across from them in the center of the square, a basket of hothouse peonies on her thin arm. She was young, pretty, and dark-haired, and her eyes sparkled with something hidden – twin to his mate of two centuries earlier.

Memories began flashing behind his eyes – a mountain home in smoke, arms digging a grave, blood running tracks down the backs of his hands. The face of a woman in a market across the sea, flowers in her arms and hair, a smile lighting up her face. Even the queen by his side couldn’t dull the screaming reverberating in his head.

Rowan didn’t hear what Aelin said as she turned to him, but he saw her face. Her eyes widened, and she clenched and unclenched her fingers, any words lodged in her throat.

Rowan just stared at the girl, who was smiling, alight with life and a vibrant energy that sliced through him like a knife. She smiled at a passing woman, holding out her peonies for a sale.

Rowan breathed, Aelin’s anxiety brushing past him with a wash of flickering embers. Truth. The only thing he could offer her.

“I didn’t deserve her,” he said quietly.

Aelin swallowed hard. A long pause. Then, “I didn’t deserve Sam.”

Rowan turned to look at Aelin, her eyes downturned, her mouth soft. He would do anything to keep that sadness off her face. Anything.

Rowan reached out to brush her fingers with his, maybe to hold her hand, or pull her body into his. But at the last moment, he remembered himself, and dropped his arm back to his side.

He must have invented that glint of disappointment in Aelin’s eyes.

“Come,” she said. “I want to show you something.”

They left the flower girls behind, moving deeper into the city, but Rowan was unable to completely let go of the pain wrapping his heart in ice.

···

Aelin scrounged up some dessert from the street vendors while Rowan waited in a shadowed alley, then she pulled him deeper into the city proper, until they darted into a side alley and ducked into a hidden entrance that led to a rickety wooden staircase.

Now, Aelin was munching on a lemon cookie while they sat on one of the wooden rafters in the gilded dome of the darkened Royal Theater, Aelin swinging her legs in the open air below.

The space was dark and silent, unnaturally so. As if the very seats and aisles longed for the return of the music that had once blanketed them. Sunlight poured in from the roof door they’d entered through, illuminating the rafters and the golden dome, gleaming faintly off the polished brass banisters and the blood red curtains of the stage below.

“This used to be my favorite place in the entire world,” Aelin said, her words full of a loving nostalgia. “Arobynn owns a private box, so I went any chance I could. The nights I didn’t feel like dressing up or being seen, or maybe the nights I had a job and only an hour free, I’d creep in here through that door and listen.”

Rowan finished the cookie Aelin had foisted on him, still just gazing into the dark space below. He still hadn’t said anything since they’d left the flower vendors, and he could smell the scent of Aelin’s worry wafting around them. Wanting to ease her tension, and to turn away from the icy marble deep in his chest, he turned back to her.

Aelin seemed to practically sigh in relief as he said, “I’ve never seen an orchestra – or a theater like this, crafted around sound and luxury. Even in Doranelle, the theaters and amphitheaters are ancient, with benches or just steps.”

“There’s no place like this anywhere, perhaps. Even in Terrasen.”

“Then you’ll have to build one.”

“With what money? You think people are going to be happy to starve while I build a theater for my own pleasure?”

“Perhaps not right away, but if you believe one would benefit the city, the country, then do it. Artists are essential.”

Aelin sighed, seemingly unable to handle another burden, small as it was. “This place has been shut down for months, and yet I swear I can still hear the music floating in the air.”

Rowan angled his head, studying. “Perhaps the music does live on, in some form.” It was almost as though he could feel its absence, in the taste of the air and the flutter of the curtains. The space wasn’t just empty, it was waiting.

A silver lining appeared in Aelin’s eyes. “I wish you could have heard it – I wish you had been there to hear Pytor conduct the Stygian Suite. Sometimes, I feel like I’m still sitting down in that box, thirteen years old and weeping from the sheer glory of it.”

“You cried?” he blinked, watching as the memories passed behind her eyes and wishing he could see them as she did.

“The final movement – every damn time,” she sighed, almost laughing at herself. “I would go back to the Keep and have the music in my mind for days, even as I trained or killed or slept. It was a kind of madness, loving that music. It was why I started playing the pianoforte – so I could come home at night and make my poor attempt at replicating it.”

“Is there a pianoforte in here?” he asked, looking back into the darkness without waiting for an answer, the ghost of a smile passing over his face.

···

“I haven’t played in months and months. And this is a horrible idea for about a dozen different reasons,” Aelin complained for the tenth time as she finished rolling back the curtains on the stage.

Rowan kept quiet, focusing on lighting the single candle he had found backstage. He knew that the space had once been grand and beautiful, but now, amid the gloom of the dead theater, it felt like standing in a tomb. The chairs were still perfectly arranged for a massive orchestra, though they were now covered in dust. No one had been in here in weeks.

Rowan turned and walked over to the pianoforte, which was near the front of the stage. He had never learned to play, his court lessons not extending so far as learning an instrument.

Rowan had been to his fair share of balls and events, but it had been a rare thing for him to have an opportunity to listen to music just for music’s sake. Much of those events had been heavily overshadowed by the annoyance of dealing with court maneuvering. And after Lyria’s death, he had avoided such things at all costs.

He could barely remember the last time he had been able to listen to any kind of music and just listen. To have the pleasure of experiencing the art, the magic of it. He ran a hand over the smooth surface of the instrument as if it were a prize horse, marveling at the potential the lay within.

Aelin was hesitating at his side. “It seems like sacrilege to play that thing,” she said, her words echoing too loudly in the space.

“Since when are you the religious type, anyway?” Rowan gave her an encouraging smile. He just hoped that it wasn’t too crooked. “Where should I stand to best hear it?”

“You might be in for a lot of pain at first.”

“Self-conscious today, too?” Maybe teasing would get it out of her.

“If Lorcan’s snooping about,” she grumbled, “I’d rather he not report back to Maeve that I’m lousy at playing.”

He just grinned as she pointed to a spot on the stage. “There. Stand there, and stop talking, you insufferable bastard.” He chuckled, and moved across to the center of the stage.

She swallowed as she slid onto the smooth bench and folded back the lid, revealing the gleaming keys beneath. She positioned her feet on the pedals, but made no move to touch the keyboard. “I haven’t played since before Nehemia died,” she admitted, the words heavy.

“We can come back another day, if you want,” he said softly.

“There might not be another day. And – and I would consider my life very sad indeed if I never played again.”

He nodded and crossed his arms. So get on with it then.

She sighed, but turned back to face the keys and slowly set her hands on the instrument, a great beast of sound and joy about to be awakened.

“I need to warm up,” she blurted, then plunged in, the notes soft and light.

It was just a random selection of chords and scales, but still, the music filled the hall with its caring whisper. The whole space seemed to breathe again, as if soaking up the music like light, or air.

And then she began for real.

The piece she played wasn’t merely happy or sad, calm or excited – it was far, far more than that. The complexity of the notes, the way they layered together and bounded off each other – it felt like the melody of life itself. Of the love and glory and pain and beauty in simply breathing.

It filled Rowan up with its warmth, and he felt Aelin’s fiery heat overflowing within each note. The music seemed to be made of her fire, and together they burned. All the while the music built, up and up and up and up, until the sound breaking from the instrument was like the heart-song of a long lost goddess.

Rowan stood and waited, letting the sound wrap around his form like a blanket, letting it slowly melt the ice around his heart. Aelin had always been able to do that, melt away his pain and resistance, without even realizing she could. And now she did so not with words, but with this music that flew from her fingers like small winged creatures, into the empty seats behind them.

Rowan drifted over to stand beside the instrument. He was drawn to her, to the fire that made him feel so alive. Then she whispered to him, “Now,” and the crescendo shattered into the world, note after note after note. The music crashed around them, roaring through the emptiness of the theater.

She brought the piece home to its final explosive, triumphant chord, and Rowan could feel tears lining his eyes. When she looked up, panting slightly, he just gazed at her, at the queen who had lit up his darkness, and marveled.

He struggled for words, but then finally breathed, “Show me - show me how you did that.”

···

They spent the better part of an hour seated together on the bench, Aelin teaching him the basics of the pianoforte – explaining the sharps and flats, the pedals, the notes and chords. At last when Rowan heard someone coming to investigate the music, they slipped out.

On their way back to the apartment, they stopped at the Royal Bank. Aelin went inside alone, having ordered Rowan to wait in the shadows across the street, impatient and pissed off. Luckily she only took a few minutes, returning with a bag of gold clasped to her belt.

“So you’re using your own money to support us?” Rowan asked, masking his irritation as best he could.

“For now.”

“And what will you do for money later?”

She glanced sidelong at him. “It’ll be taken care of.”

“By whom?”

“Me.”

He clenched his teeth, anger mounting. “Explain.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” She gave him a small smile that drove him completely insane. Rowan made to grab her by the shoulder, but she ducked away from his touch.

“Ah, ah. Better not move too swiftly, or someone might notice.”

He snarled viciously but she only chuckled. “Just be patient and don’t get your feathers ruffled.”

Rowan clenched his jaw, stopping another snarl in its tracks. This conversation could wait until they were both home. Maybe then he would be able to convince her that he absolutely needed to be let in on her plans. It was the only way to keep her safe.

But would she listen?

Rowan scowled at that thought, and took off into the shadows behind Aelin, following her back to the warehouse.

···

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···

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#rowaelin #rowaelin ff #rowan pov #warrior and the wildfire #watw #queen of shadows #queen of shadows rowan pov

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vannahfanfics · 3 years ago

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Unpredictable

Category: Drama

Fandom: FullMetal Alchemist

Characters: Envy

Hey, everyone! I’m happy to finally present the piece I wrote for the @devilsplaygroundzine, which centers on Envy!

The flickering orange tongues of the crackling fire several yards away reflected in Envy’s eyes as he crouched in the dirty, dank alleyway. It was one of the many neglected nooks and crannies that abounded the Ishvalan slum encroaching upon the outer rim of Central City. It truly was a miserable place, Envy decided quite early on in strolling around; nothing but ramshackle hovels and ash-choked firepits and rank outhouses.

It was also the perfect domicile to have himself a bit of fun. Lounging around in those stinking sewers torturing the chimeras had grown quite dull. Thus, there Envy was, hunching down in the darkness opposite a small hovel watching as the Ishvalan refugees obliviously went about their business. It was a family, parents with a daughter who could be no older than five. They kneeled beside the fire, above which several sticks of freshly-caught trout were just nearly roasted; their hands pressed together while their heads bent in prayer. Envy sneered at the notion. So stubbornly, they clung to their God, which had allowed them to be massacred like sheep among wolves. I suppose they have to believe in something, lest they fall into despair.

That’s what Envy found so infuriating about humans, their unyielding tenacity and nauseating bonds. It’d be so much easier if they just wallowed in self-pity and defeat. The Homunculi pitted them against one another, and then suddenly, they’re preaching forgiveness and empathy. Envy’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as the image of a certain blond-haired, golden-eyed, loud-mouthed twerp who so embodied those ideals materialized in the gloom. Go away, FullMetal brat, he growled silently and waved a hand to banish the phantasm. It dissolved into dust, joining the thin coating on everything in the miserable slum.

Forgiveness and empathy could only last so long, however, until indomitable rage consumed them. Sneering roguishly, Envy crawled on all fours towards the humble little family, while his body morphed into the likeness of an Amestrian soldier. I’ll destroy it, he swore. I’ll destroy the hope and togetherness you covet so much!

“Good evening.” Envy froze mid-step when the Ishvalan man suddenly addressed him. It wasn’t right. Why was the monk not cowering in fear? The Ishvalan’s hands calmly rested upon his lap, and his white eyebrows curved slightly from the welcoming smile adorning his face. Still half-cloaked in shadow, Envy’s false blue eyes were wider than the full moon shining above. The mother had not even moved to protect her child. She ignored Envy and poked at the embers to send the dying fire gushing up once more. The flames licked greedily at the underbellies of the fish, charring the flesh. One, two, three… four, he counted blankly, though he knew not why. It wasn’t right, not at all. Where was the fear? The hate? The despair?

Why the hell were they smiling so contentedly, dammit?

“You must be tired from your patrol,” the man continued. Envy’s wits trickled back through the dam that had blocked the river of his mind. Patrol, yes. He was wearing the skin of an Amestrian soldier. It would make sense that he was patrolling the slum. Envy’s gold eyebrows quirked when the monk gestured to one of the cooking trout. “Please, we have one to spare. Help yourself.”

Envy was utterly flabbergasted. I don’t understand. I don’t understand. Ishvalans should hate Amestrians, especially the soldiers that mercilessly murdered their people by the thousands. Envy remembered it so well, corralling them to mow them down with machine guns, driving bayonets into long-dead bodies, children and mothers and even hardy men wailing in terror. This man should be slamming him up against the dirty brick wall, driving a fist into his jaw while the mother screamed and held her crying child. Yet, he was… inviting Envy to eat with them? He didn’t understand it, none of it.

Especially the fact that he wanted to agree.

Envy regarded the man suspiciously. Perhaps it was a trap. Yes, that’s what it could be; lure him in a false sense of security so his fellows could strike at Envy from behind. What a fun alternative. They could stick his back with so many daggers that he looked like a blood-soaked porcupine; it didn’t matter. Envy wouldn’t die. He found himself grinning at the bloody slaughter that would follow. Sure, old man, he cooed in his demented mind. I’ll play your game.

Envy smoothed the creases of the fake uniform before strolling over to the fire. The little girl’s red eyes bored into him as he knelt before the flames. Envy plucked the charred trout from the sand and scrutinized it. The scent of smoke and salt and even a few seasonings wafted up his nose, and despite himself, his mouth watered. One would think with their status, the Homunculi would eat well, but only Pride and Wrath had that honor. The rest of them had to go scrounging around like common urchins. Envy felt a little silly for salivating so excessively over some smoked trout, but his growling stomach soon overrode any prideful inhibitions.

“Thanks, old man,” he grunted before tearing his teeth into the succulent flesh. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when the flavor exploded over his tongue. A hell of a lot better than the plain slop he stole on the daily around Central. Within seconds he was ravenously shredding into the fish. He paused, juice and bits of scale and meat dripping from his chin, as the Ishvalan laughed heartily.

“I knew you had to be hungry. A soldier’s duty is a demanding one.”

“Oh yeah?” Envy asked, eyebrow creeping up his forehead. He wasn’t quite sure where the monk was guiding the conversation. His ears pricked, listening for the sound of shuffling in the surrounding darkness, but he could not discern the presence of a potential surprise attack. The man’s kind face revealed no hostile intent. Envy finished off the fish and tossed the white bones into the fire, then began picking his teeth with the skewer. “Old man, I don’t get it.”

“Get what, young man?”

“Don’t you hate Amestrians?” A confused look passed over his face. For the first time, the woman stiffened and reached over to grasp her daughter’s hand. Envy watched, internally squirming with glee, as the man’s brown face sagged into sadness. Yes. Get sad. Then hate me. Then try to kill me, you foolish, predictable little human.

“No,” he contradicted, and Envy’s mouth fell agape. “I do not hate Amestrians.” Envy thought that surely, he must be lying, but it was hard to believe that when the older adult flashed him a soft, genuine smile. He did not care to elaborate, either; he just took his fish from the fire and calmly consumed it. Envy stared down into the orange flames. He had seen so many of them in his lifetime, gigantic white-hot flames that destroyed everything in their path - homes, crops, people - indiscriminately. Envy’s eye twitched as he struggled to comprehend the human monk.

I don’t understand. How can humans just so easily extend their hands and say, “it’s all right?”

Envy turned his head at the distant sound of screams and wails, rapidly growing closer. The end of the street was glowing auburn, just like the fire casting light upon his pale face. Little golden lights began to bob amongst the gloom, their ovoid forms growing with each passing second. From the darkness came frightened Ishvalans, tripping over their sandaled feet in a terrified effort to escape what was approaching. One of them, a twenty-something, stumbled and landed in the dirt on his belly behind Envy. The Homunculus stared disinterestedly at his hyperventilating form, while the monk scurried to his side. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“Amestrians!” the boy gasped. Envy’s mouth twitched into a sneer, which he hid in his palm. “An entire mob stormed across the river to the west with torches and weapons,” he sobbed and covered his head when a building a few houses down exploded. Scorching wood and glass bits rained down upon them. A few of the sharp objects sliced into Envy’s skin; the Ishvalans were too busy panicking to notice the small red lightning that skittered over his healing flesh.

“They must be angry about the fishing party earlier today,” the mother whimpered and hugged her daughter into her bosom. The little girl’s red irises swam in a sea of white. Envy stared thoughtfully at the skewer, then flipped it in his hand to brandish the pointy end. The monk had just finished bustling the man to his feet when he turned to Envy, who was languidly rising.

“You must leave. A single soldier cannot quell this hateful mob alone.”

“And what? You think a pacifying monk can?” Envy leered. The man winced; Envy had hit the nail of his intentions on the head. The next building erupted into flames, sending the shriek of hot wind and agonized screams into the air. Envy could leave, if he wanted to, and watch the slum burn from the tops of Central Command. He stared thoughtfully at the pointed wooden stick in his hand.

I don’t understand it, he thought once more with a small sigh. I really don’t, these humans and their kindness. However, he grinned seditiously, and his skin began to morph, the visage of the Amestrian soldier falling away to reveal his skinny and long-haired self. I understand the Amestrian’s hate perfectly fine. The family was finally cowering in the entrance of their little hut, which was no more than some cloth draped over some stacked boxes.

“Mister,” the little girl squeaked. She jumped when he turned his eyes on her. “What are you?”

“Oh, me?” he grinned and dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “I’m a monster.”

“What are you going to do?” the monk asked him with narrowed eyes. Envy shrugged and began strolling off toward the fiery carnage. The Ishavalans were attempting to throw pails of water onto the burning houses. Within seconds the angry mob of Amestrians cornered them and began beating them with sticks and fists. Envy sneered. So unpredictable yet so predictable. What a dichotomous breed. “What are you going to do?” the man yelled after him insistently, and Envy tossed a bored look over his shoulder.

“Me? Well, I’m going to do what monsters do best.”

It didn’t take long. Humans were just frail sacks of blood and meat. Still, a casual bloodbath was preferable to an actual challenge in this case. Constantly regenerating was exhausting and annoying. The Homunculus came strolling back to the little hovel, where the family still huddled inside shaking. His body still sparked to heal the bloody knife wounds he had incurred. Envy stopped in front of the shack and dropped the skewer in front of them. It was now dyed red and dripping with blood, just like his body. Their equally red eyes beheld it with a mixture of awe and horror.

“Thanks for the fish, old man,” Envy smirked and turned on his heel.

“Wait!”

Envy’s eyebrow raised as he looked over his shoulder. The little girl stumbled out, ignoring her parents hissing at her to get back into the tent. Envy’s eyebrow climbed higher when she offered him a little white weed flower. Her hands trembled as she crushed the green stem in her small fist. “Thank you for saving us.”

“Heh,” Envy grinned and took the flower from her. “Don’t thank me, squirt. I was just having some fun.” With that, he whirled on his heel and melted back into the darkness. Eventually, the slum fell behind him, replaced with dark woods. As Envy strolled along the path, he gazed thoughtfully down at the little flower, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger.

Humans, he frowned and tucked the flower behind his ear. So unpredictable… I hate them for that.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#envy #fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood

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mylittleredgirl · 4 years ago

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trekathon: disco 1x8

in this week’s episode of star trek discovery:

saru gets zapped by a sentient version of the winamp player visualizer and proceeds to terrify the fuck out of me

intrigue! on the ship of the dead

with only a passing knowledge of latin, i assume “si vis pacem, para bellum” means “if you want peace, square the fuck up”

remember that time odo said “the klingons felt menaced by fog?”

i feel like that’s about to become relevant

we’ve avoided this topic long enough:

t’kuvma shining a bright light to draw klingon ships in from around the quadrant

that whole business with the red lights appearing all over the galaxy in season two

detecting klingon ships by sonar

it’s just going to be easier on all of us if we accept that for mysterious space reasons, for a brief period of time about 10 years before captain kirk’s five-year mission, light and sound traveled at infinite speed and then we don’t worry about it anymore

yikes™️:

is there anything creepier than when a character get possessed by aliens and starts attacking their friends

with a calm smile

and it turns out they weren’t possessed after all

i mean i too would go to some lengths to get rid of anxiety but i wouldn’t donkey-kick my colleagues and destroy the federation’s last hope of ending the war!! SARU!!!!

this episode is very stressful

i posted this and then immediately realized i need like three more hours of thought before i can get into it properly, but it feels actually inevitable that saru and michael would get into a physical fight and the “you won’t stop taking!” line just. the way they’re both grieving for georgiou and he’s taking it out on her HURTS.

meanwhile, klingons:

that “scream” scene with l’rell and cornwell? a+++

i don’t remember what l’rell is after and that makes this Very Good TV

but seriously... mary chieffo creating a layered character using none of her actual face or eyes or teeth and in a language she doesn’t speak

i know things are going to go to hell before redbubble would have time to deliver, but i want lorca and cornwell and tyler to have matching “i got tortured by the klingons and lived to tell about it” jackets because that seems to happen a lot

STOP STOP I ALREADY LOVE THEM:

they really really got me with the michael and ash tyler thing, like there’s a deep wailing in my soul when i think about the ship they make me think they are setting up here

“our futures look different” 😭😫😭

i was going to keep these recaps text-only because i love mediocre memes too much to stop once i start, but there’s really no other way to express my love for ash tyler’s pickup line:

AND IT WORKS

i just want them to get on a boat together in peacetime and eat fresh trout!!! discovery!!!!! why are you doing this to me!?!!???

while i’m making vaguely relevant memes:

it’s like gersha phillips looked gene roddenberry’s ghost dead in the eye and designed these field jackets as a personal attack

other characters:

tyler and lorca have now both played the Reveal Trauma card as a diversion technique and people wonder why 100 years later it became standard to put a trained mental health professional on the bridge

in the meantime, we have tilly in the mess hall!

stamets’s mushroom hangover periodically yeets him out of this dimension oops

that definitely seems like a thing you should not keep to yourselves when stamets is the key operating component of your starship engine but ok

i REALLY thought that when saru gave tyler the pahvan harmony crystal it was going to knock loose the klingon brainwashing

i have spent way too much time on this:

i feel like we should talk about captain t’shen kovil of the uss gagarin, human man with a traditionally female vulcan name

i mean obviously?? the first thought is trans human-vulcan hybrid, BUT we know from tng that vulcan/romulan ears remain dominant for at least two generations, and it hasn’t been long enough since enterprise-era for more vulcan generations to pass

so instead, consider: “10,000 names for your baby from 65 Federation worlds!” books

linus! jennifer! t’shen! imagine the federation version of the babynames.com message boards

“i want to give my baby an andorian name but that’s sooo popular right now ugh so i’m thinking i should spell it in rigellian or klingon??”

very sad though that we didn’t get a replay of that “i was told to expect a vulcan” scene with stamets, except it’s t’shen and michael meeting each other

“i assumed you’d be a woman.” “i assumed you’d be a man.” “i also thought you’d be a vulcan.” “i get that a lot.” “....... actually so do i.”

rip dude i thought about you for 75 times longer than you were actually on screen

other moments of delight:

michael’s explanation of starfleet protocol brings peace to my soul

i was going to come at voyager specifically for their tendency to toss everything under the prime directive banner but then it occurred to me that voyager is well over 100 years later, so they probably added some sub-paragraphs

so more specifically, michael’s explanation of starfleet protocol at a simpler time in star trek history brings peace to my soul

“mr. rhys, can i trouble you to FIRE at something!” i.... still really like lorca

“the needs of the one” most romantic line in star trek confirmed

#trekathon #discotrek #star trek discovery

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ebaeschnbliah · 4 years ago

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THE NEW RUSSIAN HOLMES

EPISODE SIX: HALIFAX PART ONE (on to PART TWO)

Outtake: CREATOR OF A LEGEND

________________________________________________________________

Directed by Andrey Kavun - Igor Petrenko as Sherlock Holmes - Andrey Panin as Dr. Watson

Episodes: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

A charming guy with a suitcase full of money, who calls himself Mr Ebenezer Buckley, vistits the national bank at Saxe-Coburg Square, where the notes soon get changed into gleaming goldbars.

But luck doesn’t last long for Mr Buckley.

TBC below the cut (with a lot of pics and all the spoilers) …

The moment he leaves the bank, policemen rush in on the Square, take hold of Mr Buckley and shove him into an already waiting, closed carriage. To the utter shock of the bank employees and onlookers, the man’s face is beaten to a bloddy mess when he falls out of the carriage not long afterwards. Mr Buckley only has time to whisper one word before he dies ..... Halifax ....

The new client ...

Jabez Wilson vistis Baker Street 221b and has a very weird story to tell. Daily, for two months now, he had copied the Encyclopaedia Britannica, neatly page by page, ordered by an organisation called ‘The Red-Headed League’. A somewhat strange job but very well payed. Mr Wilson quickly grew to love it.

Then something unexpected happened. From one day to the next ‘The Red-Headed League’ vanished without a trace. The rooms were closed. There was no explanation whatsoever, not even a notice in the papers. What Mr Wilson finds though, is a story about an extraordinary talented detective who lives in Baker Street 221b. In his desperation he spontaneously decides to pay a visit to that detective.

(And Mr Wilson is not alone, because seemingly a lot of people had read that story too, liked it and wanted to meet detective and author in person ... which leads to an outburst of rage by Sherlock Holmes and Mrs Hudson. But that’s a story for another post (Outtake: CREATER OF A LEGEND). :)))

Despite the cheering crowd in front of his windows, Sherlock is amused and faszinated at the same time by Wilson’s story. What an intriguing little mystery!

When Sherlock learns that the red-headed vendor has a small flat at Saxe-Coburg Square, the already raised interest of the detective increases even more. John notices immediately how the gears in Sherlock’s head suddenly start turning ever faster and faster. He knows very well the signs, when the extraordinay mind of his friend begins to align seemingly disconnected dots, when he starts to play with possibilities and formes theories ....

On the way to Saxe-Coburg Square ...

Sherlock wants to investigate Wilson’s flat and the surrounding area. The three man take a cab and set out for Saxe-Coburg Square. When the cab stops, suddenly shots are fired at them.

Although the attackers are policemen, the doctor strikes back without hestitation and is able to chase them off. Fortunately Jabez Wilson, the obvious target of the ambush, survives the attack. John cares for the wounded man and later takes him to hospital, while .....

... Sherlock experiences the vague feeling that he’s missed something very important.

Sherlock Holmes pays a visit to Scotland Yard

It really is no easy task to convince Inspector Lestrade that the crime of the century is about to happen very soon .... nothing less than an attack on the National Bank at Saxe-Coburg Square. Sherlock suspects that parts of the police force will be involved on a big scale. He is also convinced that none other than the mysterious master criminal Moriarty is behind that bold plan. (Allow me to be a little capricious)

Finally Lestrade agrees to organize an ambush to catch the culprits in the act ... ‘but only to prove to you that all of this is just another opium-induce delusion’.

Dr Watson joins Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Lestrade and his men at the National Bank and then ..... they wait.

Sherlock uses the time to examine one of the late Mr Buckley’s forged bank notes. The man is no stranger to the detective. Ebenezer Buckley, also Timothy Trout, also called ‘Halifax’ (because of his big dream to go to Canada some day) had some extraordinary talents. He was a magician and illusionist, but also someone who liked to play with life. ‘Maybe he would have become an artist some day’, Sherlock muses.

His disposition for perfectionism made Halifax also into an excellent forger. And when he had to go to prison, he met someone there who decided to use that special talent for his own sinister plans.

So Halifax changed one prison for another and put his talents into the new job.

And the criminal mastermind was very pleased ....

Finally the long wait is over ....

When the tea starts to vibrate in its cup, Sherlock Holmes knows that (T-REX sorry, couldn’t resist :))) ... that the burglars aren’t far away anymore.

The vaults of the National Bank have indeed been breeched ....

... but the burglars are able to escape through their own tunnel. Inspector Lestrade, Holmes and Watson take up the pursuit.

The unexpected interruption ...

Their ride gets stopped abruptly. A row of policemen blocks the street. Lestrade is furious but all his protest is in vain. The royal cartiage has priority over everything else.

Sherlock and John exchange the carriage for a tandem bike. The somewhat bumpy ride comes to a sudden end rather soon though .... (‘Tandem Pursuit’)

An apalling discovery ...

While Sherlock and John continue the pursuit by foot, Lestrade still uses the carriage and catches one of the three burglars. He follows the tandem’s ‘path of destruction’ and finds the second one. To his utter shock and disbelieve he has to realize that Holmes’ assumptions had been right .... the burglars are indeed policemen in disguise. To say that Inspector Lestrade is beside himself with rage is an understatement.

Meanwhile Sherlock and John have cornered the third and last burgler. Inexplicably the man is already dead when they catch up to him.

The mysterious death of three burglars ....

Dr Watson is sure that he’d missed the man with his gun. And indeed ... no gunshot wound can be found on the body. Why then did he die?

A quick postmortem examination provides the answer to the mystery: poison. What’s more, the toxin must have been administered even before the break-in had been executed. And it will turn out later that all three burglars lost their lives due to the same poison.

The arrest ...

But there is no time for Sherlock Holmes to expound his theories. Inspector Lestrade arrives at the scene with some of his men and arrests Holmes without any explanation. Dr Watson has no chance to intervene.

The execution order ....

After putting Holmes into a cell and giving his men the dressing-down of their lives, Inspector Lestrade retreats into his office. But there is no time to relax or think things through. The phone rings and from a superior instance he gets the unambiguous order to execute Sherlock Holmes ‘when trying to escape’. What now?

Meanwhile at Baker Street ...

Lestrade’s officers aren’t the only ones who get a proper dressing-down. Mrs Hudson thinks that John hasn’t nearly done enough to protect and support his friend. ‘He wouldn’t leave you! He would help you out!’ And while cutting the cabbage furiously, she threatens to go to Scotland Yard herself.

‘Suspecting Sherlock Holmes of commiting a crime is as ridiculous as suspecting you of exhibiting bravery’, she tells John, who isn’t quite sure if this had been a compliment or not.

John would have come too late ....

Lestrade enters Holmes’ prison cell and Sherlock knows immediately what’s going on. He might die today. (When trying to escape)

Thankfully Inspector Lestrade is not a man who follows orders blindly. Not even when those orders come from the highest level. ‘I always decide everything by msyelf’ he will tell Sherlock later.

The inspector and the consulting detective prepare to leave the police station as unobstrusive as possible and then go undercover .......

TBC .... on to PART TWO

Outtake: CREATOR OF A LEGEND

Links to watch the series can be found HERE

A big thank you to @spiritcc and everyone who made it possible to watch and understand this wonderful Sherlock Holmes adaptation.

January, 2021

#new russian holmes #nrh #halifax #episode six

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drabbledragon · 4 years ago

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Linktober: Surprise

This post is very close to the day 4 deadline but honestly, I had a lot of fun creating and tampering with the plot! Be cautious, though, because there is quite a bit of violence in this one.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749021/chapters/65454667

Summary: A new friend is brought to camp, and it surprises a certain Ordonian

Warnings: Some violence

Day 4: Surprise

It was a surprisingly cold day out, Twilight mused, although that’s to be expected as the season goes further into fall. The cold, crisp air and colorful leaves reminded him of his home back in Ordon Village; if memory serves, he would be harvesting Ordonian pumpkins with Fado right now.

He sighed wistfully and tended to the campfire with a long stick. He wondered how everyone back home was doing. Beth, Talo, Malo, and certainly Colin missed him, and he was sure Fado was struggling to herd all the goats back into their house without his and Epona’s help. And of course there was his mentor, Rusl - well, one of his mentors, he supposed, now that he met Time - along with his wife, Uli, who were most likely busy taking care of their newborn child; it’s a shame that he was never able to meet their new baby, but if he knew anything about Rusl, he would excitedly tell Twilight all about his child from sunup to sundown.

And how could he forget Midna? Their meeting may have happened by chance but he felt that they were destined to meet. They had grown to be close friends during their travels across Hyrule - maybe even more than that - and not a single day goes by where he doesn’t think about her. He wondered what would happen if he managed to say what was on his mind before she disappeared into the Mirror of Twilight; if his thoughts and feelings would be enough to make her stay, or allow him to live in the Twilight Realm alongside her. He could only speculate at this point.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a tan snout poked at his shoulder.

“Wild, is that a bear?!” He shouted, and he looked up to see his protege sitting idly on the creature’s back, a goofy grin on his face.

“Yeah, isn’t it great? I was out looking for herbs when I found a bear following me around! He looked like he was hungry so I did a little bit of fishing for him -”

Which meant Wild had jumped into a river, Twilight frowned, again.

“- And then we became best friends! Like he watched me cook them by the fire and everything! Although he was starting to lose his patience towards the end.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if a bear watching him cook was just another daily occurrence. “ Anyways, did you know he’s a big fan of Hearty Salmon? I’m more of a Voltfin Trout guy myself but to each their own, y’know?”

Twilight was barely able to make it through the whole story without pinching the bridge of his nose, “ Wild, you can’t just bring a bear to camp. You know full - well that that thing likes to go through food and attack anything it sees moving.”

“But he won’t, I promise!” The smile from Wild’s face had now given way to a defensive look, “ He’s very polite and friendly and hasn’t done anything to hurt me at all! Plus you always let dogs and cats follow you around, and you don’t even care when Legend brings a whole flock of seagulls to camp!”

The Hero of Legend stopped whatever he was doing at the mention of his name and gave the two a pointed look, “ Hey, you two leave the seagulls out of this.” But he was paid no mind.

“That’s because cats, dogs, and seagulls aren’t actively trying to maul me to death!” The Ordonian’s voice dropped to a lower volume in order to prevent the others from overhearing. “ You know how many times I almost got killed by a bear? Eight, and five of those times were as a wolf. The last thing I need right now is to make that number nine, or to have anyone die thanks to some idiot bringing a bear into camp. Really, you’re like the only one here who’s constantly putting us in danger.”

Perhaps he went too far on that one. He watched all the fight leave his protege like a potion being drained of its contents, giving way to wide eyes and a pale complexion.

“Wait, Cub, I didn’t -”

But Wild didn’t want to hear it. With a gentle tug of the bear’s fur, the Hero of Wilds nudged his companion towards the forest and left, not a single hint of hesitance shown in his actions.

Twilight watched as the figure disappeared behind tall trees and overgrown bushes, and a large part of him just wanted to shift into his Twili form and run after their trail, but he paused instead.

Wait, why should Twilight go after him? Sure, he’s his mentor and all and he feels like he has a personal obligation to protect the kid but now that he thinks about it, hasn’t he been coddling him too much? Too many times has he taken to his Twili form to find a lost Wild that had wandered to the other half of a Hyrule just because he had a need for adventure, and too many times had he had to answer to Time for the crazy stunt his charge had decided to pull just for curiosity’s sake. Despite being 117 years old, Wild acted like a child - a feral child, at that - that would rather spend the whole day messing around in an open field rather than helping the people who needed him the most.

He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. Seriously, how was Wild supposed to grow up and take responsibility for himself if Twilight was always there to bail him out? Maybe it’s about time for the Hero of Wilds to learn that he can’t just do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He’ll learn in due time, Twilight assured himself, and he’ll be back by tonight for sure.

With that being said, he turned his back and went to go tend to the fire.

Wild wasn’t back that night. Everything seemed well among the remaining heroes, though: Warriors and Legend were locked in their usual banter, Wind and Four were telling exaggerated stories about their adventures, and Sky, Time, and Hyrule were all idly sitting by, amused by everyone’s antics; the only real difference tonight was Twilight and Wild, where the latter was nowhere to be found and the former worried profusely about his charge’s absence.

Twilight restlessly tapped his foot against the ground and stared into what Hyrule would call dinner. Seriously, where was Wild? The Ordonian thought that he would be back in maybe two, three hours max but it had been ten hours, and there was still no sign of him. Had he gotten hurt? Was he attacked by a hoard of Darias or Gerus that Hyrule often warned them about? Had a Zora grabbed him by the ankle and drowned him in a river? Twilight knew that his protege was very friendly towards Zoras so it really wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

“Go.”

He looked up to Time and stuttered out, “ H - Huh?”

Without ever shifting his gaze from the fire, he quietly whispered to his protege, “You’re worried about the cub, aren’t you? So you should go and find him; I’ll cover for you in the meantime.”

He processed the words for a few seconds, and then nodded. The old man was right: no matter how irresponsible, thoughtless, and careless Wild could be at times, he was still his protege, and as his mentor, Twilight should be there with him every step of the way, ready to help him up when he couldn’t find his footing in a situation. He left the group without so much as a sound, and as soon as he was out of sight, transformed into his Twili form and left, fervently following the scent of the former champion’s trail.

It had been about ten minutes by the time Twilight had finally found Wild. He was located in a small clearing of trees with, oddly enough, his bear companion laying down next to him; there was a small campfire going with a makeshift pot held over it, and the wolf could easily smell the tantalizing taste of Salmon Risotto.

He shook his head: this wasn’t the time to be salivating over the smell of real food. With a gentle command to his Shadow Crystal, his form shifted to that of a Hylian’s.

“Cub, I -”

Go away, Wild signed, and as if to emphasize, the large bear beside him growled.

The Ordonian immediately took a two steps back and sighed. This was going to be hard: not only did he have to worry about his friend fleeing if he got too close, but he also had to worry about a bear potentially running up and attacking him, and he really didn’t feel like defending himself from a creature twice his size. He finally chose to settle himself on the ground instead, intent on making himself seem as small and non - threatening as possible.

“Listen, I didn’t mean anything I said back there, alright? We got stranded in Hyrule’s Hyrule, we’ve been travelling for days, infected monsters are always showing up and trying to kill us, and I guess I was thinking about what was going on back home, so I was just really stressed out this afternoon. When you brought a bear to camp, I guess that was the final straw and I just took out all my anger on you. I mean, yeah, you really shouldn’t bring a bear of all things to a camp but that thing about you always putting us into trouble was completely wrong. If anything, we put ourselves into trouble, and it has nothing to do with you being here.”

He watched anxiously as his protege stirred the pot, never daring to meet Twilight’s own concerned gaze. He could see the bear beside Wild carefully watching him, paws resting readily on the ground as if it was anticipating for the Hero of Twilight’s one bad slip - up. After what seemed like centuries, the former champion finally let go of his ladle and brought his hands up to sign again,

You’re wrong, and that made Twilight lean forward, my whole life’s been nothing but bringing trouble to everyone. Back when my Hyrule wasn’t destroyed, everything I ever did just made things worse: I followed Zelda around, and she hated me; I protected people from danger, and now the Yiga are trying to kill me; I did everything I possibly could to prevent Zelda from dying, and I literally ended up dying right in the middle of Fort Hateno, and I was lucky that Impa was willing to put me in the Shrine of Resurrection. Now I’m here with eight different Links from eight different timelines and it looks like everywhere I go, trouble always follows. Just two weeks ago I led a bunch of Bokoblins to us because I took a couple of their weapons, and then five days ago I dyed Warriors’s hair green because I tossed him a green potion and it hit a branch and spilled all over him.

“Well that could happen to anyone,” Twilight interrupted, “ Those bottles are fragile so one small hit and they’ll shatter.”

Fine, but what about everything else? The Yiga, my Zelda, my Hyrule - everything’s a mess because I can’t get my life together; I can’t even remember what my life was like in the first place!

“That’s different! The part about your Hyrule being destroyed is all Ganon’s fault, not yours!”

Then why couldn’t I live up to be a true Hero of Courage like the rest of you? Why couldn’t I just stop this whole thing from happening in the first place?

Twilight was growing frustrated. Where was Wild getting the notion that he could’ve prevented an immortal evil demon from corrupting his Guardians? He was just a 17 year old kid back then, for Hylia’s sake!

He opened his mouth to respond back, retort at the ready, when a sudden axe whizzed by and lodged itself into the tree behind him. His surprised gaze quickly met Wild’s for a brief moment before he abruptly stood up, Ordonian sword at the ready. Just a few seconds later, a horde of snarling enemies pushed their way from the forest and surrounded the heroes from all sides.

The Hero of Twilight knitted his brows as he slowly stepped back toward the center of the clearing, “ Darias? But I thought Hyrule said they only show up around Death Mountain!”

“Infected.” Was all Wild whispered back, but Twilight completely understood. It had become a common occurrence by now to see monsters that they were sure only showed up in one place and one timeline now showing up all over different eras; and as if some of them having to fight monsters that they never encountered before wasn’t enough, the enemies’ blood seemed to make them stronger, allowing them to have the upperhand on any poor passerby they could fight.

And it looks like Twilight and Wild were a couple of those poor passersby.

The Hero of Twilight swiftly leaned his head away as one of the Darias swung its axe and in the same breath, the former pierced its chest and forced his sword up, causing the enemy to crumple to the ground in defeat. He rose his sword out of the corpse and grimaced: black blood, these are infected.

He perked up when he heard the dull thuds of feet running towards him and ducked just in time to avoid a monster from either side going to swing at him with their respective axes. He winced when the sound of two heads clunking filled the quiet night air and hastily got back onto his feet to slash at the two Darias writhing on the ground.

He felt light on his feet as he continued to attack the oncoming enemies. Some came to attack him on their own while others stayed stubbornly in pairs, but the process was all the same regardless: step, lean, duck, sidestep, block, spin, and end his foe with a well - practiced stab. If there were two coming at him, he just needed to be quicker, and that was no problem for a hero who was used to facing five Shadow Beasts at a time.

Every now and then he would catch a quick glimpse of his protege fighting just a few steps beside him, and just like always, every attack was graceful and cleverly calculated. The Ordonian grinned: Wild may act like a child at times, but he took his fighting seriously, and it showed through his undeterred concentration. No enemy should have ever made the mistake of crossing paths with the Champion of Hyrule.

The last enemy fell down in a graceless heap, and Twilight wasted no time in ending its life with an Ending Blow. There was something poetic about it, he mused as he sheathed his sword, ending a battle with an attack that his predecessor had taught him long ago.

He took an eager step forward towards his protege, congratulatory praises at the ready, when a scaled hand reached from behind and dug into his shoulder.

“Twilight!”

Wild’s shocked shriek rang through the air and Twilight had to do everything in his power to make sure that his pained yelp didn’t join it. His other hand scrambled to grab at the Daria’s wrist and when he did, he used every bit of energy he had left to force it back. The threat of an axe raised just above his head made adrenaline rush through his veins, and he became acutely aware of the blood running down his shoulder and soaking into his tunic; but he couldn’t pay any mind to it, because he needed to focus on biding time for a panicked Wild so he could swipe through his Sheikah Slate and find the weapon he needed.

But he didn’t need to wait for that because in a blink of an eye, a rush of brown fur dug its fangs into the enemy’s side and pushed its body aside, freeing the Hero of Twilight from the Daria’s grip. He watched the brown mass - which he now noticed was Wild’s bear companion - tear at the infected foe with sharp white claws and no mercy. The animal finally stepped back when the creature had been torn to shreds, and took a few seconds to make sure it was dead.

Twilight’s breath hitched when the bear started to pad towards him. He wouldn’t necessarily say that he had a fear of bears per se, but the sight of the very same creature that liked to use him for hunting practice was walking towards him did tend to make him feel a little bit unnerved.

However, to his complete and utter surprise, instead of the animal coming over to attack him, it instead gently nudged at his side and whined.

He froze. Was this bear trying to comfort him?

And with that very same suspicion in mind, the Hero of Twilight reached his free hand forward and tentatively placed it on the creature’s head, ruffling the fur in the same way the other Links did when he was a wolf.

“You saved me back there,” He smiled sincerely, “ Thank you.”

The creature yawned back in response.

He startled when he felt a gentle hand touch his good shoulder, and turned just in time to see the Hero of Wilds offering him a red potion.

“For your shoulder,” He urged, and when he saw his mentor ready to protest, he added in a quick, “ Don’t worry, I got 25 more in my bag.”

Twilight drank it greedily, and felt its healing effects immediately. He could dimly feel the gentle knitting of skin beneath his tunic, and when he looked at the injury, he found that there was nothing left but a few white scars; but even those would fade in a day or so.

He looked to see the former champion staring at the ground with his curtain of hair hiding his eyes, “ Jeeze, that was stupid of me. I should’ve kept an extra set of arrows at the ready; I could’ve helped you the second that Daria got you.”

“You did help me, well -” The Ordonian patted the bear standing quietly beside him. “ - your bear helped me, but you know what I mean. Sure, the thing saved me and all but if it wasn’t for you taming him in the first place, I wouldn’t have a ten foot tall animal here to save me. So really, because of you, I avoided getting an axe to the head.”

The Hero of Wilds beamed at him and for some reason, his small smile reminded him of Colin’s back home.

Ah, he wondered how Ordon Village was doing back home; how much Colin, Beth, Talo, and Malo grew up while he was away, and how Rusl and Uli were doing with their newborn, and how Mayor Bo and Ilia were running and keeping the town safe, and how Fado was doing with preparing the ranch for the winter; and how could he forget Midna? The leader of the Twili, the one who was always there to guide him on his adventure, the one he had grown to love. He missed them all dearly, but he knew he wasn’t alone.

Twilight ruffled a hand through his protege’s hair, “ Y’know, as much trouble as you are, I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

Because when Wild laughed, he was reminded that the Hero of Wilds was his family, too, and he would do anything to protect the ones he loved.

#linkeduniverse #hero of twilight #hero of wilds #fanfic #linktober2020

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fanfic-corner · 4 years ago

Text

Writer Castiel

4/12/20 - I have wanted to be a writer since I was ten years old, so maybe I’m biased here, but I absolutely adore the idea of Cas being an author if he lived a different life!

Tabula Rasa by Dangerousnotbroken on AO3. (78,240 words).

Tags: Writer Castiel, Bartender Dean, Past Relationship, Pervasive Themes of Memory, Magic, Canon Typical Violence, Mentions of alcoholism, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Mental Illness, Witches, Ghosts, Bi!Dean, Bi!Castiel, Referenced Past Minor Character Death, Angst, Slow Burn, Memory Loss.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Once upon a time, Castiel Novak had everything. He had a happy home life, a full scholarship, and, if he played his cards right, a promising journalism career. And on top of all of that, he had Dean. Then tragedy struck, as it tends to do, and Castiel lost everything. At thirty six, he’s got none of those things. He’s got no family to speak of. He’s got a job investigating purportedly true tales of the supernatural for a magazine no one reads. And worst of all he hasn’t seen Dean in nearly twenty years. So when research for an article turns him on to a witch who apparently grants wishes in exchange for stories, Castiel figures it’s worth the risk. If making a deal with a witch can get him Dean back, what has he got to lose?

Notes: This was absolutely amazing; both written beautifully and with a fantastic plot.

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance on AO3. (31,820 words).

Tags: Horror, Psychological Trauma, Domestic Violence.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

Notes: Excellently written, made me cry, and the ending was brilliant. Technically it isn’t tagged as Cas being a writer, but he does write some poetry throughout, and I couldn’t help myself.

Lost and Found by whelvenwings on AO3. (7,762 words).

Tags: Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Demisexual Castiel.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: “Chuck Shurley? Sure, I’ve read his books. Kinda Vonnegut, but like, Kilgore-Trout Vonnegut, you know?” Dean took another gulp of his whisky, and smacked his lips like an adult. The guy sitting beside him at the bar, however, did not look suitably impressed. In fact, he was staring down into the bubbles of his cider, not even noticing the way that Dean was smiling at him, giving him the eyes. “I thought his stuff was pretty good, in a kinda metamodern way,” Dean added airily, and a little more loudly. The guy only nodded gloomily. Dean almost clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in frustration. C’mon, dude, I’m trying to impress you. Twenty minutes of talking and all Dean had to show for it was a weird first name, a series of dour stares and the strangest need to know more about this – Castiel.

Notes: This was written so well that I wanted to cry at Cas’ story of the stars, even though it wasn’t particularly sad. Now I want to go and stargaze with someone.

The House on the Ocean Road by coffeeandcas on AO3. (111,351 words).

Tags: Single Parent Castiel, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Hurt Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, Car Accidents, Past Character Death, Adopted Children, Mentions of Suicide, Slow Burn, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Near Death Experiences, Hospitals, Explicit Sexual Content, POV Dean.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester is on the run from his life. He's done something unforgivable, and can't face his family or friends ever again. So he does what any rational person would do: fakes his own death and vanishes into the ether. Wandering aimlessly along country roads, he succumbs to the elements during a violent storm and wakes up hours later in the home of a stranger: a single dad living alone in an isolated beach house, with a haunting past of his own. Cas is sweet and shy, but welcomes Dean into his home and tells him he can stay as long as he needs, never prying into his life or asking him to spill his secrets. As they rapidly forge a close friendship, Dean finds that the quiet life by the ocean with Cas is exactly what he's been dreaming of. He only hopes his past never catches up with him.

Notes: This was so gorgeous and the plot was fabulous! Also, I loved Jimmy, and Dean and Cas as parents were adorable. Weirdest use of Cole’s character that I’ve ever seen though.

What Can’t Be Seen by destieldrabblesdaily on AO3. (2,639 words).

Tags: Soulmate AU, author!Cas, Strangers to Lovers, First Kiss.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Written for this prompt: Soulmate AU where you first see color after eye contact: Cas is a famous best selling author and he’s promoting his book, so he’s talking to a crowd of people and suddenly his world is in color, and a lot of his fans pretend to be his soulmate. A Cinderella type situation ensues.

Notes: This was really cute and such a sweet and funny idea.

(un)conventional by imogenbynight on AO3. (6,100 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe, mechanic!Dean, Writer!Castiel, Conventions, Fluff.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Spec Lit Con--Speckly Con, to it’s regular attendees--is an annual weekend-long event held in Chicago, dedicated to science fiction, fantasy and otherwise speculative literature. This year Dean's favorite author, C.J. Novak, is appearing as a panelist. Naturally, he shells out the cash for an all access pass.

Notes: This was so adorable that I nearly screamed in the corridor outside my computer science lesson. Plus, the writing was absolutely gorgeous! I miss conventions :(

I Think That’s Mine by palominopup on AO3. (6,804 words).

Tags: Fluff, AU, Reporter!Dean, Writer!Cas.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: A mix up at the Atlanta Airport places Dean Winchester's laptop in someone else's possession. A series of calls and texts bring two men together.

Notes: This was so cute, Cas was so sweet, and Dean was an icon.

‘Star Wars is Overrated’ by leftdragonpainter on AO3. (38,186 words).

Tags: Soulmates, Pining, Drinking, Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Neighbours, Swearing, Winchester Logic, Clueless Dean, College Student Sam, Awkward Dates, Dean Cooks, Castiel in Glasses, Slow Burn, Injured Sam, Fixing Cars, Smut, Costumes, Drunk Texting, Temporary Amnesia, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: When Dean Winchester turned sixteen he was disappointed by the words that appeared on his chest. He never expected that it would take so much to find his soulmate. He never expected to not remember meeting them...

Tags: Every time I thought I knew what was going to happen in this fic, something completely different happened, which I loved.

Event Horizon by Winglesss on AO3. (6,442 words).

Tags: Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Dean, Depression, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Past Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Texting, Sharing a Bed, Happy Ending, Veteran Dean, Doctor Dean, Writer Castiel, Strangers.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Castiel couldn't have helped his sister. That's why being offered a chance to help somebody else dealing with suicidal thoughts he took it without hesitation. When he gets the first text from someone who needs his help, nothing goes as he expected.

Notes: I don’t know if that kind of suicide prevention scheme exists, but this fic is very sweet.

Darkly Dreaming Dean by Duckyboos on AO3. (29,008 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Alternate Universe - Police, Detective Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, Serial Killer Dean, Alternate Universe - Dexter, Established Relationship, Murder, Top Dean, Bottom Castiel, Anal Sex, Innocent Castiel.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester has the perfect apple pie life with his shy-but-sweet boyfriend in the suburbs. He has a steady, well-paid job with the LAPD and he’s charming and attractive. Really, he’s living the American Dream. It’s his extra-curricular activities that some may disagree with, as he’s also an accomplished serial killer. To date, his kills amount to around 36 and he’s never been caught. He’s employed by the law, remember? He knows how these things work.

A new serial killer arrives on the scene and despite the sloppiness of their work, Dean is intrigued by them and what they're trying to achieve, because their MO is the same as his; killing bad people. He makes it his mission to track the other killer down before the police do, and he’s left reeling when the 'Basin Vigilante' turns out to be someone a lot closer to home than he could have ever imagined.

Notes: I sort of watched Dexter a few years ago, and I absolutely love the idea of Dean as a vigilante serial killer. I only wish that the synopsis was a bit different, so the end was more of a surprise.

Finding Home by Desirae on AO3. (42,828 words).

Tags: Baker Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, PTSD, Past Childhood Trauma, Childhood Kidnapping, Mistaken Identity, Dean Whump, Castiel Whump, Best Friends to Lovers, Emotional Sex, Fluff, Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester lived a quiet life running his bakery. Aside from family, Dean had no desire to let anyone inside. The more people you cared about, the more you had to lose; A hard lesson he'd learned at the tender age of eight when Dean’s best friend was kidnapped right before his eyes. Dean was forever haunted by the event, although he hadn’t realized quite how much until Emmanuel James Milton breezed into his life; waking his sleeping heart with a complete lack filter and achingly familiar eyes. An author, with no family and traumatic past of his own, Emmanuel never felt like he belonged anywhere until he walked into The Honeybee Bakery and met Dean. It’s not long before they find out that there is a reason for their profound bond.

Notes: It was obvious what was going on here from the start, but that just made it even cuter as they fell in love again.

I think it is a shame we didn’t get more human Cas content, but I guess it is too late now. I hope you enjoy these fics, and if you ever have a specific list you want me to make, feel free to ask!

#writer cas #castiel #supernatural #ficrecs #fanfics #destiel #dexter #soulmate au

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jloves-pp · 4 years ago

Text

The Story of Merida and Hiccup part 4

Chapter 4-Tales of bears and dragons

Merida led Hiccup and Toothless to a large river, they could see tonnes of rainbow trout that swam and jumped up the small waterfall. The Night Fury's eyes lit up, on impulse he jumped into the water, splashing both teens.

"Thanks for that, I needed a morning soak" Hiccup said sarcastically while Merida laughed as she shook water off herself.

As Toothless was enjoying catching fish after fish, Merida and Hiccup sat on a log nearby, they were eating the food Elinor had given them. As the princess happily ate her sweet cake, she glanced over to see her horse drinking the fresh spring water.

"So, what's this bear incident your dad mentioned" Merida heard Hiccup ask. He was thinking to himself about what to say to Merida, then he remembered the comment Fergus had said. "I mean, if it's something you don't want…"

"No, no, it's fine. It's no big secret" Merida reassured him. She turned to face him properly and began to tell her tale.

"It all started when my mum told me that at the highland games that three suiters would be competing for my hand" she began.

"You mean to marry you?" Hiccup interrupted in shock. He didn't understand why anyone would force someone their age into marrying.

"Aye" the redhead answered clearly annoyed "You can imagine how angry I was about this; I knew talking to my mum wouldn't change a thing. On the day of the games, when mum announced that the first born on the clans will try to win my hand and the princess will choose the game, that gave me an idea"

The Viking could see where the story was going.

"I, of course picked archery and after they had taken their turns, I snuck into the field and won by shooting all the targets" Merida said, but then her face fell. "Mum pulled me away and we had the worst argument we'd ever had, she was shouting and I was shouting and I was so angry that I ripped the tapestry of own family in two, then to make matters even worse mum threw my bow in the fire. I hated her at that moment and I ran off".

Hiccup felt really sorry for her, he of course knew the feeling when something you cherish is taken from you. He noticed tears running down her cheeks, that memory was still painful. Merida almost jumped out of her skin when Hiccup gently placed his hand on top of hers.

She looked up, Hiccup gave her a small reassuring smile

"Hey it's ok, it's ok" he said softly to the princess. Normally Merida would havepulled away if a man had tried to hold her hand, but Hiccup's touch made Merida feel calm and safe. She wiped her tears before continuing on with her story.

"I rode Angus to the forest; I didn't care where we were going. We ended up at the standing stones and before we could leave, I saw something in the distance, a wisp"

"A…a what?" Hiccup asked.

"Well, Willo the wisps are spirits that look like small white flames in the forest that lead you to your fate." Merida explained "I went up to it and then more appeared, so I followed them, they led me to a cottage that belong to a witch" Merida noticed Hiccup's eyes widen. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, it just back home, we're very superstitious about witches. You know, tales of them cursing people to go crazy and stuff like that" the boy told her, rubbing his neck. Merida nodded understanding and then continued.

"Even though she wanted me to leave, I asked...well demanded a spell, a spell to change my mum. I wanted her to change her mind about the arranged marriage thing and call it off. The witch gave me a cake and I headed home to give it to my mum".

"But how did you know if it would work?" He asked.

"What do you mean?" Merida said raising her eyebrow.

"Well what happened if you gave your mum the cake and she dropped dead".

Merida was horrified by the thought. She would have yelled at him, but he was right, she knew what she did was wrong and selfish so she couldn't be hard on him. She took a moment before she spoke again.

"I didn't think probably, I was blinded by my anger. I gave her cake, waiting for her to cancel the marriage but mum became unwell, I took her to her room and that's when it happened.

"W…what happened?" Hiccup asked, not knowing if he wanted to know.

The princess took a big breath in and then said

"That's when she turned into bear".

Hiccup's eyes widened; fire breathing dragons was one thing but people turning into creatures was unbelievable.

"I was scared, she was scared and we tried to escape the castle".

"Why?"

"Because my dad is well known as a bear killer, he can smell them. Well unluckily for us he did smell my mum, now she was a bear, so he the lords and their men went on a rampage around the castle, they were after my mum. Luckily my brothers helped us, so desperately me and mum headed back the witch's cottage." Merida explained rubbing her hands, thinking back on everything. "We searched till we found it but the witch wasn't there. She'd left a message saying the spell may be permanent".

"Did she mention anything to reverse to spell" he was hanging on her every word, now wondering how Elinor had changed back.

"The only thing she told me was a riddle. Fate be changed, look inside, mend the bond, torn by pride"

Hiccup thought over the words but he was coming up with blanks.

"I didn't know what it meant at first. We slept in the forest for the night and next day we came here so mum could have breakfast." Merida remembered the fun she and mum had had, but then her head face changed suddenly, "But then she started acting like bear"

"Acting like ... wild?" Hiccup asked. He of course didn't know a thing about bears but knew what wild beasts were like.

"Aye, after a while she was back to normal but it was obvious, we were running out of time, the wisps appeared again and led us to a ruined castle" she added, Merida was looking in the distance at place were the path went down.

"Why did they take you and your mum there. Was there something in the castle that would help? Merida snapped out of her memories by Hiccup's question. Seeing his soft green eyes made Merida smile.

"Well, we didn't know what we'd find until we found the throne room. We discovered that someone else had use the spell before" Merida explained.

"Who?"

"A prince from a long time ago. Long story short, he wanted to rule alone, hedestroyed the kingdom and became the demon bear, Mor'Du"

"So, what happened to him" Hiccup asked, worried now for Merida and Elinor.

"He roamed the Highlands attacking whoever or whatever crossed his path, we came face to face with Mor'Du in the ruins" Merida said, she saw the boy's eyes widen once again. Hiccup felt fearful.

Then they heard a low growl next to them. The two teens found Toothless sitting near to them.

"I don't like the sound of this bear either bud" Hiccup said grinning, seeing the hate in his friend's face but it changed when Hiccup scratched Toothless's neck.

The princess let out a small laugh, seeing the blissful look of the dragon's face. After this, Merida told the rest of her story. "We managed to escape and return home, we thought that if we fixed the tapestry, that would change mum back"

Hiccup did think that maybe the tapestry wouldn't provide the answer.

"The plan was to reach the sewing room, but a huge fight had broken out between the clans while mum and I were gone, and they had barricadedthemselves in the main hall" She huffed a bit. "We didn't know what to do at first but mum came up with the idea for me to try and distract the and calm them down, while she sneaked in"

When he heard this, Hiccup thought about the time he snuck Toothless into the village to fix his tail.

"After I calmed them down and they left the room, we reached the tapestry but as I tried to fix it, dad barged in and when he saw my mum, he tried to fight her" Merida said as she rubbed her arms.

"Did you try to explain to him? Hiccup asked, worried what would happen to them.

"Yes, but he was convinced that she was a real bear that killed my mum, my dad and all the men chased after her, but not before he locked me up and gave the key to Maudie the housekeeper".

"That's...not good" Hiccup bit his lip and Toothless shook his head in agreement.

"I felt powerless, I didn't know what to do. Luckily my brothers found me and would you believe they were all bears too!".

Hiccup was genuinely shocked. He thought back the triplets and the spell cake.

"Well your brothers DO have big appetites".

Merida clutch her fists, letting out her frustration.

"I should had thrown that cake into the fire when I had the chance"

"Well, to be fair. You were a bit busy with a huge bear who happened to be you mum, plus you were hiding from men with swords and spears, its no surprise you didn't think of a small thing like a magic cake" Hiccup said showing a toothy grin.

The princess couldn't help but laugh, feeling better by his comment and his smile.

"Well, they managed to get the key and with the tapestry, we rode to the circle of stones where dad and the men caught up with us and tied mum up. I stoppedthem, but then Mor'Du showed up, we tried to fight him off. There was a moment when he was close to killing us both"

"What?" Hiccup spoked faintly. Even though it had already happened, he didn't want Merida to get hurt.

Merida could see the worried look on his face. She gave her a reassuring smile before finishing her story. "Aye but it was mum who saved us. I wish you could've seen it, she didn't hold back when she fought Mor'Du. Mum smashed him against one of the stones and half of it fell on the demon bear and killed him."

"Wow, remind me not to get on your mums' bad side" Hiccup joked and Merida giggled faintly. Understanding what he meant.

"We noticed the sun was rising, I put the tapestry over mum but nothing changed. I was crying and was so sorry" Merida's voice dropped to a faint whisper "I was telling her I loved her". Tears welled up in her eyes, the fact that she almost lost her mum was still a painful memory. The redhead was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice Hiccup gently place his hand on her shoulder. She gave a slight jump and glanced up, there was that strange warm feeling again as she saw his kind eyes and warm smile. She soon felt better at this and took a few breaths.

"I thought I'd lost my mum forever until I felt her hand and saw her back to her old self" Merida said smiling at the memory. "And after that, mum and I have become closer and the kingdom is better than before".

"Wow" Hiccup said when Merida finished her story "That's incredible what you and your family been through" Toothless nodded in agreement. "But what happened about the whole marriage thing?"

"Oh, well during that time my mum and I became closer, we've listened and learned for each other. We both know we've made mistakes, it's shown me how much my mum really loves and cares for me, and she's proud of me, so she changed the marriage rule, so from now on we can choose who we marry" Merida said before she took some water.

"That's great" Hiccup said, happy for her but then asked " What about your old suitors".

"They were happy with it too, they told me later that they didn't want to compete for me, we're just friends now and one has a girlfriend too" Merida explained.

"Oh…well that's...ok" Hiccup murmured under his breath. I don't know why he was glad at this news.

"Well enough about me, let's talk about you now" Merida then said placing her head in her hands.

"Oh...ur...it just, my story isn't as interesting" Hiccup admitted starting to rub his neck.

"Oh, come on, tell me about how you and Toothless met then" Merida insisted before poking a long stick at the fire.

"Alright. Where to start" Hiccup murmured. He didn't mind talking about his and Toothless's story but he had to try not to mention about the Vikings.

"Well at little bit of background. For over 100 years, my village and the dragons didn't get along. My... leader wanted to find their nest and destroy it so they could move on. I wanted to help fight them but when you're someone like me, you're seen as a nuisance and as a joke".

Merida looked at him in shock.

"Were you bullied?" She asked hesitancy.

"Yeah" Hiccup reluctantly said "Everyone saw me as a disaster waiting to happen. Even my dad. He sighed heavily and looked down.

Merida couldn't help but feel sorry, Hiccup seemed like a good person, hearing that everyone in his village hated him made her heart sink.

"So, one night when the village was attacked, we noticed a Night Fury was among them. Knowing that no one had ever killed a Night Fury before, I was determined to be the first". Hiccup said, then saw the princess's expression of disbelief.

"What?" said Merida.

"Now I know what you're thinking but let me continue and things will be clearer" the boy reassured. Merida was willing to listen.

"I ran off to find it with a large slingshot of my own design, I waited until I caught a glimpse of it across the sky. To my amazement I actually shot it down...but my triumph was short lived".

"Why?"

"An enormous dragon called the Monstrous nightmare came out of nowhere and chased me into the village and nearly burned everything down." He answered before he continued "After getting told off in front of whole village, I snuck off to find the Night fury. I nearly gave up until I came across him. I found Toothless tangled up in ropes and... One of his tail fins was gone" Hiccup explained then he felt a thwack at the back of his head.

"Ok I said I was sorry Toothless" Hiccup apologized, rubbing his head as his dragon turned his back to him. Merida gave a small giggle as she watched the two. "Now where was I... Oh yes" Hiccup remembered where he was up to. "I was determined to prove to everyone that I could be just like them, but I could see he was scared as I was and..."

"You couldn't hurt him" Merida said.

"No. I wouldn't hurt him" Hiccup replied "Then I released him. I thought that he'd try to kill me, but he flew off". Hiccup told Merida but skipped the part where he'd fainted.

"Then what happened? did you follow him?" Merida asked as Toothless lay next to Hiccup, the young boy gave his dragon a scratch behind the ear which made Toothless purr happily.

"No, I went home. I was headed to bed when my dad wanted to talk" he said before having a drink of cool water.

"What about?"

"Well he wanted me to start dragon training, even though I'd changed my mind. I tried to tell him but he wouldn't listen, he ordered me to do it and then left to sail off to the find the dragon's nest" Hiccup explained with a small huff.

Merida couldn't help but think how similar Hiccup's relationship with his dad was like what she and her mum had before.

"The first lesson was a disaster, I was being chased and nearly fried by a Gronkles, Gobber who was our teacher told us that dragons always go for the kill. That got me thinking, was that was true? If so, then why didn't the Night Fury kill me when it had the chance? So, I decided to go back and search the last place I'd seen the Night Fury and I found him in a nearby cove. Because of what happen to his tail, Toothless couldn't fly" Hiccup continued.

They then heard Toothless growl as he lay down next to Hiccup and began eating some fish. Hiccup laughed lightly to his best friend before he continued on with the story.

"Later on, I learned that there was no information about Night Furys so I asked Gobber the next day, but he said that no one knew".

"Could you not have asked anyone else?" Merida wondered.

"No. They probably wouldn't know either" Hiccup replied.

"Oh"

"Well later that day. I snuck into the cove to find Toothless, but he found me" Toothless let out a laugh at what Hiccup said. "Anyway, I offered him some fish but he wouldn't take it because he was very nervous and threatened when he saw my knife, so I got rid of it and wearily with one eye fixed on me he ate the fish. We got to know each other, Toothless saw me drawing on the ground, he then started doing his own drawing".

Merida was amazed hearing that Toothless could draw, but was curious about Hiccup's skill, she needed to asked about his drawings later.

"It was then that something incredible happened" Hiccup said getting Merida's attention back. "Me and Toothless were face to face with each other, I wasn't sure why but I held my hand out. At first nothing happened until Toothless began to trust me and pressed his face into my hand. I felt a deep connection between us, it was amazing and that was the start of our unique friendship."

Hiccup felt his dragon pressing against his head, the boy smiled before he hugged Toothless. Merida could already see the special friendship they had;they were as close as brothers.

"Thanks bud, it was later that I learned that dragons will suffer if they don't have their wings and tails. So, I worked on a tail fin for him. I tested it out the next day, it did work but it still needed some fine tuning.

Hearing this, Merida was impressed and wanted to see how the tail was made.

"As the days went by, as I improved the tail, we learned about each other. Being around Toothless, I got to know what dragons were really like. Probably more than any human ever before" Hiccup went on.

"Well most people would've ran at first sight or ended up being it's dinner" Merida then commented. This made both teens laugh, even Toothless laughed to in his own dragon way.

"You're not wrong there" Hiccup added before he ate some bread while Merida had some of berries she picked. "Anyway, back to the story. I took what I'ddiscovered and used that knowledge in the dragon lessons, soon I was popular but...I didn't know about the attention. I had my best friend and that was the most important thing to me" he said softly as he pressed his head to his dragons who purred happily.

The princess had to smile. Even though he got admiration from the others, he'd found what he needed from of Toothless, so he didn't need the other people acceptance.

"One day after we were flying over my island. I was in sitting in the workshop, just thinking when my dad walked in without warning. It turns out he and the others returned that day and he wanted to talk to me. I was panicking because I thought he somehow knew, but he'd heard how well I was doing in Dragon training and that led to the most awkward chat we'd ever had" Hiccup sighed, burying his head in his hands.

Merida always thought her conversations with her mum were bad. Hearing this, it made hers look like small chats over cakes and drinks.

"Ok" Hiccup started after a moment. "Me and the other students did our last dragon training, it's tradition the best student gets to kill their first dragon and that ended up being me".

Merida instantly knew this was bad. She was about to ask but was before she could...

"Everyone was excited, the whole village! I was always planning leaving with that evening" Hiccup then said. Merida let out a sigh of relief,

"Just as I was about to find Toothless. Out the nowhere, Astrid appeared, she wanted answers. She got them when Toothless tried to stop her, she ran off, I thought she was probably going to tell everyone about Toothless so we stopped her by...ok we kidnapped her and showed her what dragons were like".

Hiccup had told Merida about Astrid and the other kids. She would like to meet them, even though she was wondering about Astrid.

"We flew around for a while. Toothless was suddenly distracted and flew off with us on his back with a pack of other dragons. We didn't know what would happen as we entered a mountain until we realised, we were in a dragon's nest, the same nest my dad was searching for" Hiccup said. "We barely escaped that place with all of dragons except their queen"

"Queen. Do you mean there's a dragon who rules over the other dragons" Merida asked?

"Yes, the Red death. It was as big as the whole mountain. We returned back safely but I still didn't know what to do the next day. I knew no matter what I did, it would end badly. Hiccup sighed and buried his face in his hands.

He was deep in his memories when he felt something holding his hand. He looked up to see Merida had place her hand into his. She understood how he felt confused and hopeless.

"I know how you feel, you're stronger than you think" Merida reassured Hiccup just as he had done. At first, the young boy wasn't sure what to do. He would be freaked out by a girl holding his hand but Merida's touch gave him strength and confidence he didn't expect. He also felt his heart was lighter and warmer than he'd ever felt before. It was the same with Merida, she couldn't understand what she was feeling.

"Thank you" Hiccup said, smiling sweetly at the princess. He shook off the thoughts before he said "So the dragon killing day came and everyone including my dad was happy. I had a plan. To be honest, it wasn't a great plan but I didn't know what else to do".

"Well a bad plan is better than no plan" Merida said and the two laughed lightly at this.

"Well. My plan was to show them that we could have peace between us and the dragons, but you can guess how well that turned out".

"It didn't".

"Exactly. Things went out of control, I tried to escape but the Monstrous Nightmare trapped me. I thought I was going to die but Toothless saved me. He risked his own life to save mine".

"Because he loves you" Merida said which was true and she knew Hiccup would do the same. The dragon let out a soft growl and pressed his head to Hiccup's.

"Hey me too" Hiccup said as he wrapped his arms around his dragon's neck. After a moment he pulled away, petting Toothless he said "He managed to stop the other dragon, but dad and the others ended up fighting him and then he was captured".

Merida could see the pain in his face, but didn't think things were going to get worst.

"Dad pulled me away and yelled about lying and Toothless. Then he found out about the dragon's nest and planned to use Toothless to find the nest, I couldn't stop him" Hiccup felt tears running down his face, just remembering the disappointment on his father's face.

Merida's heart went out to him, she thought back to the argument she and her mum had but Hiccup's was worse. He was protecting his best friend and his dad didn't care at all. Merida gave him a reassuring squeeze, she smiled at Hiccup to show her understanding.

He wiped his face with his sleeve and continued.

"They tied Toothless to the ship and sailed in no time, I needed to think quick, Astrid and I thought up a plan. I taught Astrid and the others how to bond with the dragons, then we flew off to the nest, luckily, we arrived in time, for the Red Death was attacking my dad and Gobber. As the others distracted the Red Death, I went to save Toothless, but by now the ship had caught fire, the Red Death had broken the ship, Toothless could free himself he was trapped".

Merida was astonished, but before she could ask. Hiccup continued.

"Suddenly the ship began to sink beneath the waves, in horror I saw my dad diving into the water and rescue Toothless, amazingly he managed it",

"Honestly?" Merida asked, he could see how surprise she was and Toothless nodded too.

"Yes. He said he was sorry and how proud he was" Hiccup answered "Me and Toothless soared up and lured the giant dragon away from everyone. We blasted it and it exploded in a ball of fire but before it was destroyed it swung its tail and hit me! That was the last thing I remember".

"Hiccup..."

"I know. It was awful, everyone filled the blanks. Toothless was the first one I saw when I woke up weeks later, it was great but then I found I'd lost half of my leg" lifting his leg "Gobber made me this one, I lost mine in the fall".

"So that's how…" Merida murmured but caught herself. "I'm Sorry"

"No. It's fine everyone else couldn't believe it either but I couldn't believe what I found. I opened my front door to see dragons all over the village and not burning the place down". Hiccup explained.

"So, the dragons and the village are at peace?" Merida asked.

"Yes, life is great now. We can't imagine life without them, sometimes it's hard but I wouldn't change that" Hiccup said as he gave his best friend a scratch underneath his chin.

"What about you and your dad?" Merida asked. Wanting to know if his relationship with his dad was like hers and her mums.

"Well dad did change, he listened to me more, he let me plan ideas to help the dragons and he trusts Toothless. We're closer than I can remember" Hiccup said smiling to the princess. Then, an idea came to him. "Wanna see something really cool?"

"Aye?" Merida said. She wondered what he was up to as Hiccup and Toothless got up, Hiccup then held out his hand to her. Merida didn't know why but she already trusted him, she slowly took his hand and stood up. Hiccup the led herto the front of the Night Fury.

"Ok, hold your hand up like this" Hiccup said softly placing her hand down. He let go and backed away, Toothless came closer, then Merida gently pressed his head against her hand. Merida realized what this was, she felt the smooth scales and the incredible feeling flowing over her. She couldn't help but smile. "So how was it?" Hiccup asked Merida.

"That's was magical" She said still amazed "Thank you Hic"

Hiccup never had a nickname before, mostly he was called by names he'd rather not mention, but it was a genuine surprise to Hiccup being given a sweet nickname.

"You're welcome...Mer" Hiccup replied. Merida didn't know what to think. No one had ever given her a nickname before but she found herself liking it.

The two teens smiled sweetly to each other. It was surprisingly how they like each other so quickly, maybe even...

They heard Toothless growling which made them both turn around; they saw him chasing a butterfly and trying to catch it. This made Hiccup and Merida laugh.

"It's getting late. We should start back" Merida said looking up to see where the sun was.

"Yeah you're right. Come on Toothless, you can chase them tomorrow". Hiccup called as Merida went to get Angus. They packed up and started the long trip home.

"If you want," Merida said "I can show those standing stones tomorrow".

"Sure, maybe you can help me mend Toothless's Tail" Hiccup suggested.

"Ok, I'll have someone set up a shed for you to work in".

"Thank you" Hiccup said. He thought how similar their stories were, Merida thought it was nice to have someone who could understand her and not judge her. They asked the other some questions about some details of their stories as they rode away.

#mericcup #hiccup #Merida #brave #how to train your dragon #fanfic

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pengychan · 4 years ago

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[Coco - Gravity Falls] Three Part Harmony

I wrote this for @perlogannwyl in exchange for her donation to BLM. Her prompt was Miguel interacting with Dipper and Mabel from Gravity Falls, discussing the weirdness around them. It took me... much longer than planned to write this, so I made it into a longer fic to make up for the delay. Sorry for the wait, hope you like it!

If you’d like to request a flash fic in exchange of a charity donation, here’s how.

It took Miguel roughly half a day to realize that primo Jésus - “Soos, dude, call me Soos. Unless I have the fez on, then I’m Mr. Mystery. Want some pizza? I’ve got this slice that never ends!” - was not the oddest person he could possibly meet in that town. Not by a long shot.

“The locals are not odd, Miguel,” his father had told him, bouncing Socorro in his arms while his mamá caught up with her tía. Or at least tried to, because she had her attention split in three different directions: a third on her grand-niece, a third on the telenovela playing on the TV screen in the corner, and another third on cleaning every surface within reach as visitors walked through that… Mystery Shack his cousin apparently ran.

Miguel didn’t answer as much as he gestured wildly at their surroundings. Somewhere on his left, a man wearing a tinfoil hat was taking a selfie next to a fur-covered trout mounted to the wall. His papá opened his mouth, hesitated, closed it again, and cleared his throat.

“They’re Americans,” was all he could finally say in their defense as Socorro tried to get back his undivided attention by attempting to rip off his mustache.

Miguel had expected Americans to be kind of weird, just not that kind of weird. Still, as he wandered around the Mystery Shack - previously named Murder Hut, a plaque read, which made him… slightly uncomfortable - he had to admit that stuff was actually kind of cool. Also, Soos’ girlfriend was nice and had shown him how to get snacks for free from the distributor.

“Are you sure it’s not a problem?” Miguel had asked, causing Melody - nice name, that - to shrug while she gave a customer change with one hand and made notes for the table disposition at the upcoming wedding. It was the reason why they were there, but as Miguel’s mamá hadn’t seen her tía since she married herself, she had wanted them to arrive a few days before the ceremony to meet properly.

“Of course not, don’t worry about it. Soos shows how to do it to everyone who walks in.”

“Ah.” Miguel had taken a snack, and wandered out to eat it without being chased with a vacuum cleaner, walking past a group of people holding up cameras and trying to figure out whether what was before their eyes was a rock that looked like a face or a face that looked like a rock.

And then he’d seen it, just as it disappeared behind the trees. Something tiny, with a white beard and a pointed hat and… and…

Miguel blinked, and looked again; nothing but trees, now. But he was… fairly sure he had seen something. As per what that something was-- ay, he must be hallucinating. Was the snack he was eating past the expiry date?

He’d just turned it around to check when a truck screeched to a half right beside him, tires leaving marks in the grass and giving Miguel a mini heart attack. The driver’s door was thrown open, revealing primo Jes-- Soos at the wheel, grinning widely.

“Back from the bus stop! Dudes, this is my second-something cousin Miguel!”

The very first impression wasn’t stellar, mostly because most people he met didn’t greet him by smacking a hand on his forehead to put a sticker on it. Or trying to ask him if he was single. Trying to, because her brother very quickly and very loudly began introducing himself before things got awkward, moving the chat to more normal grounds.

Well. Relatively normal.

“... And I’m going to be a bridesmaid and - they still don’t know it, but I’ll throw glitter everywhere,” Mabel announced, spreading her arms. “It will be a huge surprise! I mean, if you tell no one, it will be a huge surprise. But you won’t tell anyone,” she added, her smile huge.

Miguel wasn’t entirely sure if she meant to come across as slightly threatening or if he was letting past bad experiences give him the wrong impression, but either way he responded with a smile that he hoped was convincing.

“I’ll be silent as--” a grave? “... As, uh, someone really silent.”

“Soos’ abuelita will probably vacuum it all up immediately,” Dipper pointed out, causing his sister to frown.

“Right,” she muttered, rubbing her chin like a general devising an attack plan. “We need to find a way to keep the vacuum away from her.”

“... You don’t really think she’d bring it to the church during the wedding, do you?” Miguel asked, only for both Dipper and Mabel to nod.

“You have met her, right?” Dipper asked, and Miguel had to concede that they had a point.

“Fair.”

“We should sabotage it,” Mabel declared, and suddenly snapped her fingers. “Oh! I know! When our Grunkles get here tomorrow--”

“Our great uncles,” Dipper supplied helpfully before Miguel could voice his confusion.

“-- We’re going to ask them to help us turn the vacuum into a leaf blower! So that if she tries to clean up, she’ll only spread glitter even more! A double surprise!”

To Miguel’s worry, Dipper - who’d struck him as the most sensible of the two - began pacing, giving the matter some serious thought. “We would need to do it right before we head to church, if she tries to use it before we head off she’ll know. Someone will need to distract her.”

“Miguel volunteers!” Mabel exclaimed, grabbing Miguel’s arm and lifting it with a surprising amount of strength, almost lifting him off his feet. “He’ll distract her!”

“... Are you sure this is a good idea?” Miguel asked cautiously. It seemed pretty nonsensical, but then again, his own solution to a problem a couple of years prior had been grave robbing, so maybe he wasn’t precisely on a much higher ground.

“It’s a great idea! Leaf blowers always worked well for us. We used it to blow away some gnomes once.”

Miguel blinked. With the mind’s eye he saw it again, something really small with a pointy hat running over some bushes. But he’d just hallucinated that… right? “... Qué?”

“Nothing!” Dipper exclaimed suddenly, trying to elbow his sister in a way that couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d tried. Mabel waved a hand.

“Come on, Dip Dop, it took us… days to realize this place was weird. I’m going to be surprised if he didn’t notice--”

“... Was that a… gnome?”

Mabel gave her brother a classic Told You So grin. “Did you see a very small guy with a beard and a red pointy hat, or a brooding mysterious stranger?”

“Uh… the first one you said. About over there, running back into the forest.”

“Then it was a gnome! If you'd seen the brooding mysterious stranger, then it would still be gnomes but, like, five of them stacked on top of each other. If you see a giant creature of unimaginable horror, that is still gnomes. Just a lot more than five.”

Miguel’s gaze shifted to Dipper, half-hoping he’d laugh and admit it was a joke. Instead, he shrugged.

“Don’t worry, they don’t do that anymore,” he informed him.

“Ah,” Miguel said, faintly wondering if they were making fun of him or were just insane. But then again, he had seen a tiny man running off into the woods. Plus something even more incredible, too, a couple of years ago.

Unaware of his thoughts, Mabel was frowning. “Come to think of it, the giant Gnominator would have been useful during Weirdmageddon.”

Miguel, whose English classes had never included terms like Gnominator and Weirdmageddon, settled to just nod as though what she was saying made sense. “... Right.”

“Or when Dipper raised the dead.”

“Of cou-- wait, what?”

“It was an accident, Mabel,” Dipper protested, crossing his arms. “You know it won’t happen again.”

“I know, I know. Oh, don’t worry, Miguel! We know how to beat them! A perfect three part harmony, and they’re dead again. Soos told us you like music, so you can sing, no?”

“I said I won’t raise them again, we don’t need Soos to turn into a zombie again right before his wed--”

“You met the dead, too?” Miguel blurted out, causing both siblings to trail off and turn to look at him. Suddenly it was Dipper step right in his face, taking a notebook and a pen out of… seemingly nowhere.

“You met the Undead, too?”

Miguel blinked. Undead? “They were all… pretty definitely dead.”

“Yes, yes, but like-- zombies?”

“Uh, no. Just… skeletons.”

Mabel nodded, extremely serious. “Thin zombies,” she declared.

“What-- no, they were not zombies at all.”

“No eating brains?”

“... They seemed to prefer Pan de Muerto.”

Dipper wrote that down. “No biting?”

“N… no?”

“Trying to drag you in your grave?”

“No, they just all kind of… really wanted me to go back home.”

"So they didn’t try to kill you?"

"N--" Miguel paused. "... Well, one did. But most of them wanted me to go home. They were my family.”

Mabel sighed. “Aww, you raised your family from the dead!”

“No, I was just robbing a grave and--” he paused, and rubbed his temples. “I really think we’re talking about two entirely different things here.”

“Yeah, sounds like-- wait. Grave robbing?”

Miguel shifted. “Not my best decision,” he muttered. Only that it had been, in the end, if anything for how things had worked out. Had he not been in the Land of the Dead that night, then…

Dipper lifted the notebook again, clicking his pen with a slightly manic look in his eyes. “We have a lot to talk about,” he said, and they did.

That place was weird, the people were weird, but Miguel found that talking about what had happened in the Land of the Dead, with someone who believed him, wasn’t too bad at all.

#pixar coco #gravity falls #dipper pines #mabel pines #miguel rivera #coco #fic

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soyforramen · 4 years ago

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Old Times

Gladys hadn’t been back in town for a month before Alice showed up on her front porch at four in the morning, tears streaking down her cheeks (makeup looking just as good as when she’d applied it that morning; gotta love a woman who can afford Avon). A wide-eyed teenager, the spiting image of a younger, more precocious Alice, tagged along behind her. Without hesitation Gladys ground her cigarette out on the arm of the rocker (saved from Mr. O’Neil’s Tuesday trash pile) and pulled them both inside.

Without a word spoken, Gladys went to change the sheets in her bedroom. Alice and the girl spoke softly in the kitchen, and try as she might, Gladys couldn’t make out a single word. Whatever it was, it had been bad enough to bring Alice here and not one of her fancy, high-society friends’ houses (probably put out jello molds and finger sandwiches and food that tasted like creamed dirt). Something big enough to ruin the entire Cooper household.

The pillowcase hung from the bottom of the pillow, wrapped around its middle in a suffocating grip, as she realized Hal hadn’t been with them. In fact, she hadn’t seen Hal and Alice in the same place since she’d moved back to town (long-since overstayed, parents basement too crowded with two bickering teens and three shifts at the grocery store, g.e.d. just out of reach). She’d exchanged enough nods with Hal in the frozen dinner aisle, both pretending the space between them wasn’t mired in ancient history and still raw rivalry. Her path with Alice was limited to the high school drop-off lane, the one public gesture of maternal affection Jughead still allowed

Now, though. She sighed. It wasn’t uncommon for the women around here to lean on one another for comfort and safety. Sad, really, how often that came on the heels of the men not living up to even the lowest standards.

After a second thought, she fluffed up pillows and headed back towards the kitchen. Coming towards her in the claustrophobic hallway came Alice and her child (Betty, she realized with a flash of deja vu, a reminder of when she and Jughead were the ones on the other end of this), and Gladys flattened herself against the wall.

“Thanks, Ms. Jones,” Betty murmured, her eyes downcast.

Gladys hadn’t the heart to tell her she hadn’t been a Jones for almost fifteen years.

“Not a problem at all, darlin’. What do you think about strawberry pancakes in the morning?”

Betty gave her a watery smile and Alice shooed her into the bedroom. The door closed behind them, and Gladys let out a heavy breath. There was always something going wrong around here. You expected it, but it still hurt to see it happen.

Filled with a nervous energy (live wired and on fire, as her daddy used to say before the tar and the coal got to him; put a cork in that and you could power the whole nothern half of the states), Gladys flitted around the house, straightening and tucking and dusting, nothing seeming to be enough anymore. She had another two hours before she had to be at her first shift at the factory down the road. Then again, maybe she’d return that long ago favor and call in sick. After all, she was entitled to a few days here and there (nothing like the dump in toledo where they squeezed every drop of your soul, pennies on the dollar, and still demanded more).

Just as she was running a cloth over the television set (only three channels, black and white; older than either of her children who preferred leeching ole’ henry’s wifi instead of -), the bedroom door shut quietly. Gladys straightened and waited for Alice to appear. When their eyes met, Alice’s stoic, no-nonsense rock solid mask crumbled into a mess of tears and grief.

“He’s -“

Poor gal couldn’t even speak properly anymore. Whatever Hal’d done, it was enough to knock the sense out of Alice, and that was a scary enough prospect on its own. She hadn’t been that thrown for a loop since they’d raided (stole) Mantle’s stash of E (curled up like kittens, high in the dusty sunlight on the trailer floor, alice laying out her future with hal and not her…).

Gladys quieted her and lead Alice to the love seat (third-hand from earl and katie, bless their hearts even though it did smell like that damn cat). Alice tried to apologize for the interruption, but Gladys refused to let her. Jughead she didn’t have to worry about - boy slept like a brick in a tornado - and J.B. was at a sleepover with some of her friends (best friends on the first day of school, always did get her daddy’s better traits, while jug soured down into his old records and writing, lost in his own world, too much like his mama to make anything of it).

Once Alice was settled, Gladys poured out a shot of rum and set it on the coffee table along with a box of tissues. A few steps back, and Gladys was in the kitchen to give Alice a modicum of peace in the tiny trailer. She poured a glass of water and set it next to the empty shot glass.

“Another one? I have whiskey, too.”

Alice shook her head, a crumbled tissue in her hand halfway shredded to hell and back already. On the table lay three more (three bucks a pop here, can you believe) and Gladys couldn’t help but want that to be the remnants of Hal’s body.

“Hal, he -“ Alice’s words were cut off with a gut wrenching sob, and Gladys rushed to her.

Like she did when the kids woke up from their nightmares, she murmured platitudes and soft words, her arms wrapped around Alice in a cocoon of safety. After a good long cry (glad she still wore waterproof, cheap, drugstore mascara would have ruined the fabric, though the concealer would do hell on the blouse), Alice steadied herself.

Despite her hair falling out of its unnatural wave, despite the botchy cheeks, red eyes, and snotty nose, Gladys was still struck by how well Alice carried herself. Likely an armor built up having to suppress anger and frustration in this ticky-tacky town (hoa’s, pta’s, cya’s). A rose of anger bloomed on her cheeks sent Gladys rocking back on her heels, a thrum of excitement rushing through her.

“I suppose you’ve heard about our town’s little problem,” Alice said, still speaking in polite euphemisms and innuendos. She reached for the glass of water and primly cleared her throat (cats and spots, zebras and strips, snakes and scales; once, always).

“Depends on which one you mean,” Gladys said.

She was being sarcastic, she knew, but it was the truth. Riverdale hadn’t changed much from when they were growing up, damn whatever bullshit Hiram and his developers were trying to sell. It still had the same pristine front, picture perfect suburban life style, full of well respected men trying to save the village green from its own preservation society, but now the fetid foundation it had been built upon was bubbling out from the seams. The drugs, gangs, and murders were more visible now, no longer brushed under the railroad tracks into the Southside of town.

Hell, the only new thing about it seemed to be the mafia trying to gain a foothold. And Gladys had her own plans on how to deal with that.

Mostly, though, she’d missed being able to push Alice’s buttons (eyes narrowed, tongue beneath her teeth, a flash of heat in a pan), to get a rise from her so she was the center of her focus. If nothing else, it drew Alice’s attention away from her grief at hand.

“But, if you’re talking about that black hood idiot,” Gladys drawled, wincing at the pins and needles attacking her as she stood, “then I’ve heard a bit.”

“Yes, well.” Alice cleared her throat and looked away. “It turns out you were right. About Hal.”

“Oh?”

Gladys let it hang in the air. It wasn’t often that Alice Cooper, nee Smith, admitted to being wrong about anything, especially when it came to her life choices. And yet the juxtaposition of the two - the Black Hood and Hal - had caught her attention like a hook in a trout’s belly.

“About -?”

“About Hal,” Alice snapped.

She stood to pace the thin carpet of the trailer, her hands wrapped tight around her arms, the pastel green cardigan wrinkling under her fingers.

“He’s been going around these past few months like a god damned fool, playing at being an avenging angel, murdering people who he thought deserved it. I can’t believe I bought his lie about going bowling. The man can’t even lift a lawnmower, let alone a bowling ball.”

Gladys sat down on the love seat, one leg thrown onto the coffee table and watched Alice stew in front of her. It was a mirror image of fifteen years ago, almost to the day. She gently touched the corner of her eye, still bearing a white scar, and cursed the day she’d ever met that man.

“And then the bastard has the audacity to say that our children need to be purified. That I need to be purified. It was bad enough that he sent that letter to Polly, what he did to Betty -“

Alice stopped and tugged at her hair (bottle blonde to cover up the slow, steady march of time; at least a week’s worth of gladys’ pay for vanity every month). Gladys stood and guided Alice back to the love seat.

“How about you start from the beginning?”

Another stream of tears, this time borne of frustration and anger, slipped down Alice’s cheeks as she dove head first into the long tale. Hal always had thought himself above the rest of the town (secret son, hidden away from the world) even though his own sins bore bitter fruit of their own (alice angry and self-destructive in senior year; drunk on the floor; od’ed in the bathroom; blood running down wrists). Somehow he’d managed to fuel that into something more productive - a picture perfect nuclear family and modest but plentiful business - until he finally didn’t.

The first murder attempt, then the second, third, and fourth followed, no longer attempts. Quit murders in the surrounding counties that went with only a few murmurs of disapproval. Even his own family hadn’t been immune; daughters, tortured and deceived by the man meant to protect them from such things (kids of all things; for crissakes was nothing sacred?.

And Alice…

When she was done with her macabre tale, ending in Hal’s entrapment of his family and their violent escape, Gladys let out a low whistle.

“Well. Shit.”

Alice let out a wet, wry laugh. She curled her legs up under her and hugged a throw pillow tight (bought on a whim at a yard sale - two’fer deal she’d haggled; matched the lace curtains jb couldn’t help but make fun of). Gladys stood and walked towards where her father’s urn sat on the mantle, a place of honor in a family who had little to do with ghosts of the past.

“What do you want to do about it?” Gladys asked.

Standing on her tiptoes, she reached in an pulled out a rusted Altoids tin and a lighter. When Alice caught sight of it she let out a real laugh this time, one that drew memories of simpler, happier times when it had just been the two of them against the world. Wonder Woman and Sarah Conner, united together. Until they grew up and out of middle school dreams and into the real world where bills piled up and mouths had to be fed.

“You know we’re not in high school, right?”

Gladys grinned and fell onto the love seat next to her. She popped open the tin and held it out to Alice.

“Do you want to do the honors? You always were better at it than I ever was.”

Alice chewed her lip, the implications and scandal of what Gladys was proposing flashed across her eyes. It was easy enough to guess the arguments against it, the same old ones she’d heard before (what if your mom/daughter/sister finds out you keep that in there? she’ll be more pissed that she didn’t find it sooner), but her hand was steady when she took the tin. Gladys watched her fingers work, long thin fingers still trapped by a band of gold. The ring of a promise that fell flat and brought with it a hell of a right-hook in the end.

As she watched, Gladys let her mind wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t allowed themselves to be torn apart in high school. If she’d only beaten the truth out of Hal in junior year when Alice vanished. If only, if only, if only.

“What I want,” Alice said with a finality, the lid snapping shut a punctuation to her decision, “is to rip his guts out and feed them to him while that harpy mother of his watches.”

Gladys flicked the lighter, the flame dancing around the end of the joint. Her eyes didn’t move from Alice’s lips as she took a hit. Lines ebbed and faded, reminders of their time spent apart, waves of years and youth wasted. In the poor ventilation of the trailer, the smoke wrapped them in a thin cocoon of safety, a gauzy curtain to shield them against the reality of their choices.

“Might have to lay a tarp down, but I know a few guys.”

The phrase sent Alice into a fit of giggles (ask freddie and fp, they know some guys) and Gladys shushed her with a crooked smile, reminding her that Betty lay sleeping not forty feet away. Alice took another took and blew the smoke into Gladys’ face, a ribbon that caressed and teased her skin

“Or we could take care of it ourselves.”

“Just like old times?”

“Just like old times.”

(A few months later found Jughead and Betty at Pop’s working on a school project under Gladys’ critical eye. Jughead, used to his mother’s hovering nature, enjoyed the free fries she dropped off between customers; Betty, it seemed, was far more perturbed by the woman’s sudden closeness with her mother. It wasn’t until they were writing about Lady McBeth (‘out damn spot’ seemed to Jughead less of a guilt ridden complex after this Black Hood business and more of an attempt at an evidentiary coverup) that he spoke on a subject that had been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Doesn’t it seem odd?”

Betty hummed and continued to write. “What seems odd?”

“My father disappears three months before my mother leaves town, never to be seen again. We come back, and three months later your dad disappears. And each time, our mothers renewed their friendship just weeks before.”

Any goodwill Betty might have held towards Jughead froze quickly at the implications in his words. Her fingers gripped the mechanical pencil hard enough her knuckles went white and the plastic cracked.

“My father was a serial killer,” she snapped. Blooms of anger rose on her checks and Jughead shifted under her glare. “It’s not surprising that he’d run away after trying to kill his wife and his daughter in their own home.”

Cowed, Jughead picked at the lukewarm fries. Her words didn’t change his mind, didn’t move his suspicions a single degree, but it did quiet his need to pry further into her opinion.

The matter was dropped as Macbeth and his realm descended further into madness.)

#parentdale #alice cooper/gladys jones #this is what commenting gets you folks; part deux of a one part fic

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thefloatingstone · 5 years ago

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hey who wants to watch me write a post about my own lore in my own fanfics nobody cares about like it’s a wiki article or a Matpat video?

here I go

When I was writing my MLP fanfic back in 2013, there was a chapter where the girls (and Discord) get attacked by a Basilisk in a cave. I wanted a fantasy monster not featured in the show (at least up until that point) so I went for a commonly known fantasy creature... but then I decided to be all artsy and shit with its design and used my big history-nerd galaxy brain. This is that story;

It had a broad, square torso, on each side of which grew something resembling wings. They'd never be able to keep anything in flight, though. Rather than elegant beaters of the air they were large, awkwardly shaped fins that jutted out and upwards. A muscular neck curved into a small, triangular head that looked too small for the rest of it. A whip-like tail dragged behind it as it marched in the direction away from them, it's two, thick legs ending in dark, curved claws.

So this is the description of the Basilisk I wrote for the fanfic.

Basilisks were mentioned in the MLP cartoon but never shown. What HAS been shown, however, is a cockatrice.

which is historically, a mythical creature that kinda overlaps with the Basilisk in a historic sense. A Cockatrice is a creature that hatches when you take an egg laid by a cock (a male chicken) and have it be incubated by a toad (or sometimes a snake). The Cockatrice has the ability to kill people by looking at them, touching them, or sometimes breathing on them.

The Basilisk is hatched from the egg of a serpent or a toad incubated by a cock. So the exact opposite of the cockatrice.

The Basilisk is a creature described as “a serpent king” as well as a “hybrid of a rooster and a serpent” who can “cause death with a single glance.” However the Basilisk has also been described as looking like a snake that leaves a trail of venom behind it. Like the Cockatrice, the Basilisk is thought to be lethal to all living things apart from the weasel, and its believed that Europeans seeing fights between cobras and mongoose in the more arid countries of the world could be what spawned this part of the mythology.

This print is from 1260 and features a “basiliscus” fighting a weasel. The text was translated to “Cockatrice” in 1397. Basilisks are not usually depicted with wings.

doing a google search for “Basilisk” brings up a mixture of images, some showing a creature looking more like a cockatrice and some more like a serpent or wurm, and in others like a reptile with many legs.

You can kinda start narrowing down images showing the Basilisk which look closer to my description of the creature.

I based my basilisk somewhat on the classical look of the monster, but I also took a large inspiration from a book I bought at a fleamarket a few years ago and which I highly recommend if you can find it. It was originally published in the 70s.

The book covers the many different ways that taxidermy and accounts and bestiaries have been used to manufacture “evidence” or mythical or unknown animals. (such as the fur-bearing trout which is a personal favourite)

One of the taxidermy creatures in the book are mummified creatures called “Jenny Hanivers”. Sometimes they have a more humanoid appearance (I want to save you from looking at too many taxidermied animals so I’ll ship those) but now and then one would appear looking more animalistic.

Jenny Hanivers were most commonly believed to be the dried remains of basilisks. And since Basilisks can kill people with a single glance, it wasn’t like there was any concrete proof to what one REALLY looked like. Fishermen would sell mummified Jenny hanivers as “curios” to sailors, naturalists, scientists and the wealthy as remains of basilisks and they were a very popular collectors item. Especially since having a “Cabinet of Curiosities” was a popular “status item” in the 16th century. However these were more entire rooms then just a cabinet as we think of them today. Rich people would often fill it with strange and bizarre items, such as “unicorn horns” (Narwhal tusks) seashells, foreign coins, mummified fish, fossils, paintings, sculptures etc etc. Essentially they were the precursors to museums. But in the 16th century it was more for rich people to show to other rich people and go “look at all this weird shit I have.”

The earliest known picture of a Jenny Haniver is from 1558 from “Historia Animalium vol. IV“ by Konrad Gersner.

Gesner warns in his book, that the “Jenny Haniver” often sold for high prices as “taxidermied Basilisks” were not as fanciful as the people trying to make money off of them would have you believe. As the Jenny Haniver is, in fact, the dried and disfigured remains of rays or skates.

The “eyes” next to the mouth are in fact the ray’s nostrils, and the “wings” are the fins of the ray that have been cut away from the head and dried at an odd angle to appear more like “wings” than fins.

Anyway.

And that’s the story about how my history nerd ass put WAAAAAAYYY too much fucken thought into a monster that shows up in a fic to be a threat for a single chapter which had no plot relevance whatsoever.

(drawing time stamped as drawn by me in December 2013)

#My Little Pony #History #Cryptozoology #lore #?#My Art #Long post #C-Puff self congratulates for a loooong time #I actually drew a lot of pictures for this fic #showing what OCs looked like and the 2 original monsters I came up with for it #Where did all that energy go?#cw #taxidermy

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kammieceleek · 5 years ago

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Halfling: Chapter 2, Nightmare

The sound of dripping water was all that was keeping him sane.

Callum counted it in eights, using it to keep his mind from wandering to his imprisoned wife and missing child. Granted, he was imprisoned, too, but Claudia wasn't torturing him—nowhere nearly as badly as the elves were treating Rayla. He gripped his chains in fury at the sound of her screaming in pain. Rayla's training as an assassin and her upbringing among the Moonshadow elves had taught her not to show pain. The last time he'd heard her scream like that had been when she was laboring to bring their precious Sarai into the world almost six years prior.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

Solitude made up most of his existence in this underground dungeon. Claudia was the only person he ever saw and she was less than welcome. His former friend brought him food, trying in vain to get him to abandon Rayla and join her and her father. There was no way he'd do that, though; dark magic was vile and twisted and evil. It had almost killed him the one time he'd done it. Even now he hated the fact that he'd been driven to that extreme in his efforts to protect the love of his life. And when she wasn't trying to turn him against his wife, she was attempting to get Sarai's location out of him.

"Please, Callum. If you tell me where she is, I'll bring her here and she can live in your cell while we figure things out."

"I'm not letting you touch my daughter."

"But…"

"Sarai is pure and good and shouldn't be forced to deal with the likes of you. And if I can do anything to keep her out of you and your father's hands, I'll do it. Even if it means I have to die."

"She's not natural, Callum! She's a halfling—a disgusting cross between a human and an elf!"

"Then why bother trying to find her?" Callum fixed Claudia with a murderous gaze he'd picked up from Rayla over the years. "Leave me alone."

Claudia bit her lip.

"Because… because she's important to you. And I care about you, Callum. Why do you think I didn't kill you and I'm not letting the elves near you?"

"The feeling isn't mutual. Go away, Claudia."

"Fine. But I'll be back."

Rayla's screams reached his ears again and he covered them, fighting back tears. He was powerless, really and truly powerless against Claudia and her little elven army. The shackles that bound him kept him from using magic, though they did give him more mobility than ones he'd seen back in Katolis when he was a child. Callum had no way to escape, no way to find Sarai even if he could use his power. Part of him hoped she'd gone to the Storm Spire, but something told the mage his daughter had run as far and as fast as she could. If she'd gone to Zym, the elves would've found her already. No, Sarai had left the area entirely and he hoped that she was safe and healthy, wherever she was.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

"Here."

He looked up as Claudia shoved a box through the door meant for his meals.

"You must be bored in here. And you draw when you're upset, right?"

Inside the box was his sketchbook and charcoal pencils. He fixed her with a look of suspicion.

"Prison is boring. And I have no intention of releasing you, so…" She smiled sheepishly. "No thank you's are necessary. Your drawings will be thanks enough."

Callum waited until she'd gone, then he grabbed the sketchbook. Furiously he began to draw, first Rayla and then his daughter as he last remembered them before all this happened—a mother and child holding hands as they returned home from the market. God, he wanted those days back, but it had been a month since he was imprisoned. His chances of seeing Sarai or even Rayla again were slim.

He snapped it shut and buried his face in his hands. The water still dripped, the staccato sound ringing through his cell in a consistent rhythm.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

**********

All things considered, Sarai was a different kind of five-year-old.

Despite her young age, she'd crossed the border alone, traveling through hostile territory for a month (based on the fact she'd said it had been a new moon when they were attacked) by herself and made it to Katolis. Soren was impressed with her and even more impressed that Callum had managed to make such an amazing daughter. Though, he supposed most of it was Rayla's influence over the step-prince's. Even now Sarai sat on Ezran's horse, excitedly telling her uncle stories about her life in Xadia. Eventually, she got tired and Corvus ended up having her ride in the supply cart they'd brought along.

"Is it bad that I love her so much already?" Ezran asked Soren jokingly.

"Nope. She's family."

"Well, the good news is that we're making better time than I did on my first journey into Xadia."

"To be fair, on your first journey, you were on foot. Carrying a heavy dragon egg. Hiding from me and Claudia and pretty much everyone else. And you were ten." Ezran bit his lip.

"I also had Callum and Rayla. And Bait. Sarai did it alone and she's half the age I was. She must've been so scared."

"Don't forget that the last time she saw her dad he was being captured by Claudia. That probably didn't help."

"Soren, you're not helping."

"Sorry."

By nightfall, they stopped to make camp. Sarai insisted on sleeping near Ezran, a request her uncle was more than happy to comply with. Keeping up with a five-year-old, however, was more difficult than Soren had anticipated. Corvus had gone to scout and left Sarai to be cared for by Soren while he was gone and Ezran was trying to get a sense of the situation at hand from some local wildlife. Their party was small—just the three men and little Sarai—since Ezran had already had word sent to Amaya and Janai to meet them at the Storm Spire with warriors. Aanya would be joining them shortly, across the border.

"Sarai, can you slow down for a second?" Soren panted.

"But I've never been to Katolis before! I wanna see how different it is from Xadia!"

"Didn't you pass all this on your way?"

"Yeah, but I was by myself and it was scary." She pouted and Soren melted at her expression. Dammit, if he was having this much trouble saying no to her, then Callum must've been completely wrapped around his daughter's finger.

"Fine. We need some fish for dinner, anyway."

"When Papa catches fish at the pond, he uses Sky magic. Mama always yells at him not to but he does it anyway. He said he'll teach me one day when I'm bigger."

"And we'll make sure that happens. For now, let me show you the way I catch fish." He grabbed the net and pole out of his supplies and took Sarai's hand as he led her down to the riverbank. There, he dug into the dirt until he found what he was looking for—bait for the fish. Sarai squeaked as he placed the bug on his hook and cast the line into the water. Her eyes traced the crystal-clear liquid, trying to see where the fish were so she could help Soren the way she helped her mother when it was Rayla's turn to catch their dinner.

"How long does this take?" she asked.

"It can take a while. Thankfully, we don't need a lot for four people. You don't eat much, I bet."

"Nope. Mama says that's good and bad. Good because it will make traveling easier and bad because I have a lot of growing to do."

"That sounds like her." She was quiet, watching the water with emerald-green eyes.

Then the line went taut and Soren began to pull in his catch. Sarai grabbed the net, allowing him to deposit the trout into it. They caught two more before Soren decided it was time to head back.

"Soren?"

"Yes?"

"…you knew Mama and Papa, right?"

"Oh, yeah, I did. Your mom almost killed me a couple times and your dad… well, the only thing he really has over me is magic."

"Papa said Mama tried to kill him when they first met and that she was the worst assassin he'd ever met. Then Mama threw a pillow at him and said he had to sleep downstairs instead of in their room."

"Why'd he say that?"

"Because he was joking. He told me when he was tucking me in that Mama was a better thief than an assassin 'cause she stole his heart. Then he brought her a bunch of moon lilies the next day and she forgave him."

Smooth, step-prince. Seriously smooth.

"Your dad was right. I met Rayla when I was trying to find him and Ezran to bring them home."

"Did you become friends?!" Sarai looked excited and Soren sighed.

"Not at first. At first… I tried to kill her because I thought she'd kidnapped your dad and your uncle. But we became friends after we helped save Zym from… from a dark mage."

"Viren." He raised his eyebrows. "Mama told me."

"And what exactly did she tell you?"

"That he was a bad bad person and he tried to hurt her and Zym. And Papa said he almost lost her because of him."

"Yeah. He's a bad person. I know that better than anyone."

"How?"

"Um… he was around when I was growing up."

(Not a total lie. Lying to children was cowardly.)

"Oh. Did you know that Claudia lady, too?'

"Would you look at that? We're back and so's your uncle! Go say hi while I clean these fish!"

Ezran looked up in confusion but shrugged as Sarai ran over and started babbling away to him about how fishing had gone. Soren was grateful to Ezran's far more patient nature, which would undoubtedly help them quite a bit in the long journey to come. Corvus returned from his scouting to report that all was well and they should reach the Moon Nexus within another day or so of travel. After dinner and telling a few stories of his journey to return Zym to his mother, Ezran found himself tucking his niece into her sleeping bag.

"You ever think about how weird it is that Callum and Rayla had a kid?" Soren asked as the king came back out and sat by the fire.

"It's a little bit of a bizarre feeling, but it was bound to happen eventually."

"Well, I don't think anybody's going to let things go back to normal after this is over. Especially not you."

"Right." Ezran nodded. "We can worry about that later. For now, we have to find Callum and Rayla. Sarai needs them."

"Actually, this feels… familiar. Like we've been here before."

Ezran rolled his eyes and laughed.

**********

"Whatcha drawing, Papa?"

Callum smiled as his daughter peeked over his shoulder. She looked down to see a sketch of her mother wielding her blades, clearly in the middle of a battle. Sarai's eyes shone with pride and excitement.

"You draw Mama a lot."

"Well, I love her a lot." Sarai clambered into his lap and he set the sketchbook aside.

"Did you miss us when we were at the market?"

"Of course I did, Moonbug. I miss you whenever you're gone. And now that you're back…" He smirked in a way that told Sarai one thing.

"Papa, no!" Callum didn't listen and started to tickle her sides. Sarai shrieked with laughter and he swept her into a hug.

"Where's your mother, anyway?"

"She said she's 'checking the pe-ri-meter', whatever that is."

"Let's go find her then, shall we?"

Callum set Sarai down and they headed out of the house. Rayla was standing in a clearing not far away, her eyes scanning the trees nearby for something.

"Rayla?"

"Hush," she hissed. "Someone's here. Get back to the house."

On instinct, Callum picked up Sarai and turned to run home, but his exit was blocked by elves—elves of varying race who were furiously glaring. From behind the family came more elves… and a human woman Rayla and Callum recognized all too well.

"Callum, take Sarai and go !" the former assassin begged as she took a swing at one of their foes. The elves concentrated on Rayla as Callum ran, carrying his precious daughter.

"What about Mama?!" she wailed.

"Mama wants us to be safe!" he choked out. "And that means we need to go!"

Callum tripped over a tree root, flipping himself as he fell so he didn't crush Sarai. He got to his feet, only to find that he and Sarai were bound together with some kind of spell. Claudia came out of the shadows.

But that was where things became different.

Suddenly, he couldn't use his magic. Sarai was struggling to get free and crying and he wanted to hold her, to comfort her like he always did. He was knocked sideways by something that turned out to be one of Claudia's gang of elves.

"Aw, how precious," Claudia sneered. "The halfling can be useful to us."

The bonds loosened around Sarai and the elf grabbed her. She let out a terrified scream that sent Callum into a panic. Before he could get up, Claudia firmly placed her boot on his chest as Rayla was dragged into the area. His beloved wife was bruised and bloody and beaten, but he could see her chest rising and falling as she struggled to breath through the pain.

"I need more magic to get back. You wouldn't mind if I took care of the brat, would you?" Claudia asked one of the elves.

"She's an abhorrent creation. Rid us of her."

"NO!"

Callum sat upright, panting heavily as he tried to slow his heartbeat.

It was just a nightmare.

He needed to see his daughter. Even if it was just a picture of her, it would be something. In her five (almost six, as she was fond of reminding him) years of life, the longest he'd been apart from her was two days when he got stuck in a snowstorm and the fact that it had been a month (he could see the moon through the grate on his cell) was tearing his heart apart. His hands finally landed on his sketchbook and he opened it.

Immediately, his eyes landed on an image, the first done in this particular sketchbook.

He'd done it the day his daughter was born, shortly after Rayla had recovered from giving birth. His beautiful wife was holding their baby girl and smiling at him through the page.

We'll get through this.

Rayla's words on that day, when he'd shown genuine worry over being a father, echoed in his head.

But I can't if you're not here…

**********

"Had enough yet, traitor?"

Rayla spat blood at the feet of the elf who'd asked her, glaring at him with murder in her eyes. She might not have been an assassin anymore, but she could still kill if it came down to it. And this one had been trying her patience since the day she was imprisoned.

"I'm not tellin' ya daft bastards anything!" she growled.

"Then we'll just continue with what we're doing tomorrow. Give you another night to think it over."

Rayla sighed as she was finally allowed into her looser shackles—the ones that chained her to the wall but still let her move around and use her hands. The elves left her alone.

She wondered how Callum was doing.

Her husband had always had a big heart, a heart that had plenty of room for her and their daughter, and that was both his strength and his weakness. It was a weakness the elves were exploiting with the help of a rogue Moon mage who used illusions—ones almost as convincing up close as Lujanne's—to create a near-perfect copy of Rayla. This one they tortured viciously and violently to make her scream. Rayla had been confused until Claudia showed up to kindly inform her that Callum was disturbed and panicked by the screams.

They beat me because they want information.

They torture the illusion to hurt Callum.

Only once had the screams of pain come from her in their time down here, and that had been early in her imprisonment. An illusion of Sarai had been beaten to death in front of her and she'd screamed for them to stop, to let her innocent daughter go, to get away from Sarai. That had been before she found out that Callum—her wonderful, loving husband—had freed their daughter from Claudia's grasp and sent her to get help. Her heart ached to know where Sarai was, what help was coming, but she didn't dare think for a moment that the help she'd once relied on was coming.

"Rayla."

Her head snapped up at the voice. She looked up at the small grate that allowed her a bit of light and saw a face there. It was a face she knew, a face she trusted. Someone who could help her and Callum escape.

Runaan.

#published on ao3 #dragon prince #dragon prince rayllum #rayllum child #fanfic

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delioncrt · 5 years ago

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𝖎 𝖓 𝖙 𝖗 𝖔 .

𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞… lestat de lioncourt was known as the bold & animated lord with a reputation for being a stuart townsend doppelganger . but now , under the stress of the war on the horizon , the natural born villain original vampire has become widely known for being rather melodramatic & over-indulgent . let’s see how long the villeneuve native will last during this war . after all they’re only forty three / over one thousand years old . + he/him & cis male , the vampire chronicles.

hello hello! my name is ana, i’m 22 and i bring you my dramatic, over-indulgent gay vampire lestat!! i was here before (very shortly) as chiasa, but i was struggling for muse and really wanted to bring in lestat, so i’ve been working on him for a little while now and i’m so excited to finally be able to play him :’)

i have a plots page up, but it’s a REALLY rough draft right now and i plan on adding more depth/a lot more species related plots but i’m also open to plotting anything really! below the cut, i’m going to paste lestats bio but be warned it is very very VERY longs and i need to update it lmao i’ll also put some little tidbits of info to help you get to know him~

lestat is an original vampire, meaning he was changed by spell and not blood transfer

he loves anything theatre related, music related, and he would die for the aesthetic lmao

very over indulgent, he prefers his meals in the form of pretty boyes and the occasional fae sdhfusdj

he’s a lonely bitch who likes to turn others so he can have companions so if you’re ever down to have your character turned *fingerguns*

basically the embodiment of “i’m baby, give me attention”

dsjufsd my brain is dead right now but u get the gift

i am the vampire lestat.

born the seventh son, the youngest of three to survive into manhood. my mother was a literate noblewoman and my father a blind marquis, though i would be left with no prospects. despite my family’s title, near all our wealth had been used up and my eldest brother augustin was the rightful heir to all that we still possessed. as a boy, my father’s castle, the estate, and the nearby village were my universe. the rest of the world around me was dim and old fashioned. i was born restless, the dreamer, the angry one, the complainer. my father and brothers resented me because i was not like them; i didn’t sit around and reminisce on old wars, i didn’t spend all day at my father’s side playing chess, and history had no meaning to me.

do not be fooled though, i was far from idle or feckless. i was the only lord near the village who could ride a horse and shoot a rifle at the same time; it was my duty to hunt for my family. i brought in the pheasant, the venison, and the trout from the mountain streams on easy days. on harder days, it was packs of wolves that threatened the people in the village. it was a noble occupation, hunting one’s ancestral lands, and i alone had the right to do it. the richest of aristocrats couldn’t lift their guns in my forest, but then again, they didn’t have to. they had money.

it was the winter of my twenty-first year, i went out alone on horseback to kill a pack of wolves. it was the worst winter that i could remember, and i do remember, all too vividly. the snow all over those mountains, the wolves that were frightening the villagers and stealing my sheep. on that cold morning in january, i armed myself with a flintlock rifle, a hunting musket, my father’s sword, and an spikes mace that hung on the wall of our old armory. with my weapons, i set off and rode an hour up into the slopes until i reached a valley and heard the first howling.

i had killed eight wolves that morning. my mastiffs had not survived the attack, and i had to put my mare down as she was suffering from her injuries. i still remember every moment of the battle, the rattling cry she let out as she went down, the wolves that closed in on me and nearly took my life until i drew my father’s sword, and i remember sputtering sickly and falling to my knees at the sight of my dogs. it took me nearly two hours with a wolf over my shoulder to trek homeward. whatever i had felt when i was fighting those wolves went on in my mind even as i walked, when i stumbled and fell, something in me hardened and became worse.

by the time I reached the castle gates, i think i was not lestat, i was someone else altogether. my brothers did not believe me when i had shared of my story, and the next thing i remember, i was lying in my room. i didn’t have the dogs in bed with me as always in winter because the dogs were dead, and though there was no fire lighted, i climbed, filthy and bloody under the covers and went into a deep sleep. i stayed there for days.

but, you don’t really want to hear the sad ramblings of an old mans human life, do you? of course not, you want to know of how i came to receive the dark gift, don’t you? tut tut, so impatient.

first, you must know that it began around the turn of the 11th century. i was no longer living in villeneuve with my family, my mother had grown ill. she came to me in the night, begging me to take what valuables she had and escape the castle. she told me to pack my belongings and to leave out while the kingdom slept and to run off far away, somewhere where i could be content. unlike my relationship with my father, my mother understood me. she could not bare the idea of dying and leaving her son stuck in a castle he would never call home.

the thought of leaving her behind, knowing those were likely to be my last moments with her left an emptiness in my chest. despite the lonely ache, i followed her orders and left off into the night with what she’d given me, never to return.

in that time, i had gotten involved in the theatre scene. bouncing from kingdom to kingdom, my love for the stage only grew exponentially the longer i spent on it. i had landed a role as leilo, the young lover to a woman named isabella. my presence on stage was animated, i became my character and by the end of it all, they would nearly have to drag me from the stage as the crowd clapped. it had become my life, and for the first time, i was happy.

it was during my time on stage that i’d met my first love, nicolas. he was beautiful, standing about about five foot ten, with long dark hair and warm clear skin you couldn’t help but want to touch. he was a young violinist who had come from villeneuve himself and had introduced himself to me after recognizing my face during a show. he had asked me to tell him the story of how i’d earned the title of wolf killer, and in return, i asked him about his experiences in the kingdoms i’d yet to explore. we drank all night and shared our tales, our secrets, and our thoughts that night, and then we did it again and again near every night after that. he had magic in his fingers when he played his instrument, the rich melodies were the definition of elegance; graceful, serene, and breathtaking. he often played me to sleep at night when i was at my most somber. he was my closest companion.

that only made it so much more difficult to cope when i lost him. he was a lovely man, one i couldn’t have spent the very rest of my life with, and he deserved a peaceful death. he deserved better.

death did not care for fairness, though. it came in like a harsh storm, destroying and taking away what it wanted selfishly. his death was bloody, and gruesome, the kind of death only spoken of in hushed whispers. how ironic it was, the man who’d come to love the wolfkiller, killed by a wolf. that’s what the people in the kingdom had called it, at least. i knew better though, that beast was nothing like the wolves i’d fought all those years ago. this creature was larger, far more feral and hostile. in the light of the full moon, i could see that it had yellow eyes and sharp fangs protruding from its snout. it was stronger than any wolf i’d experienced in my life, like it had the strength of a supernatural being.

it was the first time in my life that another creature had truly frightened me. it shook me to my very core, and to this day, i only remember the look in its eyes and how it made me run and leave behind the only man i had ever loved.

i mourned for weeks in that forest, weeping and wailing out into the night. i begged and begged for that creature to return, to kill me, until my voice was hoarse and a strained hush. i did not eat, sleep, or move from the forest floor. by the time anyone had found me, all the muscle had gone from my body, my bones protruded from my pale, sickly skin, and my eyes had sunken in so deep that one might assume i was nothing but a skeleton.

i don’t remember much from that night, i only remember the words of the witch who had stumbled upon my body, and the spell that lead me into my newfound immortal life.

“poor little man, frail and broken in the dirt, begging for death. that isn’t what you truly want though, is it? no, you want revenge. you need it. how will you avenge your lover like this? a sad bag of bones, unable to lift his own body, such a depressing sight. i can make you better, lestat. i can gift you power, strength, and everlasting life. tell me, boy, is that what you desire? is that what you need? use your words, tell me yes, and i will give you everything you need to be great.”

yes.

#tales.intro #⁎ ° . ☆ ◞ ( ꜱʏᴍᴘᴀᴛʜʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ! 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔 )#tw: blood #tw: animal death #tw: animal harm #tw: death

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