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shadowgast-recs-weekly · 6 months ago

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Older Favorites 8: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week we have the eighth edition of older favourite fics, check under the cut for 19 fics that were uploaded or last updated more than two years ago! Don't forget to comment and kudos if you enjoy them

when will these two wizards kiss already by allmadeofstardust (13590, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

A series of canon divergent episodes, exploring potential first kisses the wizards might've had in the final episodes of C2.

Reccer says: Back when C2 was finishing up, I always looked forward to this series updating XD it was a really fun way to feed the beast that spent every one of those last episodes waiting for a Shadowgast kiss to happen. And the ending of the series is really lovely too.

Like 80/20 on the Kinsey Scale by jakia (2772, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: None

Caleb sleeps with Essek and panics about his sexuality. A story about friendship and identity.

Reccer says: I liked it!

By the Light by MoonwalkingCrab (31993, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn, Major Character Death, Temporary Character Death

After not hearing from the Nein for months and assuming he had been forgotten, Essek receives a plea from the Nein to help save Caleb. Canon-Compliant until e88!

Reccer says: I Love love LOVE this fic. I came into the fandom right at the end of C2 and have read many really good pre-97 fics - This one is probably my absolute favorite. AMAZING Essek characterization, really nailed the loneliness at his core, I love the take and the headcanons! Also also, while this is absolutely a Shadowgast fic, this is also very much an Essek & The Nein fic. Every interaction is amazing, love the level of detail, adore the pacing, just a really good and soft and well rounded fic!!

in the times in between by jakia (8098, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: mention of miscarriage

While refining a spell, Caleb spends a few days accidentally visiting his parents over the course of a decade and a half. Essek helps the final time.

Reccer says: Kind and sweet, plus excellent mom behavior from Una at the end.

infinity in the palm of your hand by mousecookie (5752, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Major Character Death, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence

Alternate ending to e116 - The Mighty Nein find a rusted iron door in Aeor, as well as the fallen body of one Essek Thelyss.

Reccer says: Really well/solidly written, with an *amazing* twist that I did NOT see coming - Very good emotions, very good characterizations, just an all-round lovely read written during the fandom's 'When will Essek return from the war?' phase X3 Also also I just ADORE the title!

only code it knows is rote survival by Chrome (12637, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

In a world where Trent makes it back to Eiselcross before the Nein do, Essek spends a night under the effects of the Feeblemind spell. Caleb undertakes a duty of care, and the Nein learn how Essek feels about them beneath everything.

Reccer says: Wonderful characters and lovely writing!

like coloured indigo inscribed with my name by KmacKatie (30648, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

An exploration of tradition, culture, what is worth sacrificing in finding yourself and family.

Reccer says: I think about this fic a lot. The highs, the lows, the sweetness, the angst. It's existed in the back of my mind for so long that it's kind of hard to describe the particulars of why I love it; I just do. I love the snapshots into Essek and the Nein's lives; the moment in Chapter 4 when the wizards kiss stands out to me as an example of that. The heartache of Chapters 6 and 7 is so well done; the strings of unanswered texts (and Essek's deleted replies) at the end of 6 and "I can’t eat soup without thinking of you." in particular (ESPCIALLY the latter) have stuck with me for years. Essek showing up at Caleb's birthday party after everything... there are tears in my eyes as I am typing this. I just love all of it so much, but the angst in particular really left a mark. And I love the ending so much too. All of it is just iconic and wonderful. To end on a lighter note, shout-out to the remark about Deirta and kumquats, which surfaced in my psyche recently after being dormant in there for so long XD

a certain future by wristpockets (26997, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek keeps trying to outwit The Mighty Nein, and gets stuck in a time loop trying to do so. He's trying to befriend them now, trying to earn their trust, but that's only because it's his best option... right?

Reccer says: While the Shadowgast is a relatively minor aspect of the story, it's a great character study.

Echoes by MithrilWren (1759, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

“Essek finds himself... unsettled by Caleb's new telepathic powers.“

Reccer says: Shadowgast, but with some Somnovem interference! This fic is short, but it packs a punch! I still get a shiver down my spine thinking about the ending.

Somewhere Just for Us by bluebirdsongs (12835, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb takes Essek on a date to the version of the dance hall that lives on the Tower's 8th floor.

Reccer says: This is one of my all-time favorite Shadowgast fics, hands down. It is incredibly tender and sweet, with so many layers of emotion. The concept is brilliant and so well executed. I love Caleb introducing Essek to Zemnian cuisine and this fic is 100% the reason for it. And the flirting and the banter and the DANCING. There's a moment when they're dancing that made me yell in delight when I first read it back in 2021 and I still adore it. And the ending!!! Augh, it's all just so heartfelt. It deserves all the love in the world. (Also, it never fails to make me crave a preztel)

russet inconveniences by marleybone (7328, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek needs a roommate and finds one in Caleb Widogast.

Reccer says: You know a fic is good when you think you've submitting reccs and then you remember the title and immediately have to go pull it up to recc too XD this one is just so fun!!! Caleb is a menace of a roommate and I love that that never stops, even as Essek realizes he's got feelings. The tag "minor inconveniences to lovers" is fantastic XD

Unspoken Love by marsmystic (4187, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

“ Caleb and Essek return to Aeor together. A relationship develops. Or was it already there?”

Reccer says: This fic sparks joy! Wizards being besties!! Essek and Caleb’s relationship is so sweet in this. It really highlights how the romantic aspects of it stem from their friendship, which is one of my favorite flavors of shadowgast.

The Mind and The Malady by SaltCore (38945, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence

There is a remedy for his illness, of course. There is always a way to unwind magic, but there is always a price. The cost of Essek’s life, now that he’s contracted Hanahaki’s disease, can be paid two ways—one is higher than Essek can bear and the other, well. The other can only be paid by someone else.

Reccer says: Beautifully written and wonderful worldbuilding! Always a fav to reread!

some things time can't fix by Chrome (25930, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek is arrested for treason. The Dynasty severs the daemons of prisoners before executing them so they can’t be reborn.

Reccer says: Daemon au! This fic made me feel so many emotions

Like a Steel Trap by kaeda (12519, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek is very much into Caleb's keen mind.

Reccer says: Wizards loving wizards for wizardly reasons!

a mirror to the sky by renquise (7432, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek shows up on Caleb's doorstep in the bitter cold of winter and shows him something private

Reccer says: Self bondage fic my beloved! The tension between the two is so good!

To Mourn a Mischief by toneofjoy (81716, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

It's an Ever After-inspired AU with magic, where Caleb is trapped with Ikithon but ends up wooing Essek. Follows the plot of Ever After but has some good twists and turns!

Reccer says: The writing gives that fairy-tale feel, and though it follows the plot of Ever After, it's different enough to be exciting. Also love the surprise guests near the end, and the Jester/Essek and Caleb/Beau friendships are so good!

The following two fics each received two recs:t

(your face in my hands is) everything good i need by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi) (25884, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

The last person Caleb Widogast, Professor of Modern History, expects to find as he walks in a random pub in a foreign city at the end of a long conference is Dr. Essek Thelyss, eminent Latinist and his sort-of intellectual crush.

Reccer 1 says: This is the first fic in my bookmarks and I've long since lost track of how many times I've reread it. So many moments have ingrained themselves in my memory; Caleb's hands on Essek's elbows when they first kiss. Their later spicy makeout getting interrupted by Essek getting a call. Caleb trying to pin Essek to his door the moment they get to his apartment for kisses and Essek having to get him to slowdown for a minute. Essek thinking Caleb looks like a god as they lay in bed together. "I want a clean break". Essek touching Caleb's new beard first thing when they reunite after Caleb's grown it. Their candelit video calls. I have to stop myself before I just list everything that happens because it's all SO GOOD. Essek Week 2021 produced some just magnificent fics and this is easily towards the top of that list. Reccer 2 says: The exquisite writing, the Demi Essek, the literal sleeping together, and the way their relationship evolves over time.

we never do go over (we always gotta go through) by Chrome (17169, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

In which Essek uses Convergent Future to save the Nein in Aeor and has to take the journey out of Aeor with five levels of exhaustion.

Reccer 1 says: SUCH a classic, I distinctly remember reading this one on my laptop at the back of the forum room my study hall was in, right when it was posted. The physical toll of powerful magic is something I ALWAYS love to see explored, so this was already a success on that part. Add in 5+1, hurt/comfort, and Shadowgast tenderness and getting together? This fic still lives rent free in my head for a reason. Reccer 2 says: Such tenter feelings!

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation.

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring fics that include good/complicated mom Deirta. Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list #critical role fan fiction #cr fic #cr fics #older favorites #older favourites

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jazziejax · 1 year ago

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PR & Matchmaking

Pairing- Callum Turner x OC! India Hayes

Summary- The flirtatious banter between two co-stars that are trying to make the most of their PR contract while also wondering if what they’re felling is real or not.

Warnings- none

Author’s Note- I haven’t written anything on here in so long so please be easy one me guys. I just wanted to post something because it’s been a while and I felt like Callum Turner needed more love.

Word Count- 2,131

Lights were flashing like crazy and the people were going wild as they walked onto the carpet. Tonight was the premiere of Masters of The Air, a drama miniseries on Apple TV that explores the aerial wars of WWII through enlisted men of the Mighty Eighth Air Force.

At first, the red carpet was filled with the men from the show, some posing for the perfect shot while others did interviews to talk about the show. Though all were dapper as the cameras clicked and flashed to capture their noticeable charm. One of the stars, Callum Turner, was in the middle of answering a question after being asked what was his biggest takeaway from a show like this.

“I mean, it’s taught me a lot. More than I knew it would, which is always great. Working with such amazing people has to be the greatest takeaway—.” The sound of his words were barely audible under the screams of the crowd. His face morphed into a shell of shock for only the briefest moment before he chuckled and turned his head to see what that commotion was about. His first assumption was that it was Austin and Barry offering tons of fanservice with their flirtatious banter.

But he couldn’t have been more wrong.

He could hardly see through the flashing lights but he could discern one name through what the photographers were saying.

“India!”

“India, this way!”

Even though he wasn’t facing the camera fully, it still caught the smile that graced his lips at the sound of the woman's name. From another angle, you could see him looking down the carpet at the girl in black, staring at her figure as she posed.

Realizing he’s still on camera and was in the middle of talking, Callum chuckled as she turned back to his interviewer. “Speaking of amazing—.” He laughed along with the guy, gesturing to the woman down the carpet.

“Did you guys and the Angels of War cast get to do any work together? Can we expect to see a crossover?” The man asked before holding his mic out to Callum. Said man pursed his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I can’t say, you have to watch the show and see.” He joked.

Moments later, India was being asked her own set of questions.

“We’ve all seen Angels of War, we all loved it. It was great. But I must know what you think of Masters of the Air.” The woman asked her.

India smiled, prepared for her words to soon come bite her in the ass. “I loved it, it was so amazing and so detailed that you couldn’t help but fall in love it.” India smiled, her southern accent strong on her tongue. “I felt so connected to the characters because of such great acting.” She offered a soft smile. “But it was hard payin’ attention in some scenes because everyone was so sexy.” She laughed along with interviewer.

“Right! I’m glad you said it before I did.” The woman with the mic spoke.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna watch anything with Callum Turner in it.” India winked with a small smirk on her lips. This caused the interviewer to make a sound of excitement, knowing she just got her clip of the week. India just smiled and laughed along, knowing she was working her PR arm a little too much. But she liked riling people up, it’s why she was so loved.

“I have to agree with you, I am the same way with Henry Cavil.” The woman chuckled. Her eyes moved a tad to catch a glimpse of a tall figure dressed in black behind India’s shoulder. “And speaking of Callum Turner.” She beamed.

India turned her torso to see said man not too far from them walking somewhere along the outskirts of the red carpet, a few people straggling behind him. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Callum glanced to his left to see India and the interviewer staring at him, the camera slightly angled his way. A large smile made its way onto his face as he walked closer.

“Callum!” India said excitedly, opening her arms in invitation. His eyes disappeared behind the folds on his cheeks as he moved to embrace the woman once he made it to her. She wrapped her arms his neck while his went to her waist. Her height and hills made it to where her head fit almost perfectly within the nook of his neck. As she moved back slightly to grab a hold of his jaw and place a firm kiss on his cheek, his hands traveled from her waist to her hips. His large hands almost sitting on top of her bottom. Since they weren’t as close to the mic as they were before, the camera couldn’t pick up on any of what was being said.

“Did you play it up before I got here?” India asked through a smile as she drug her hand from his face to his chest.

“Why yes I did, darling.” He beamed down at the girl. “And I can see you are trying to upstage me.” He said before starting to rub his hands up and down the curve of her back. The tips of his middle fingers grazing one another as they traversed the span of her waist. India then made a dramatic sad face, her large eyes never leaving his. “Oh, never that.” She cooed. “I am just trying to get us both paid.” She cheesed before turning around to finish her interview. Callum followed after her, keeping his hand around her waist.

“Sorry about that. Speak of the devil and he shall appear and all that.” India said sarcastically, nodding her head over to the man behind her. The interviewer laughed, looking between the two. “It’s so good to now have you here with us, Callum, how are you?” She asked.

“I’m doing far better now that I’ve seen her.” The man smirked, glancing down at the woman on his arm as his hand moved from her hip to lying flat on her stomach. . India dramatically rolled her eyes at him, moving to place her hand on top of his. “He’s so cheesy.” She said.

“Only for the right price.” His voice said above her head. India burst into a fit of chuckles, angling her head to look up at the man without turning around. They shared a knowing look before going back to looking at the interviewer, who was red in the face from just watching their interactions.

“Well aren’t you two quite the pair!” She exclaimed. “Are we going to be seeing your characters together any time soon? I think it’s time for Loretta to settle down.” She asked before holding out the mic.

“Well, first off, Loretta needs no man!” India said, sassily waving her finger, causing the others to chuckle. “She probably would have liked one in a time such as then but needed one? No thank you.” She joked, although her words had a seemingly undertone due to the topic of her statement. “And secondly, you’ll just have to wait and see. I wouldn’t get my hopes up though.” She shrugged.

“Well, those are all the question I had for you, thank you two so much for being here!” She said excitedly.

“No, thank you for having us.” India said before giving the woman a small hug, Callum’s hand moving to her waist as she moved. She then finished her hug and walked away with Callum on her hip.

“Do you think we’re laying it on thick?” India asked, looking up at him. Callum looked down at her, the lights reflecting of her big eyes. She had a black silk scarf on her head on the carpet, but it was no gone, along with her shades, to show her short cut. He brought his hand up to the back of her neck, playing with the small hairs there. “No, I don’t think so.” He said, his suave demeanor dropping in a second of comfortability with her. “And if so, isn’t that kind of the point?” India didn’t answer his rhetorical question, caught up in the feeling of his hands playing in her short hair.

“We have the same haircut.” She said after a moment of silence, the two just staring at each other. Callum’s blue eyes twinkled in the light as he smiled at her. “Yeah, we do.”

“Although I think mines a little better, maybe I can give you my barbers number?” He finished before walking away from her. India’s mouth dropped but wasn’t for long as she caught up to his long legs and hit him in the arms. “I cannot believe you said that. You know I look way better than you with his haircut.” She sassed, rolling her eyes at the man before walking faster than him. Callum smiled his eyes following her figure as she walked back to the red carpet, where her life long friend, Janelle, was gesturing her over on the carpet with the rest of the Angels of War cast.

India scurried over, her and Janelle standing in the middle with the other girls on the side, all posing for the camera. Callum stood off on the side, looking at them while the lights flashed behind him. His eyes were trained on India as she and Janelle exchanged words before bubbling into laughter.

After a while longer, India looked over and made eye contact with him. They both immediately smiled at each other, eyes showing nothing but pure affection. She then detached one of her arms from Janelle and beckoned him over. Callum slightly shook his head. Seeing his hesitation, her face became serious as she beckoned him over again, although her movements were a little harsher this time. He was about to reject the offer again before his shoulder jerked forward slightly. His glanced back to his Austin gesture his head over to the carpet before walking off and over to his girlfriend Janelle, although no one else knew that piece of information.

He followed after him, his eyes locked on India playfully stern ones, the rest Masters of the Air cast following behind him and Austin. Once he made it to her, her eyes softened as he slipped behind her. While they waited for everyone to settle into their places, she smiled up at him before leaning back a little, her back met his torso. Her head laid on his chest as she looked up at him with a big fake smile. Callum looked down at her, staring into the eyes he thought looked beautiful from any angle. Trapped within her gaze, he leaned down a little, the tip of his large nose brushing against her forehead as he sniffed her. India crunched her eyebrows at him before raising her head to look back at the cameras. She still had her back against him, although you couldn’t tell unless you got a side angle.

“Enough of your flirting.” Austin piped up behind his smile as he glanced over at the pair dressed in all black.

“What, are we outshining the real couple?” Callum asked, smirking over at his friend.

“Outshine?” Austin asked. “Oh, you don’t even wanna know the things I’d do if we were public.” He finished, his grip tightening on Janelle’s waist as he continued to pose for the pictures. Said woman’s face flushed as she laughed and glanced up at him. They looked at each other for the briefest of seconds before going back to their original poses.

“This whole thing is so backwards.” India scoffed with a smirk on her face as the camera flicked to catch the moment between Austin and Janelle. Callum looked down at her and placed his hand on her hip, squeezing her fat as he sensed she was getting irritated. “Oh, but you love it.” He said joked, his deep voice vibrating through the both of them. Although she didn’t look up at him, India smiled at his words. “Yeah…you got me there.” She said, but couldn’t decide whether she was serious or not.

Social media went into a complete frenzy over those two. Clips of their cute moments floating all around the internet, some “fake”, you could say and others more authentic. Stills of Callum staring at India so lovingly were all over her feed, almost sending their girl into a spiral from seeing her own face that much. Compilations of every time they interacted during the premiere had millions of views as everyone speculated what they were. People were talking about the pair for weeks, which is just what their management wanted.

Indiahayes ✓⃝

likes by austinbutler, keoghan92, and 567,842 others

indiahayes happy masters of the air day!! go watch the show full of sexy men that kiss! ;)

view 7,627 comments

janellethat no one kissed guys :(

⤷ Indiahayes hush, don’t spoil the show!

callumsnumber1gurl let’s talk about these premiere photos hun!

callumturnerburner you and Callum look soo good together!!

⤷ austinbutlerbutt you are not sneaky at all

austinbutler Angels of War sister! 🤍

⤷ Indiahayes Masters of the Air brother!🖤

anthonyboyle why are you and Nina on the furniture?

⤷ ninasimone because we’re American 🇺🇸 🦅

randosuper3 it’s times like this where I wish Callum had an instagram 😔

lovelyrando you and Callum looked amazing together and I hope what you guys have lasts long

auatinslove are we just not going to talk about Janelle and Austin? What’s going on there???

⤷ indiassuperfan7 adults being adults

#callum turner x reader #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner #callum turner x black reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x black reader #social media au #x black reader #x black fem reader #jazziejaxwriting

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brucestalia · 4 months ago

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The portrait of the Wayne household hangs above the grand, winding staircase looming over the manor’s entrance. It has grown over the years, accommodating the likenesses of the Bat-Prince’s many squires. Yet, despite its embellishments, a vague silhouette endures—untouched and ethereal, a phantom of the portrait’s earliest form.

When young master Tim Drake inquires about it, Bruce finds himself adrift in memories of simpler times.

He has been a Prince, a King—even if only in name—a Knight, and, at his lowest, a Sellsword; a warrior reduced to a weapon for hire. How the mighty fall , he muses.

Each mantle carries its own weight, yet none heavier than the one he bears now. The thought stings like a wound.

The al-Ghul lands stretch endlessly—deserts, jagged peaks, and sprawling plains, vast, untamed.

Bruce first encounters her there, in a foreign wilderness, bleeding and battered from wounds earned in battle against a chimaera horde. Distrust has long been his armour, even against beauty cloaked in mystery, but he lets her tend his wounds.

Her face remains obscured, veiled beneath layers of silk. She introduces herself as Talia, daughter of he who is called Ra’s al Ghul .

The name is spoken amongst soldiers and merchants alike in hushed whispers, reverent and wary. The Emperor , some call him, a title carrying as much menace as majesty. That night, Bruce camps near the capital, the stars above dimmed by the brilliance of the city’s lights. It looms on the horizon, a city of impossible grandeur.

A servant named Ubu ushers him to the bathing house, where the grime of travel is washed away. He’s cloaked in robes—rich and foreign. Alfred’s absence is a thought he quickly buries.

His armour is taken to be polished, leaving him feeling bare – vulnerable, as though the steel had been his skin.

She was there again—Talia—her presence disarming in its constancy. He dines in the Princess’ tent, finding in the warmth of her hospitality, a haven against the desert’s chill.

Yet, unease coils in his gut like a serpent. It grows sharper within the Palace walls, where her family’s emerald eyes gleam with an unnatural light. It is a quiet tension that swells each time eyes of polished jade seemed to glance into his soul.

Still, he accepts her offer: to become her sworn protector – a knight for the al-Ghul Princess. In return, he gains tutelage under the Emperor and his most skilled generals across the continent.

But, he draws a line he refuses to cross—he will not kill. Talia understands, though her father does not.

The al-Ghul family defies easy understanding. The Empress – benevolent , poised , graceful, guarding the horrors of ages past. The Prince burns with ambition, bold, to the point of recklessness. The older Princess is an enigma; a riddle he had not yet solved.

Talia was a labyrinth of quiet strength and fleeting softness. She was the one part of their world that made him stay, though he knew he should not.

In time, her presence became a balm for the hurt he did not know he carried.

No beauty compared to her. Not the sands glowing under a silver moon, nor the jewelled skies of the East. Her laughter, soft and unguarded, as she bit into a slice of mango, juice tracing her lips. The mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she fed him a grape remained long after the sweetness faded. The victorious grin after a spar, or how she let frustration darken her features after she faltered – each a thread more vivid than the last, it all etched itself into him.

She would be the eighth Wonder of the World, if there ever was one, he decided.

Most nights, they sat beneath the stars. He wasn’t meant to linger in her chambers so late, but no reprimand came. It reminded the Emperor of a familiar tale–the mercenary and the warlord’s daughter.

A romance doomed to end as swiftly as it began.

The city adored its Princess. Her dark-armored guardian? Less so.

One evening, she donned a maid’s garb, and dragged Bruce to the bustling markets. Without his armour, he felt the land in a way he hadn’t before—the heat of its sun, the press of its life. Spices, songs, and silken scarves weave a reality he might have loved under different circumstances.

She danced with him, her laughter spinning away with the fading music. It is a moment stolen from eternity.

The day of his departure arrives. His refusal to kill has become a wedge between him and the Emperor’s court. But, as he treads the path away from the palace, Talia appears.

“Did you think I’d let you leave alone?” she says, a sly smile curving her lips. That is when her entourage unfurled—camels, a palanquin, soldiers, and servants, the unending desert beyond.

Bruce’s return to his kingdom is met with jubilation – a hero’s welcome that feels hollow at the sight of her beside him – streets teeming with lords, ladies, and wide-eyed children. News of the Princess spreads quickly, much to one Richard Grayson’s chagrin.

Talia’s charm extends to even Queen Regent Lara Lor-Van and the butler, Pennyworth, with whom she hosts tea parties. Kal-El and Zala are won over in time. She is no longer just a guest; she is his betrothed .

Their peace is short-lived. When a former al-Ghul ally orchestrates an attack on the Empress, Bruce and Talia return to her homeland.

After they end the threat, their union is sealed in a quiet ceremony, and Ra’s al Ghul himself oversees their vows.

But time, unrelenting, soon conspires against them. War breaks out, dividing kingdoms and hearts. She was with child, and Bruce knew she could not stay.

“Our son will be the next Alexander,” she whispers one moonless night. “He will bridge the West and the East.”

He studies her face as if it were a map of a world he would never know again. Perhaps, the moon hides in envy of her radiance.

And so, the portrait of the Wayne household remains incomplete. Talia left before it could be finished.

She never returned.

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hunnylagoon · 1 year ago

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The Killing Moon

PT1: Camp Spirit

Ellie Williams x Reader

Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.

Premise: You are a camp counsellor who comes back year after year to be at peace in the one place you love the most. Though there is something different in the air, could it be love or maybe an ancient evil you’ve mistakenly awakened?

Warnings: slight mentions of violence / mentions of monsters and cryptids / raunchy humour / spooky?

The Killing Moon Playlist

PART TWO: The Colour Wars

Week One of Summer Camp

Camp Honey Hills is what you could call 'off the radar'. It sat way up past the hills and forests of Oregon, relatively untouched by the urban nightmare of the city. It stayed peaceful and undisturbed as leaves shed from trees and snow covered every inch of ground, but the camp was alive for one season of the year. Even in the quietness of preparing for the campers to arrive you could still hear counsellors laughing with one another and that's how you could tell the camp was waking up from its ten-month slumber.

"Anyone in the White Tail Deer Cabin, over here!" I held my hand up and waved to the kids piling out of the buses, carrying duffle bags bigger than themselves. The first day of camp was always the most stressful, the only thing to get you through was the idea that it would be over soon and we could get to the fun part of summer.

I already had a handful of girls crowding around me, all of them were either ten or eleven; depending on how you look at it, I either got blessed or cursed that I was assigned to a cabin of older girls. While the younger ones were wild and untamable, the older ones tended to be snarky and standoffish, these girls we’re leaning toward wild.

"Hi," I look up from my clipboard to see a scrawny girl, she has long black hair in two French braids, a summer camp staple. "My thing says that Ellie is my counsellor and I don't know who that is."

"All good," I bend down to her height, "It's that pretty girl over there," I point at Ellie, she's talking to one of the girls in her cabin, and her dark eyebrows are furrowed at what I can only assume to be an absurd question. "You're in the Grizzly Cabin, looks like I'll be seeing a lot of you."

The girl doesn't answer me with words, from the way she's looking at me you'd think I just told her that I sat on her hamster. She gives me one last side glance before she struts off and lugs her duffle bag behind her. "That weird girl said I was in your cabin," I hear ever so faintly in the distance, Ellie bites back a laugh.

I shake off the not-so-subtle cruelty of a pre-teen and go back to yelling for all of the girls in my cabin. So far I had seven of the eight campers I was supposed to have, I was in the lead and if I collected all of the girls in my cabin first, that would be more points towards the camp cup. You should know that I take the camp cup very seriously, it really isn't anything more than a trophy that Tommy and Joel give to a cabin but I haven't lost it in the past five years that I've worked here.

"Is your name Tamar?" I point at a stubby ginger girl, "You look like your name is Tamar," I was on the hunt for the eighth girl in my cabin so I could win the arrival day points.

"Uh, no," She said, looking as muddled as scrambled eggs "My name is Marcy."

"Then get out of here, Marcy," I look past her and nod at a girl with skin the colour of ebony wood "Are you Tamar?" This girl looks around to double-check that I'm talking to her before she shakes her head no.

"Who's my counsellor then?" Marcy who stands at a maximum of what looks to be a mighty 4'3 is peering into my soul with her icy blue eyes and I almost shudder, all I could think is that someone needed to get this four-foot-nothing girl some contact lenses.

"Your counsellor and cabin should be on the slip of paper that administration gave you."

"I lost my paper."

"Um," I glance around at the other counsellors, collecting their campers. My eyes settle on Abby, she's wearing a Camp Honey Hills T-shirt. She looks like she's got everything more put together and organized than any other counsellor so I decided to dump this kid on her. "It's that blonde girl with the big muscles, you better hurry because she'll crush you if you aren't there in time."

Marcy looks at Abby and then back to me with wide eyes at my words before she scurries away. As I watch her roll up to Abby's group, I quickly realize that there is no way she is in that cabin. Abby got the oldest group, consisting of fourteen and fifteen-year-olds and I was sure that Marcy, with all of her missing teeth, was no older than nine. I avert my eyes to avoid any wrath.

I spot Jesse who is trying to wrangle up his boys who are already rough housing and throwing each other in the dirt. Somehow he always ends up with the returning campers or the savage ones who would surely put my head on a stick before taking a shower.

"Is this the White Tail Deer Cabin?" A girl with pale skin and brown hair stares me down, she's tall for her age and lanky.

"Are you Tamar?"

"Yeah," She says it like she's annoyed.

"Perfect," I smile, turning to my group "Alright girls, that's everyone," I turn to look in Tommy's direction "I said that's everyone," I enunciate louder to be sure he can hear me, each of my campers gives one another a snide glance.

Tommy presses his lips together in a thin line and answers me with a thumbs-up. He already knew I would be the first to get my group together, I always was. He and Joel are the camp directors, they were talking about something before I called their attention.

Marcy points at me and Abby looks in my direction, her eyebrows knit together. Great, now I was being snitched on my nine-year-old. Abby calls out my name but I'm already ushering my girls towards the cabins "Who wants to see the cabin?"

In just moments, I'm long gone and walking the trail to the girl's cabins. Breathing one last moment of peace, the earthy bitterness in the air, droplets of last night's rain slipping off leaves. It made me want to savour every moment in the forest I had before summer ended and I had to go back to stuffy dorms and lectures along with people as boring as the city itself. I've never been able to fathom why anyone would dream of the city, of the drug users and creepy men roaming the streets. Concrete everything and headaches from blue light, every day that I was away at college I dreamed of coming back here, I counted down the days I could turn my phone off and disappear from the world for a while.

The boys may have had a shorter walk to their bunkhouse but the girls definitely got the better view. It also didn't hurt that the circle of cabins was right beside the pasture so we woke up to watch horse grazing, unless you don't like horses, then you can just ignore them I guess.

"Okay, ladies," I open the door to our cabin, a little carving of a doe above the doorframe. "This is our cabin, go ahead and claim your bunks, I don't care who goes where, just don't fight about it and no one set up on my bed."

"How do we know which one is yours?" One of the girls, Leslie, asks.

"Because it's the only one that's set up," I say, bluntly and I see the realization hit her like it was a math equation that finally clicked in her head "You guys can unpack and I'll go over the cabin constitution in a minute."

As my campers piled into the cabin, ravenously fighting over who got which bed, I saw Ellie walking up with her girls. Our cabins were right next to each other, we shared a little porch that Maria decorates with plants while Ellie and I neglect them until they're wilted and we try to save them so we don't get yelled at. Alternatively, dump the responsibility of nurturing plants on one of your campers, kids love to water stuff and feel important.

Ellie's campers begin to walk up the porch and into the cabin, one of her girls runs up to me "I wanna be in your cabin again," Lana pouts, I had her last year and I can't say that I have a least favourite camper but if I could, it would definitely be Lana. "Ellen is so mean."

"Well, maybe she would be nicer if you said her name right." I look up to see Ellie who mouths a 'Thank you' "Call her Ellie and maybe you two can be nice to each other."

Lana looks between the two of us before wordlessly walking into the cabin in trail of the other girls. "It's shaping up to be an interesting summer."

"We've survived worse," I cross my arms "Do you remember Tucker? That kid Jesse had who managed to tie a piece of dental floss around a wasp and carry it around with him all day like a balloon."

"He was a little weird but he was chill," Ellie jokes, like every other counsellor, she's wearing the Honey Hills T-Shirt and Demin shorts, her auburn hair pulled back into a half up half down style "How about that girl in Dina's cabin who wrote Reid letters pretending to be Priya?"

I laugh "I can't believe it went on so long."

"I can, Reid's a fucking idiot." She says "He pronounces chutney like chut-uh-ney."

"Oh my god, I hate that so much," I was obviously dragging on this conversation, hunting for reasons to talk to her "And the way he says Ibiza and Cuba and like everything."

"Do you remember when he joined the women supporting women club in high school?"

"Please don't remind me, that was awful," I chuckle "The worst part is that he ran that shit like the navy."

"Are you coming inside?" Chloe pokes her head out the door.

"I guess so," I answer "Uh, I'll see you at the campfire," I tell Ellie before stepping into my cabin and seeing pure chaos. The four bunkbeds that were pristinely set up just hours ago were now clad in each girl's personal bedding, ranging from Chloe's neat colour scheme of light blue and white to Kim's mismatched quilts, fuzzy pillows, and bright orange sleeping bag. They were still working on getting everything set up, specifically getting the fitted sheets onto the twin-sized waterproof mattress. Some of the girls were even beginning to tape up photos of their friends and family from back home. "Wow, looks great girls."

"Can we go to dinner yet?" Leslie asked, her twin braids hanging over her pink hoodie.

"No, it is three o'clock but we will go over the cabin constitution." A couple of the girls let out groans of disapproval "First you always listen to me, do as I say not as I do. Respect others and their belongings, please don't hurt anyone or yourself. Maintain personal hygiene and do not go anywhere without telling someone where. Also, we have shower schedules, showers are absolutely mandatory, and no one will talk their way out of it. On Friday's we have tuck shop, and everyone gets a twenty dollar allowance for that, no you do not actually touch the money it's part of the camp package, I take your orders and come back with candy. We have campfires every night, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are mandatory to attend even if you don't eat which I strongly encourage you do."

"Do we have to go if we're sick?" Tamar asked me.

"No."

"But you just said it was mandatory."

"It's mandatory if you aren't sick."

"But you said-

"Stop," I clasp my hands together "I know I'm older than you guys but I promise you can tell me and ask me anything." I smile, looking around "Any other questions?"

"Can we swear?" Valentina asks, she's kicking her feet off her bed on the top bunk. Her skin is the colour of copper and she has a little dusting of freckles over her button nose.

"I don't really care just don't do it around other adults and don't tell them that I told you that."

"What's the wifi?" Morgan was typing something on her phone which was by far more expensive than the model I owned. Dina had Morgan in previous years and I wasn't too thrilled to be in charge of the (as she claimed) disrespectful blonde monster sent from hell to ruin her life.

"We don't have wifi, we hardly have service," I tell her "And you aren't even supposed to have your phone here but you can't do anything on it anyways so it doesn't matter."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Leah chimes in, she's sitting on the ground with Oliver and slowly but surely braiding her friend's hair.

"Not at the moment, no."

"So are you a lesbian?" Olive follows up for her friend.

"Um," I press my lips together, my mind failing me, "I think we're good on questions, who wants a camp tour?" No one says or does anything, they just kind of look around awkwardly "That's too bad, you're getting one."

Everyone gathered around the crackling fire pit on splintered wooden benches. The warm glow of the campfire flickered in the midst of a cool summer night, casting dancing shadows on the faces of worn-out campers who were ready for bed.

Tommy had given his speech to sike up the kids for the rest of the summer, he made sleeping in the woods sound like a lot of fun. "We're giving you tonight to settle in but I promise that starting tomorrow we are hitting the ground running, activities from morning until dark, this will be a summer to remember," He smiles brightly "I don't wanna babble too long so I'm gonna give the attention to Miles who is going to kick off our campfire by playing the guitar for us."

Miles sat directly across from me in the first row of benches so I could only see him through the orange flames of the fire. "This is an original song I wrote, so far it's untitled but I'm open to ideas," He made himself comfortable with the guitar, readjusting it to sit in his lap properly.

"What do you wanna bet it's about?" Ellie whispers into my ear from beside me. Since the day cooled into the night, she's thrown on a gray hoodie to keep herself warm. You would be an idiot to ignore how pretty she looks illuminated by nothing more than stray stars in the sky and a campfire.

"I'll put five bucks on sex,"

"Sex?" She raises her eyebrows "I don't think he's stupid enough to sing a song about sex in front of kids, I'm gonna say it's about being a tortured artist."

"It could easily be both," I look down and see Ellie's muddied converse "We break even if he does both." The fire roared before us like our own miniature hell.

Miles clears his throat and lets his curly blonde locks fall over his forehead. Beginning to strum, he made that weird face he makes every time he plays guitar, where he scrunched his eyebrows together "Baby, maybe, I just wanna do you, do you, do you wanna do me? do me underneath the moonlight," He's too lost in his song to see the horror on every counsellor's face "Baby, baby, maybe I will steal you, steal you, just so I can feel you, feel you, maybe that would heal you."

I cover my mouth with my hand to stop me from cackling. The older kids were on the verge of laughing themselves while the younger kids seemed utterly confused. "Holy shit," I mutter so quietly that my words got blown away with the wind.

Ellie didn't try to stop her laughter, just hide it, she buried her head into the crook of my neck so no one could see how red her face was. She was far better off than Dina who was laughing so hard that she was clutching her stomach and nearly falling over, Miles seemed to be oblivious to all of this. In Dina’s defence, it was difficult not to laugh at a song so wildly inappropriate and bad in general.

Miles had far from the best voice, he just sounded like every other white guy who sang Wonderwall at a girl, not to her but at her "Sticky thighs are you wild now or just a memory? I heard your broken cries and looked into your eyes under the moonlight, so do you wanna do me, do me, so I can heal you, heal you, from the inside-

He stops abruptly when Joel takes the guitar away from him "How about Sawyer tells us the camp legend instead."

Those who knew who Sawyer was looked towards him, Miles was trying helplessly to get his guitar back from Joel who was holding it just slightly out of reach. "It's been a while since I've told this so forgive me if-

"No one cares, just tell it," Ashlynn said. She was one of the counsellors who clearly didn't want to be there, which meant all of the campers thought her to be the coolest; in all fairness, she was cool. Ashlynn had bleach blonde shaggy hair, so light that it almost looked white. Her eyeliner was always a little smudged and she was only there to keep the kids alive, she tended to be the first to opt out of group activities and go to bed early.

"Okay well, it starts way back in the sixteen-hundreds, on these very grounds there was a small village," Sawyer put on his best storytelling voice which was just him lowering his voice an octave. "They lived in peace for decades, and throughout all of those decades there was a woman named Abigail who never seemed to age, while all of her friends and family developed wrinkles, their hair turned gray, and their bodies sagged, Abigail still looked nineteen even at her alleged age of sixty-seven."

The new campers seemed enraptured but returning kids and counsellors seemed bored out of their minds, I even spotted one boy who's been attending this camp longer than I have, mouthing the words of Sawyers tale.

"They accused her of witchcraft and she was shortly exiled far up the hill into what we now call the Honey House. They left her with nothing more than a hunting knife, a canteen of water, the clothes on her back, and a small portion of seeds. The villages burned down her home in town along with everything inside it. If you think that is the end-

"Think again!" Dina cut in, getting up from her spot and squeezing herself beside Sawyer. "With Abigail gone the villagers thought they would be safe but just days after Abigail was exiled, anomalies began to appear-

Sawyer chimed back in "At first they were harmless, pixies, gnomes, jackalopes, nyiads by the rivers and dryads in the trees. The creatures appearing slowly began to appear more and more dangerous and at last, the snatchers arrived-

"Like a muscular and tall emaciated human. The most terrifying creatures to ever be seen, they roamed just outside of the village and lured children in, they slurped the flesh right off of the children's bodies like prey and wore the clothes of their last victim. They have no lips just a bloody gash and when they don't eat, the gash begins to reseal, leaving nothing on their gray faces but large and pale sunken eyes the size of my fist!" Dina clenched her hand into a fist and held it up for everyone to see.

"Their fingers are long and rotted, long curls of claws on each of their ten spindly fingers. The males are devoid of all hair and the females hardly have hair at all, just small plugs of greasy and matted strands. Their teeth are sharper than fangs and are rotten black and yellow, a foul odour escaping each time they open their disgusting gashes of a mouth. Though the snatchers were the most feared among villagers, they were also being terrorized by other creatures, such as pine devils who slithered from the forests at night and attacked families. There was ghouls who would take on the form of the last corpse they devoured and of course, the wampus which was half-man and half-cat, would stalk villagers.”

"Like a furry?" One of the boys from Jesse's cabin peeped.

"No," Sawyer exasperated "Like a scary and intimidating cat-man."

"So does it look more like the Cat in the Hat or like Cats the Musical?"

"It doesn't look like either, it's a terrifying man that is covered in fur and looks like a cat but is also a man."

"So Cats the Musical?"

Dina ignored the comment and continued with the story "After a year the village population had been cut in half and everyone thought it to be the witch, they figured that Abigail had cursed them for exiling her so they lit up their torches at sunset and marched up the hill to the Honey House. Abigail pleaded with them and explained that she hadn't cursed them but during her residency in the village she had warded off each evil spirit and creature with her witchcraft but she no longer could protect the village after they burned her home down and all her supplies inside of it."

After muttering to Jesse to get his cabin in order, Sawyer picked up when Dina left off "The villagers begged for her forgiveness and apologised for their cruel acts in the hope that Abigail would rid them of the monsters, Abigail said she would but in return they grant her return to the village, so the townfolk agree-

"With all her supplies to ward off the creatures gone, Abigail resorts to a blood ritual. She tells the townfolk that they must complete the ritual before sundown. She creates five pentagrams made of sticks and twine. Abigail races around the village to place the pentagrams and avoid the creatures while she does so, the villagers ward the monsters away from her with their torches. At each pentagram, Abigail slices her palm open and squeezes her fist to drip blood onto each one, then she ignites the pentagram with a torch and utters an incantation. She slashes her thighs and calves to get enough blood and in a last-ditch effort, she cuts her wrists open to finalize the ritual," Only the younger kids had been paying any attention to the story, they seemed downright terrified, clinging to one another but trying to play it cool.

"I fail to see how this is any less inappropriate than Miles's song," Cat mutters with one girl huddled into her, her arm slung over the little girl and rubbing her back to soothe her.

"Once she had completed the ritual, Abigail said that no creatures should return to the village. She is bleeding out in the middle of the town square but the town doctor only watches her, and refuses to help so she begs the appointed mayor to bury her beside her mother, he answers by saying 'The graveyard is sacred and we will not let it be tainted by filthy witch blood' in her final breath she plunged for the mayor and drags her bloody palms down his face, cursing him. Once she is no longer breathing her body begins to rapidly age into the appearance of the sixty-eight-year-old woman she was supposed to be. The townsfolk cut Abigail's body into five parts, two legs, two arms, and the torso with the head still attached and buried her on the border of the village."

Everyone sat in silence "Is that the end?" someone asked, though they were in the back row of benches and I couldn't see who it was.

"Yup," I answer "Abigail gets renamed as 'the girl that time forgot' in folklore and she never gets revenge on the townsfolk for betraying her after she laid down her life for them." I had never liked the legend. Young boys thought it was cool and gory and fifteen-year-old girls thought it was poetic and tragic but I hated it to death. Other camps have fun light-hearted legends about playful forest spirits or secret villages of fairies deep in the woods but we got an edgy story about a woman who just wanted to be loved.

"I wish she let the snatchers eat them all," Ellie said the same thing that she says every year, she wasn't wrong, that's how I wished it ended too.

"Just wait until one eats you," I joke.

"Nah, I'd kick it's ass."

"I'm sure you would but right now you owe be five bucks.”

"No, we didn't pick this legend, it's true," I heard Jesse's voice cutting through the conversations of the crowd.

"Bullshit," Mordecai said, he was one of those kids who thought it was cool and edgy to be an asshole and act older than he was. He despised summer camp but every summer his parents forced him back much to our dismay.

"It's not," Bowie jumped in "The snatchers come back to visit us sometimes."

"Yeah? I thought Abigail banished them with blood magic."

"The spell is growing weaker with time, it's slowly wearing out and there hasn't been a witch to revive it," Jesse was a good storyteller, he should've been the one to deliver the camp legend. He found a way to enrapture people with his words.

That's when I decided to call it a night for my girls, the longer you stayed at the campfire, the more outlandish stories the guys would tell and I learned my lesson last year that it is very easy to give ten-year-olds nightmares. "Whitetail deer, we're heading out," I stand up.

A few of the girls had groans and complaints while others seemed happy to leave. Ellie looked up at me from where I stood and did the same "Grizzlies, we're leaving too,"

"You're just saying that because you wanna hit it, Williams," Dean said between obviously fake coughs into his fist, causing Ashlynn to bite back a smile and Miles to playfully punch him on the arm.

"Dean," Tommy gave him a stern look and said nothing else, Dean took the hint and ceased his laughter.

"Headcount," I say looking at the girls in front of me "Chloe, Leslie, Kim, Leah, Tamar, Morgan, Valentina, and Olive." Each of them stands in a close-huddled bundle "Alright, don't go off trail."

The walk back from the campfire was gorgeous during the day and borderline mortifying at night. Since the foliage was so thick you could hardly see the sky if you looked up and at night the little piece of clearing that was the trail was pitch black, we were guided by nothing more than mine and Ellie's flashlights.

The two of us had been trailing behind the girls in silence to keep an eye on everyone until Ellie felt the urge to speak up "Uh, by the way, that thing that Dean said about-

"I don't care."

"You don't?"

"Yeah he's a dick and his cabin looks like a wooden prison cell."

"It does," She furrows her eyebrows in thought "It’s like he's conditioning his campers for war."

I didn't notice when I did this, it must've been a subconscious thing but I mindlessly reached for Ellie's hand to hold. I used my free hand to keep the flashlight focused on the trail and campers ahead of us. "Sawyer has to walk back to the bunkhouses across the camp with those little monsters."

"Payback for all of the pranks he's pulled with Bowie," Ellie mutters. Sawyer took pride in initiating the prank wars every single summer the same way I strove to win the camp cup. His pranks weren't also lighthearted and fun, he and Bowie organized this prank where Sawyer put a bag over Tyson's head and dragged him to the administration office in the middle of the night and then pretended to shoot Bowie dead in front of him. Tyson quit the next morning and Sawyer got a hefty write-up.

"So are you still talking to Cat?" I ask.

"Nah, that was never gonna work out."

"Because she's too hot for you?” I joke.

"What? No," She whipped her head to look at me "Why? You wanna get with her or something, you have my blessing."

"I'm good, I'm a little preoccupied at the moment."

"Who with?" Her voice dripped with accusation. Ellie's hand clenching just the slightest bit tighter on mine.

"Work? You should know that I don't date at camp, to think that I thought you knew me," I tease her.

"What about that summer with Chandler?"

"That doesn't count," My smile drops and I fight the urge to shiver at the memories. Before I was a counsellor at Honey Hills, I was a camper and I happened to have my first kiss at age thirteen with a boy named Chandler, our braces got stuck together.

"Everyone saw, so it counts," I can't quite make out Ellie's face in the dark but I can hear the smile in her voice "Remember how Joel had to pull out the pliers."

"You need to stop before I sacrifice you to the Honey Hills Snatchers," I look ahead on the trail and I could've sworn my heart stopped "Stop!" I yell and all of the girls look back at me, I drop Ellie's hand "Where is Olive?"

All of the campers look at each other for answers, and then Leah opens her mouth "She saw a rock that was shaped like a heart and when off trail to get it."

"Well I'm not seeing a heart-shaped rock or Olive but it's super safe in these woods so no need to panic."

"No one's panicking," One of the girls in Ellie's cabin says, she was the same one who called me weird during arrival.

I run one hand down my face in exasperation, using the other to keep the flashlight trained on the girls "Everyone, stay here with Ellie, I'm going to be right back," I look at Leah "How far back did she go off trail?"

She shrugs "How am I supposed to know? I don't have a tape measure."

"Sweet," I answer before marching straight into the pitch-black woods. It was almost scarier to be in the dark with a flashlight instead of no light source, it felt like I had been in a video game or horror movie and I was about to get my throat slashed by a maniac in a mask.

Every rustle of leaves or snap of twigs made me feel uneasy. I knew the woods were safe like I had told the girls but that didn't stop irrational fear from bringing up stories of cryptids and cuts from murder podcasts. If you ever played that shitty Slenderman game, you'd know exactly what I'm looking at; not Slenderman himself, just an eery forest.

I called out for Olive, my imagination running wild with thoughts of unseen dangers lurking in the shadows. The forest seemed to come alive around me, its inhabitants whispering secrets that only the night could hear.

"Olive?" My voice echoes into the night, I did what I could to ignore whatever fear I was feeling. I had walked through these woods a million times, I knew every pathway better than I knew the city. This forest was like home to me, it didn't feel right to be so on edge.

I couldn't help but jump when something loud snapped beneath my sneaker, instinctively I brought my flashlight down to look at it, moving my foot out of the way. It had been a pentagram made out of sticks, wow really funny, it might've scared me if Ashlynn and Bowie hadn't made dozens of them and laid them around camp last summer to scare the shit out of kids. It had broken in half beneath my weight.

There was a possibility that I was going crazy in the five minutes I was alone in the woods because I thought I heard a rustle but the beam of my flashlight revealed nothing but the dense thicket of trees and the inky blackness beyond.

Something charged behind me, wrapping its skinny arms around my torse and I couldn't help but flinch. "Olive," I turned my head and brought the flashlight to shine down on her "Don't run off in the dark ever again, you scared the shit out of me."

"I'm really sorry, I won't do it again," She said. I tried to pry her off me but she was hanging on like a Koala, eventually, I got her to settle for just holding my hand. "It was stupid."

"Don't beat yourself up too much, you're ginger and that's punishment enough," I was hastily yanking her along so we could get back on the trail and shortly back into the comfort of the cabin "Did you get your rock at least?"

"Yeah," She held her palm out, the rock was an oval with the littlest indent in the middle, but I let her act like it was shaped like a heart.

"How'd you get so far out?"

"I grabbed the rock and then I saw a cat and I followed it."

Cat? "You must've seen Buckley, he's friendly," I tell her. Buckley was the resident dog at camp, he was probably older than me and wandered around before settling at Tommy and Maria's cabin for the night.

A moment after I dragged the little girl along we broke past the tree line and into the clearing of the trail. I looked around and spotted Ellie and the girls a good 40 yards or so behind. Clutching Olive's tiny hand in mine I walked towards them, flicking my flashlight on and off to catch their attention.

"Finally wrangled her," I let out an almost nervous laugh.

"You said not to go off trail," Tamar wrinkled her nose.

"Yes, Tamar, I know."

I don't know how late into the night it was when I was awoken by every girl in my cabin squabbling with one another. I got up and turned on the flashlight that I kept on my dingy bedside table "What's going on girls?"

"The snatcher is coming to get us!" Leslie cried, and I mean cried. Her face was red and puffy, her eyes were so glassy that they reflected any and all light, hot tears streaming down her round face.

That's when my annoyance turned to concern. Oh god, I was going to kick Sawyer and Dina's asses tomorrow morning and Joel for even suggesting the camp legend even though it made my campers too afraid to sleep year after year. "No, snatchers aren't real, they were made up in the sixteen hundreds to keep kids away from the forest."

"We heard it!" Morgan chimed in.

"Guys it's just the placebo effect, you've convinced yourself that it's real-

I froze when I heard a long scratch down the door and a wet guttural growl. It was low and deep, shaking me to my very core. Whoever was on the other side began to scratch harshly on the door, jiggling the locked door handle. When the handle didn't budge it began to slam itself on the door, each thump louder than the last. It was still groaning and grumbling in a harsh, awful voice.

The girls screamed, Olive and Leah, were hugging each other tightly, clenching their eyes shut. Valentina had a bottom bunk and slipped beneath the bed, covering her eyes with her hands. Leslie (like I had mentioned) was a blubbering mess, crying and hyperventilating too hard to get any words out. It looked like Morgan was trying to call someone on her phone and Tamar had her knees tucked to her chest, hugging herself. Both Kim and Chloe threw their blankets over top of them, pretending to disappear.

The voice sounded again except this time I realized it wasn't just a growl, it was a word "Girrrrllllls." Then it began to scratch the door all over again. When I tell you this voice was the most unsettling thing I've ever heard, I mean it. It was wet and phlegmy whilst being course and grumbly. From the very beginning, I had known it was a prank.

I marched towards the door flicking on the light in the cabin on and dropping my flashlight, before hammering my fists on the door "Fuck off!" I kicked the door, the sound stopped for just a moment before it slammed itself against the door.

Each thud against the sturdy wooden door reverberated through the night like a thunderclap. Whoever was sent to scare us was sure doing a good job. Their breathing was low and heavy almost as loud as the banging of the door itself. "Don't open the door," Leslie heaved out between sobs.

The girls huddled together in terror, their breaths hitching in fear as they strained to discern the source of the horrifying sounds "Girrllllllssss," It grumbled again "GIRRRLLSSSSCOMMOUT," I could see the door moving with the force of whoever was deeply committed to this role. The growling slowly morphed into a screech or maybe it was something more like a hiss.

I was almost at my breaking point, the first day of camp and I already had to deal with these bullshit pranks. I decided to slam my body against the door, matching whoever was on the other side "Go back to your cabin, you piece of shit!" I kept banging my fist and slamming my palms against the door until I heard them scuttle away.

Reaching for a baseball out of Valentina's open duffle bag, I swung the door open and saw the slender figure of what I assumed to be a teenage boy running to the pasture "Tell Sawyer to eat shit!" I yelled before throwing the ball at the figure, it hit them but it didn't do much, they just stumbled for a split second before disappearing into darkness.

"What the fuck is that noise?" Dina shouted from her cabin, I could tell I had woken her up from a nice sleep from the way her puffy eyes were squinting in my direction. A few girls poked their heads outside from the doorframe behind Dina.

"What happened?" Now Priya was walking towards my porch. Her long black hair was braided perfectly and she had her silk sleepmask pulled onto her forehead. She still looked put together in a hoodie and bunny pyjama pants.

"Can you guys shut the fuck up?" Ellie opened her door and looked me up and down.

"Be quiet!" Abby shouted from an open window in her cabin. By this point, I was sure everyone in the girl's bunk houses was wide awake and I would be getting a stern talking to by either, Tommy, Joel, or Maria, honestly, I didn't know which was worse.

Confusion quickly grew on Ellie's face, she lowered her voice "What's going on?"

All eyes were on me for answers but I didn't have any. Despite convincing myself it was a prank, that didn't stop my hands from shaking. "It was one of the boys playing a prank, don't worry about it, he's long gone by now."

"Fucking Sawyer," Dina murmured walking back into her cabin and slamming the door behind her.

"Are you girls okay in there?" Priya asked, looking at the mortified girls in my cabin, concern etched across her bronze face. "It was a dumb joke, you're all okay now."

Priya had invited herself into my cabin to offer her solace to the probably traumatized little girls, while she was doing so, I pressed myself flat against the front of the cabin, between mine and Ellie's doors, trying to process how I was going to find a way to make these girls unafraid.

"They do that prank every year and it's almost crazy how it's literally never been funny," I tell Ellie while I stare straight ahead at the pasture they faded away into.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Ellie stands next to me, leaning against the wall "We'll get them back tenfold."

"Those girls are all gonna wanna call their parents and I'm so fucked," I drag my hands down my face. I didn't want to see the look on Joel's face when I tell him about this. There's gonna be sixteen parents who will spam call the camp and verbally harass me over the phone, this wasn't my first rodeo. Sure the prank was shitty but I guarantee no one is leaving this summer with newfound trauma to tell their therapist in a decade.

"Relax, he's just gonna chew out the boys for pulling this shit again."

I looked at her for a moment, the silence hung between us like birds on a wire before I lunged in for a hug. She was a little taken aback but didn't seem to mind "I just need a hug, don't make it weird."

"Okay, wasn't planning on it," She teased. I took a deep breath in and caught the scent of firewood, petrichor, and axe body spray, an Ellie classic.

“I'm really glad I have you as a friend," I mutter into her shoulder, so quietly that I wasn't even sure she heard me. I let us stay like that for longer than I probably should've before breaking away "Okay, I gotta be a grown-up and deal with this instead of letting Priya do recon."

She nodded pressing her lips together in the same awkward way the socially inept guys from high school did "See you for breakfast?"

"For sure," I smile and walk back into my cabin to see Priya sitting next to Chloe with one soothing hand rubbing her back. "Thanks, Priya, I'll take it from here, you outta get back to your girls."

Priya had this maternal way about her, I wasn't sure what it was but she sure had the ability to nurture. She started at camp last year and I was happy to see her return. She gave her farewells to all of the girls who had only met her minutes ago and were already attached.

"Can I be in her cabin?" Kim asked, she had finally calmed down.

"No, you're in my cabin where we have fun like this every night!" I forced a smile on my face trying to get the girls back into a good mood.

"This isn't fun at all," Tamar, said, bluntly may I add.

"Yeah, this sucks," Morgan added on.

"Guys, listen," I began "I'm super sorry this happened, I need all of you to know that it's just a really bad prank, it happens every year to different cabins. Boy being boys- sorry I shouldn't say that because you guys are young and I know their gender shouldn't excuse their bad behaviour but what I'm trying to say is guys are assholes."

"Yeah, they're assholes!" Olive repeated.

"Maybe don't shout that," I pointed at her "But they are and if you want I will storm down to their cabins right now and yell at them until they cry."

The cabin began to erupt in shouts of no, little girls with wide eyes, frantically shaking their heads. "Please don't leave us alone," Leah pleaded.

"Okay, I won't, I'll yell at them in the morning. Do you guys want me to leave the lights on?" Everyone answered with a 'yes' to my question.

"Where are you going?" Valentina asked me, peeking out from beneath her thick layers of blankets.

"To my bed?”

"That's too far away from us."

I let out a deep breath "Alright, I'll just bring my sleeping bag onto the floor and I will sleep in the middle, okay?" Nothing better than sleeping on the hardwood floor in the middle of four bunkbeds and eight ten-year-old girls.

Surrounded by the shallow breathing of girls far too startled to sleep, I decided that tomorrow I would wake up dressed in adventure, straddling a star. Every day that follows I will guide these girls to the moon and back.

A/N: Hi y’all, I’ve been gone a hot minute because of medical issues and whenever I have time to write, I’m too tired to. Anyways, we’re back and better. I know I should probably finish my other series but I’ve had this one drafted for a while and since I’m super sick and basically confined to my house for the next week I’m hoping to get this series done. Thanks for reading!

@readbydayana

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green-fifteen · 2 months ago

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HENCH

tags: not!fic, stobin, russians, post-starcourt, POV outsider

word count: 1744

The intention here is slapstick levels of tomfoolery and incompetence. In which I give a henchman every opportunity to put the clues together.

written for @stobinmonth prompt: pins (but it quickly grew out of hand)

So after the mall "fire," the Russians are humiliated. They have just enough information about the trespassers that caused this disaster to be able to start a manhunt. Obviously, they're a bit low on resources, but after a few months they send the best guy they have left. Let's call him Igor.

Now, Igor is not supposed to be going into the field. Father said he only had to man the camera feeds for a little while and then he'd get promoted out of the lower ranks. But Father was crushed to death underneath a mall and the remaining leadership think he looks tough because he has broad shoulders. Therefore, despite his personal objections, he is sent into greater Hawkins, Indiana to sniff out their enemies.

Igor has heard a little about these enemies. He heard the special agent was insolent and stubborn under torture. He heard the accomplice who rushed in to save him was a mighty terror of a man, hulking over everyone in the room. It makes him cautious as he settles his equipment into his motel room, eyes tracking suspiciously over anyone taller than average.

Luckily, he seems to attract very little attention as he stalks the town. Even when he can't find cover, the townspeople don't seem to look at him twice. He gets a little more confident and starts entering buildings, notepad held open in front of him. He checks the name tags pinned to the clothing of service workers, looking for Steve, looking for Dustin Henderson. These are his only leads and he finds nothing. He begins to wonder what he is doing. After all, wouldn't highly sophisticated and well-connected spies have moved on from this tiny little town by now? But leadership is certain Steve at least is hiding in plain sight, working a low-income job to stay off their radar. Apparently, he'd been wearing some kind of ice cream costume when he'd been apprehended. He just keeps checking.

On his eighth day in town, Igor gets bored. He goes out during the day to surveil the town in person, then returns to his room to surveil their transmissions overnight. He is tired, he is lonely, and he just wants 90 minutes to himself.

He goes to the video store.

It's a strange country, America. The women on the television are picketing for God while the Family Video is advertising something called Chopping Mall. Igor shudders and keeps looking. He's turning over a film about high school basketball when he hears a voice call out.

"Are you finding everything okay?" says a young woman. He instinctively reads the name tag pinned to her vest.

Steve.

His eyes fix on her face. He watches her carefully as she takes in his appearance-- his dark jacket and close cropped blonde hair. She scoots away a tiny bit as he continues to scowl at her and startles slightly when he thrusts the tape into her hands.

Igor knows this is not Steve of the Starcourt embarrassment. Steve had been an impressive male agent sent to infiltrate their base. Steve had managed to knock out Lev "Rabid Bear" Mikhailov in the control room. He watches her closely anyway as she takes the tape with her behind the counter.

"Um, do you have your card with you?"

He falters. Doesn't know what she's talking about.

"It's okay if you don't? Just give me your phone number, I can look you up in the computer."

Igor hesitates, thinking fast.

"I just moved here two month ago," he says. "I don't remember my number… and my… American wife has the wideo card."

Her eyes go wide and she ducks under the counter. When she emerges, her hands are shaking around a white and yellow book. She squints at him and smiles without teeth.

"Not to worry," she says. "This is the latest phone book. Just came out this month. Let's see if we can find you."

They stare at each other for a few seconds, before her words catch up to his brain. A book with all the names and numbers in town? Forgetting the movie and forgetting the girl who is not Steve, he picks up the book as if he means to page through it.

Then suddenly and without warning, he bolts to the door and out into the night, leaving the girl shouting behind him.

By the next morning, Igor has the address and phone number of Claudia Henderson memorized. It is a little odd, he thinks, that Dustin isn't listed but his wife is. Well, America is a strange country. A whole book of personal information for anyone to find, imagine! When he thinks it's late enough in the morning for someone to be awake, he calls the house.

It rings three times before a man's voice answers. "Henderson house, who's calling?"

Without a word, he hangs up the phone and grabs his shoes. He finally found Dustin Henderson and now it is time to kill him. He is pretty sure he can do that. He even has a gun.

When he gets to the Henderson home, there is a car there. The lemon his superiors gave him is a rusty gray color and looks ancient in comparison to the shiny red vehicle in the driveway. Disdain briefly overwhelms any other emotion he might have been feeling as he abruptly remembers he is here to kill a filthy capitalist. It will be easy, he thinks. He deserves to die, he thinks.

To his surprise, as he steps out of the car, the door of the Henderson house opens in sync. There is a man standing there, young and dressed like he's on his way to work. He wears the vest of a Family Video employee.

A younger, curlier boy is next to him and spots Igor first.

"Holy shit!" he breathes. "I knew it, I was right. It was Hoosiers guy on the phone this morning!" He's bouncing with energy, but he clutches at his friend like he understands Igor has come to his house to kill.

The older boy looks at Igor like he knows him. This must be Dustin Henderson. He is a lot smaller than anticipated, but soldiers have been known to exaggerate.

He takes one step closer and Dustin Henderson is across the yard in an instant, throwing punches. In his brief panic, he doesn't even think to reach for his gun before it's being pulled away from him by the small, curly-headed one. Henderson takes the gun and brings it up and then down onto Igor's head.

When he wakes up, he's cold and his head hurts like hell. There's a strip of something tied over his eyes and around his wrists.

He hears it when his captors notice he's awake.

"He isn't dead!" someone shrieks. The curly boy. He speaks too loudly.

"No shit, Sherlock. Now pipe down." The voice is feminine and vaguely familiar.

Someone prods him. "Hey," they say. "The feds are on their way. Are you thirsty?"

"Don't ask him if he's thirsty! He came to my house to kill me!"

"Listen, man, you've never had a head injury like that." He addresses Igor again. "How's your neck feel?"

What sick game is he playing, pretending concern? He grits his teeth and says nothing. Already he can feeling himself cracking under Henderson's interrogation. This is not good.

The trio converses quietly and then one of them steps forward. "Who have you been sent to find?" It's the woman. Her voice pierces his sick brain like a thin knife.

"Robin, you don't have to speak so loud, Jesus. He's Russian, not deaf. Cut the concussed guy a break."

Break? Igor reminds himself he will not break under questioning. He will not betray his comrades, despite the horrific mind games of his enemy.

"ARE YOU AN IDIOT? Why would you say me name?" she screeches. He can swear he feels blood pooling behind his ears.

"It's not like he isn't already after you, too! You were there!"

"But we don't know that! For all we know the Russians are as sexist as they are stupid and managed to forget all about me and Erica."

A humorless snort. "Yeah, because you were both so quiet and unassuming the entire time."

"Guys! Shut up and focus on the prisoner? Please?"

There is a moment of silence and then Igor hears the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. His own gun, he guesses. He never even got to fire it.

"Tell us what you know," the girl called Robin says. There is steel in her voice now.

And well, Igor wasn't exactly trained before being given clearance to the base. Father said it wasn't necessary, that he could learn on the job. Besides, the interrogation resistance lessons sounded horrible and painful. Why go through that when it would likely never happen?

So he is much more disappointed than surprised when he opens his mouth and the truth comes out.

"I am sent to kill Dustin Henderson and special agent Steve. They will die for what they have done to my countrymen."

A shout of anger from Robin. "See! Oh my God, you have got to be kidding me."

"Don't tell Erica," Henderson pleads.

The small one answers. "Good luck keeping it from her."

It is at this point that a siren whoops once from outside and his captors open the door to greet an officer. Igor struggles without much hope and finds himself nearly unbalanced as his seat rocks side to side. Has he been sitting in a boat?

There is the heavy sigh of a grown man and then he is lifted by the arms and led out of the door.

As he sinks into the back of the police vehicle, Igor laments that he not only managed to blow his cover and his mission completely, but he never even set his eyes on Steve. If he were able to make a report back to his superiors, he would tell them that the town is a locked box, no clues, no leads on agent Steve anywhere. He tried his best, but there was no way he could have found the man. He must have left already, just as he thought. It is with a pang of relief that he realizes he will likely never be able to make such an embarrassing report, as the car starts and takes him away from Hawkins, Indiana.

#stobin #stobinmonth2025 #uhhhhh this is kind of not that stobin #i mean they are both there but it's more about this russian oc who jumped out of me #forgive igor he is trying his best #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #fifteen-fanfic

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dianasson · 4 months ago

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"Hoodoo" Introduction | Mules and Men by Zora Neale Hurston

"New Orleans is now and has ever been the hoodoo capital of America. Great names in rites that vie with those of Hayti in deeds that keep alive the powers of Africa. Hoodoo, or Voodoo, as pronounced by the whites, is burning with a flame in America, with all the intensity of a suppressed religion. It has its thousands of secret adherents. It adapts itself like Christianity to its locale, reclaiming some of its borrowed characteristics to itself, such as fire-worship as signified in the Christian church by the altar and the candles and the belief in the power of water to sanctify as in baptism. Belief in magic is older than writing. So nobody knows how it started. The way we tell it, hoodoo started way back there before everything. Six days of magic spells and mighty words and the world with its elements above and below was made. And now, God is leaning back taking a seventh day rest. When the eighth day comes around, He’ll start to making new again. Man wasn’t made until around half-past five on the sixth day, so he can’t know how anything was done. Kingdoms crushed and crumbled whilst man went gazing up into the sky and down into the hollows of the earth trying to catch God working with His hands so he could find out His secrets and learn how to accomplish and do. But no man yet has seen God’s hand, nor yet His finger-nails. All they could know was that God made everything to pass and perish except stones. God made stones for memory. He builds a mountain Himself when He wants things not forgot. Then His voice is heard in rumbling judgment. Moses was the first man who ever learned God’s power-compelling words and it took him forty years to learn ten words. So he made ten plagues and ten commandments. But God gave him His rod for a present, and showed him the back part of His glory. Then too, Moses could walk out of the sight of man. But Moses never would have stood before the Burning Bush, if he had not married Jethro’s daughter. Jethro was a great hoodoo man. Jethro could tell Moses could carry power as soon as he saw him. In fact he felt him coming. Therefore, he took Moses and crowned him and taught him. So Moses passed on beyond Jethro with his rod. He lifted it up and tore a nation out of Pharaoh’s side, and Pharaoh couldn’t help himself. Moses talked with the snake that lives in a hole right under God’s foot-rest. Moses had fire in his head and a cloud in his mouth. The snake had told him God’s making words. The words of doing and the words of obedience. Many a man thinks he is making something when he’s only changing things around. But God let Moses make. And then Moses had so much power he made the eight winged angels split open a mountain to bury him in, and shut up the hole behind them. And ever since the days of Moses, kings have been toting rods for a sign of power. But it’s mostly sham-polish because no king has ever had the power of even one of Moses’ ten words. Because Moses made a nation and a book, a thousand million leaves of ordinary men’s writing couldn’t tell what Moses said. Then when the moon had dragged a thousand tides behind her, Solomon was a man. So Sheba, from her country where she was, felt him carrying power and therefore she came to talk with Solomon and hear him. The Queen of Sheba was an Ethiopian just like Jethro, with power unequal to man. She didn’t have to deny herself to give gold to Solomon. She had gold-making words. But she was thirsty, and the country where she lived was dry to her mouth. So she listened to her talking ring and went to see Solomon, and the fountain in his garden quenched her thirst.

So she made Solomon wise and gave him her talking ring. And Solomon built a room with a secret door and everyday he shut himself inside and listened to his ring. So he wrote down the ring-talk in books. That’s what the old ones said in ancient times and we talk it again."

#hoodoo #Zora Neale Hurston #moses #magic #conjure #rootwork

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tohakumaru · 15 days ago

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No Dragon

before the world came into the order as we know of today, a pilgrim who worshipped the Lion god was travelling from north to south to spread the words of his god, when he arrived at a village nestled in a valley secluded by mountains.

now, the valley had been going through a terrible drought. as the fields and grasslands, once lush and fed many cattles became barren and scorched, a famine ravaged the village. people were dying, those who had not succumbed to thirst soon met their end at the hand of hunger. the heavy gloom of death was hanging over every corners. the old and the young buried each other, until they could find no more places for new graves.

moved by the suffering, the pilgrim came to see the chief of the village, who was consorting with a hermit witch-doctor that they invited from faraway to offer divine intervention, but had yet to be of much help. they told him that the cruel malady that had befallen them was the work of a vicious dragon who stalked the forests and blocked the only water source in the valley - an underground spring which flowed through a nearby cave. their strongest men could not best the dragon, so they resorted to offerings of food, cattles and even of their own daughters, but nothing could get rid of the dragon and bring the water back to them.

the pilgrim thought a while, and it became clear to him that with his own strenth, and the blessing of his god the mighty Lion, he shall kill the dragon to save the village. through such self-less act he shall convince them of the superiority of his god and earn their reverence.

the next day, the pilgrim went about his tasks. he set up an altar, where he made offerings of food and prayed to the Lion god for seven nights. on the eighth, he took up a sharp spear and went hunting.

he quickly found the dragon in its nest, sprawling its terrible limbs and awful tail on a pile of bones, its eyes glowing yellow in the dark. they lunged at each other with horrid cries, and for a while it was teeth and claws and nails and spear, and blood, blood, blood. had anyone seen it at all in the dim darkness of the cave, there might have been ballads to be told. but all we know now is that when all quieted down, the pilgrim had his spear through the dragon's heart, and its claws through his lungs.

but the water never returned. the spring had simply dried up. days after the battle of the pilgrim and the dragon, the sky opened and the monsoon drenched the valley for seven days. the flood killed off anyone who hadn't died in the drought. on the eighth, the sun came up as if nothing ever happened.

that night, under the blanket of human's misery and animals' hunger, the Lion god and the Dragon god slept soundly. a reptilian head fanning warm, gentle breaths over a flowing golden mane. claws in claws, their tails entwined as the universe above twinkled.

#happy belated st george's day etc.#st bedtime and other stories #illustration #drawing #writing #fiction #art #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr #dragon #i'd like to think they kiss #saint george #lion #constellations #star gazing #cetus #leo

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merchant-wizard-and-jerry · 10 months ago

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“Shop is open”

1 - Slumbering bug - 100 currency

2 - Shell - 8 currency

3 - magic lamp - 20 currency

4 - Tech orb…? - 45 currency

5 - Venomous fang - 89 currency

6 - Metal plate of the hull of runak - 10 currency

7 - Non descript monster trapping orb - 20 currency

————————

"Wizard Essentials"

————————

Staff - teacup - 25 currency

Orb - eye - 10 currency

Robes - green - 1 currency per robe

————

"Consumables"

————

1 - Health Potion - 5 currency

2 - invisibility Potion - 15 currency

3 - potion of mana - 5 currency

4 - healing tablet - 10 currency

——-

"Salt"

@serious-tabaxi @ignisuadaroleplay @the-mighty-dalob @damnable-druid @yeast-wizard @lead-sorcerer @damnable-druid @bi-gender-sorcerer

@song-de-lune @crickled-thorn-thug @goblin-wizard-in-the-making @profeshinul-wizurd @good-wizard @bad-wizard @shittest-wizard-ever @bugwizard4lyfe @gnomishgimmy @eldritch-weather @the-eighth-ring @local-pickpocket @kajeet-da-traveling-merchant

#wizard island island #wizard tumblr #wizard posting #wizard #wizardposting #wizard shit #wizard blogging #magic shop #wizardblr #it’s very late at night 11:48 but… IM BACK!!!#im back #thank you #YAY

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telomeke · 1 year ago

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THE SIGN EPISODE 3 – NONG KHAI, NAGA FIREBALLS AND THE DANCE OF ADVERSARIES

Only watched Ep.3 last night and it was a trip in more ways than one; this is another one of those BLs where the hand of the Tourism Authority can be seen heavily pulling the strings, and in this episode it was plugging for Nong Khai – which is especially relevant to the naga mythology underlying The Sign.

The province of Nong Khai is far to the northeast of Thailand, separated from Laos by the mighty Mekong River; its capital city is also called Nong Khai.

Nong Khai is famous for a number of festivals, including the Rocket Festival and the Naga Fireball Festival. The Rocket Festival is referenced in the subtitles at Ep.3 [2/4] 14.41 but this is incorrect, because Tharn's grandmother mentions the date as "the 15th day of the 11th waxing moon" (the Rocket Festival takes place earlier in the year).

This date (a full moon night) is actually the Naga Fireball Festival, when the phenomenon of fireballs launched from the Mekong is supposedly at its peak. (There is as yet no formal scientific explanation for the fireballs, and locals believe they are spat out by the great naga or Phaya Naak who resides in the Mekong.)

‌This is of course the same festival that Phaya, Tharn, Yai and Sand go to watch at Ep.3 [3/4] 2.18 .

And this date (วันออกพรรษา/wan ok phansa) is also the last day of the three-month Buddhist Rains Retreat (พรรษา/phansa, sometimes also called Buddhist Lent). The first day of Phansa (in the eighth month), marks the official start of the rainy season – Phansa is the Thai version of the Buddhist celebration known more generally as Vassa elsewhere, and the word is derived from the Sanskrit varsha (which means rain).

In The Sign this celebration of Phansa is significant because the word is a cognate with the วรรษา/wansa of Tharn's formal first name Wansa and the name of his previous female naga self Wansarat, which are both also derived from the Sanskrit varsha (see this link here for more elaboration). 👀

Anyway, this means that kid Phaya was actually drawn to the Naga Fireball Festival (not the Rocket Festival) and was presumably called into the Mekong by a naga. And he was saved from drowning by a reincarnated naga (Tharn) on the last day of the season that shares Tharn's name.

And thereafter, Phaya would always dream of Wansarat on the date of the Naga Fireball Festival (the 15th day of the waxing moon in the 11th month, also the last day of Phansa/Wansa).

This is why his visit back to Nong Khai coincided with the festivities we see onscreen – he was there to investigate these links to the date and festival.

So far The Sign has been fairly faithful in its visual nods to the naga and garuda mythology that underpins the narrative. There's been a lot of blue and green (very marine colors) associated with nagas Tharn and Wansarat. And there are references to red and the element of fire calling out to garuda Phaya. This scene is an example:

In the scene above the red light on one side is contrasted with the blue-green one on the other, and mirrors the dance of the fiery garuda and the water-dwelling naga. Phaya has just been rescued from the Mekong by Tharn, and he is shivering in a blue-green t-shirt (which is the naga's color, not his).

(above) Sparks erupt behind the garuda Phaya as he seeks to recover his life-force after his near-drowning; the light on his person (as he is facing naga Tharn) is of a cooler tint though

(above) Naga Tharn is also sopping wet but totally at ease; he is also bathed in warm tones as he faces the flaming presence of garuda Phaya

This scene after Phaya's near-drowning is also one of several where we see a swing (e.g., Ep.3 [2/4] 17.02, Ep.3 [2/4] 19.02, Ep.3 [3‌/4] 10.03 and Ep.3 [3‌/4] 11.07). I may be over-reaching here, but for Thai people this may be calling to mind the Giant Swing in front of Bangkok's Wat Suthat, which was once used in an annual Hindu Brahmin ceremony (now discontinued) that was held to mark the moment when the nagas of mythology abandoned their mountain stronghold on land (their coils maintaining stability) and moved instead to their permanent, watery homeland.

Noting that the nagas are shapeshifters, the green-eyed Wansarat enticing Phaya into the water is also likely to be a malevolent naga that has assumed Wansarat's form, seeking to drown Phaya (we've seen glowing green eyes before, on the naga that Phaya saw when he struggled with the Ep.1 water challenge, and also in the greenery of the garden at the bar/restaurant where the boys go to drink).

And in another nod at the naga/garuda conflict, when the abbot Luangpor lights two candles at Ep.3 [2/4] 28.36, the rumbling stormclouds outside (that are harbingers of rain) promptly extinguish the flames before speaking ominously with him.

Nagas, because of their association with all things water, are also custodians and dispensers of rain in Thai mythology. Thus the voice that speaks to Luangpor from the clouds must be that of a vengeful naga, and he has underscored his displeasure with garuda Phaya by snuffing out the flames of the candle (fire being associated with garudas in The Sign).

‌

So one more little salute to the naga and garuda can possibly be read in the matching shirts that Phaya and Tharn don when they visit Wat Phra That Bung Puan at Ep.3 [3‌/4] 11.13:

The warm tones (garuda colors) of the matching shirts contrast with the blue-greens (naga colors) of their shorts/jeans. Meanwhile, the swirling graphics on their tops are likely a reference to the naga fireballs, which reminds us that even though the nagas and garudas are supposed to be at odds, the fireballs are one area of overlap with the flames of the garuda – a kinship also echoed by the matchy-matchy going on with the outfits here (and the premise that Tharn and Phaya are a forbidden but fated naga/garuda pairing). 😍

The culture of Nong Khai also explains why there is so much naga imagery in this episode – a lot of it is to do with the festival of the Mekong naga and its fireballs. But the garuda (Phaya's earlier incarnation) is still referenced in the visuals of Ep.3 – directly at Ep.3 [3‌/4] 15.08, but more indirectly elsewhere.

The many establishing shots of the temple finials called chofa (e.g., at Ep.3 [2/4] 8.19, Ep.3 [2/4] 19.53, Ep.3 [2/4] 23.10 and Ep.3 [3‌/4] 6.52) are actually a visual reference to the garuda:

This kind of chofa (with the curved profile reminiscent of a raptor's beak) is called the pak kruut or garuda tip chofa. There are several other kinds, including a naga finial, but the ones we see here in the establishing shots of the abbot's temple are of the garuda type and are a sly, less in-your-face wink at the garuda (at least compared to the abundance of naga imagery).

Anyway the trip ends with Tharn attempting to distance himself from Phaya because he doesn't want to jinx another of his loved ones (although what that means for Yai and Sand seemed a little rude for Tharn to suggest! 🤣).

True to his naga form a lonely Tharn seeks refuge in the watery realm – his condo pool:

But the flaming red swim briefs about his loins are in the color of the fiery garuda, and belie his divided loyalty.

So when Phaya goes to confront Tharn at the rooftop gym, the dance of the naga and garuda, historical enemies, goes into full swing. Unlike their other physical encounters down at sea level (e.g., the open water challenge of Ep.1 and the Mekong rescue) here garuda Phaya is up in the sky, as close to the sun as he can be, and here he's in his element.

And when the two tussle (as would be expected of a naga and garuda), of course it would be Phaya coming out on top. It's his realm, and his turn, after all:

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The naga and garuda are ever-present in The Sign. I'm sure there will be more of this to come!

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#the sign #the sign the series #nong khai #naga #garuda #thai mythology #the sign tharn #the sign phaya #babe tanatat #billy patchanon

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puckpocketed · 4 months ago

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Published on The Coaches Site Live 24th May 2024: How Barry Smith’s Left Wing Lock changed hockey forever - author unclear ?? (link // archive link)

In a system similar to the trap, as your opponent breaks out with the puck, the left winger drops back from his normal position, almost lining up as a third defenseman, and moves the other defenders to their right – creating a 2-3 alignment. The centre moves over towards the spot where the left winger would be and the right winger is coming across to push the puck to the left side of the ice and try to create turnovers. The entire unit would have to read off each other, knowing exactly where everyone was going to be and being able to cover if things broke down. If the left winger has a chance to go at the puck carrier to create a turnover, the centre drops back and the right winger moves to the middle. It’s seamless when executed properly. It can be a mess if it’s not.

Full text under the cut. Squirelling this one away because I don't want to lose it. Apologies for no image IDs. Some really fun stuff about that era of the Red Wings and the story behind the tactics.

The Detroit Red Wings had to do something.

Detroit had all the pieces to be a championship team. In the 1993-94 season, they finished 46-30-8, totalling 100 points and finishing first in the NHL’s Western Conference.

The two previous seasons ended with semifinal losses, despite regular season point totals of 103 and 98 respectively.

In the first round of the 1993-94 playoffs, Detroit hosted the 8th-seed San Jose Sharks, who were making their first appearance in the Stanley Cup playoffs in franchise history.

Their run would last longer than the mighty Red Wings.

Detroit led the series 2-1, then trailed it 3-2, before scoring a 7-1 victory at home to force a Game 7.

As it turned out, their win in Game 6 was their last of the year.

Jamie Baker scored at 13:25 of the 3rd period and the Sharks eliminated Detroit with a 3-2 win at Joe Louis Arena.

It was the first time an eighth seed beat a top seed in NHL history.

I remember it well.

I was a 13-year-old, who was just really starting to get into hockey, living in Windsor, Ontario.

At the risk of sounding like Sarah Palin’s ill-fated line about Russia, I could see Detroit from my house.

The Red Wings had endured, at that time, nearly 40 years without the Stanley Cup. They had a Hall of Fame Head Coach, a line-up as deep as any in history and a fan base starving for something to celebrate.

The Detroit Red Wings had to do something.

A visit to Sweden that summer by Red Wings Assistant Coach Barry Smith set off what would be the Team of the Decade, the birth of a system that changed the way Detroit played and altered the history of hockey.

“I went over to Sweden, I had some friends over there, and there were a couple of systems I was looking at,” Smith recalls. “With European hockey, playing on the big ice sheet, there are a lot of things they can do there that we can’t do here, but what they were doing was interesting.”

Detroit was a very offensive-minded group, yet Scotty Bowman, their Head Coach, knew defence won championships.

As Smith remembers with that team, they could win 6-4 or 7-5 but had no way of winning 2-1, and a 1-0 victory was completely off the charts.

They did not have the mentality for that.

“If you can’t play defence, I don’t know how much success you’re going to have,” Smith admits. “There are only so many track meets you can win with, so this gave us a chance to play good two-way hockey.”

“I wanted to offset our offence with better defence,” he continues. “We figured out if we did a better job in the neutral zone, our defence would have a much easier job of identifying what the rush was and because we had a good offensive team, we were looking for turnovers and that quick strike mentality.”

“With our left D being as good as they were, we could play those two guys 30 minutes each, so we were good on that side of the ice,” Smith boasts. “I sat down with Scotty that summer, and we talked about this system and called it Left Side Back, which sets up, so you’ve got your left defenseman in the middle of the ice.”

The centre moves over towards the spot where the left winger would be and the right winger is coming across to push the puck to the left side of the ice and try to create turnovers.

The entire unit would have to read off each other, knowing exactly where everyone was going to be and being able to cover if things broke down.

If the left winger has a chance to go at the puck carrier to create a turnover, the centre drops back and the right winger moves to the middle.

It’s seamless when executed properly. It can be a mess if it’s not.

Roots of the Left Wing Lock appear to have originated in Czechoslovakia, as a way to survive games against the dominant Soviet Union teams of the 1970s.

Taking pieces from the neutral zone trap, the left wing drops back in line with the defenseman, where the trap would force the puck carrier out of the middle of the ice and seal off the boards, which not only made it hard to make passes in the neutral zone but also prevented teams carrying the puck into the offensive end – resulting in a lot more dump and chase.

“Teams in Sweden,” Smith says, “were playing a torpedo system at the time, which was two wingers racing out of the zone and playing way up by the offensive blueline was a bit too much and I wasn’t sure the guys would buy into it.”

Barry Smith and the coaching staff brought the system into training camp in the 1994-95 season and he says the transition was pretty easy to teach.

The players, Smith says, weren’t skeptical of it at all.

“The left D loved it because it gave them a chance to freewheel, go back and create offence,” Smith expressed. “It also put the centre in the middle of the ice a lot, which they liked, so if you can have the middle of the ice-covered by your two best players, you have something positive happening.”

As Smith explains, coaching-wise, there is no one single system that is successful. A system just means where you are trying to line up and play off each other.

“It helped us create turnovers and create scoring chances off those turnovers, have less shots in our end, it helped us not play in our zone very much,” Smith highlights. “If the left wing has a chance to pressure and go, he’s gone, and we immediately have to take that spot. In the D zone if the right D stood up at the blue line and the puck got into the right corner, now the left D has to go and the left winger has to move into the middle, which is not normal for him, and the centre plays in the spot. Everyone had to be in sync.”

Smith emphasizes it’s the execution and it’s the players that have to understand the teaching points that make it work.

“Nothing works if the players don’t buy in,” Smith points out a few times in our talk. “We had a great leadership group, and we couldn’t have done anything without them being ok with it or understanding it so when we first brought the idea to them, they jumped on. I know the two left D were smiling.”

The team had the benefit back then of the two-line pass, a rule the NHL eventually removed in 2005.

At the time, teams could not pass the puck directly across two lines coming out of their own zone – the defensive blueline and the centre ice redline.

With a shortened neutral zone passing rule, the Left Wing Lock was even more formidable.

“Whatever team you have, whatever they think they are going to use, you have to understand what your players can do, and you have to honestly evaluate your team,” Smith continues. “In a football analogy, if you’re deciding you want to go to a West Coast offence, but your quarterback can’t read past one pass pattern, you have no chance.”

The system started working.

In the strike-shortened 1994-95 season, Detroit once again finished first in the Western Conference and cruised through the playoffs, beating Dallas in five games, sweeping San Jose and stopping Chicago in five before crashing to a halt in the Stanley Cup Final, being swept by Martin Brodeur, Scott Stevens and the New Jersey Devils.

The left-wing lock, despite the major shift in entertainment value for the fans, was turning things around.

“At that time, there was no redline, so that really stymied teams that tried to stretch you and honestly, we could sometimes go an entire period without the other team getting through our blueline,” Smith details. “I think the opposition got stymied because they had pressure on the forecheck and the neutral zone, it wasn’t like the 1-3-1 where you are sitting back a bit, we were on top of you, creating chances in the offensive zone because both guys could pinch hard along the boards, it really worked for what we were trying to do and it was extremely effective.”

Another famed part of Detroit’s hockey history was born from this system.

With all the offence these teams had – guys like Sergei Fedorov, Steve Yzerman and Brendan Shanahan – it was three hard-nosed, lunch bucket players, like the city itself, that became fan favourites.

The Grind Line.

“It was our secret sauce in the 1990s,” shares former Red Wings right winger, Darren McCarty. “Scotty Bowman knew his team so well and what he had and when it was Kirk Maltby and Kris Draper and I, it was so much more important for us to not allow goals than it was to score goals. We took a lot of pride in that.”

The three, along with Joey Kocur, became as formidable a group as the top scoring units. As an opponent, if you were matched up against the Grind Line, you were in for a long night.

McCarty looks back fondly on when the system was installed.

“I loved it because as the right winger, I didn’t have a lot of responsibility other than chasing the puck,” he remembers. “I’m not the best skater, I had good hockey IQ, but Draper and Maltby were the best penalty killers in the era, so I got to open up some physicality and really jump into it. Especially in the playoffs, we would just shut teams down, there was no answer to it.”

Maltby agrees.

“Obviously, we had success with it. It didn’t take a real long time to get used to it, but you had to learn sometimes you want to finish a check or run around a bit but at times that wasn’t the role, you had to be patient and allow your linemates to do what they were doing, but once the puck was turned over, especially in the offensive zone, it was time to go.”

Maltby was a latecomer to the Detroit run, he joined the team for the 1995-96 season after a trade from Edmonton but would spend the next 14 seasons wearing the Winged Wheel.

“Coming from Edmonton, we were a young team, so I was learning the NHL game and then ended up in Detroit, which was a well-coached team with a ton of talent and expectations,” Maltby explains. “We didn’t play Detroit that much and I don’t remember seeing the lock very much to be honest, because they had the puck the whole time.”

“The first thing I remember with Barry, I was new, and I didn’t really know anyone on the team, but he came up to me and we were talking and his first question to me was “Can you skate backwards?” Maltby laughs, “I thought it was a bit of a joke because at the NHL level, everyone can. I didn’t really know how to answer it, I thought I was almost being set up for a joke or something.”

Smith was quick to credit The Grind Line for their adaptation of the lock.

“We had good players in Detroit and they weren’t just good players because of their skill, they were good players because they had hockey sense and hockey IQ,” Smith highlights. “Especially that group, with their reads, it was automatic. If the left winger is gone, the centre comes back. I remember later on, we could play guys like Draper, Maltby and Kocur or McCarty and those guys could all rotate together, that’s how good they were covering for each other.”

Going from a heavily offensive-minded, run and gun team to a defensive lock, a tight system could not have been easy for everyone.

These teams were not only built on skill and speed, the hockey IQ was off the charts.

“It did change some of the guy’s roles from the previous way of playing where we used to freelance. Now there’s more responsibility for the left side and the centre and you gave your right wing a little more freedom because he was the pressure guy,” Smith admits. “I think the simplicity of it helped because there weren’t a lot of rotational reads to it.”

“The less you make a player think, the more likely you are to have success. You can’t play thinking, you have to be ready to go in microseconds, so I can’t screw up their reads or their anticipation of the actual game.”

Trust is a word that came up a lot in these conversations.

Darren McCarty hit on it a couple of times.

“The biggest thing when you are introduced to a new system is that it just takes time, but we had such great skill it caught on really quick,” McCarty says. “It gave us an extra weapon, we trusted the system and we trusted the other guys would be in the right spot and I didn’t have to think, I can just go because those guys know what I was thinking.”

Kirk Maltby was no different.

“I feel like part of it was hockey sense but a good part of it is chemistry and trust,” Maltby reiterates. “You need all that to go along with any system you’re playing. For me, once we got playing a few games we just complimented each other the way we all played, how Scotty wanted us to play that system and we read each other well, we knew what we were trying to accomplish as individuals playing a team sport.”

The Detroit Red Wings broke through in 1996-97.

They took down St Louis in six games, swept the Mighty Ducks in the semifinals and then, in a series that may have meant more to Red Wings fans than the Cup itself, knocked off Patrick Roy, Claude Lemieux, Peter Forsberg, Joe Sakic and company, finishing Colorado in six.

I remember watching that goal in the sunroom of my parent’s house.

Poor Janne Niinimaa.

Just this past year, my son and I went to Little Caesars Arena on a night that ended up being Darren McCarty Night.

They showed his two crowning moments over and over, the Stanley Cup goal and the Claude Lemieux turtle.

I couldn’t pick a favourite, but the goal still gives any Red Wings fan chills.

“You can’t sustain any system if you aren’t having success,” Smith states. “If it’s not working for you, I don’t know how long you are keeping with that system until someone says ‘time out, there must be a better way to play.’”

Smith brought the system to Assistant Dave Lewis and Head Coach Scotty Bowman and they had found their missing piece.

“One of the most amazing things about Scotty was his ability to ask questions to everybody. He goes and gets a haircut and comes back with a new forecheck,” Smith chuckles. “He hears a lot of people and he’s not afraid to try new things. Once he understood the nuances of it, he’s got such a good hockey mind – and still does – and so if you bring him something where we are able to put our best players in a position to be successful and we can create defence so the opposition can’t get into our zone, he’s all for that.”

Could it work in the NHL now?

The consensus is split.

“I don’t know if it would work in today’s NHL without the clutching and grabbing, but my responsibility was just to lock a guy up, wrap your stick around his waist or chase the puck and try to create havoc,” McCarty chimes in.

Maltby doubles down on that thinking.

“I don’t know if it would work with every team in the league but with this group, we had so much skill, guys who were good skaters and we had elite defensemen, this system just allowed us to have the puck more and then create turnovers or force teams to make plays they don’t want to, which allowed us to get the puck back.”

Smith’s take is a bit different.

“In today’s game it’s easy because everyone is 1-2-3 now, if you take a look at Colorado right now and what Cale Makar can do, he would be in the rush all the time, which is great because he’s better than most of your forwards.”

The game is constantly evolving.

Detroit evolved too.

“For the longest time, the league couldn’t figure it out,” McCarty boasts. “But when they did, we evolved, and it became the Russian Five. The Grind Line was the same though, we didn’t want the puck because we wanted to hunt after it and when we got it, we’d give it back so we could hit guys.”

Detroit took a very similar path the next season.

Mission accomplished.

The Detroit Red Wings did something.

The left wing lock turned out to be the final piece of the puzzle.

As I put this article together, I watched some old games and highlights and scrolled through name after name of some of the most elite players that came through The Joe at that time, I had to ask Barry Smith:

Could the whole system have even worked if Detroit didn’t have a Hall of Fame roster?

Smith laughs.

“I don’t know. If we would have had great right defence, maybe we would have called it Right Side Back.”

#puck!research #p!res:systems #p!res:archiving #left wing lock #detroit red wings

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