#adria the half demon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bigsoftmarshmallow · 7 months ago

Text

Stars, she was pathetic.

Adria had kept up a farce for weeks, pretending to be fine, pretending that everything was normal. But deep down, she knew the truth. She was spiraling. The memory of that Hylian woman flirting with Ganondorf replayed over and over in her mind, twisting her stomach every time she thought about it. The intense loathing she felt for herself made her sick. She refused to let herself become what she had been once before—a woman so consumed by feelings for someone who would never be hers, someone who would eventually destroy her.

That’s why she began to distance herself from Ganondorf.

She made excuses to avoid training with Kotake and Koume, even though the two Gerudo sisters would give her strange looks when she declined. If she spotted Ganondorf in the hallways, she would quickly turn the other direction, feigning an urgent task to complete. Every interaction with him was cut short with a polite excuse about needing to work. It hurt—it physically hurt to do this, like she was ripping out her own heart piece by piece, but she couldn’t go back to the person she had been in college. She wouldn’t let another long-haired man lead her to ruin.

So, when she was invited to a party with the soldiers and people of the castle, Adria had accepted the invitation without hesitation. A night of dancing, drinking, and laughter was exactly what she needed to forget—if only for a little while.

The party was lively. The makeshift dance floor was packed with people spinning, clapping, and laughing together. Adria threw back a drink, feeling her head pleasantly light as the tension from the past few days began to melt away. Someone handed her another drink, and soon, she was laughing again, swept into the rhythm of the room. The music swelled, and before she knew it, she was pulled onto the dance floor. She may not know how to properly dance, but drinking seemed to loosen up her feet and those around her were more into moving to the music rather than proper dancing anyway.

She spun with one partner, then another, and then another, twirling between soldiers and castle staff with reckless abandon. It felt good to let go. One man, with kind eyes and a gentle smile, took her hand, spinning her with ease. Adria laughed, her heart feeling light for the first time in weeks.

But then, a shadow loomed over them.

Adria barely had time to react before the man's grip on her slackened, and she felt herself being swept off her feet. Literally. A pair of strong arms lifted her off the ground, and the world tilted as she was carried away from the dance floor. Her heart raced, and she looked up, half expecting one of the guards, but instead, her breath caught in her throat.

Ganondorf.

The Demon King himself was carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all, his jaw set in a hard line, his eyes dark with something she couldn't quite place. Anger? No. Something more dangerous than that. Something like... Why did he look like that?

"W-What are you doing?" she stammered, struggling to find her voice as the crowd parted around them, all eyes on the towering Gerudo Chieftain as he strode through the room with her in his arms.

"Removing you from an undesirable situation," Ganondorf replied, his voice low and commanding, not stopping as he carried her toward one of the quieter corridors leading out of the hall. His tone left no room for argument, but Adria felt a surge of frustration rise within her.

"I wasn’t in an undesirable situation!" she protested, squirming slightly in his grasp. "I was dancing, Ganondorf. You can’t just—"

"I can," he cut her off sharply, his gaze flicking down to her, daring her to argue further. "And I did."

Adria’s frustration boiled over. "You had no right to do that! I was fine! I—"

His grip on her tightened, just slightly, but enough to make her stop mid-sentence. "Do not test me, Adria," he said, his voice dangerously low now. "I will not tolerate you dancing in the arms of weak men who have no claim to you."

Her breath hitched. No claim to you. The words echoed in her mind, and suddenly, the reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. Ganondorf was jealous. That couldn't be. That was the alcohol and her desperate mind speaking.

"What... what does it matter to you who I dance with?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. "You don’t get to decide who I spend time with. You’re not—"

He stopped walking, turning his head to look at her fully now, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart stutter in her chest. "Not what?" he asked, his voice smooth but dangerous, like a blade hidden in silk.

Adria swallowed hard, her pulse racing in her ears as she tried to find the right words. "You’re... not my—"

Before she could finish, Ganondorf leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against her ear. "Not yet."

The words sent a shockwave through her system, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him, her mind reeling.

"Put me down," she managed to say, though her voice wavered.

Ganondorf held her gaze for a long, tense moment, then slowly, he lowered her to the ground, his hands lingering on her waist as she found her footing. Adria stepped back, her heart pounding in her chest, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

This was dangerous. This was so dangerous.

But stars, her heart was betraying her again, thundering in her chest, screaming at her to do the one thing she knew she couldn’t afford to do—fall for him.

"Good night, Adria," Ganondorf said, his voice softer now but still laced with that same edge as he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, breathless and shaken.

Changing Fate, Creating Destiny - LOZ TOTK Isekai

Part 1 2 3 (This is Part 3)

What was happening? Zelda couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted beneath her nose. Kotake and Koume, once elusive and distant, were now... casually hanging out with Adria? It was as if they had appointed themselves her personal guards. The strangest part was how relaxed Adria now seemed around them, treating them more like friends than protectors.

When Zelda had first inquired about their constant presence, Adria only shrugged, looking as confused as Zelda was. "I don't know," she had said, "they just... started hanging around."

Zelda, in her growing concern, had asked the Gerudo twins directly why they were spending so much time with Adria. Their response? Silence. They offered no explanation, their expressions as unreadable as ever. It was unsettling.

And yet... Adria, somehow, could get them talking. Zelda had watched, equal parts amazed and uneasy, as her friend asked the two stoic women about their weapons, their jewelry, even their clothing. Adria’s curiosity was boundless and unafraid, an openness Zelda herself would never show around the witches. But Adria didn’t seem to share the same wariness.

Koume, for example, had proudly shown Adria her golden spear, embedded with a ruby that gave it the power of fire. Kotake had demonstrated her twin scimitars, each adorned with sapphires that gave them an icy sharpness. Their faces, usually so cold and severe, softened—just slightly—as they humored Adria’s interest.

There was something gentle about the way they interacted with her, even though their sharp natures were still very much intact. It was odd to see these two powerful women acting like this, their amusement apparent whenever Adria spoke with them.

Zelda couldn’t help but worry. Why were they so attached to Adria? What did they want from her? More importantly, why did Adria seem so content around them? She couldn’t deny that her friend was still very much herself—walking alongside Zelda and treating her like a sister, sharing laughter and stories just as before—but now, Adria had these two warriors practically hovering in the background, always there, always watching.

And then there was the matter of training. Zelda had overheard Kotake and Koume gently—for them—trying to convince Adria to take up some form of combat training. They hadn’t pushed, but their persistence was clear. What were they hoping to achieve?

The lack of answers gnawed at Zelda, but she had nothing concrete to go on. No evidence. No accusations. Just a vague sense that something was off. And yet, how could she say anything when Adria seemed perfectly fine with it? No, more than fine��comfortable.

It was unsettling, but for now, Zelda resolved to watch carefully. She wouldn’t make the mistake of letting her guard down, not when Kotake and Koume were involved. But she also wouldn’t push too hard. If Adria was happy and unharmed, Zelda would allow this strange arrangement to continue.

Still... she'd remain vigilant. Watching and waiting. There was more to this than met the eye, she was sure of it. But for now, she would treat the situation with care. Kindness wouldn’t hurt—but neither would caution.

#mallowresponse #mallowfic #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #King Rauru #Princess Zelda #Queen Sonia #Ganondorf #Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf #Kotake and Koume #Isekai #Gerudo #ai use

47 notes · View notes

blu-inked-life · 2 years ago

Text

Lured In

Mal was in his office when Becc showed up looking as regal and gorgeous as she always did. Flowing red hair and topaz eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. She was resplendent. Exactly what anyone would want to imagine when they spoke of angels. To Mal, she was overbearing and micromanaging. The crush he'd had on her in his training days wore off quickly when he was forced to work beneath her. Funny how what he thought would be a dream became just waking up with a headache. Every. Day.

"I'm sorry if I'm intruding," she said with a voice like music. There were rumors her angelic parent was Uriel, the angel of art and music, but she wouldn't say and no one had been able to confirm. Mal bit the inside of his cheek to avoid telling her he knew she wasn't sorry at all. She never was. "I just wanted to check in on you. I'm.. concerned, Malachai."

"Mal. I've asked to be called Mal." He said for possibly the millionth time, barely swallowing his exasperated sigh. Her heels clicked softly on the floor as she shut the door and crossed the room. In a moment she was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over a spotless white blouse.

"You're changing Malachai."

"No, I'm really not. I've always asked you to call me Mal. Even when we were put into training together." He ought to show his superiors more respect, but why should he when Becc clearly had no intention of giving him any?

"You've been seen with that half-demon," she said quietly.

"And? She was assigned to my team. Without outing her I can't exactly arrest her." He refused to look at Becc, instead keeping his attention focused on a few case files he'd been perusing.

"And why not? It would be easy enough to do so without implicating yourself. A little bit of holy water is all you'd need. Why have you let her stay hidden?" Mal ground his teeth.

"Because my job is to keep magical threats contained and taken care of. She isn't one of them." It was shocking that he managed to keep his voice light, but Becc would no doubt feel the anger slowly building in him. "Bloodline aside, she's been extremely helpful to the squad. She has the strength and power to take on missions alone and has been nothing but friendly to her squad mates."

"Bloodline aside? Malachai do you hear yourself?" Becc was positively scandalized. He managed to keep his attention down but his grip on his tone was slipping.

"Blood isn't everything," Mal replies darkly.

"Is that what this is about? Are you bitter about your rank in the hierarchy and acting out by allowing a demon to slip through?" She had the tone of a mother about to give a scolding. Mal wasn't in the mood to hear it.

"I don't give a damn about the hierarchy, Becc, and you know that," he snapped, finally looking her in the eyes.

Under the flourescent lights her eyes still glittered like gems. Like crystals. It was inhuman yet he knew his did the same. It was a trait of the Nephilim, angel half bloods, to have pure glittering eyes. Plenty of Neph took pride in them as humans typically thought they were beautiful even if their cause was a secret kept among the celestials. Mal never had. He liked his eyes well enough but they separated him. They made him other. Someone glancing at his eyes would think him something special. An assumption he would have no further proof to back up.

"Adria has done excellent work and her cooperation has been extremely beneficial to the MTF whether you like it or not."

Becc stared at him aghast. Her Marked hand slowly rose to her mouth. Mal glared at the wings that flapped slowly on the back of her hand. If he were honest with himself she had been insufferable since she had been Gifted at thirteen. The Gift of Gusts. So perfect for a neph. So fitting. Not at all like Freezing. Cold and unforgiving ice was so very un-nephilim like. It made him like his Gift more.

"You used her name."

Mal realized his mistake instantly. Any other time, with anyone else, he would have said 'agent' with their last name. To her face he'd have called her Agent Mason as he should have just a second ago to Becc. The slip up gave away how comfortable he had gotten with her. Hinted at how much he was beginning to care for her. That was what truly had Becc absolutely horrified.

"You care for her," she uttered in disbelief. "You care for the half demon." Her eyes took on a tone of sadness. "Malachai what has happened to you?"

"I've said all that needs said. She is not a threat, regardless of her bloodline. Even if she's from a powerful demon lineage... she's given us no reason to doubt her and plenty to trust her." Mal sat back down and focused in on his paperwork again. Becc was still staring and the weight of it made him more and more irritable. Ice was pricking at the edges of his desk.

"Oh my poor friend... Don't you see? She has you right where she wants you. That's what demons do. They lure in the unsuspecting. They garner trust, even admiration. She'll lure you straight to the depths if you aren't careful..." To her credit, Becc did seem genuinely concerned for him. In any other circumstance it would have warmed him to her just a little. Right now it only made him angrier.

Becc said nothing more before she left. Just silently shook her head in disappointment. Mal wasn't stupid. He knew this confrontation wasn't over. Next time it might not just be Becc, either. Powers forbid someone from above get involved. Defying a direct order from a full blooded angel... He might as well walk himself down to the depths.

An image of the sunset reflecting in Adria's eyes as she sat on the rooftop flickered through his mind. Then the determined set of her jaw every time she sparred with him. The careless way she laughed like she'd never been weighed down by anything. How she had been bruised and bloody from something and not only had she come here first to avoid scaring her roommate, but refused to turn in her attacker. Was he really just being lured in by her? Then again if the Powers were beings like Becc who thought they knew with just a glance and the Depths were filled with beings like Adria that just let themselves live... Maybe being lured in wasn't so bad.

Even if she was luring him to the depths, he was beginning to think he'd follow not just willingly-- but happily.

#writing #books #characters #adria the half demon #blue's drabbles #my drabbles #fiction #fantasy #young adult #magical realism #book #angels #half angel #angel #as above so below

2 notes · View notes

fluffydisneyprincess · 2 years ago

Text

"Aww, little baby bat thinks she's got fangs."

A chill raced down my spine. There was something to that voice... I spun and came face to face with rusty red eyes and a set of teeth as sharp as my own. He wore a loose black jacket with his hands shoved into his pockets but if I had to guess his nails would be as black as mine. Imagine, in the heart of the city of magic... I'd found another demon. Fuck.

"Half." He corrected like he could hear my thoughts. His smirk widened with my eyes. "No, I can't read your thoughts, but you're so charmingly naive it was an easy guess. Let me make another one. You weren't brought up by your demon parent."

It wasn't a question. I didn't supply an answer. I looked him over again. The arrogance would have been enough but the eyes were the giveaway. He had to be from House Wrath. If I looked close enough the rusty red was the perfect color for dried blood. Aunt Ley had said Wrath was the house of war and bloodlust. Anger in its most primal form. He didn’t look angry, though he looked like he was itching for a fight.

"Call me Jace."

"Adria." Giving him my name felt like a mistake. Especially when his eyes glittered like mischief. "I didn't think there would be another half demon living in the city."

"Oh sweetheart..." He purred in mock sympathy. For the first time I looked behind him and noticed the boy with brown hair and startlingly green eyes. He smirked and nudged the boy sitting across from him who had been asleep with his head down. This one jolted up and looked around blearily before smiling at me sleepily. Dark blue eyes shined through a mop of platinum blond hair.

Envy and Sloth.

"We're all over this city, Princess."

#writing #my drabbles #Adria the Half Demon #the angel that wants her to be herself #and the demons that want her to be... a demon #i wanted someone to be able to teach her properly

2 notes · View notes

hypnctics · 2 years ago

Text

☼☾ ( JESSICA PARKER KENNEDY , 34/754 , SHE/HER , CISWOMAN, LEANAN SIDHE, OUTLIER ) - have you seen ADRIANA LAVEAU? they’ve been living in afon vale for THREE HUNDRED YEARS and they really think they’re safe. people say that they’re NURTURING but i heard they’re VENGEFUL. you can usually find them working as a OWNER at EARTHA. they’ve tried hard to keep THEIR DAUGHTER’S REAL IDENTITY buried but the truth always comes out. a few things that remind me of them are … smoky kohl smudged eyes, lingering scent of cedar and cinnamon, smattering of azure flecks running down her spine.

basics

full name : flordiana deluca adriana laveau

name meaning: from hadria, valley

nickname / alias: addy

gender / pronouns: she/her

sexuality: pansexual

age, birthday + star sign: 34/754, 13th jan, capricorn

place of birth: hadria ( now adria ), italy

accent : altered depending on who she speaks to

occupation: owner of eartha

associated locations: glyndŵr cove

song:

appearance

faceclaim: jessica parker kennedy

height: 5″3

eyecolor: purple

haircolor: raven hair

build: slim/curvy

tattoos / scars / key features: purple eyes

personality

positive traits: nurturing, merciful, loyal

negative traits: vengeful, relentless, reticent

relationships

parents : maria deluca ( mother, deceased ), asmodeus ( father )

siblings : countless

children : none

pets : klok ( raven )

other

species: leanan sidhe

characters she’s inspired by:

history

born 13th Jan 1269, yeah you heard that she’s an old lady but don’t you dare say that to her. respect your elders by telling them they don’t look a day over 400 ok

her father, asmodeus is a pretty big deal in hell. he came above ground in italy, basically fathered a literal village and was p much planning on building his own leanan sidhe army ?? anyway, baby flordiana (as she was then known) was raised fully aware of her abilities bc her pops trained her and her large collective of half siblings to be ruthless, badass monsters

their ‘family’ was kept pretty under wraps, asmodeus wanted to keep his kids a secret until they were powerful enough to actually inflict serious damage on humanity

so flordiana spent the first 100 years ish of her life, in constant competition with her siblings to be the wORST leanan sidhe ever a.k.a. the best. they did a lot of brutalising. she has done some serious torturing fucked up shit ok ?? but all to win daddy’s approval am i right

like she watched her human mom die pretty quick bc it was the 1200s i mean she was old if she made it to 30 so she needed ?? her dad ?? to love her ?? even though he was a crazy powerful prince of hell ??

but then they fuCKED UP. ok so the leanan sidhe squad went big, figured they had the stones to take over a literal city in italy....but daddy was wrONG AND HIS ARMY WASN’T GOOD ENOUGh. most of her siblings straight up were killed by human hunters and other species working with them. flordiana couldnOT KEEP FIGHTING because she did not want to die. basically in being raised like this ?? she and her siblings had no sense of loyalty or family ?? so she felt zero guilt about abandoning them. just major shame abt disappointing her demon pops.

she escaped and fled italy; and landed in france. there she renamed herself adriana and lived as a human in order to lay low. but tragedy struck when she fell in love with a human ( or so she thought ). this woman was the first person she had ever cared about, first person she had ever truly loved and they were married in secret. but her wife began to get sick and it became clear that she would not survive. the wife told her that when she passed, she wanted to be buried at sea and adriana honoured that wish. however, her wife did not die - and was not mortal. her sickness was from being deprived of water, and the wife was in fact a nixie. when her wife emerged from the water, some decades later, as neither knew the other was immortal she believed adriana to be dead.

after this point, she was pretty much grief stricken and thought fuck this and bounced around the world, travelling everywhere. along the way she picked up several other people that she views as her adoptive children.

around 300 years ago, she relocated to afon vale and having just missed the war, instead became part of rebuilding the small town. she put down roots, found more people that needed her, and created a home for herself.

twenty five years ago a small human faction within afon vale tried to disband the peace treaty and ended up hunting and killing a leanan sidhe ( adriana’s sibling ) that they believed manipulated them. the regulators put these humans to trial and they were sentenced to death by the species council. one of the humans was pregnant at the time and though they carried the child to term, the infant died due to the stress of the birth. the parents were executed and the town believes that this was the end of the dispute. however, in reality, the infant was resuscitated and did not die. knowing that the child would be a point of contention for the species within town, and would not be safe, adriana initially raised the baby in secret. once the child was a few years old, they became part of the community and adriana convinced everyone that she had adopted them from outside of town. they know that they are adopted but do not know the full story of their birth. they have also only recently started experiencing visions/auditory premonitions but neither they or adriana know currently that they are bean sidhe.

#whvspers:intro #about: adriana

3 notes · View notes

aaron-trainer · 11 months ago

Text

The bar felt cold and the people felt distant. He was holding on too tightly, everything was still so heavy. He wouldn't unburden himself, he couldn't. All those people in his life, he chose to take them on. He wanted to take them on. He wanted them to be part of his life even when it was fleeting, but he missed so many of them.

There were a few surprises he didn't expect. His best friend Adria had shown up with her husband to visit more than once. Never Orion, he was half demon and unable to come here.

A strange feeling came over him as he stood at this bar. What was that feeling? He couldn't register it properly, but it made him want to speak.

He opened his mouth to do so but the words caught in his mouth and the tears finally rolled down his cheeks.

"I never had to choose before. There was always a feeling of Dean. Always. I could have both. I always had both, even if Dean wasn't there I could always feel him... But this absence... Fuck. Everything feels like Dean but why does nothing feel like Moloch anymore?" He threw his glass across the bar and everything started to warp around them.

Kayla sighed and walked up to them, touching Trainer as the scenery changed around them.

"He.... Refuses to rest. He was getting so close this time." She whispered, "It's just not his nature to rest."

Now Aaron was doubled over in the kitchen, the family was at the table, Izzy, Alison, Lacy, and Cassius was rubbing Trainers back lightly as Trainer held his head and looked sick.

"Bad meat? Are you going to be sick again?" Cassius asked. Trainer nodded and retched into the sink.

*in Aaron's cabin cleaning*

*alll the doors and windows are locked and warded*

@pride-and-wrathfulness

80 notes · View notes

magicman111 · 4 years ago

Text

Amphibia AU -- ‘Quisling Marcy’ aka ‘what if Marcy *was* in cahoots with Andrias?’

Whelp, someone was gonna do this at some point so it looks like it’s gonna have to be me.

Marcy doesn’t just betray Anne, the Plantars, Sasha, etc. In this AU, she sells out all of humanity. She was still somewhat manipulated by Andrias, but here, she isn’t simply duped. She’s in proper cahoots with him.

Okay, so this is gonna require some changes to the show’s background.

In this setting, it was a clan of humans who first travelled to Amphibia and who created/brought the box with them. How did they create this wonderous box? Through making a deal with a demonic yellow triangle who does appear to exist at least in the show’s mythos.

With their allyship, Andrias and his friends created the greatest civilisation in Amphibia from the ground up. When the box was stolen by presumably a Plantar ancestor, the humans chased after them, leaving Andrias completely abandoned and their place in history eventually lost to the sands of time.

So Marcy goes through the same emotional turmoil of not wanting to be alone after her parents inform her they’re moving. She steals the box and transports herself, Anne and Sasha to Amphibia for the same canonic reason.

However, when we get to the point where she and Andrias “discover” the secret passageway, that’s where she begins to learn the truth of her own heritage. Here, not only does she find out about Andrias’ “explorer ancestors” but her own.

She is a descendant of the original humans who visited Newtopia. The ones who chased after Sprig and Polly’s ancestor back to Earth.

Andrias begins filling her head with stories and ideas of “spreading the glory of Newtopia to other worlds” and how this could be her and her friends’ destiny as the wielders of the gems.

Andrias: “Can’t you see, Marcy? You didn’t find the box by accident. You were always meant to.”

So now jump ahead to when Marcy reveals the truth in the wake of the Rebellion and Adrias pulling the rug underneath everyone’s feet.

Marcy: “It didn’t start off this way... I did it for us.”

Marcy becomes increasingly erratic and unhinged the more she explains what she did and why. While in the show, Marcy was desperately trying to justify her actions, here she’s attempting to justify something even more horrific and is steadily coming apart in front of everyone.

She says Andrias will leave Earth in “their stewardship”, which means they “can lead the Earth together and make things the way they should be. And they’ll now never have to be apart.”

When she stands in front of the mural of Andrias flanked by pretty wicked looking humans and claiming it’s “their destiny”, cue Grime whispering to Sasha,

Grime: (hushedly) “Okay, Red Flag.”

But of course, Anne and the others are not interested and are even more creeped out and aghast by Marcy’s actions than in canon. So when the battle breaks out, Marcy is forced to fight against them.

Okay, so this is already pretty bad, what Marcy has done. How can we take it up a notch? Let’s press the forward wind button for a few minutes, shall we?

Andrias: “Not so fast! You all have spunk, real chutzpah. But this ends now. Marcy...?”

(He steps aside to reveal Marcy on the ledge in front of the shattered window pane, holding a struggling Sprig in her grasp)

Anne: “SPRIG!”

Sprig: “Guys! Don’t listen to these bullies! I’ll be fine!”

Andrias: “We’ll see.”

Marcy: “Put back the Box, or I’ll do it! I’ll--I’ll...” Anne: “You wouldn’t dare!”

Marcy: “I gave you this, Anne, and I can take it all away! Now put the Box Back!!”

(Marcy is now holding Sprig dangerously close to the outside ledge. All she has to do now is let go)

Sprig: “Anne, don’t!”

Anne: ... Polly, do what they say.”

(Polly puts the box back and the flying castle stabilizes. The Frobos take Polly and return her to the group and she hugs the remains of her fallen friend)

Polly: “Frobo...”

Anne: (to Andrias) “Okay, dude, you have what you want. Now please, just let him go. He’s my best friend. In this world or any other world.”

(After Anne says this, Marcy’s cheeks flush red and she starts hyperventilating in rage. Sprig notices this) Sprig: “Uhh, Anne...?”

Andrias: “That’s the thing about friends, isn’t it? The more you love them, the more it hurts when they go. Allow me to demonstrate.” (he looks down and gives Marcy a look to say “do it”)

(Marcy growls and without having to be asked twice flings, not drops, flings Sprig out the window)

Now this is the part in this AU where Sasha really comes into play and gets actively involved in her road to redeeming herself. On the journey to Newtopia, Marcy allowed her pilot Joe Sparrow, really letting her get a feel for riding him. When she led the Rebellion, she had the Toads take Marcy’s notes so she could learn quicker how to use the Box.

Sasha is the one who jumps out the window and calls Joe. She’s the one who rescues Sprig. And she’s the one who, after Anne curbstomps Andrias, swips the Box and just about got it to work and open the portal. Grime is the one who stays behind to hold Andrias off, yelling at her to go while she can.

When Marcy sees them making a break for it, seemingly abandoning her, she utterly. Freaks. Out.

Anne: “Sasha, hurry!”

Sasha: “Wait, where’s Mar—“

VHIRSCHT!!

Marcy is the one who impales Sasha from behind in a fit of desperation to stop them. Sasha weakly apologises to Anne for all she’s done before falling to the ground.

Marcy stands there before them, bug-eyed and stricken with horror. Her hand covers her trembling mouth. She drops her glowing sword, its hideous orange glow lighting up the bottom half of her face.

She looks from it, to Anne and the Plantars and to Sasha.

Then she starts to laugh, which quickly turns into crying, and then into a hideous combination of the two while her hands run up through her hair. The realization of what she’s done, on top of everything else has now well and truly broken her.

Sasha, on the floor, uses her last ounce of strength to hit the right button on the box, and kickstarts whatever comes next in Season Three. ... phew. That was actually pretty fun, I’m not gonna lie. Who knows? Maybe I’ll think of more to add to this as time goes on, or heck, if you wanna contribute or expand upon this, please be my guest.

129 notes · View notes

swynlake-rp · 3 years ago

Photo

“They say every story has a beginning–except mine. My story has two…“

FULL NAME: Princess Elena Flores of Avalor / Ximena Delejos BASED ON: Princess Elena (Elena of Avalor) FACE CLAIM: Adria Arjona PRONOUNS: She/her BIRTHDAY: November 16, 1994 CURRENT STATUS: Closed

Character Information || cw: discrimination, displacement, kidnapping ||

Elena’s childhood was idyllic until her parents were the victims of political assassination upon a diplomatic visit to neighboring Venezuela when she was fifteen years old. It was supposed to be fine after that. The murders of her parents was supposed to be her big tragedy. She was supposed to become queen and rule her kingdom with a fair but leading hand, but that came crashing down just under two years ago. An evil sorcerer attacked Avalor and Elena fled the country with her assigned guard Lieutenant Gabriel “Gabe” Núñez, sister Isabel, and friend Mateo De Alma. She hoped that the attack on her country would be the end of their troubles - or at least signified a period of respite - but Elena couldn’t have been more wrong.

None of the countries bordering Avalor (Brazil, Ecuador, Peru, Venezuela, and Colombia) were willing to take the royal family in as refugees, nor were the rest of the governments on the continent. Even the pro-magic Peru, although to Peru’s credit, they took in hundreds of displaced citizens of Avalor. The reason behind Elena and Isabel being unable to find asylum on their own continent, was their popularity among their own people. Avalor being a friendly but reclusive magic country scared the leaders of South America and they feared an uprising from their magick populations and being usurped by the Avalorean royals. Elena and the rest of the grand council tried and tried to reason with them, to explain that usurping anybody and taking over anywhere wasn’t at all what they had in mind, but to no avail. Elena’s possession of a magical item that the evil sorcerer was after was an additional mark against them - they feared an invasion of their own countries as well.

A princess without a country and the steward of a sought after magical item, Elena needed to find safety and find it fast. The Dominican Republic, South Korea, Serbia, Nepal, Switzerland, Germany, and Uzbekistan all granted them temporary asylum for a short period of time each, but bouncing from country to country just wasn’t cutting it. So while hiding in a small abandoned cottage by a German forest, Elena insisted Gabe go ahead and investigate Western Europe, to see if it’s really dotted with settlements as Magick safe as they heard from an old Serbian woman. “Send word and Isabel, Mateo, and I will join you when you find a place to live.” Reluctantly, Gabe went on ahead but trusted Elena’s safety to Mateo.

Gabe and Elena communicated through scattered phone calls for the following months, until on Elena’s end the correspondence suddenly stopped just under three months ago, at the end of May, without any explanation. Without any indication to Gabe that something was wrong…how was he to know?

A group of German magick-hunters nearby suspected Elena and Mateo of being hexendämonen - witch demons, their slur for magicks - and broke into the cottage while the three were sleeping to abduct them. It took them two weeks to find a chance to escape the basement of the home they were held in, and once they made a quick stop to the forest cottage to salvage any belongings and retrieve the Scepter of Light that Mateo and Elena hid inside of a wall and masked with anti-discovery magic, they fled Germany. They’ve been bouncing around Western Europe for the past month and a half.

Unbeknownst to any of the trio, the English town Mateo has inexplicably led them to has just what they’re looking for. Safety. But more importantly? Gabe. Elena’s lifelong friend and personal guard. They’ve been separated since November, and Gabe is unaware of their time in captivity..

Gabe must be worried sick - if he even cares at all. Which is a cruel thought, because Elena knows her friend worries about her, but she can’t help but to be a little bitter and angry. Why hadn’t he come to look for them, did he not think something was wrong? What could possibly have preoccupied him? Did he find somewhere to live happily and forget all about them? Did he think Elena was too much trouble so he just…ran off?

Elena doesn’t want to be angry. She knows that she really doesn’t have a right to be angry. It was HER idea he leave in the first place. And it’s not as if HE had a way to contact HER. Elena was only able to call when the she, Mateo, and Isabel had gathered enough loose change found on the streets or in a wishing fountain to use a pay phone, and after escaping Germany they never stayed in the same country with the same currency long enough for gathering to be any use. And more than anything she misses her dear friend and just wants to see him again. See him safe, and happy, and thriving. And he’s been away from her for so long… he must be enjoying the freedom.

Even if he doesn’t want to be her bodyguard anymore, which would suck because she’s never not felt safe with Gabe…but if her life has taught her anything it’s that nothing good ever lasts for her.

✓ Brave, determined, family-oriented

✖ Bossy, impatient, reckless

Character Suggestions

Latina

Current Relationships

Lieutenant Gabriel “Gabe” Núñez (assigned guard) Princess Isabel Flores of Avalor (sister)

Possible Relationships

click here!

Magical Abilities

Scepter of Light – its many mysterious abilities are currently unknown, but are triggered by oral commands. But beware–it drains the user of his/her strength the more it’s used

#elena of avalor #allch #magicch #pocch #femalech #magical object #elenaofavalorch #closedch #closedfemalech

7 notes · View notes

bunlai · 4 years ago

Text

A fascinating academic paper about chefs who use the plate as an ecological landscape device which features Ferran Adria, Rene Redzepi, Heston Blementhal, Grant Achatz, Dominique Crenn, and a sustainable sushi chef from New Haven:

“Anthropocenic impact on climate and resources directly ties to food sources, and chefs, in designing encountersbetween diners and nature, can choose to play an active role in framing theserelationships through narrative and scenographic dramaturgical choices.

In an interview with The Nature Conservancy, Chef Bun Lai of Miya’s in New Haven, Connecticut articulates such ethical concerns. As overfishing has depleted stocks of one of the most popular sushi ﬁsh, Paciﬁc Blueﬁn tuna, to an estimated 2.6% of historical levels, Lai explainsthat, he ‘began to think about how serving invasive species could helpcurb their dominance in the ecosystem while also reducing the stress onmore commonly served ﬁsh framing these choices for the dinerthrough programme-like menu statements, such as ‘Eating invasive species has the potential to restore habitats and take pressure off offactory farming’or ‘Almost half the food produced in the world goesto waste ―a fact that is a tragedy in a world where over a billion peopleare hungry. This tasty recipe was created to illuminate the problem of waste by utilizing crispy omega-3 rich salmon bones and broccoli stems,which are commonly discarded food items’. While examples such as Lai’s may not be explicitly theatrical, other chefs, in seeking to demon-strate such possibility draw explicitly on the restaurant’s dramaturgicaland performative potentials.”

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/347825875_Towards_an_Ecological_Dramaturgy_of_Dining_Plate_as_Landscape_Device

4 notes · View notes

alleiradayne · 5 years ago

Photo

Girl’s Got Rhythm

Summary: A demon shows up at the Bunker door with a proposition for Sam. Square Filled: Boy King of Hell!Sam Warnings/Tags: Fluff, language Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Adria (original female character) Word Count: 2408 A/N: For @deanandsambingo’s Sam Bingo, this fills the square Boy King of Hell!Sam. This also fills the prompt I submitted for myself for the Sam Winchester’s Antichrist-mas Birthday Extravaganza, hosted by sammessiah on livejournal. @quickreaver shared the post above and all prompts/fills are handled on AO3. And, as always, thank you to @atc74 for beta’ing. Song: Girl’s Got Rhythm by AC/DC

The first thump startled them both. Sam snapped his head up from his book and glared across the table at Dean's wide-eyed confusion, then followed his stare as he looked to the doorway. The second thump reverberated through the Bunker, faded as it reached the Kitchen where they sat eating breakfast, then fell silent once more. With the third echoing concussion, Sam and Dean leaped from their seats and bolted for the war room.

There they found nothing until a final resounding thump knocked on the Bunker doorway, its thunderous boom rumbling through the vaulted space for several seconds until it, too, faded.

“Someone is… knocking on the door," Dean stated.

Though it was not a question, Sam concurred. “I think so,” he started as he stepped towards the stairs.

“Don’t open it!”

Over his shoulder, Sam asked, “Why? What if someone needs help?”

Dean rolled his eyes harder than Sam had seen in months. “Who cares?! Nobody should know we’re in here!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

A single second seemed to stretch forever as they stared one another down until Sam bolted up the stairs. Dean chased after him, taking the steps two at a time, but Sam’s longer legs leaped three and even skipped the last four as he vaulted to the landing. With victory in reach, he grasped the cold iron handle of the door, but the moment he pulled, Dean barreled into him. Torn from the door, Sam struggled for the handle until Dean restrained him, arms entangled and boots scraping the floor.

Another resounding knock on the metal shook the foundation, and they froze in their awkward position. The thunderous echo rolled once more through the Bunker, then faded into silence, but Sam knew it was not over.

“They’re going to break the door down!” he spat from Dean's half-nelson headlock.

As he struggled, Dean replied, “Let them! Then we’ll have a reason to kill whoever it is!”

“I can hear you.”

The lilting alto of a woman penetrated the door and Sam stilled as Dean’s restraint loosened. “Did you hear that?”

After one lingering moment, Dean released him. “Yeah. Who’s there?!” he barked.

“My name is Adria. I am here to speak with Sam Winchester,” the muted voice said. “Is that you, Dean?” she asked.

“How do you know my name?!” he bellowed at the door. “Who the hell—”

Sam calmed him with a hand at his shoulder. “Can we just open the damn door? Please?”

Dean’s glare promised Sam hellfire and brimstone if shit went sideways. “Fine.”

He turned back to the door, trepidation numbing his fingers. One clarifying breath steeled his nerve. Someone just needed his help. She knew their names. They must have met before. Resolved, Sam shook free of his caution, grasped the handle of the door, and wrenched it open. In the dim portal light, a tall, dark-haired woman stood. She wore a faded NASA t-shirt tucked into the front of her jeans and a pair of tennis shoes. In the crook of her elbow she clutched a small, leather bound book against her chest, and on the other a yellow purse hung from its strap.

“What do you want?”

She did not simply ignore Dean’s belligerence. She acted as if he had not even spoken and looked directly at Sam. “How are you, my Lord?”

My lord. He must have misheard her. “Ah… wha—” he cleared his throat, “What did you just call me?”

Her bright doe eyes shifted from him to Dean and back before she said, “My Lord.”

Unsure of how to respond, Sam checked in with Dean to find him equally stunned, his glare shifting between Sam and the woman. When Dean returned his focus to Adria, he spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Sam, something’s wrong with her. She thinks you’re some sort of royalty.”

That seemed to strike a nerve. Adria's fierce hazel stare snapped to Dean as she seethed, “How dare you speak such blasphemy to the King of Hell?”

The world came to a screeching halt as Sam reeled, mind leaping from thought to thought as he tried to keep up. For a moment, he was convinced that this was some sort of elaborate prank set up by Dean and his friend. But Dean's gaping mouth and bulging eyes said more than any denial could.

Sam held his breath as he waited for his tirade, but it never came. A roar of laughter burst from Dean’s wide-open mouth as he clutched his stomach and damn near fell backwards down the stairs. “King of Hell?" he breathed through a gasp as he reached for the railing. His laughter continued as he repeated himself. "King of… of Hell?!" Another peal of laughter filled the entry and Dean double over, hands on his knees. Several awkward seconds passed before he calmed down with a clarifying breath. "Holy shit, that’s a good one. King of Hell. Ha! You…" he paused as a bark of laughter interrupted his thought. “Whew. You really had us going there for a second, lady. What’s up, what are you selling—”

With a blink, Adria's eyes blackened, dark as pitch, then reverted to their natural hazel in another flick of her long lashes. "I am here on official business, Dean Winchester,” she stated.

The flat of Dean's palm slapped Sam across the chest. As he stepped in front of him, he said, “Son of a bitch, she's a demon.”

“I gathered that much," Sam stated flatly. A gentle nudge eased Dean's arm aside, and Sam stepped forward. "What do you wan—”

“Give me one good reason I don’t waste you here and now,” Dean barreled over Sam.

Adria held the small tome out to Dean, but he refused to take it, hands shooting into the air as if she pointed a gun at him. When he refused to move, she turned to Sam. “Hell has been a bit of a mess since Crowley died. Nobody assumed control,” she explained, still holding the book aloft. “When Sam blocked the throne about two years ago, most demons went into hiding. The fucking cowards missed a real opportunity there. I convinced them to align with you,” she finished as she regarded Sam with a smile that looked far too sweet for a demon.

“Align… are you saying that every demon in Hell wants to follow me?” Sam asked.

As though it were as simple as that, Adria shrugged with a nod, then a coy smirk curled her lips. “They always say those Winchester boys are too smart for their own good.”

“Who says that?” Dean barked.

She turned to him, her smile widening. “Demons. Succubi. Incubi. Damned spirits. You know. The denizens of Hell. Word travels fast, and, well you boys have been at it for fifteen years. Got a reputation. Sam’s living up to his.” She paused as she measured Dean head to toe and back. “You… might actually be living up to yours. But I don’t want to report back that the big, bad Dean Winchester froze when handed the Book of Shadows.”

Dean’s arms slowly lowered to his sides as he asked, “Book of Shadows?”

A long, lacquered nail tapped the midnight blue cover.

No. Purple cover.

Black.

Blue.

Green?!

“What… is that… that’s not leather,” Sam stuttered.

Her finger traced the Celtic brain encircling the pentagram. “It is. Dragonhide. She gave me a skin from her own flank.”

Sam’s attention snapped to Dean as he stepped forward and said, “She gave you a piece of her skin?!”

Adria’s coy smirk returned. “I asked nicely,” she said as she tapped the metal emblem with her nail.

“And that?” Sam asked as he returned to the book. “That gem.”

“Ah, you have a keen eye, Sam Winchester,” she sighed as she smoothed the stone with her fingertips. “That is a lifestone. It quiets the worried mind, soothes the anxious soul. It’s quite useful for completing contracts.”

His eyes snapped to hers. “Contracts?” he growled.

Adria met his glare head on, then opened the book in the middle. “Yes. Contracts. This book contains all current operations that require ongoing management and prospects on which decisions need to be made,” she said as she held it out to him. When neither of them took it, she pointed at a line for them to read.

“I don’t… think that’s a good idea,” Sam started. “That’s—”

“Sam, shut up for a second,” Dean interrupted as he backhanded him in the shoulder. “Look at it.”

Sam did as Dean ordered and as he read, his jaw dropped. A long list of contracts, some initiated and others marked as potential deals, filled the page in a perfect script so tiny that Sam had to lean into read it. Hundreds of names in alphabetical order listed what they had wanted in exchanged for their soul in a set number of years. Some had no year, and Sam’s stomach sickened at the thought of what those poor souls had endured.

“So…” Sam started, “what do you need me to do?”

Adria grabbed Sam’s hand, much to Dean’s ire, and placed the open book in it. “Review each contract, both existing and potential and decide on how to proceed. Existing contracts are always reviewed every year to ensure that they are still beneficial to Hell. If not, we typically collect early to free up crossroad resources. As for potentials, you’ll need to decide if they’re even worth making the deal, as well as their terms and conditions.”

“Where are the—”

“The book has everything you’ll need to decide,” Adria clarified.

Unsure, he glanced at the book, then checked back to Adria. She said nothing, merely smiled again. He returned to the book and, when he flipped to the next page, her statement proved true. Another sheet of paper manifested with more names. He flipped through four pages before he arrived at the existing contracts and their details listed in full. More pages listed terms and conditions. Another ten pages contained the same. Sam gathered the remaining pages and thumbed through them, but no matter how many pages he passed, the book never seemed to progress in either direction.

When he arrived at the potential contracts, Sam stopped. He barely bothered to read the first prospect, then snapped the book shut. A brief thought occurred to him, then he handed the book back to Adria and said, “Burn it.”

Dean snorted a laugh through his nose, then snapped over his mouth. Adria regarded them both before glaring at Sam. “What?”

“I said burn it. I want you to burn the list, the contracts, and that whack-ass fucking book, holy shit, I cannot believe I touched that thing,” he rambled as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Christ, what kind of magic is that, my hands are on fire.”

“The magic of responsibility,” Adria huffed with an air of superiority. “You seriously want me to destroy it?”

“Yes!” Sam shouted. “Get rid of them all! No more deals! No more contracts! Just… give it a fucking rest. Seriously, hell and heaven have done enough damage messing with humans. For once, just do your damn jobs and manage the souls that come to you the only way they should.”

A narrowed glare far too familiar eyed them both before Adria returned the book to the crook of her arm and straightened her spine. Her sweet smile returned as though it had never left. From her purse she fished out a solid black business card and handed it to Sam. He took it, looked it over, and found handwriting matching that of the list in the book detailing her contact information. “So be it. When I require anything further from you, I’ll email you. But in the meantime, if you have questions, my number is also on the card.”

A long, weighing look of Dean, then Sam, preceded her departure.

“Here’s to new beginnings. All hail King Sam, the Lord of Hell. May his reign be long and,” she paused as she eyed him head to toe, “prosperous.”

She turned on her heel and ascended the ladder for the exterior door of the Bunker. Sam turned to check in with Dean only to find him watching Adria climb until the top hatched closed. When Dean found he had been caught staring, he grinned. “I think she likes you.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t rule her out,” Dean added as he turned for the stairs. “Not like it would be the first time you banged a demon…”

“Dean, that’s—”

“I’m not giving you shit,” Dean said as he descended the steps. “She actually seemed pretty cool. You should invite her back over when she emails you. I mean, it sounds like she organized all of Hell to support you. She must think you’re the right person for the job.”

Sam followed him down the stairs, the gears in his mind churning. “She was nice… and she didn’t seem too upset about my very hasty decision to burn that book. I’m not sure was the right thing to do.”

“Pff, gimme a break. You just saved like, thousands of lives, man,” Dean said as he arrived at the bottom of the stairs. He turned to face Sam and clapped him on the shoulder. “We never get it done that easily. And you practically got a girlfriend out of the gig, too.”

“You are so fucking gross sometimes,” Sam sighed. “We—both of us—had a ten-minute conversation with her, she’s not—”

“Sometimes all you need is ten minutes. Even if I’m standing right there. Did you not see the way she looked at you when she left? All hail King Sam, Lord of Hell. She eye-fucked the shit out of you.”

No. Regardless of Dean’s teasing, nothing could be worse than a relationship with another demon. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this,” Sam said as he turned for the kitchen. “I need a drink.”

When he skipped down the steps, Dean called after him. “Give me her number! Or that card!”

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. He would definitely not be giving Dean her number. Or her email. Or anything of Adria’s for that matter.

A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth as he regarded her business card once more. No, he thought. He would absolutely be keeping her all to himself.

Feedback is appreciated! Feel free to reblog, too!

If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), send me a DM or an ask!

ALLEIRDAYNE’S SAM WINCHESTER BINGO MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs @seenashwrite @canadianspnhunter @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27 @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99 @just-another-busy-fangirl

Sam’s Sasstresses (Jared):

@karouwinchester

#fanfic #sam winchester fanfic #king of hell!sam #dean winchester #spn fanfic #alleiradaynewrites #king of hell #king of hell sam winchester #accidental king of hell sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural demon

22 notes · View notes

dememarquette · 6 years ago

Text

Midnight Caller

Adria's day went as well as they usually do.

Training drills. Stake outs. Patrols. It was all very normal if you didn't know better.

But she did. She felt it; Heaven was perpetually on edge. The polarizing shadow war had made itself into the atmosphere and into routine- the specifics of which she only knew from 'mistakes' as a lowly pawn, and the details she gleaned inbetween. At this point, the increase of raids was normalized. It was ordinary to systematically sneak out demon operations, no matter how trivial the charges. Specialized drills were more frequent, too.

All of the added procedures were tying her guts into knots. The situation was becoming more and more wrong each passing day, but there was no trade-off. There hasn't been an update in months. The park was in limbo. They were asking every other time she dropped by until eventually realizing she had nothing to give. And may never. Cheerful as they were, nobody liked the quiet. Suspense bothered her, for their sake, for hers. Playing the long game in subterfuge meant she lived life in paranoia, yet not one iota of it was concerned with Hell. She was as scared of a demon as her shadow, but Heaven. Heaven was something to be feared.

She didn't know what to consider her role in this. Double-crossing? Triple? She tried not to think on it. It'd only get her worked up, but when that inevitably failed, she realized no treasonous term felt right. She didn't hate Heaven. She wasn't actively working against it. It's just her allegiance didn't fall into carefully sectioned off labels and sectors- it fell into place by virtue. And reason.

But being screamed at all day that her reasoning was wrong and flawed bred self-doubt. Her mind never seemed to shut off, even after the mission reports were read, and the raids concluded.

She lounged on her couch. Muscles in her back and shoulders were rigid after a stressful day, but there was one thing that always seemed to help: Colin. On top of everything she supposed she should feel guilty about that too but she absolutely did not. It was a little piece of wrong that felt right.

COLIN: How was work, sweetie?

He wrote. He just got off shift at a private rodeo show where it was not the bulls being wrangled. Her phone, thankfully, does not receive pictures but needless to say, he was happy to unwind and see her too.

ADRIA: THE NORMal. sarah is really a piece of work.

COLIN: Awh, what happened?

What happened!

What happened was her squad-mate’s penchant for public humiliation. Adria had a thick skin, but if you're going correct her on fighting form, you'd better be able to back it the fuck up! She punched at the keys with her thumbs, detailing the tiff in atrocious texting, 150 characters at a time. She sent a chain of three messages, the order of which they sent in was left in the hands of God, when her screen blacked out.

A cheerful ringtone replaced it. That delightful sequence of Nokia chirps had been featured in three separate horror movies in the past two decades, and that auditory connotation was no less portentous now. Demetrius’ name flashed in eight-bit.

She answered on first ring. "Demetri?"

"Adria, thank G-man." He heaved. "I need you."

Adria cupped her phone with both hands. "What's wrong?"

“What’s wrong?” He wheezed. "What isn't?"

His first fake emergency was a text. His second very real! emergency was also a text. This was a call, and already his desperation pierced through her shitty reception in four syllables. Demetri’s voice was an octave higher than she'd ever heard it and hysterical. She'd seen this man handle pressure (and if you ignored his thing with snakes), nothing short of imminent doom bothered him.

The contrast was horrifying.

She launched off her couch, storming her quarters. The bedroom door rebounded off the wall as she breached her closet. The more utilitarian parts of her uniform were ripped from its display. She yanked a set of greaves over her knees. Her hair was a tousled mess, an ondoyant spread across her shoulders, but she had a band around her wrist to crudely tie it back should this turn into a brawl. At the time he was calling? The night couldn't go any other way. She wasn't on shift but they held raids at all hours.

She saw it: demons dusted into ash. One coming to the other's call only for a massacre. The Powers were organized and lethal, and her vague and sporadic feedback was never going to cut it, either to sate Heaven, or save them. She was stupid for trying. Her superiors hired on someone else to intervene, to gather intel, and now she was on the phone with Demetrius-

"Demetri?!" She panicked, shoving her forearms through her bracers. "Talk to me. I can't help if I don't know what's going on. Is Niko okay? Archer?"

The line went quiet and her wings folded out in a forceful draft. Adria was a full second away from making the plunge from Heaven to Hell, when over the line there was a single sniff.

“Look on th-...the tv- MTV." He said. "Righ'now.”

Adria's head snapped up. There was no 48-inch mounted on the wall. She didn’t have a smartphone, how would she have a cable?

But context worked with what she gathered from her time on the computer and the demon himself. MTV was no news outlet nor has it had any respectable programming since the 1990's. Their ragtag group was a spectacle but nothing she imagined making a time slot between Teen Mom and MTV Cribs.

(That's a compliment.)

"Excuse me?"

"Channel- channel forty-eight. PleaaaAAse."

She stiffly straightened up. She was half armored- the bottom half ready for the war that would be her fall from On High, while the other awaiting on conformation for where this was going. "You're...going to have to describe it to me. Where are you?"

"Home."

"And you're not dying?"

"I don't knooooow." He whined. "Probaply."

She audibly heard the melodramatic flop.

On the other end, he slapped against the counter top. Sulking on his kitchen island, his rings tangled in his bangs. He stared in disdain at the source of his despair. It was a frame paused on his television set. Depicted was an unflattering still of a suburban mom. Her jumpsuit was as orange as her fake tan, and two streams of black poured down her face like she tried her wings at a newer, trendier 270 degree angle.

Adria had no way of knowing this, else she had reason to hang up then and there. "What does that mean?! Is ANYONE in danger? Is ANYONE dying?"

"Are you even looking?!" He said, frustrated.

"No. No I am not. What is it?"

"They're taking Samantha in!"

"What."

He flailed his hand at the set. In his mind, he was the image of every tragic hero in a cathartic Renaissance painting. "She's getting arrested!" He cried. "Fuckin' Ricky set her up, th-the child suppor' payments. 'n after she got Kaytee and G-ma Hoovie in the pyramid scheme no one will talk to her-"

"And why do I care about this woman’s shitty decisions?"

"She's not gonna make it into season six!!" He shrieked.

"Oh Jesus."

She remembered that. She remembered a lot more than she thought she would. They were characters from a colorful cast from their last hangout.

It wasn't her idea, obviously. She owed him for their first training session. Retribution for her violation of his trust, he called it. Somehow it was separate from the favor she already promised him but that's what he dismissed as semantics, preceding a change of subject. Nevermind how he tricked her into a strip club, she arrived dutifully at his apartment in the forth circle of Hell. That was two months ago.

That day he opened the door more casual than she’d see him before, which wasn't saying much. He was still swanky- buttoned down in something she'd seen in an all-too-dramatic cologne commercial, hue set off with a matching Rolex that told time with three faces. She, on the other hand, arrived in gym shorts. He said 'no armor' on the summons so when he opened up, he tensed like a wild animal. His hands even raised like she taught him ("Protect your head!"), and it was a good fifteen minutes of her standing on his blistering doorstep, convincing him she wasn't there to pulverize his face before she was allowed inside. He relaxed.

And eventually, so did she.

She crashed on his couch. Arms wound around herself so tight, she was ready to make fun of every vapid star that strutted onto the screen. Reality shows were stupid. A waste of time, clearly staged, and air-headed entertainment. All she was here to do was get through four hours of this garbage so he'll trust her for self defenses classes again.

However, Demetri took criticism like a champ. He pointed out that she had literally no reference point at all for television programming (true), and hit play.

At first she was entirely correct in her assumptions. These Real Housewives were overacting, over-dramatic, and overly ridiculous- but around the twenty minute mark, the first twist, it was apparent that was the charm. They were ridiculous. They were all impossibly absurd, and no matter how much she had the gist of their one-dimensional personalities, they'd surprise her with a curveball she never saw coming, dramatic irony Shakespearen in any other context. When she stopped commenting on how these stupid things would never happen in real life, it clicked.

"So...why is this lady breaking into her cousin's flat?" She picked at finger foods he set up on the table, small pastries he credited to Donnabelle. She needed something to do with her hands while she pretended to not be interested in the television she was very interested in.

"Hm?"

"I mean,” She shrugged, too jerky to be casual. “If they just made up. Why would she break in?" He quirked a brow.

Truth was he’d been a nervous wreck the whole time too- he just wasn't as transparent. Never had he cared more about anyone else’s usually-contrarian opinion more. Covertly he watched her more than the re-run. It didn’t make sense, but when her question rang sincere he grinned. The arc maxed between his ears before it pulled back into something more restrained. "Ah, well. That's why she set up the brunch. Her cousin has incriminating photos on a flash drive."

"But we know this because it's been broadcasted to all of America."

"No actually," He sat up, invested. She noticed afterward that she leaned to follow. "We know they exist but we don't know what's on them. My guess is it's something to do with last year's bachelorette party since that got the fire department called, but the forum thinks it's..."

And that's how she started caring too much about some random group of nutjobs in the city.

She still believed it was staged bullshit, but it was fun staged bullshit. She watched nearly three hours of dramatic close-ups, cryfests, and varying degrees of misdemeanors until the night was called. Time flew before she knew it, and their goodbye was a lot less awkward than their hello.

She wasn't expecting to revisit any of that in the near future.

She stared at the keys of her phone as she snapped back to reality. Demetrius was slurring through a monologue calling for Samantha's salvation (eloquently coined "FreeSam2k-2k-shit-2k19?") when it registered: Samantha Drama was a lot more preferable than the alternative.

"-'ish not like the scheme was her fault, y'know. She's a business woman at heart."

"...She sure is."

"'scatcly!” He said, overly relieved. “You get it!"

She sighed, head in her hand. The restless energy she amassed depleted into pure appreciation of the overreaction. Her overreaction- and if he was oblivious to the whiplash she suffered, it was missed entirely. It was gone. Replacing it was the sound of her barely holding back laughter. She rubbed her eyes. God, what was he doing? "Demetri, are you drunk? Did Archer give you the pilfered party booze?"

"Aria-Adria, please. Less focus fer two secons."

"Okay, okay.” She pulled the tie from her hair. “So. Samantha."

“Samantha, yes.”

She indulged, smiling. "Is this the one who uh....cheats at dog pageants?"

“NO that's Kristie!" He corrected, distressed.

“Oh- sorry. The lady that held the intervention at the baby shower?”

“Yes,” he sobbed.

“I’m...sorry??”

“She was just tryna- tryna show her kid that she- aw fuck.” Glass clinked. "Oh no."

"What?"

"I spilled it. Fuck."

The phone rustled loudly. She listened, with her head tilted into her phone. Demetrius was struggling, but she was too. She bit the corner of her lip so her laughing wouldn't carry over the line.

"Back." He rasped, returning like he lost the war.

"You okay over there?"

"No. I need- I need to bail her out." He said. He’d run out of options, his voice teetered on a whimper. "I jus' gotta."

She walked back to her living room. Hasty strides before were now a languid stroll, as the armored plates fell off her knees in a clatter. She threw her bracers into her pillow as she hit the sofa beside them. The threat was neutralized. "No,” she said. “You should not bail her out."

"I have to. She's all alone in there- y'know I'm good'for it, Adria. Issat short for Adriana by the way."

"No it is not, but I'm VERY sure she's fine."

"What do I do?!"

"You're still home right?" She barely got the question out with a straight face. "Like you're not out, and definitely not in the Alpine area?"

"Wha' you tryna say? 'at I'm not r’sponsiple?"

"That you're drunk off your ass."

"Does that make any of it- any of it less real?" The volume softened as he scolded his phone. An old selfie that he used as her contact photo served as her avatar and the source of his betrayal. "I'm SO hurt. My feelings are real, Adria."

"Oh yeah?" Her head canted. She was staring at a blank wall, but imagery from the other end of the line was so clear. She could see his face too. That lopsided grin. Bent brows when he feigned offense, even if his eyes were still smiling while he clutched his heart for the effect. So distinctively him. "I thought you were too cool for feelings."

"Welp. S'where you're wrong~"

"Am I? You're quick to make fun of other people's."

"Is 'is about yoouurs? Hmmmmm?"

She debated her answer as clinking and swearing reared up a second time. She heard him bat the glass around, coordination beyond her expert salvage, before he returned, forgoing the cup altogether. Whatever. He still had the bottle. "Maybe."

"Maybe what?"

"It seems at times you care more about Samantha’s. Like right now."

"Whaaaaa-!! Yer only sayin’ that cuz you like teasin’ her. Jus’like I like teasin’ you."

Her fingers combed through the waves rolling over her shoulders, as she smiled. “I got that much."

"I'd bail you outta jail too, y'know."

"You are not bailing Samantha out of jail."

"'n if I don't," He continued, galvanized into another tangent. "If I DON'T tease you! Then what we doin', hmm?"

She quirked a brow. She was going to love this. "What does that mean?"

"Whatdoyamean what’do I mean. I dunno how else t'talk to you!!" He said, phone brushing with static when he shrugged. "Yer somethin else. It's scary."

Or not.

The word punctured her bubble of amusement. Scary? She knew she could be intimidating. And sure, she beat him up more than once. And sure he was a baby about it, but before Adria’s heart had the chance to sink-

"I trust you so much," He continued, shrilly and mystified. "Isn't that crazy?"

Her heart caught. "W-what?"

"Riiiight? But it happens.” He shrugged. “It happens when, when people got this intense light. A light y'just wanna be a part of. D'you know how rare that is?"

"I don't-"

"You know!! Of course you know." He asserted, finding it inconceivable that she didn't understand. "Some people jus' got it. It draws you in. People like me don' got it- we don' got it- so its blindin' when we do see it. You got it, girl. You got it baaad," He sang. "I mean FUCK- yer "spyin'" on us and we take you everywhere we go! An’ an’ all I wanna do right now is invite you over. Have you here. Again."

Adria blanked.

Staring wide-eyed, she had no idea what to say.

“O-oh.”

Her wings slid down the sofa in a soft shh. Unsure she heard him right, praise was just something she couldn't wrap her head around. Even as the conversation devolved into an ad-libbed ‘Come on Over, Baby' Christina Aguilera parody (’Spy on Over, Baby’ - execution as good as one would imagine), no one thought that way about her. No one talked about her like that. No one ever had- no matter how much, how long, and how hard she tried to do the right thing. She was a series of failures, stemming all the way back from her first charge.

But Demetrius was more than happy to tell/sing to her otherwise. Her feedback wasn't necessary. In fact, she couldn't get a word in. He rambled hard and assiduous about that signature compassion he couldn't compute. About their classes against heavenly forces. About the way the right thing always just seemed to spring into her mind, without cause or consideration. His opinions had receipts- which was something Heaven never bothered to audit.

Thoughts of doubt were smothered before they had the chance to manifest. They tried. Unable to defend against his points, they wanted to dismiss the call as inebriated prattle, but she wouldn't. She refused- it felt nice. They were compliments with no ulterior motive. No seeds of manipulation she could detect, and he didn’t want anything from her this time.

She could have comfort this once, just this once, before jumping back into scrutiny tomorrow.

That in mind, when a lull settled in the conversation, she took it. She pulled her knees into her chest, and closed her eyes.

“Thank you...Thanks, Deme. That means a lot.”

But where she expected a stiff refute of anything tottering the edge of the sentimental (she tensed for it), or another bout of prattle, she heard a thump over the line.

A cold pause followed. She twitched from her pleasant smile. It stretched. Seconds feeling like minutes, the quiet was just short enough to spurn concern, but not enough to ask, when he broke it. He sucked in air through his teeth. Devoid of his former drunken rapture, the tacit draw unnerved her. “No problem.” He said.

Her world dimmed. Her confidence had barely got its bearings before being dashed. The beat of awkwardness was back. That void that pulled the light from their talks, how she could be enjoying herself before the tone flips on a dime and she regrets reaching out at all-

“...Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah...” He dragged his face. “No.” He sighed. “No I’m fuckin’ not.”

Just like the party. That’s what it took. She hit that mysterious trigger again. The precise sentiment she needed to wipe the audible grin off his face. It was her. It had to be her. She misread the entire situation. His admiration had been clear as day, but now it muddled.

“I’m sorry.” She hovered above a whisper, apologizing without knowing why.

“Don’t be. It was all me.”

“What was you…?”

“You. Me. This.”

It solidified the weight in her chest. All those positive thoughts had just blossomed. To tamp them down so soon as a regret... Demetri wasn’t a guy about that scene. She knew that, and yet-

That’s where her mistake was.

She’d been telling herself the same thing since the fair- she was delusional. She didn’t need it echoed.

“It’s fine.” She cut him off. “You should rest- night Demetri. I’ll, I’ll check in when I can-”

“I let you go.”

She stiffened.

“I saw that light and jus’....poof. Gave it away- like a joke.” He said, abruptly sober. “Who’m I kidding? It was a joke. On myself!! Were cowboy strippers worth it? I mean...t’see THAT ‘n let it slip. Who am I?” He brazenly interrogated his open apartment. His theater set-up was a whole five feet away, and it was a crime scene as far as he was concerned. He truly had fun with her that night. At the fair. Shopping. But it was Colin she was going home to, and that was entirely by his own hand. “Thas’not me.” He said. “Thas’never been me- I’m in hell fer wanting everything. Why would I learn now?”

Archer pushed him to make a move. He dismissed him. He was so damn sure he’d figure out his own way. Demetrius was convinced that honesty and upfront communication were tacky, and not because he was entirely inept at sincerity. But what he was realizing tonight was that window shut. He’d earned one of her darkest secrets only to be iced-out of what was troubling her at the party. She stared at her phone the whole drive home. His moment passed. Now he was paying for it, but without the inhibition to suffer in silence.

“I made a mistake.” He said, with finality. “I want you. That’s what’s wrong.” “You...want me.” "Mmph. Fuckin’...cowboy strippers aren’t even that funny.” His muttering trailed off, disintegrating into incoherent rambling and something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Colin is a douche.’

Her mouth closed. She had nothing to say.

Whiplash was back, but this time there was no recovering. She had no words. No response. Nothing to fill the quiet, but he did not have much intention of doing so either. The clinking, clanking, and sentence fragments stopped. They both settled into quiet- an awkward, but powerful one.

It dragged for minute. Then five. She was reluctant leave it, to be the one to break it, but her head was buzzing and so was her phone. Missed texts were adding up. There must’ve been seven now. Someone else was impatient for her attention. And while Colin could wait...

"Demetri?"

"Hmmmm?" He hummed, sleepily but somber.

"Did you...did you mean-? Were you implying-" She cringed. She regretted the question before she asked. Maybe it was best not to pry. Just enjoy it. It’s how things had been going so far.

Besides.

What would happen if he did answer now?

She hugged her knees. Her heart had taken enough collateral damage. It was time to give it a break. Tonight changed things. She’d have to see what that meant. "Nevermind. Uh, thanks. I mean.Thanks again. I guess. Don’t go bailing anyone out of prison."

"Aye-aye," he mumbled.

On the other end, he slumped. Wine smeared around his table, he half-heartedly sopped it up with a rag before giving up. The marble was feeling awfully comfortable. His head propped against his shoulder, and it slid into lean.

She kept the phone affixed to her ear, eyes closing. The night opened with her walking the demon through the five stages of grief for a reality star. In a bizarre way, in a way neither could have expected, he provided a comparative comfort. These thoughts she’d been having- these errant ideas, these cues- were justified.

"Deme?" She finally asked.

But there was no response. He was out like a light, drooling on the marble.

She listened to a few breaths before bidding a quiet 'good night' and hanging up. Exhausted now, but in the best way, she posed to snap her phone shut.

Just before she did, the screen returned to Colin.

Her cursor flashed where she left it. It tailed the end of a long, angry message her heart was no longer in. Unwilling to tarnish her revelation, or feed the new, fresher guilt winding in her stomach, she hit the back key. One letter blinked out of existence at a time, then words, then entire lines.

ADRIA: actually dont worry about it. goodnight. COLIN: ok! Good night :D

#towns verse #towns #after the events at colin's birthday party #story #adria #unrelated but this is the 1st piece of my writing that word counter deems 11th-12th grade level so guess who feels like a winner 2NITE #colin

4 notes · View notes

bigsoftmarshmallow · 7 months ago

Text

Adria may actually perish right now. The floor should just open up and swallow her whole. In hindsight, she should have expected this—being found, especially after how the garden incident went down. She had grown far too comfortable in her little hideaway, forgetting for a moment who her "housemates" were.

Dammit.

Mentally, she screamed at Hylia, Din, any goddess at all really, praying for some divine intervention. Send me home, send me anywhere��put me on a sky island, throw me into the Depths—just please, not here, not in front of these three Gerudo. Especially not in front of him. Two of them looked amused—Kotake and Koume, naturally—but it was the third, Ganondorf, who was the real problem. His expression wasn’t just amused, it was something else. Something unreadable that made her stomach twist into knots. She was so very aware of how devastatingly handsome he was, but what really unsettled her was knowing who he really was: a Demon King in the making.

After mentally screaming herself hoarse and realizing that the ground was not going to swallow her up, Adria gave a wobbly smile and a small, shaky wave. The only thing to do now was face it head-on.

"I-I didn’t see you there," she stammered, trying to keep her voice steady. "If you’d spoken up, I would have stopped to assist you." She straightened up, smoothing her dress with trembling hands. "W-What can I do for you?"

Kotake and Koume exchanged glances, their eyes sparkling with amusement before one of them finally spoke up. "We were rather enjoying your... spirited performance. How about another? Something we might appreciate this time?"

That simple request immediately half reset Adria’s brain, shifting her from mortal embarrassment to her joy of sharing music. Helping was something she could handle—this was her territory. Her eyes lit up, and without missing a beat, she quickly recommended, "Ruthlessness," another favorite from Epic the Musical.

She fumbled with her phone, pulling up the song while explaining excitedly, “This one’s perfect for you, I think. It’s from the same musical, and it’s all about ruthlessness—how sometimes mercy is ruthlessness.” She set the phone down to play the song, deciding she wouldn’t sing this time. She was still a little shaken from the earlier mortification, but she couldn’t help mouthing the lyrics along as they played.

The powerful notes began to echo through the hall, and Adria couldn’t help but feel the tension shift. The intensity of the song's theme—ruthlessness as mercy—seemed fitting for the trio watching her, especially him. She stole a quick glance at Ganondorf, who stood quietly, his arms still crossed, but there was an unmistakable spark of interest in his eyes.

The song blared through the hall, the deep thrum of the bass and fierce lyrics filling the air.

"Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves...""You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great..."

The lyrics felt almost eerily tailored to Ganondorf, a man who understood that strength and power often came at a cost. Adria found herself mouthing along, her heart racing as the song built to its climax.

"Unlike you, I've got no mercy left to give 'cause ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves..."

As the song reached its powerful conclusion, Adria was caught between a sense of pride in sharing something she loved and sheer dread at the idea that she had just played a song about ruthlessness in front of the very man who embodied it. She turned toward the trio nervously, wondering how they might react.

Kotake and Koume looked suitably impressed, their expressions of amusement replaced by something more thoughtful. Ganondorf, however, was still silent, his eyes fixed on her. There was that something again—a mix of interest, perhaps? Amusement? She couldn’t tell.

But then, to her shock, Ganondorf’s lips curled into a smirk. "Ruthlessness, hm?" His voice was deep, smooth, and a little too amused for her liking. "An interesting message... and one I happen to agree with."

Adria’s heart skipped a beat. She was so not ready for that.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, making her stomach flip before he turned to leave. Kotake and Koume followed, but not before one of them gave her a sly wink.

As the trio exited the hall, Adria slumped against one of the pillars, letting out a long, shaky breath.

What just happened? If she had thought performing in front of the Gerudo was terrifying, it was nothing compared to having the Demon King smirk at her like that.

(Want Part 3? Link is HERE)

LOZ TOTK Isekai - Changing Fate, Creating Destiny

(Part 1 2) (This is Part 2)

The quiet afternoon in the castle gardens had been filled with light laughter, the soft rustling of leaves, and the occasional chirping of distant birds. Zelda sat beside Adria, both women leaning in close over a small object that had become a source of shared fascination—Adria’s phone. It was a curious thing, so much like Zelda’s Purah Pad and yet, in many ways, completely different.

Zelda had initially been awestruck by the phone's capabilities. While her Purah Pad had a map, a detailed record of their surroundings, and could help locate materials, the phone seemed to offer a glimpse into another world entirely. It couldn't predict weather or pinpoint resources, but it could store something far more personal—memories and emotions.

They had spent hours comparing their devices, laughing over stories as they swiped through images and videos. Zelda had shown Adria pictures of the places she had traveled in her time, the cliffs of Zora’s Domain, the sweeping expanse of the Great Plateau, and the sight of the massive Divine Beasts that once roamed Hyrule’s lands. Adria, in turn, had shown her pictures of her family, friends, and strange landscapes Zelda had never imagined—tall buildings, bustling cities, people dressed in strange garments.

The most astonishing aspect of Adria’s phone, however, was its ability to play music. Zelda had known instruments, of course—the lyre, the flute, the soft hum of a Sheikah harp—but the phone was different. It played music from a distant place, without needing an instrument at all. The first time Adria had played a song from her device, Zelda had fallen off her chair in shock, her heart racing at the sudden, unfamiliar sound.

Adria had rushed to her side, her face filled with worry. But once Zelda had managed to calm herself, they had both laughed, the surprise giving way to amusement. “I’ve never seen anyone react like that to music before,” Adria had giggled, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

Zelda smiled at the memory. She still couldn’t get over how strange and wonderful the music was. Today, they were sitting in the garden, and Adria had once again let the music play softly through her phone. The tune was haunting, the voice deep and rich, filling the air with a melancholy beauty.

Adria sang along, her voice low and steady, perfectly matching the pace and tone of the song:

"When I was a child, I heard voices... Some would sing and some would scream. You'll soon find you have few choices... I learned the voices died with me."

Zelda sat transfixed, her gaze resting on Adria as she sang. There was something magical about the way Adria’s voice blended with the music, as if she were not merely singing but sharing a piece of herself with the world. The words were heavy with emotion, and Zelda found herself enchanted by the melody and the meaning behind it.

“What a beautiful song,” Zelda whispered when Adria paused. “It feels… so personal. Where did you learn it?”

Adria smiled softly, tucking her phone back into the folds of her dress. “It’s from a singer back home. I used to listen to it a lot when I needed to think or… when I felt lost.” She looked up at Zelda, her expression thoughtful. “Music has a way of reaching places that words can’t. It helps me remember things.”

Zelda nodded, understanding that feeling all too well. She felt a strange sense of kinship with Adria in that moment, as if they both carried memories too heavy for words. “It reminds me of my time with the Champions,” Zelda said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “There were moments when all I had were my thoughts and the memories of their voices.”

The two women fell silent, the weight of shared memories hanging between them like a fragile thread. The afternoon light cast soft shadows across the garden, and for a brief moment, all was peaceful.

But then, a subtle shift in the air made Zelda’s senses tingle. She glanced up and caught sight of two figures in the distance—Kotake and Koume, the Gerudo guardswomen who had accompanied Ganondorf. They were watching again.

Zelda’s eyes narrowed slightly, her body instinctively tensing. She had no issue with the Gerudo as a people—quite the opposite, in fact. Urbosa, the former Gerudo Chief, had been like a second mother to her, a source of strength and wisdom. But Kotake and Koume… they were different. They exuded the same unsettling aura as Ganondorf himself. Something about their presence felt off, as if they were more than just warriors, as if they were always observing, always calculating.

Adria noticed Zelda’s sudden change in demeanor and followed her gaze. The smile she had been wearing faltered, replaced by a look of curiosity. “They’ve been watching us a lot lately,” she murmured, keeping her voice low. “I don’t think they mean any harm. Maybe they are shy?”

Zelda nodded, her expression tight. “They’re loyal to Ganondorf, and Ganondorf is… ambitious. They’re likely keeping an eye on us for him.”

Adria let out a small, nervous chuckle. “Great. And I'm not even in my nice outfit.”

Zelda placed a reassuring hand on Adria’s arm. “Just be careful around them. Kotake and Koume aren’t like Urbosa. They may seem friendly, but they have their own agenda.”

Adria sighed, leaning back against the stone bench they were sitting on. “I’ll keep that in mind. I just hope they don’t think I’m some sort of threat. I’m barely managing to keep myself together most days.”

Zelda smiled softly, though her eyes remained sharp. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Just… trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, it probably is.”

Adria nodded, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the bench’s surface. “You’re right. And I’ll try not to let their stares get to me.”

The two women shared a brief, knowing look before turning their attention back to the serene garden. Adria began singing a sing-song version of the phrase "I always feel like somebody's watchin' me~", making Zelda giggle.

The tension between them eased, but the presence of the Gerudo guardswomen lingered at the edge of their awareness, a reminder that even in moments of peace, the game was always being played.

#mallowresponse #mallowfic #legend of zelda #ganondorf #Queen Sonia #tears of the kingdom #Princess Zelda #King Rauru #TOTK Ganondorf #Gerudo #Ancient Hyrule #Isekai #Kotake and Koume #Changing Fate #Not the biggest fan of this chapter of mine #But it works for what I needed!

39 notes · View notes

they-handed-me-the-moon · 6 years ago

Text

Okay I’m gonna do the thing and just get my complaints with the show out, if you’re not interested in reading criticisms (half of which are just being attached to the way things were in the book) please ignore this, I’m going to say all sorts of nice things in a minute. Also please don’t rb this one. If we’ve talked before feel free to comment or disagree, if we haven’t please don’t just this once—I’m usually happy to have people jump off things, but I just got back and I’m not in the mood to start any Discussions just now. Cool thanks!

1. I’m not saying that the show going in for more angst and making some of the central characters more insecure and making Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship more tenuous and uncertain was *objectively* the wrong choice. I mean I could argue that it was but ultimately it’s probably more just different than right or wrong. But it did make me realize how much I had appreciated having a fandom that was built around material that for all its angst potential (which I also enjoyed) was so fundamentally cozy.

2. Yes I am of course going to take issue with Anathema and Newt. For the record I found Newt notably more likable in the show than the book, even if watching Anathema have sex with a guy she had shown no interest in just because a book told her to was even more uncomfortable than reading it. And there was more of a sense of mutuality in the show—partly because of Adria Arjona playing Anathema as genuinely liking and being charmed by Newt at times, and partly because Newt actually does offer her emotional support and contributes to decision-making at several points instead of only with the “do you want to be a descendent for the rest of your life” line at the end. And that’s nice—mutuality in a relationship is important! The lack of it is one of my biggest issues with their relationship in the book! What really gets to me here is that they got to that mutuality not through strengthening Newt’s character but by weakening Anathema’s—by making her more uncertain and insecure so that Newt could sweep in to support her. And look—obviously there’s nothing wrong with female characters having insecurities and needing support, like everyone does. But we’ve got an awful shortage of weird-looking female characters who swagger around with breadknives and bucketloads of well-earned confidence and decide to try and stop the apocalypse without being told because it’s worth a shot, and the fact that they seem to have undercut her confidence and independence specifically so that she would have to lean on the sub-par dude she’s saddled with as a love-interest reeeally rubs me the wrong way. (Shoutout to my brother for pinpointing this before I was able figure out exactly what was bothering me).

3. Okay and while I’m on the topic of Anathema, the way they played up the whole ‘professional descendent’ thing? Hmmmm, not a fan. I think I kinda get why they did it, (it makes her fit more neatly into the ‘people breaking out of their prescribed roles’ theme), but they make it into a sort of ‘chosen one’ storyline where she was ‘fated’ to help stop the end of the world, which is fine, I guess? But to me one of the central appeals of the book is a motley crew motivated not by duty or predestination but instead by love of the earth and plain old selfish, stubborn attachment to the lives they had built there going ‘okay realistically there is no way we, of all people, can keep the world from ending, but I guess we’re just gonna try anyway!!!’ Making Anathema some sort of prophesied savior sort of removed her from that narrative, and reduced the strength of that narrative thread overall.

4. Oh and I think I’m in the minority here but I also did not enjoy the kids getting stabby with the horsepeople. There were some great elements to the scene for sure, but that just didn’t feel good to me. The children felt a little more ... protected from enacting that kind of violence in the book, and while there could be legitimate reason for changing it, on a thematic level it also took attention away from the whole ‘power of human belief’ thing, so it felt unnecessary and weaker as well as harsher.

5. I’m not ... actually particularly bothered by any of the changes to Aziraphale? I mean don’t get me wrong I do miss him being a much more overt bastard who is comfortable in his own skin, who collects blasphemous Bibles and is rude to customers and still walks around with his sanctimonious Holier Than Thou convictions because he is THE WORST. But tv Aziraphale is still a proper bastard, even if you’ve got to pay attention a bit more to see it, and I do rather like the way his softness is in itself framed as a rebellion against Heaven. So yeah, I think the changes they made worked and were compelling, and I don’t really have comprehensive complaints about his character. HOWEVER I did not like him indirectly killing the executioner. Having a scene where he indirectly but intentionally causes a death was a good idea in concept, but to my mind it was the wrong circumstances, wrong target, and wrong tone for the scene. Still, it doesn’t bother me that much because it just felt SO off that it feels kinda laughable and my mind just cheerily decided that the filmmakers were misinformed and that did not actually happen.

6. Crowley’s changes I’m having a bit of a harder time reconciling myself to, although I’m having a bit of a hard time pinpointing why? Some of the changes are of the ‘I don’t prefer the change but that’s more personal preference and attachment to my initial vision of the character than critique’ variety, like the ways in which his fear manifests less as anxiety and more as anger in the show. But if I had one central complaint (and this might sound weird at first) I think it would be the way that his world is reduced to Aziraphale. And okay, let me explain—I’m not complaining that their relationship was more emphasized in the show, which I actually loved, and also this is probably a bit hypocritical coming from me when 80% of my posts are about their relationship. The thing is, I find romances more interesting and compelling and moving when both parties have defined personalities and interests and attachments and character arcs outside of one another. And Aziraphale did have that—arguably he has a more defined and complete arc than in the book, in fact. And Crowley definitely has a defined personality. But besides the Bently, what does he love? What are his interests? How does he feel about humanity and the earth? Why does he prefer the earth to hell beyond ‘hell sucks’? How does he feel about his fellow demons? Why does he want to save the earth? Does he care about saving the earth, or is it really only about saving and being with Aziraphale? Idk, I’m exaggerating a bit here, and certain answers to these questions can definitely be inferred. But I miss the Crowley who loves humanity in all its mess, who finds in it an alternative to the restrictive roles demanded by heaven and hell alike, and who has his own arc of going from knowing that he is harming humanity but not doing anything about it, to facing Satan with a tire iron because Aziraphale convinces him to face up to the harm he has caused and do something about it, even if the odds are impossible.

7. I cannot BELIEVE they took out Tim.

8. And I’m running out of steam here so I’m not fully going into it, but it did feel like the show lost a bit of its sense of the earth in all its disastrous glory. I mean, there are plenty of stories that compare Heaven and Hell, but part of what set Good Omens apart for me was the particular way it triangulates Heaven vs Hell vs earth. I haven’t read enough similar fiction to know if it does this in an especially complex or unique way, but what comes of it is this gloriously defiant optimism. The show goes further into Heaven vs Hell (which I enjoyed) but it felt to me as if the earth was a little (although certainly not entirely) lost in the mix.

9. Also definitely not a fan on how hard Crowley pushes for child murder as long as he’s not the one doing it, but so far as I’ve seen the fandom has chosen to collectively forget those lines in favor of ‘you can’t kill kids,’ ‘I’m not personally up for killing kids,’ and THE LULLABY, so I’m the end those lines aren’t anything like the disaster they could have been. Good going, folks.

10. There are of course big-picture things like racism and sexism and homophobia that are. there in varying degrees. Not necessarily more than average, though that’s an even more depressing sentence. But for some of those things I’m not the best person to dissect them, and for the rest I’m tired and I don’t wanna.

11. In conclusion I have a pithy line that encapsulates what I’m having a hard time adjusting to in the show, but I’m pretty sure the first clause would annoy one half of the fandom, and the second clause would annoy the other half, so I’m gonna to cut my losses and shut up now.

#don't rb #if people start reblogging this i will just delete it #also this is very long i don't actually expect people to read this #i'm just exorcising my annoyances all at once #because talking about them day-to-day makes me anxious

3 notes · View notes