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mxmaneater · 11 months ago

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How do you see Gortash as queer coded?

Oh, it would be my genuine delight to explain.

Alright, so I have several lines of reasoning, so I’ll start with the low-hanging fruit first.

Gortash’s obsession with his appearance

Okay, so we all know about Gortash’s eccentricities when it comes to the way he looks. He wears an ostentatious villain coat, bedecked with golden bits and bobs, matching pants, and a matching shirt (that he wears provocatively low and can’t seem to ever lace properly). He also clearly styles his hair, which given its length, takes a non-significant amount of time each morning.

Now. Am I saying these things on their own make him queer? No, of course not. The assumption that gay men take more care with their appearance is a stereotype, though I would argue that there is a subset of people for which this is true. However, stereotypes also form the context for which we interpret characters and situations, and that social context is very real (even in cases when a stereotype is not), which is why I don’t discount these details either.

Additionally, when it comes to the Netherstone, Gortash could have easily stuck it in the middle of a suit of armor like Ketheric and called it a day. But as a politician (and someone who likely doesn’t see a lot of combat), I get that a suit of armor wouldn’t be his first choice. Nonetheless, the option he goes with (and presumably takes the time and effort to craft and construct himself) is the pair of gauntlets, which are essentially ornate jewelry. Jewelry that’s functional and dangerous, yes - but also needlessly beautiful. And he really only needed one of them, but - again - his attention to detail with appearances drove him to build a matching set to become part of his Signature Look.

Cool. So let’s move on to:

Gortash’s political career

Alright, so I like to view Faerun as a fairly equitable place in terms of gender distribution in positions of power (at least compared to reality). From what I can find on forgotten realms sources, it seems like the Council of Four was composed of 2 men and 2 women (at least until Stelmane is murdered); therefore, I think it’s not a stretch to assume that power is pretty evenly divided. Great - love that for Baldur’s Gate. Which it was true out here as well.

Even still, that means that 50% of the high-ranking government officials and patriars that Gortash is charming and manipulating as part of his rise to power are men. As a devout follower of the God of Tyranny, I find it hard to believe that he would just pass up on the opportunity to use sex as a form of manipulation with men, when we have canon evidence that he uses this tactic to gain power with women (hello Lady Jannath). Why would he - someone who views ascending in power as a holy mission - suddenly be squeamish when it comes to seducing (both literally and metaphorically) the other 50% of his targets?

Also, like I mentioned earlier, although Faerun may be a veritable gender utopia, the social contexts that influence us in reality don’t suddenly go away when we boot up bg3. The writers of the game as well as the consumers - us - are very much bound by the social contexts within which we operate, meaning that certain character traits can be queer-coded for us, even if they wouldn’t necessarily look that way to someone who lives in the world of the game (if they suddenly became sentient and engaged in discourse).

What does that mean? Okay, so we live in a society that is highly patriarchal and run by men (read: politicians as well as all other highly influential positions of power). Within these circles, men are forced into “compulsory relationships” with other men (because remember, women don’t hold the clout they desire, and therefore don’t matter) in order to exert and obtain power; relationships such as “male friendship, mentorship, admiring identification, bureaucratic subordination, and heterosexual rivalry” (Sedgwick, Epistemology of the Closet) characterize these spaces. Now, as Sedgwick - one of the mainstays of queer literary theory - explains, men enter into these “male homosocial” relationships because they must if they wish to gain power and ascend the ranks; however, the very necessity of these close, male relationships (to the exclusion of, or in superiority to relationships with women) also puts men in the dangerous social position of making it easy to become too close with other men and therefore jeopardizing their access to the very power they sought. This is the foundation of her argument about forces that keep men in the proverbial “closet.”

Okay. So back to Gortash. Gortash is not driven by fear of stepping over that line - he seems utterly unbothered by professing his connections to whoever he views as influential, regardless of gender (see: default Durge, which I’ll get to later). He is not scared of stepping beyond this larger, societal “closet” that most men get defensive about in order to protect their relative power. Sure Faerun is less homophobic than our reality, but again, the coding of these characters doesn’t change drastically based on the in-game setting, because it is ultimately people in our reality who are interpreting and interacting with the game and its characters.

Also, I make a distinction between Gortash being “queer-coded” and not “gay-coded”; if anything, examples from the game would have me characterize Gortash as bisexual - if he even conceives of sex as an identity factor and not just a means of gaining power over someone, which is a big assumption. I definitely view him as someone who thinks more along the lines of the latter - and wouldn’t it benefit him, in that case, to be an equal-opportunity manipulator?

This is getting long, so I’ll jump to my final point:

Gortash’s devotion to the Dark Urge

Whether you read the past relationship between Gortash and the Dark Urge as sexual/romantic or purely a business dealing, the fact remains that Durge is the one character Gortash views as his equal. And yes, you can customize Durge’s appearance and gender, etc, but the default origin character is male, so a certain amount of “canon”, I believe, can assume at least the possibility of a male Durge. Gortash - the Chosen of Bane, who loves nothing more than domineering over others - wants to willingly share his Empire with Durge, once he’s conquered the city; that is not a level of devotion that you could expect Gortash to hold for anyone but his “nearest and dearest.”

And from the letters you can find, it’s apparent that Gortash specifically sought Durge out - tempting him with information about Bhaalist artifacts that had been “stolen” and displayed in a museum in order to form a connection. This, combined with his desperation to regain Durge as a partner in Act 3 (to the point he’s weirdly forgiving of insult and refusal), offer queer subtext, if not text-text, confirming his particular interest in Durge as a person. After all, he only “tolerates” Orin, who, despite her own eccentricities, is only trying to accomplish the will of Bhaal, just like Durge presumably was as well. In fact, most of the characters dismiss Orin as just some “crazy bitch”, which I find hard to believe isn’t rooted, at least partially, in sexism - especially since people forgive Durge very easily for similar crimes. (I could write my own dissertation about Orin, but I’ll save that for another time).

In conclusion, there is enough queer-coding between Gortash’s appearance, habits, career, known manipulation tactics, and special relationship with the Dark Urge to at least make the case that he isn’t super straight. Even without the letter in which he wrote his penpal Franc that he loved him for bringing “wet, slithering malice” into the world.

#enver gortash #queercoded villains #queer theory #bg3 #durgetash

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bermudianabroad · 1 year ago

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We're at the year's halfway point, and I figured I'd share a list of all the books what I read so far this year, since I haven't in a while.

Loved: Trust; The Remains of the Day; Katalin Street; Besieged: Life Under Fire on a Sarajevo Street; The Island of Forgetting; Whale Rider; Libertie; The World's Wife.

(Plagiarizing my own goodreads notes for some of these.)

Trust was like a nesting egg; stories within stories within stories. Each section was like peeling back a layer that revealed a tangled mess of fabrication and truth. A touch predictable in terms of the 'big reveal' but also managed to dodge expectation in terms of how we got there. The Island of Forgetting struck a nerve within me. Maybe it was that push/pull of small island life, being in love with a place that might not love you back, wanting to get out more than anything, wanting to stay, needing to leave in order to grow in some fundamental way. Whatever it was, it spoke to me. Plus 100,000 points for the use of 'vex' lmao. I hadn't realised there were other places aside from Bermuda that still threw it out from time to time. That put a smile on my face. I read Whale Rider right when I needed something a little more irreverent and this hit the spot. Humourous and warm without being saccharine. Oodles of reread potential in The World's Wife. I mean, it features a poem about the amorous desires of Mrs King Kong, so what's not to love?

Special Mention to: Days Without End: absolutely stunning and inventive prose, but difficult to sustain it for a novel's length of story. By Nightfall: similarly gorgeous, witty prose, but occasionally tilts into pretentiousness. The Bass Rock: fun (somehow), but also incredibly depressing and bleak! Like Fleabag but with more gothic horror and murder rate statistics. Silence: one that hooked me, but I didn't fully feel connected to it. Some of the more religious aspects went over my head.

Did not Enjoy: Crawdads; ACOTAR; It Ends With Us; The Cellist of Sarajevo; The Unquiet Dead; Verity; Novelist As A Vocation.

Ragging on Colleen Hoover's works seems like low hanging fruit at this point, so I'll gloss over the details and just say they weren't for me. Two back to back duds as I explored the Balkans in literature: Cellist was flat as cardboard. No sense of place or personness in Galloway's writing. Just dry, dry, dry. I was hoping reading The Unquiet Dead might be a balm (in as much as reading about war crimes can be a balm...) because the premise sounded like a unique take on an old formula. Taking each 'ingredient' of the story individually, it should have been a rich feast for thought, but instead it was a hot, wooden, misogynistic mess. One of the main POVs is a female detective who just seethes whenever she has to interact with another woman and it's very quickly it's apparent that this isn't the character's internalised misogyny but an issue of the writing. The number of times boobs are hatefully acknowledged and described is cartoonish. Went into the Murakami essays hoping for... insight? I know that's not really his style, so more fool me I suppose, but it would have been nice to have *something* more substantive that what we got in Novelist as a Vocation. I get being stymied by the prospect of writing about writing; when your process is somewhere between flinging ideas at the wall to see what sticks and then buckling down and grinding out words, there's not a lot of compelling meat to talk about. But all the same, this collection was... wishywashy.

Let's end on a high! Animorphs. Yes. I have a box of these in my parents cellar and despite the dated 90s references, they are still bananas fun. This one featured tiny egomaniacal aliens who immediately kill their leader upon election, so that their reputation isn't tainted by poor decision making. Very sane and normal.

#books #reading #got 99 problems and too many books is one of them #2023 in books

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waywardstation · 2 years ago

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Today (November 23rd) is good brothers day in Japan. (With the focus being on the elder brother here)

I know this blog focuses more on PLA Ingo and his adventures in Hisui with his adopted niece/daughter but I really would love to hear some of your favorite headcanons of Ingo and Emmet.

I also think Emmet would be extra friendly today and maybe even getting him his favorite kind of candy. (while I believe they have their times of rivalry and pranks and other sibling stuff they always look out for each other and let the other know how much they care, especially after PLA.)

Oh!! Thanks for letting me know Anon, I didn’t know this!! And no worries, yes, while this is a PLA blog, I love Emmet just as much ^^

And I love your view of Ingo and Emmet’s sibling dynamic; I see it that way too!! I definitely see Emmet doing that for Ingo and yes, especially after PLA ;~;

And now, some headcanons below!! Several are popular ones within the fandom that I’ve latched onto, but some are ones I’ve grown to think for myself too ^^ (featuring Elesa too!)

—————————————

The twins’ hair has always been grey; it’s genetics.

Ingo’s first Pokémon was his Litwick, and Emmet’s was his tynamo - they found them both when they were young, and the Pokémon always followed them around.

Ingo is slightly taller than Emmet, but only by a couple inches. Post-Hisui, Ingo’s slouch gave Emmet the title of taller twin. Emmet holds it over Ingo’s head proudly until Ingo stands up straight again.

Emmet is very knowledgeable when it comes to Pokémon breeding, from his experience with breeding joltik. From time to time he likes to browse forums about the subject and help people with questions they might have, when it doesn’t seem like anyone else will give them an answer.

Ingo and Emmet love Roxie’s music, and they play it sometimes on the battle subway.

Emmet is partial to electric-type pokemon while Ingo is partial to fire-type pokemon. People speculate that it’s due to Unova’s legendary dragons, but really it’s tied to Emmet’s love of electric trains, and Ingo’s appreciation for steam-powered locomotives.

Ingo is the night owl, prone to getting up and going to bed later. Emmet is the early bird, prone to getting up and going to sleep earlier.

Though living in an apartment complex with neighbors who are very loud and not the most polite, sometimes neither sleep schedule is as smooth and restful as they’d like.

Emmet actually likes puns, just like Ingo - his vocabulary is as stuffed with train terms as his brother’s is. He just finds Elesa’s jokes to be low hanging fruit. She knows this full well, and intentionally keeps telling them. Ingo unironically enjoys them.

The twins met Elesa in grade school when she transferred out of homeschool/private school. Elesa met Emmet first, who then quickly introduced her to Ingo. The twins had transferred to the school themselves a year before and still didn’t have many friends, so they wanted to make Elesa feel welcome when they saw she was struggling with loneliness herself.

Elesa became very popular in highschool due to her good looks and attractive personality (and her family’s wealth became public knowledge); it did not influence her at all though. She did not fall for the fake friends that tried to attach themselves to her, and Ingo and Emmet remained as two of her only real friends through high school (Skyla and Burgh became the other two)

In terms of flavor, Ingo prefers sweet things while Emmet prefers bitter things.

Because of this, Emmet is a bit more lean than Ingo (Post-Hisui, it is more noticeable when Ingo comes back with a bit of a dad bod).

Emmet pokes fun at Ingo for his sweet tooth, saying he doesn’t ‘understand his inferior tastes’ (and Ingo fires right back), but both will immediately side with the other and gang up against Elesa when it comes to her preferred tastes - she LOVES intensely spicy dishes, which the twins cannot handle.

Ingo and Emmet occasionally help Elesa with her model work - their collaborations always brings extra publicity for both parties. Emmet unabashedly loves doing it, though Ingo’s always a little more flustered with all the attention.

Ingo and Emmet love watching horror movies, even if it still freaks them out.

The twins keep candy and gear station pins in their coat pockets to hand to children in the station.

In multi-battles, Ingo always uses his Pokémon to play defensive while Emmet always pushes offensive. (Just like how they’re meant to be utilized in Pokémon Masters EX)

#submas #happy good brothers day Ingo and Emmet #the headcanon list is MUCH longer than I thought #so I added a ‘keep reading’ haha #happy good brothers day to Ingo and Emmet

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cerastes · 4 years ago

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I don’t think we give Amiya enough credit for the nerves of steel she has to have in order to not only lead an altruistic pharmaceutics-slash-PMC-slash-humanitarian-aid corporation in a world as bleak as Terra, but to also have the staff Rhodes Island has in her payroll. Not to diminish her own status as a freak of nature (this term, understand, is used as a compliment for the purposes of this post), but she has some absolute legends and freaks of nature in her payroll, all with their quirks and idiosyncrasies, and she’s the respected boss.

She walks into a room with Actual Legends like Hellagur, Skadi and Schwarz, gives them a nice cordial greeting along with her instructions for the day, and then walks into the next room over where all the Superfreaks like Lappland, Specter and Ifrit are chilling, and you bet your soft toosh she gives them the same TED Talk-style cordial once-over, now, chop-chop, good luck, get that bread, girls.

It’s very likely that the first person to call in anyone’s mind in order to handle a situation with an Operator is Doctor; Ifrit eating her homework? Specter talking about how some things just were always meant to be cut? Yeah, Doc can handle that. Kal’tsit probably can also handle that (most of the time by throwing Doc in there, but she’s shown she can be assed and that she cares), but when neither of them are readily available and you see the tiniest CEO down the aisle? Yeah you can count on her.

Ifrit stops eating her homework and actually does it because you know Amiya is not only not afraid of incineration via punk Sarkaz, she also knows the formulas Ifrit has to be using, so she helps her out. Amiya asks Specter to show her what’s that she’s doing, and Specter gives her a beautifully arranged paper cutout figure of a school of fish she made with scissors and concentration, Amiya asks her if she still wants to cut more, Specter says yes, Amiya tells her there’s a lot of onions that need some slicing and dicing for tonight’s dinner, Specter immediately goes on her way, and now Matterhorn and Gummy have an impromptu assistant, all without being afraid of getting of being on the receiving end of a Specter episode.

We see a lot of Amiya in the context of Basically Doctor’s Daughter, which is fair, the game does indeed present her in such a manner, and since we see the world of Terra through Doctor’s eyes, we see a lot of Amiya in the context of “interacting with Doctor”, but she’s not a Babby Daughter when dealing with others, and I think this side of her is equally important and charming: She handles negotiations with Ch’en and Wei, she doles out orders to Blaze and Jessica’s team, she handles herself in a professional manner.

And that’s wonderful. This duality of Personal Life Versus Professional Life is very charming, it feels very personable, very fulfilling. Arknights could’ve handled Amiya completely differently, they really could’ve just made her Mascot Cute Girl CEO that the game would remind you, at all times, is a cute little girl, they really could’ve made endless bits or running gags about her being A Child and thus everyone treating her as A Child, even though she is the head honcho, and you know people would’ve been okay with this low hanging fruit, especially since they could just give her a *Serious Moment* at one important plot point around Chapter 5 or 6 where she acts as a respected, competent leader suddenly and everyone would’ve remarked on it like “Wow! Amiya is serious!” and you know people would’ve eaten that up and celebrated that hype moment. It’s what’s come to be expected from mobile games. I’m not even trying to be too mocking of it all; I know I would’ve accepted such a development, if nothing else because it could be worse than something mediocre like that.

But that’s not how Arknights decided to handle Amiya, and I’m very thankful, no, they have not, for one second, shied away from the fact that Amiya leads. The Yeti Squadron even lampshades how she looks older than she really is by virtue of her mature demeanor and vocabulary (albeit this particular instance signals to it as something tragic, which is also delicious). She’s not Haha Funny Little Girl With Leadership That The Narrative Keeps Reminding You Of By Belittling Her (But Then She Has A Baller Moment!), Amiya leads. Amiya is entirely composed of baller moments when not alone with Doc, constantly remaining in character as “Leader of Rhodes Island”, and I respect and like that very, very much. I enjoy Amiya immensely. Blaze and Ace casually joke and quip around with her habitually in their dialogue and follow her orders, Nearl clearly has a lot of respect for her, Blacksteel and Penguin Logistics Operators show appreciation for her, she’s never this Kingpin-like boss or “Miss Amiya”, just “Amiya”, who they know is very humane and pleasant, but also her baskets sorted. Amiya leads.

She’s just simply such a joy to have in the narrative as a key character.

#arknights #amiya

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

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Come Home

Prompts: Omg ur twins series has given me the seratonin I didn’t know I needed ;-; love ur fics!!! can I request maybe a one shot where Merlin confronts hunith about his birth parents, and they have a wholesome talk about it? Also bonus points for Merlin coming to terms with the fact that uther is his father and Morgana is his half sister (everyone notices now that they share similar features) - anon

ahhhh i loved the second installment of the twin series, the ending makes me yearn for more no matter how much i reread it *prompt idea* brotherly love pleaseeee, you've built so much hype 😭 some overprotective arthur over his younger brother, maybe some asshole noble treating merlin like shit because he grew up peasant, a merlin-arthur talk about feelings and new revelations, merlin-morgana-arthur talk (maybe?) take as long as you want really, no pressure i know it'll be worth it but a bit longer third installment please 💘 - anon

I have a very simple request oh ruler of the angst town. You've been graciously filling the stomachs of the Sanders Sides fandom but the Merlin fandom requests one thing: More, please, oh good lord. Thank you - alittletoo-obsessed

SO MANY OF YOU WERE SCREAMING FOR A PART THREE SO HERE YOU GO

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none, babes.

Pairings: it's found family hours

Word Count: 4574

The twins come home.

After a long, long time, the twins come home.

For Arthur, home is that empty space just over his shoulder, always there when he turns absentmindedly to talk to someone he never thought he’d see again. Home is someone to curl up with when the nights get cold and lonely, dark hair brushing under the tip of his nose as he wraps them in his arms. Home is someone else to see what’s happening, to stand as a silent vow of I’m here, I see you, I’m with you, I’ve got you.

For Merlin, home is someone who knows he’s not crazy, who catches him when he flies too high on the wings of his magic. Home is someone who wraps firm, solid arms around him, smelling of slightly spiced fruit and afternoon sun. Home is the space the magic curls about, searching for something to hold onto like an anchor as the world spins faster, faster, faster.

They leave the hall where Uther still sits, thunderstruck on his hollow throne, back to Arthur’s chambers. They don’t part when they get inside, stumbling across the room to the bed, somewhere they can sit and look and look at each other where there is no one else can see. Arthur reaches out to run his hand through Merlin’s hair.

“I always thought your hair would be dark,” he mumbles, losing himself in the way his fingers card through the strands. “Just had a feeling.”

“Mum’s hair was never dark enough to be mine.” Merlin closes his eyes as he feels Arthur’s hand go through it. “And—and Balinor, he—he wasn’t the right magic.”

Arthur’s hand stills. “Balinor was your father?”

“He was married to Hunith, he—but—“

Arthur’s arms are suddenly around him, warm and perfect and real and it feels like something else slots into place. Arthur’s breath warms the top of his head and Merlin feels his fingertips start to buzz.

“I’m sorry,” he realizes Arthur’s saying, “I didn’t—if I’d’ve known, I would’ve—“

They will come to find that they don’t need words. Merlin just buries his nose in the crook of Arthur’s neck and breathes in the smell of home.

“I kept the blanket I was taken in,” he mumbles, “and it smelled like this.”

“Like—like me?”

Merlin nods. “Fruit. Sunlight. Warm.”

“Warm doesn’t have a smell, Merlin.”

“Sure it does.”

“What does it smell like, then?”

“Warm! You don’t explain what apples smell like, they just smell like apple.”

“Sure you can, they smell tart, a little sweet, but it’s a thin smell, it’s not rich.”

“Where and why do you know how to describe smells so well?”

“Morgana went through an alchemy phase, dragged me into being her test subject.”

Merlin snorts, nuzzling deeper into Arthur’s warmth. “I imagine you reeked of an awful assortment of perfumes.”

“Oh, it was an excellent way to get out of court duty.”

They laugh together. Then Merlin quiets, burying his nose in the smell of home and willing his magic to help him come up with something.

“…it’s barely noticeable,” he says quietly, “but it’s…it’s there. It’s slightly, um, it smells a bit like old leather, or old wood, but it’s…it’s earthier.”

Arthur’s quiet for a moment, then Merlin feels his head turn and bury into Merlin’s hair.

“I always thought you’d be colder.” His arms tighten slightly, as if he can feel how Merlin’s magic is trying to pull him closer—and hey, maybe he can. “I—you used to get really strong on winter nights. I used to imagine that you’d—you’d be cold and it was my job to keep you warm and if you were warm, you’d—you’d stay.”

“I’ll stay,” Merlin says immediately, “I’ll stay.”

“You’d better.”

For Arthur, it’s finally seeing that figure sprinting ahead of him, goading him to chase faster and faster. It’s hearing about how cruel bullies were and sternly promising that if anyone ever tries anything like that again, he’ll kick their arse. It’s hearing a mumbles admission of crying while angry and promising that he’ll never judge Merlin for crying, not when he’s here to protect him.

For Merlin, it’s his magic finally having both of them to wrap its blanket around, someone else to hold him firmly when it can’t do the job itself. It’s hearing about how lonely life as a prince can be and vowing that he’s just going to sit next to Arthur and damn all the customs. It’s hearing about the cruelty of a king that didn’t know how to be a father first and muttering that Uther would see what the bloody hell he was doing wrong.

It’s home.

——————————————

News that Uther has another son spreads like a sickness in the castle. Servants whisper that the long-lost boy has returned, that the curse of the dead queen has lifted because her son is back, that finally, finally, Uther will stop the hell-path he’s wrought upon the kingdom.

Servants whisper that the nobles won’t like this. That they’re sick of having to put up with Arthur already, that if there’s another son, they’ll have another obstacle in their path.

Some nobles are clever.

They know that if Uther has a peasant son, he’ll have to make the boy a noble or denounce him completely. Or, and this is not a very likely option, he’ll have to accept that he has one royal son and one peasant son.

Some nobles aren’t clever.

They think that if Uther has another son, it doesn’t matter.

The nobles that know the knights know that they won’t be able to get within ten feet of Merlin. Many of them don’t want to. They’re not quite sure what position Merlin holds in court, but it’s not a manservant’s. They know that the boy who came to Camelot and managed to get the prince to shut up for once is a good one. Some of them hold the opinion that if Uther is what he made his son into, he might actually listen to the boy as well.

The nobles that don’t know the knights are stupid.

One such noble decides that it doesn’t matter whether or not the boy is of royal blood, the king hasn’t claimed him, and thus he is still a peasant.

He decides, in his infinite wisdom, to humiliate the boy by dousing him with wine for forgetting to thank him for giving him an order.

Merlin has been covered with wine before, this isn’t new to him. What is new is that he has a brother that takes great pleasure in dragging the unsuspecting noble to the front of the room and publicly shaming him.

“Have you so little sense of yourself that you must stoop to the humiliation of others for your own amusement? Perhaps if you spent more time thinking of what to do with your words you wouldn’t be so intimidated by the confidence of someone else. I would be surprised to learn if you had a mind since your only defense is to sling wine all over someone’s front. You are a disgrace to everything you proclaim to be and I would be ashamed of you if you were one of my men.”

It’s not the most direct way to banish someone and strip them of their place in court, but it is one of the more entertaining.

Of course, when a noble is demoted to a knight, he ends up at the mercy of the elder knights on the training field. It’s one of the only times Gwaine shows up promptly for a training session.

Merlin mumbles that Arthur didn’t have to do that, that he’s had worse, but later in the privacy of their rooms, Arthur says that he’s making up for the years where he wasn’t there.

“And it wasn’t just for you, it was for the knights too.”

“How noble.”

——————————————

It’s in the way Arthur still tries to turn into the tower corridor that first tips Merlin off. It’s the way his hands still twitch toward an old sword hanging on the wall. It’s the way he turns to his other side, not where Merlin always stands, expecting someone to be there. It’s the way he looks at the other side of Uther’s throne, expecting there to be another one.

It’s the way Merlin knows what feels like to miss another half of yourself.

“I want to find her,” he says quietly after a long day, “she’s your sister.”

Arthur pauses, fingers faltering on the edge of a cabinet. His head bows low.

“She is, Arthur,” Merlin says, standing, “and she’s mine too.”

“I know.”

“There’s still good in her, Arthur, I know there is.”

“I know.”

“I—“ Merlin swallows. “I’m to blame for what she’s become, I’m the one who poisoned her.”

“I’m the one who drove her away from the start,” Arthur says, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I’m not blameless either.”

There’s a pause.

Arthur glances at Merlin. “There was a time when I thought you were her. That the—the person I was missing was her.”

“She’s magic too, it makes sense.”

Arthur nods, staring into space. “But she wasn’t you. Her—I guess I didn’t know it was magic, then, but her—her magic never felt right.”

He turns to take a hunting satchel down from the hook.

“Do you know how to find her?”

“Yes,” Merlin says, “but you’re not coming.”

“What?”

Merlin holds his hands up. “She’ll try to kill you, you know it. She won’t listen to you. Not at first.”

“And she won’t try to kill you? You poisoned her!”

“I have magic. She can’t beat me.”

“Merlin.”

“I’ll be safe!”

“When have you ever been safe in your life?”

“Like you’re in any position to judge!”

The bickering continues until Merlin grabs Arthur’s arm and tells him that he needs to do this. That it has to be him, only him, that he knows how to reach Morgana in a way that Arthur can’t.

Arthur lets him go with a strict promise to be back in a fortnight, no more.

Merlin knows how to find Morgana. Arthur’s connection to magic isn’t like his, but he is born of the stuff. And so is Morgana.

There’s a tingle in Merlin’s fingertips non-stop when he’s in Camelot, his magic tugging him towards Arthur and the magic in him. But Uther’s blood flows in both of their veins, so if he focuses, he can find Morgana.

His travels lead him to a forest home, modest and slight, but secure enough that he knows he can’t just walk in. There are half a dozen places where she could be hiding nearby, half a dozen more where traps could be. So he picks his way carefully through the undergrowth and knocks on her door.

He expects to be knocked out and strung up. He doesn’t expect her to raise an eyebrow and try and bind him with a curse.

He bats the curse away without trying to hide the way his eyes glow gold.

Morgana’s eyes widen and she stumbles back. He raises his hands and weathers the spitting, the curses—just cusses, this time—of his betrayal, how dare he, and apologizes.

“You were the vessel,” he says as his only defense, “I didn’t think there was any other way.”

“And what if you told me?” She draws herself up, looking every bit the queen she was born to be. “I could’ve helped! Perhaps I would’ve taken it of my own free will, you had no right to strip me of that choice.”

“I know. And I am sorry. For all of it. For not telling you, for trying to kill you, for—for everything.”

She evaluates him cooly. “Well, I suppose that’s that, then? You want me to accept your apology and toddle back to Camelot?”

And the thing is…he can see it now.

He and Arthur don’t share that many features, but he and Morgana…

It’s the angular jaw. The way the nose slopes slightly to the right instead of the left. The way one eye is a little bit longer than the other. The dark hair, wavy but not too wavy. The slender build, the sharp shoulders.

The way their magic curls about their fingertips before the spell is cast.

Morgana seems to notice him staring and frowns, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he manages, still marveling at how he never noticed, “sorry, I just…”

“Just…what?”

His magic thrums in his hands, telling him to let it go, reach out to their sister, help her see. He obeys, opening his hand and letting the magic swirl up, into the air. Morgana’s eyes widen and she takes a step back, preparing a defensive spell of her own only for her jaw to drop as her magic touches Merlin’s.

It doesn’t feel like coming home, not like finding Arthur did, but it feels like something.

“What…how is this possible?”

“I’m your brother,” Merlin whispers, peering through the lattice of magic, “I—you’re my sister.”

At the word ‘sister,’ something in Morgana’s magic flinches. Merlin frowns, peering closer, eyes widening when he notices a dark patch, almost as if the magic is bruised from being constrained. His own magic touches it carefully, recoiling in shock.

“What is that? Morgana, what happened to you?”

She rubs her wrist absent-mindedly, her face contorting into a scowl. “The last person to call me ‘sister.’”

Merlin’s eyes widen. Morgana retracts her magic, burying it deep inside herself and taking a deep breath. When she looks at Merlin again, she looks almost like the woman Merlin met in Camelot.

“So. That means Arthur’s your brother too.”

Merlin nods. “I was…we were born of the same magic.”

“And that makes Uther your father.”

Merlin's face contorts in rage and Morgana snorts.

“Yes, that was my reaction too.”

“Balinor was my father,” Merlin says firmly, curling his hands into fists, “Uther is not.”

“But you have his blood,” Morgana says quietly, not meaning to hurt, just to inform, “and you are bound to him. Just as I am.”

Now it is Merlin that has to look desperately at Morgana, hoping for it to be anything other than the truth.

“You can’t have Arthur without Uther, Merlin,” she murmurs, “you have to accept that. You can’t have Arthur without Camelot. You can’t have your brother without your father.”

“And what about my sister?”

Her smile is sad. “I had neither for a long time.”

“I just got my sister,” Merlin says firmly, “I’m not letting her go again.”

“Oh, and that’s your decision, is it?”

Merlin blinks. “Um—well, I mean—if—if that’s okay with you—“

Her laugh is high, like pealing bells, and it makes him smile to hear it. “How you manage to switch between those two will always astound me. No wonder no one else ever figured out you had magic.”

“Excuse you, I did a perfectly good job at hiding my magic.”

“Gaius used to scream about it with the door open, Merlin, that’s not exactly subtle.”

“How is that my fault?”

She giggles and oh, is this what it’s like to have a sister?

Their laughter ends and Morgana crosses her arms, head bowed as she thinks. Merlin lets his magic flutter around the room, cleaning up, until she raises her head again.

“Do you think Uther can change?”

Merlin sighs. “I don’t know. But I do know we can change the minds of everyone else.”

“Starting with Arthur, I presume?”

“Arthur. The knights. Most of the council. The servants.”

“Got a plan for this, do you?”

“…not really good at plans.”

“Well, no, not if most of them involve poisoning sisters.”

“Hey!”

Morgana laughs again, then her smile softens and she rushes forward to wrap her arms around Merlin.

“Your magic feels warm,” she mumbles, “not like Morgause’s. Maybe I’ll enjoy being your sister.”

“And Arthur’s?”

“If he can pull his head out of his arse, we’ll see.” She lets him go and walks toward the front of the house.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To see if we can both pull his head out of his arse, it’s so big we’ll need the two of us.”

“Right now?”

“Unless you think I should wait?” There it is. The tiniest hint of vulnerability in the way her voice wobbles at the end.

A question of whether Morgana would actually be welcomed back into Camelot, a question of whether Arthur would want her back. A question of how true this fantasy really is.

Merlin straightens. “No,” he says firmly, “let’s just hope the two of us can do it together.”

——————————————

Arthur never thought he’d see his sister again.

But the instant Morgana walks into his chambers, looking as if she’d never left, she barely has time to open her mouth to deliver a snappy remark before he’s rushing across the room and wrapping her in a hug so fierce it makes Merlin laugh.

Morgana laughs at him with some incredibly clever quip but he isn’t listening. He’s too busy hugging his sister. Who’s finally home, who’s finally here.

“…oh, alright, you big softy,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around him too, “there. Are you happy now?”

“‘Gana.”

“Yes, that’s me. Is your head alright? Merlin, what did you do to him?”

“He’s happy to see his sister, Morgana.”

She sighs dramatically. “Oh, don’t both of you go all sappy on me.”

Arthur just pulls her closer, burying his nose in her neck. “‘Gana.”

There’s a pause. Then: “Oh, Arthur, I missed you too.”

It’s too much. He sticks out his arm and grabs Merlin’s tunic, yanking him closer. Merlin makes a noise of surprise as Arthur bundles them both into the hug. Morgana makes a slightly affronted gesture as she makes room for the two of them, pulling her hair out of the way as Arthur buries his nose between their shoulders.

“I certainly don’t remember him being this clingy, are you sure this is the same Arthur?”

“His head’s certainly big enough.”

“Well, yes, but that’s not exactly the most reliable thing to go on. He’s always been utterly obnoxious.”

“Don’t have to tell me.”

And they’re bickering like siblings and it’s right and it feels right and their magic is here now and he can feel both of them and it’s warm and it makes his chest tingle and—and—

“Oh, oh dear,” he hears Morgana murmur, “Arthur, are you—are you crying?”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Arthur, it’s okay.”

“Come, let’s sit down, if you fall over you’ll take the two of us with you.”

“Just try and breathe, it’s okay, we’re not going anywhere.”

Arthur can’t bear to let them go. Not even for an instant. Morgana stays with him, her arms wound tightly around his neck, her fingers scratching lightly through his hair. Merlin sits at his back, his chest warm.

“Come now, you silly man,” Morgana says, trying to keep the tears out of her own voice, “there’s no use crying over this. No man is worth your tears, remember?”

“You’re not a man,” he mumbles, “you’re my sis’er.”

“He’s got a point.”

Morgana sighs. “Oh, Arthur…”

He registers how long’s been crying only when he feels his head start to ring from how stuffy his nose feels. He hooks his chin over Morgana’s shoulder.

“Go on.”

“What?”

“Go on,” he mumbles, “tease me. I know you want to.”

“…I’m not going to tease you, Arthur.”

“Really? All this material and you won’t?”

“Not today,” she murmurs, sounding a little hoarse herself, “not—not today.”

She holds him tighter.

“Not when I’ve just learned I have two brothers.”

He can live with that.

She does tease him later, when he says that he hasn’t missed her at all—a blatant lie, that, and they all know it—or that he’s always been a model of a knight. Of course, she doesn’t have to train with him alone, anymore, she has her pick of the knights. And Merlin.

Because Morgana has magic.

Merlin has magic. Is magic, if the stories are to be believed. And Morgana has always been a quick study.

So sometimes, Arthur will just…watch them. But it’s always that. Just watching.

Merlin is the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. Morgana is a High Priestess of the Old Religion.

What is Arthur?

“You’re pouting, Princess.”

Arthur barely flinches as Gwaine plops down beside him. He does raise an eyebrow as he feels the rest of the knights sit down around him.

“I’m not pouting, Gwaine.”

“Sure you are.” He flicks Arthur’s arm. “You’re pouting.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Arthur sighs. “And what is it you think I’m pouting over?”

“The fact that you now have to share Merlin with Morgana.”

“That’s not—“

“You’re bright red, Princess, you know I’m right.”

“Enough.”

Lancelot lays a hand on Gwaine’s arm. Gwaine hushes. Percival glances around to make sure there aren’t any other knights near and nods.

“What’s troubling you,” Lancelot asks quietly, “and how can we help?”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Elyan sits up a little more. “There’s always something we can do.”

“Not with this,” Arthur mumbles, still watching the two magic users train, “not with this.”

Leon follows his gaze. “Impressive, aren’t they?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wish you had magic too?”

Damn you, Leon. Damn you.

“…no.”

Leon chuckles softly. “Come now, sire, no need to lie to us.”

“I just—“ Arthur sighs, scrubbing his face with his hands. “It’s fine.”

Leon lays a hand on his shoulder.

“…they’re both…incredible—don’t tell them I said that,” Arthur says sharply.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gwaine lies.

Arthur sighs again. “I just…I know I was born of magic, but…”

“You don’t have any,” Leon guesses, “not like they do.”

He shakes his head.

“Eh, you don’t need it,” Gwaine says, leaning up against Arthur’s side, “you’re plenty fine without it.”

Arthur’s head whips around to stare at him in shock. Gwaine raises an eyebrow.

“What? You are.”

“Since when do you give me compliments?”

Gwaine shrugs. “’S not about compliments, it’s about the truth. You’re able to do a shit load of things perfectly fine on your own, you don’t need to have magic for it.”

“He’s right, sire,” Lancelot adds, “your skills are a testament to you, not to whatever magic brought you into this world.”

“I’d follow you with or without magic.” Percival stands tall. “Just so happens you don’t have it. Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

“You’re our commander,” Elyan agrees, “that’s that.”

Leon’s hand on his shoulder rubs soft circles, brushing away his protests. He’s not sure if he believes them entirely, not just yet, but maybe…

Maybe one day he will. After all, he thinks with a smile, he’s got some people to help him with that.

He never thought he’d see his sister again.

——————————————

“Mum?”

Hunith turns around and smiles.

“Merlin, come here.”

Merlin rushes forward, wrapping his arms around her in a warm hug.

“Why didn’t you send word you were coming,” she scolds gently, “I would’ve gotten everything ready.”

“I wanted to surprise you!”

“Well, I am surprised. Sit, sit, tell me everything.”

Her son sits, idly toying with his hands. She frowns.

“What’s the matter?”

“I, um…I have a question for you.”

“What is it?”

“Where…where am I from?”

Oh.

Hunith smiles and tells him the story. Tells him of how Balinor arrived one night, a little babe clutched in his arms. How he told her how the queen had two children, one that had to be kept safe away from Camelot. How his magic had reached out to her once she held him, wrapped around them as he fell asleep against her breast.

Merlin listens, tears in his eyes, as she tells him that she loved him from the moment she saw him, that he would always have a home here.

“You’re my mum,” he mumbles, wiping away tears, “and I—you’re always gonna be my mum.”

“Oh, Merlin, come here—“

She holds her son in her arms and thanks the magic of the world that gave him to her.

——————————————

Uther responds about as well as you’d expect.

As in, not at all.

At least, not until he realizes that there are three children who are about to make sure he does what he promised Ygraine he would, and if he doesn’t, they’ll do it for him.

He tries to deny having another son, one that was raised as a peasant, no less, only for Arthur to stand up in court and publicly acknowledge Merlin as his brother.

He tries to deny that Morgana is his daughter, only for Morgana to stand tall and proud by Arthur’s side as they declare their intent to rule as brother and sister.

He tries to deny that not one but two of his children have magic, only for Arthur to open talks with the druids by using his brother and sister with magic as ambassadors.

He tries.

He fails.

He wants to think that he still has his loyal knights, but Gwaine and Percival decide that they’re Merlin’s bodyguards, and Leon and Lancelot won’t leave Arthur’s side. Morgana doesn’t need her own bodyguards, but Elyan and Gwen are never far from her.

He wants to think he still has the support of the Council, but Gaius had stood and given a speech about being so happy to see Ygraine’s children home again and his words had been frozen before he could say anything.

He wants to think he’s still the king. But everyone is starting to look to Arthur, to Morgana, not to him.

Once, and only once, he considers getting rid of the boy.

When he wakes from a terrible nightmare of drowned children, burned houses, and Ygraine’s immortal disappointment, he doesn’t think of it again.

Uther isn’t dragged kicking and screaming from his throne, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t many who’d love to if he gave them the opportunity.

He’s not worth lingering on.

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #morgana pendragon #dragonbabbles #fic

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dragons-bones · 4 years ago

Text

FFXIV: A Synthesis of Aether

#FebHyurary Day 17: Food + Day 18: Music

A/N: So I had too many ideas for yesterday, but knew for today touching on Synnove’s aether synesthesia would work well, and then I said, “DT YOU FOOL YOU CAN COMBINE BOTH DAYS FOR HER AETHER SYNESTHESIA.” And lo: a fic! Mostly dialogue, I haven’t done a dialogue heavy ficlet in a loooong time so I feel a bit rusty, but this was a fun exercise!

RATING: T WORD COUNT: 1455 WARNINGS: None!

---

[Installing SCAEVAN SYSTEMICS operating software.]

[Installation successful, running update cycle.]

[Updates complete. Archive Node Unit 453 now online. Please specify primary user.]

“Synnove Greywolfe.”

[USER: SYNNOVE now registered. How may I assist you today?]

“Please stand by for audio recording.”

[Standing by.]

The node’s lights dimmed from bright grass green to soft seafoam as it partially powered down, its northern and southern hemispheres slowly rotating in opposite directions.

Synnove lowered her hand and glanced over at Rereha. “All right, you can babble now,” the Highlander said.

Rere took her hands off her mouth to tug at her braided pigtails and beamed at her. “Whatcha doing?” she said, in the sing-song tone of someone feeling exceptionally nosy, rocking back on her heels.

Synnove rolled her eyes and set her hands on her hips. “Y’shtola’s working on a compilation of aetheric synesthesic perceptions as a downtime project,” she said. “She asked me if I was willing to contribute, to which I obviously said ‘yes.’ But because I’m not often able to spend much time in Revenant’s Toll that doesn’t devolve into Warrior of Light or Ironworks business—”

“—audio recordings you can send or give her are more convenient.”

“Careful, Rere, or other people will begin realizing you’re smarter than you pretend to be.”

The lalafell gasped. “Madam, you wound me!”

She received a satisfied smirk in reply as Synnove added, “And what better way to create an audio recording than with my new archive node?”

Rere pulled herself up onto Synnove’s desk, sitting on the edge and kicking her feet back and forth as she leaned back to rest on her hands. “Did you liberate it from the Ironworks?”

“I purchased this fair and square, I have a bill of sale from Jessie herself.”

“Nero’s OS?”

“The fact you know that term is vaguely frightening, but the man does have an unparalleled understanding of Allagan technology and if you tell him I said that, I will hang you by your toes from the edge of the Steps of Faith.”

Rere mimed locking her lips.

“Hand me that stack of paper, please.” Synnove pointed to Rere’s right. The lalafell snagged it and dutifully handed it over.

The arcanist shuffled through them, humming tunelessly as she did, before she came across the correct page. “All right,” she said, mostly to herself. “Start with Y’shtola’s list of baseline sensations today and go from there.” Louder now: “Begin recording.”

[Audio recording now live.]

Synnove automatically straightened her spine and rolled down her shoulders in the same way she did before she began a lecture for the fourth-year arcanist students. In a clear, strong voice: “Synnove Greywolfe recording for Y’shtola Rhul on the 18th day of the Second Umbral Moon, 11 Year of the Seventh Astral Era, on the subject of synesthetic perceptions of aether. I personally perceive aether, in addition to visual manifestations, as both taste and sound. Occasionally, one sensation will dominate the other, and certain sounds and tastes aren’t exclusive to one elemental type.

“For this recording, I’ll describe the overall generalities I associate with different elemental aether; variance is high depending on factors such as location or origin, in terms of ambient or crystallized aether, or in the case of spells, if they are being performed correctly or are altered in some capacity.”

“How to spot the catastrophic boom just before the boom becomes catastrophic and it’s too late to do anything about it.”

Synnove sighed. Rere giggled.

“Y’sthola, remind me to recalculate the angle needed to ensure Rere lands in Silvertear if thrown from the highest tower in the Toll.”

“Hey!”

“You’d be fine, Hydaelyn likes you best.”

Rere pouted, lower lip pushed out to the point of exaggeration, which meant she wasn’t actually offended.

“To get back on topic: fire. Fire aether most frequently tastes like hot spices, such as peppers; coffee; red meat, such as buffalo; bitter chocolate; cherries; wine. Sound tends to be uniformly brass instruments such as horns and trumpets; very occasionally it can sound like metal striking metal.

“Earth aether is auditorily simple and gustatorily complex. The sound of earth is always rhythmic and steady, if not outright drumming; the sensation of it echoing follows fairly often, too. Taste runs a huge gamut: savory or sweet seasonings, such as cumin or cinnamon; white meat, such as pork; most vegetables, particularly green or starchy vegetables; certain fruits such as apples and figs; bread; cheeses; stews; whiskeys.”

“I’d call most of those foods ‘homey.’”

Synnove frowned thoughtfully. “That’s a fair assessment,” she said after a moment. “Earth aether tends to ‘taste’ comforting.”

“Does that mean Tyr is the ultimate comfort food?”

“Does that mean you want to go flying out of my office window into the harbor?”

“I’m going to shut up now!”

“See how long that lasts,” Synnove said under her breath while her sister smiled beatifically. “Where was I… Ah, wind.”

The Highlander frowned. “Wind aether is another oddity, taste-wise. Mint tends to present quite frequently, along with sweet chocolate, white grapes, vanilla, white wine, arak, olives, and scallions. Thankfully when it seems to be a combination of flavors, it’s complimentary…” She shook her head. “Sound is similar to flutes, chimes, whistles. Bit stereotypical, honestly.

“Lightning…” Synnove paused, frowning again. “Sound tends to be similar to specific string instruments such as violas and cellos; deeper sounds. Low notes on a piano or harpsichord, sometimes simple humming or vibrations. Taste does not tend to be strong, but most frequently has manifested as berries and/or stonefruits. Alcohols such as gin, palm wine, ouzo, and brandy.”

“That is not the element I’d consider boozy,” Rere said idly. She had lain back on the desk and was staring up at the huge arched ceiling of the tower office, twiddling her thumbs.

Synnove shrugged without further comment, already looking at the next item on the list Krile had transcribed on Y’shtola’s behalf. “Water is what one would think would be boozy but I have legitimately never tasted ‘boozy’ water aether before. Tropical fruits dominate; in terms of savory, as horrifically stereotypical as it is, seafood. But almost never in a way that makes sense, I once found a water cluster in a bluefin tuna’s belly that tasted like Coerthan oyster confit.”

“I remember that, you made the weirdest face.”

“I still can’t find the words to describe just how fucked up that taste versus visual dichotomy was. In any event, water aether also sounds like string instruments, mostly harps, dulcimers, and brighter pianos. Also, a very specific drum… Rere, what’s that staccato-sounding drum the Flames have been using in their parades of late?”

The lalafell picked her head up. “Snare drum?”

“That’s the one. Timpanis on occasion, too. And finally…ice. Sound leans towards woodwind instruments like the clarinet and piccolo, as well as bells. Any bell. Taste…hmm. Slaw, fruits that freezes well, fruit juices, Thavnairian sweet tea—”

“That is not tea, that is an abomination.”

“—some melons, cucumbers, white rum, wintergreen.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never come across ice aether that tastes like the Bismarck’s root beer float.”

“They introduced it to the menu last year.”

“So?”

Synnove sighed that heavy, gusting sigh everyone who spent longer than thirty minutes with Rereha learned. “Y’shtola, I see a note here about Primordial Light and Dark, but I’ll do that in the next recording along with variations and discrepancies, as first, I need to beat my sister over the head with a grimoire—”

Rereha hopped down from the desk and ran for the office door, shouting BYE Y’SHTOLA I LOVE YOU BEST over her shoulder as she did.

“—and second, I’m hungry and now is a good time to break for lunch. Recording end.”

[End of recording. Is there anything else on which I may provide assistance?]

“No, that will be all for now—ah! Before I forget. Please create new nodal designation of own choice.”

[Clarification requested.]

“Pick a name for yourself.”

[…]

[Accessing imperial Allagan databases for repository of birth certificates. Scanning records.]

[Archive Node Unit 453 rename complete. Archive Node Unit 453 is now Kleio.]

Synnove smiled, pleased. “It’s nice to meet you, Kleio.”

[…Thank you. Database scans are currently inconclusive as relates to instruments in modern usage versus those of Allag. What samples are available to provide edification?]

The Highlander cocked her head, staring at the silver-and-green node for a few long moments, before another smile, this one slow and delighted, crossed her features. “I have a few orchestrion rolls that include solos and chamber music that you could listen to while I have lunch, and I can provide lists of which instruments are used in each piece.”

[That would be satisfactory.]

“Perfect! Let’s get you set up…”

#febhyurary #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #oc: synnove greywolfe #oc: rereha reha #oc: kleio the archive node #dt's writing

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dialovers-translations · 4 years ago

Text

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Yuma Dark [Epilogue]

Monologue

ーー The way to survive in a world which has lost all order.

Is to first and foremost band together as a group.

No matter how strong or how clever you may be,

if your opponent outnumbers you by just the slightest margin,

you have no shot at winning.

That is most likely the reason why,

the more rowdy the city, the larger the number of gangs.

And in this city as well,

the gangs which had been formed by groups of orphansーー

they would call them ‘teams’,

and there were several of them.

Lucks was the Boss who kept together,

one of the top teams of the city,

and also the person who picked me up,

after I was left for dead in a back-alley.

One day, one week, one month.

The more time I spent together with him,

the more I began to realize just how amazing he truly was.

He was obviously skilled in battle,

but also oddly intelligent for someone who lived in the slums,

as well did he excel in leadership and decision-making.

On top of that, he had a strong sense of justice and a caring heart.

It was only obvious that many people gathered,

around such an ideal-seeming leader.

Including myself as well,

Boss therefore had many henchman under his wing.

He would even look out for those henchmen’s followers.

There was simply no way that someone with such principles,

could let a person starve to death.

Thanks to Boss,

we got a serving of bread and fruit once every day.

However, the number of us henchmen,

was by no means small. Regardless,

how did Boss manage to provide,

this much food for us?

The amount was simply too much to achieve through theft.

I found this odd.

ー The scene starts with a flashback in the city

Lucks: Here you go, Bear. This is today’s share.

Bear: ...Say, how do you get your hands on this food?

Lucks: Haah? You’re worried about that sorta stuff?

Bear: I’m glad you’re feeding us. However, I’m worried you might be getting yourself involved with dangerous business...

Lucks: Seems like you still don’t quite understand. Not a single thing is risk-free in this city.

Bear: Thenーー

Lucks: But you know, that is nothing for you to worry about.

That’s my duty as a Boss. All you need to do is sit there and munch on your bread.

Bear: ...

*TIMESKIP*

Bear: ( Sometimes Boss disappears without a word... )

( If I find out how he acquires the food, I might be able to help out as well. )

( I owe Boss big time. So I want to help him in every way I can. )

Lucks: ...Ugh...

*Thud*

Bear: ...! B-Boss!?

Oi, Boss! Hang in there! Why are you this...?

Lucks: ...Bear...Is that you? You found me at the worst possible time...

*Rustle*

Bear: ( There’s chafes all over his body...? )

...! Boss, don’t tell me...

Lucks: ...If possible, I would have liked to keep this a secret from you. Despite your rough personality, you are still innocent after all (1)...

The people who give me money...They all treat me like some kind of slave...However, I don’t plan on selling off my heart or soul.

No matter how much money they offer, or how much they control me...I will never belong to anyone.

Even quasi-livestock like me still has a pride left...

ー The flashback ends as the scene shifts to the infirmary

Yuma: ...

A livestock’s pride, huh...?

Yui: ...Nn...

Yuma: Pretty cheeky of ya to repeat his exact same words, huh? Right, Sow...?

*Rustle*

Reinhart: How is she doing?

Yuma: Aahn? Fuck off. Can’t ya tell? She’s snoozin’.

Reinhart: Oh my, you’re right. That being said, she seemed to be suffering from pretty severe anemia...Do you have any clue what might have happened?

Yuma: Beats me! Why do ya ask me? It’s damn annoyin’.

Reinhart: Why, you ask? ...Aren’t you her boyfriend?

Yuma: Boyfriend? Hah! That’s the best joke I’ve ever heard.

Reinhart: Oh, you’re not? I figured that was the case seeing as you were carrying her in your arms as you brought her in.

Yuma: That’s not her role. She’s just part of a ‘means’. ...One to fulfill my ambition, that is.

Reinhart: Your ambition? Are you talking about your dreams for the future? I’m impressed you’ve already got that figured out at your age! What kind of dream is it?

Yuma: Che, shut up. Didn’t ya hear me when I said you’re damn annoyin’!?

Reinhart: Ah, come on. If you shout like thaーー

*Rustle*

Yui: Nn...

Reinhart: See? You woke her up. Good morning, Komori-san. How are you feeling?

Yui: Sensei and...Yuma-kun...?

( ...Right. I was about to fall over from anemia, when Yuma-kun stepped in and... )

( ...My memory is failing me. I must have lost consciousness at some point after he sucked my blood a second time... )

Uhm, right now it’s...?

Reinhart: Fourth period is almost over. You slept soundly.

Yui: That long...?

Yuma: Ya slept way too long just ‘cause you’re runnin’ a lil’ low on blood!

Yui: S-Sorry...

Reinhart: Watch your mouth, Yuma-kun! That’s not a very nice way to put it? Being kind to women should be the basic rule of any man, no?

Yuma: Kind? Hah, you’ve got to be kidding me. She’s not worth that sorta treatment.

Yui: ( I’m nothing but a toy in Yuma-kun’s eyes after all...There’s no way he would be kind to me. )

( ...But, he did bring me to the infirmary after I had lost consciousness. I should be grateful for that, right? )

( Although he is the reason this happened in the first place though... )

Reinhart: Hmm, your complexion is still a little pale. Are you anemic after all?

Right now you are only showing light symptoms, but if it gets more severe, please go to the hospital.

Well, you kids are still young, so for now focus on eating good, nutritious meals, okay?

Yui: Yes. Thank you very much.

Reinhart: Well then, I’ll be on my way to the staff room but if you still feel unwell, you can rest here. What about you, Yuma-kun?

Yuma: Aah? If she remains here, I obviously will as well.

Reinhart: Fufu, you must be really worried about her.

Yui ( No way he’s worried, he just wants to keep an eye on me... )

Reinhart: I’ll leave you in her care then. Ah, do you remember what I said earlier? You have to be kind toーー

Yuma: Shut yer fuckin’ mouth! Go already!!

Reinhart: Ahaha, good luck then!

Yui: ( Sensei’s amazing, he can just laugh it off when Yuma-kun snaps at him. )

Yuma-kun, are you sure you shouldn’t go? To class.

Yuma: ...Aah?

Yui: ( Uwah, he’s in a foul mood...I probably shouldn’t say anything unnecessary now... )

Yuma: Geez...From havin’ to carry ya ‘round, gettin’ hindered by that damn NEET to dealin’ with that nosy Teacher...Today seriously sucked big time.

It’s all ‘cause ya collapsed on me. Take some responsibility, Sow.

Yui: ...! N-No more blood today, okay!?

( I feel like I’ll be in serious trouble if he sucks me yet another time! )

Yuma: I’ve fed off ya twice and ya already reached yer limit? It’s ‘cause you’re so damn tiny.

...Che, guess it can’t be helped. It won’t be delicious if I suck ya when you’re already all shriveled.

Then just rest up here until school’s over. I get to skip classes as well. Gotta watch ya after all. I won’t have Ruki scold me afterwards.

Yui: The whole time...Until after class? I’ve actually come to school, so I’d like to at least attend final period...

Yuma: Don’t be complainin’! I’m tellin’ ya to rest so get to sleep!!

Yui: F-Fine...! I understand, so please don’t yell like that.

Yuma: ...Che, look at ya twitchin’ in fear. Nn...

Yui: ( Ah, those sugar cubes again...He brings those with him even to school. Just how much does he like them? )

( Well, but...Despite everything he says, he’ll stay here with me the whole time, right? Even if he just wants to skip class. )

( Perhaps Yuma-kun is just the slightest bit worried about me as well. )

( I should probably thank him at least? )

ー Yuma moves closer

Yui: Say, Yuma-kun. Thaーー Nguh!?

*Rustle*

–> If you are playing the Limited V edition or the Grand Edition, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“Don’t make a fuss. Keep still.”

“...Aah? What? You’re curious ‘bout Sugar-chan?”

“Che...! Geez, this bed is too damn small...They should change it to somethin’ a lil’ more fittin’ for someone my size!”

Yui: ...!?

Yuma: Nn...Come on, eat it. Don’t ya dare spit it out.

Yui: ( It’s sweet...Is this sugar he’s forcing inside my mouth...!? )

Yuma: Ya should feel grateful. I’m sharin’ my cute lil’ Sugar-chan with someone like ya after all...

Yui: ...Nn...

Yuma: Come on, I’ll make an exception and add in one more.

Yui: ( My mouth’s full...! How many will he stuff inside...!? )

Nn...Phew...Nn...

Yuma: Hah...Ya swallowed them all, right?

Yui: ( Is it from the...sweetness of the sugar? For some reason, I feel strange... )

Yuma: How’s that? Delicious, right?

Eat some good food like this to get yer blood runnin’ again, then lemme suck it as soon as possible. ...Understood?

If even livestock has a pride, ya shouldn’t throw in the towel over somethin’ like this.

Show me some guts...

Yui: ( I doubt sugar cubes will provide much nutrition though... )

( ...But, he might be worrying about me in his own way. )

( I wonder if he has this side to him because he was once human...? )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) The term 擦れる or ‘sureru’ usually means something like ‘to become worn out’ or ‘to chafe’, but it can also mean ‘to lose one’s innocence’.

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Dark 10 ] [ Maniac Prologue ] ->

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yuma mukami #more blood #diabolik lovers translation #mbyumadarkepilog

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sandu-zidian · 4 years ago

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Blabbing about this Musician!au I started last summer that has now also turned into a marching band!au because I got sad and nostalgic because despite how shitty it could be, marching band defined my high school life and social life and I couldn’t had asked for anything else.

I also don’t have every single prequel character (because this au is surrounding the prequel characters) in Star Wars smacked into here, and I gave up halfway through a couple of months ago in terms of brainstorming. Anyways, this is hella long so check everything out under the line if you’d like! don’t want to spam everyone with something that’s like, 4 pages long

Now, you might be asking. What instruments are these characters playing, or what are they doing in marching band? well, boy oh boy do I have some lore for you.

Anakin Skywalker: alright lets start of with the “Chosen One”. Now, I gotta say. He’s got some intense brass vibes, specifically high brass. But I don’t know. He didn’t really mesh well. And given his natural talent with the Force in canon, I thought that Anakin would be a sort of prodigy. And we all know the two instruments associated with that: the piano and violin. He’s more of a piano dude, so here we go! piano prodigy Anakin Skywalker. He also gives mad drumline vibes, and I can see him as either the lead snare, setting the tempo, or the main quad player. He’s brash, slightly obnoxious, but damn is he fucking good at what he does.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: I literally started this AU on the idea that Obi-Wan would play the cello. One of the defining quotes for him is that fucking “infinite sadness” quote. And we all know that cellos play some of the saddest pieces out there. (see: Elgar cello concerto) However, I can’t see him as a marching band dude. He doesn’t really give off color guard vibes (since that’s where most non-band people go to) so I have him as the resident student helper who everyone tolerates because he brings ice cream after band camp.

Ahsoka Tano: Ahsoka is a flute player. As a flute player, I have intimate knowledge on this. She’s like the chill flute player who’s competitive enough to keep her position as principal, but is also chill enough to not have a big ego that butts heads with everyone. She also gives mad color guard vibes. Also speaking about that from personal experience (am I lowkey projecting my own experiences on her? you didn’t hear that from me). She seems like the type to love swing flags and sabre, and is 100% captain by senior year.

I have Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka as siblings in this AU because I say so. Qui-Gon is around here somewhere as the resident hippie dad who lowkey smokes pot and will support his children while giving a big ‘fuck you’ to Dooku.

Yoda’s also in here somewhere, and I love the idea that he’s an old Chinese/Asian man who refuses to speak english and will only do so with the most backwards grammar so his grandchild (Qui-Gon) and great-grandchildren (the trio) are forced to speak Mandarin/Cantonese to him (pick your poison). He just spends his days cutting up fruit and also might pull out his erhu if everyone asks nice enough. (I want to say he was a Peking Opera musician, but immigrated during Mao’s reign after he lost opportunities during the cultural revolution)

So, I know that it doesn’t make sense for a family to have 3 sets of twins and one triplet set, but fuck that I do what I want.

Cody Fett: okay so, Cody 100% plays the french horn. I don’t know, he just, he does. He’s got that air of sophistication because he can play the hardest brass instrument, but at the same time, he’s incredibly good at it and is matter-of-fact about it. He also would be the mello section leader (I was playing with the idea of drum major, but for now, leaving him as a section leader for now). He’s a bit uptight to be a low brass player, but cool enough to still be associated with the general brass group.

Rex Fett: I got Rex and Cody as the eldest Fett twins. Rex feels like a string player, so I have him on violin. I can see him be very hardworking and practicing diligently to the point where he easily sweeps through to concertmaster in high school and the local youth orchestra. He also gives of mad drum major vibes. I can see him copying music, handing out drill charts, and hauling the met around. Also, just think about Rex doing a fancy ass salute at competitions. Yes.

Next round of twins lets gooo

Jesse Fett: You could say Jesse has brass vibes. I see him as a reed person though. In concert band, he’s on clarinet. I used to think clarinets were as stuck up as us flutes but no they’re literally balls of chaotic energy ready to be unleashed. Just imagine Jesse blaming everything on his reed. I see him as the guy who switches to saxophone for marching band, though. He’s got the energy of the clarinet and the saxophone harnessed. Also, wouldn’t be surprised if he knows how to play the sousa.

Kix Fett: Y’know, when I originally made this AU, I had Kix as a musician as well. I’m gonna scratch that. He’s going to medical school, or at least, he’s planning to. He’s on the pre-med track and is dying in organic chemistry and wishes there weren’t so many pre-requisites. However, in high school, he definitely played the oboe. Of course Kix chose one of the hardest instruments to play. Also, just imagine him trying to make his own reeds. I don’t see him as a guy who’s in marching band. He’ll come to competitions and maybe football games if he’s bullied into it. Kix is the guy who’s classes are all AP and he’s dying inside.

Next round of twins yeet:

Fives Fett: shit, I forgot I gave them all real names. If I remember correctly, Fives is Frank. Anyways, trumpet vibes. Need I say more? He’s on the trumpet in marching band as well and he’s the dude who’s obsessed with DCI and always tries to play as high as he possibly can and absolutely demolishes his chops. I would say he’s section leader as well. He also hangs with the drumline at the back of the bus and always plays meme songs on blast and sends weird pictures to people’s phone via open airdrop.

Echo Fett: I think his birth name is Ethan??? I’m spitting thoughts not checking my old documents. Anyways. Echo feels like a string person. Specifically, low strings. So, he plays the bass. Upright bass. Whatever. You get what I mean. He sleeps in the case after school and hates hauling it everywhere. He was in marching band as a mello player (the easiest brass instrument to pick up for the activity so) but he was in a car crash that left him paralyzed from the hip down, and had to quit to recover. He never stopped playing, and found ways to adjust. (I do not know how exactly this would work, since I’m able bodied and also don’t play the bass, but I know he’d at least have a stool to sit on in order to lean his body on. let me know if you have other ideas i’d love to hear them!)

Finally, we got the triplets:

Dogma Fett: Dogma plays the bassoon. He’s a low reed kinda guy and between the bari sax, bass clarinet, and bassoon, he fits the last one the best. He and Kix moan over making reeds and he’s on the quieter side. He just vibes and plays all the low notes and has fun whenever he’s got some moving part. I see Dogma as someone who is only casually into marching band. He uses Jesse’s old student clarinet as his instrument and he’s always on time, knows his sets, and his technique is on point. He always finds himself roped into his brothers’ shenanigans though.

Tup Fett: Tup plays the harp. I like to think he met Shaak Ti (we’ll get to her in a bit) when he was young, and she was playing with an orchestra. He met her backstage and she offered to give him lessons. Tup’s not really a part of high school orchestra but sometimes he’ll be brought in. He’s more involved with solo work and the youth orchestra more than anything. Tup’s another on where I don’t think he’d be into marching band. Though I can see him being in winter guard as the dude who just shows up and is lowkey rip and therefore is a hunk on the rifle. His technique’s good but they’ve never been able to saddle him into fall guard.

Hardcase Fett: (i’ve given up on remembering the birth names so i’m just gonna not) Hardcase is 100% low brass vibes. He can’t be anything but a low brass. I see him as a tuba player. He’s chill, laid back, but also reliable for being the foundation of the band sound. He plays the sousaphone in marching band and always blasts either Seven Nation Army or some other popular show tune right after rehearsals. Hardcase also can play the bari sax and no one knows when he learned how to.

OKAY we’re done with the Fett’s! Jango and Boba are in here somewhere but honestly I don’t have enough brainpower to come up with what their roles are. Jango’s gonna be a good dad though. Maybe he was a musician and that’s why most of his kids are going into music. Or maybe he’s just a supportive father. Boba’s the youngest though, that’s for sure. And he’s a little shit. Don’t know if he plays an instrument (probably) or what it might be.

Now lets get into some other characters! There’s a lot. And I wasn’t even halfway done with the characters I wanted to include. What the hell was I on last summer?

Padmé Amidala: Padmé is a flute player who quit after freshman year of high school and started taking music production and music theory classes. She loved it so much that she decided that composing was her jam. Now, she’s highly successful and often works with well known pianist, Anakin Skywalker, on piano concertos. Also, she may or may not be dating said pianists but you didn’t hear that from me.

Satine Kryze: twosetters don’t shit on me but Satine feels like she’d play the viola. She and Obi-Obi-Wan definitely dated in high school but after a year broke up on mutual terms and are just good friends now. A lot of people feel like she’d have been a better political science/international studies major than a music major but she’s good so no one complains (until she gets into a fighting match with someone and wins smugly)

Bo-Katan Kryze: shes Satine’s younger sister and is a mad athlete. She doesn’t play any instruments but she’s deeply active and is on scholarship for college, on the pre-med track with Kix. She’s very scary and most people are too intimidated by her to approach.

Plo Koon: I originally had him as an asian man, but I can see Native American as well. He plays the euphonium and he’s just a sweet man. He helps out a lot with private lessons at local high schools and is often brought in to help with low brass during marching band.

Wolffe Koon: Wolffe and Gregor (get to him in a bit) were both adopted by Plo when their parents died when they were very young. Plo was their godfather and he took them in like they were his own. They’re cousins to the Fett brothers (though don’t ask me how I have no idea). Wolffe is an engineer and works close to home.

Gregor Koon: Gregor is Wolffe’s younger brother and had a short stint of musical interest in middle school but quit after he entered high school. Gregor was in a serious car crash during college that left him amnesiac for a year before some of his memories returned. He now owns a restaurant and sticks close to home. Wolffe often comes around to check up on him because his brain injury still impacts his current life in small physical and emotional dips

Kit Fisto: Kit gives off mad trombone vibes and it’s mostly because he seems incredibly laid back. He’s one of those brass players who’s just a nice guy and while jokes around, never got pulled into jokes as a student.

Shaak Ti: like I said above, Shaak Ti is most definitely a harpist. She has that ethereal quality I think is common in harpists. She’s a tall Indian woman and she loves her job! She’s a private lesson teacher and instructor at the conservatory on top of her job in the orchestra since she’s not called in often to play. She loves all her students and gives good hugs.

Mace Windu: Mace is the director of the Jedi Symphony, the orchestra which almost everyone is involved with. He is a bass player and he likes his more classical pieces over contemporary music. He’s good friends with Yoda and sometimes the old troll has to wack some sense into Windu and have him take on newer pieces. Windu 100% gives off unhinged director vibes because mistakes and lazy musicians definitely don’t end after high school/college is over.

Quinlan Vos: this lil shithead definitely is the obnoxious, slightly arrogant, but kind of deserving of that, percussionist. He loves his snare drum and is also in the drumline. He’s the same age as Obi-Wan and the two are close friends. Quinlan is definitely slightly unhinged and is always at the back of the bus causing havoc after competitions. He’s the guy that I (OP) hate but also can’t help but respect cuz yeah he’s annoying but at least he’s good.

Aayla Secura: Aayla is Quinn’s half-sister, and plays the French horn. Again, like Cody, she’s got this air of professionalism that I associate with French horn players and like, we gotta represent the girls in brass somehow. She just fits it really nicely.

I feel like now is the time to list who’s still in conservatory and who isn’t: Obi-Wan, Anakin, Rex, Cody, Jesse, Quinlan, Padmé, and Satine are all recent graduates. Ahsoka, Aayla, Fives, Echo, Tup, Dogma, and Hardcase are still in conservatory (at varying years of course). Kix and Bo are entering med school/frantically applying and banging their heads cuz MCATs. Wolffe and Gregor are older and have been in the field for quite some time now. Plo, Kit, Shaak, and Mace are all faculty/seasoned professionals.

Somehow, I was gonna bring in The Skiratas (with proper research cuz I know very little about them), Dooku, Ventress, the Oppress siblings, rest of Domino Squad, Cut Lawquene, the other CCs, and more. I designated a page out of my sketchbook for this and my oh my the flow chart was hella confusing. How I thought I was gonna handle that in the summer before my first year of college, I have no idea. Maybe I’ll brainstorm more in the future but for now, this is all I have :]]]

Also excuse some of my slightly unhinged language I started writing this a few days ago while slightly unfocused and tired and stressed so my language is a product of that

#star wars #meta #musician au #my thoughts #I miss marching band so fucking much #I miss DCI #and WGI #miss the community #even if it was pretty stressful at times cuz drama #people love their drama in band #I don’t blame them you get sick of people after band camp #star wars au

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brax-was-here · 4 years ago

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Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life chapter 6

Written by: Braxxus

Chapter 6: It’s Not Me You Should Be Afraid Of

Sometimes we must accept the hand dealt to us

“Mother…” Ceara heard a soft voice speak nearby. Slowly opening her eyes, she squinted as the leaves of the jungle canopy slowly came into focus. The air was humid, filled with the sounds of the jungle’s inhabitants filtering through the air, but there was a new sound that grabbed her attention. A slight hum in the air, mixed with a light resonating chime.

“Wonderful.” She sighed heavily. “What now?” She casually extended her arms up in front of her face. “Naked…again…” She groaned slightly as she slowly pulled herself from the ground.

“Mother…” she heard again. She whipped around quickly towards the direction of the meek voice, her attention becoming extremely focused. She realized she was in the place from her vision, but now the thorned vines making up the strange structure had a crystalline sheen to them, glistening in the sunlight, the apparent source of the resonance in the air. The small glowing object once again sat in an alcove in the middle of the vines.

“I remember last time.” She thought to herself. “What are you?” she asked out loud.

“Come closer…” a playful voice whispered through the air. Ceara paused a moment before cautiously taking a step forward.

“If I do…” she spoke. “That weapon…”

Once again, the ghostly image of the Avatar of the Pale Tree slowly appeared, again with the face of a child. Ceara stopped.

“What is the matter?” Ceara’s heart jumped, and her eyes widened as she heard a different voice on the wind, a familiar one that caused a chill to run up her spine. “Why hesitate?” it asked coyly.

“The last time…” Ceara spoke. The avatar opened its eyes slowly, smiling lightly at Ceara.

“It’s waiting for you…” the voice growled behind. Ceara slowly turned to look behind her. She saw nothing but the light breeze blowing through the jungle’s dense foliage. A hushed laughter echoed through the air.

“I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.” Ceara said loudly as she she focused on her breathing, calming herself down.

“It’s not me you should be afraid of.” It replied. Ceara turned and looked at the ghostly image. It slowly brought it hands up and clasped them together under its chin, still smiling warmly at her, its eyes bright. Ceara cautiously stepped towards it. As she neared, the image slowly reached out to her, slowly opening its tiny hand. Ceara paused in hesitation, looking at the face of the child. Slowly she reached out for its hand when without warning, a wave of black energy knocked her away. She quickly regained her composure to see the dark sword once again stuck in the ground where the child had been, a slight glow of light fading where the blade had embedded itself. She looked at the weapon, watching its vines writhe and twist around its form.

“It’s not Caladbolg…” she spoke. Ceara pondered on the dark weapon. “An item of great power…a relic of Mordremoth…the pale tree…a black blade.” She stared at the ground as she tried to put the pieces together. “A relic of Mordremoth…a young pale tree...” Her heart raced as she made a realization. “This…this is the relic …it’s…it’s a seed. And Nafiona…Oh no.” The wind picked up and a roar filled the air.

“What’s happening!?” she cried as a billowing black cloud rushed forth from the blade, quickly emcompassing the area. Ceara felt her breath drawn from her as the ice-cold fog quickly enveloped her body.

“Waahaha!!” her gasped muffled as she woke with a start. She quickly looked around at the upside-down world before her. The jungle was buzzing with activity as the morning sunlight streamed through the leaves of the canopy. She was gagged, her arms were bound behind her, her legs tied together, and she was hanging from a tree limb by her feet by thick interwoven vines without a stitch of clothing. Looking at the ground below her was a pile of animal carcasses flayed open just a few feet away. Struggling against her bindings she quickly remembering the discussion with Nafiona.

“That idea didn’t go as planned.” She thought to herself. “I guess I’ll hang around and wait to hopefully be found. I have a lot of thinking to do anyway.”

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“Do you think she is ok?” Liathlas asked as she packed some dried fruits into a small satchel.

“If the rumors I have heard about her are anywhere near true, I’m sure she has those courtiers wrapped around her fingers doing her bidding.” Malyck replied, as he checked the edge on his dagger.

"I hope so.” Liathlas sighed as she chewed on a piece of fruit while securing her satchel.

“Are you ready?” he asked, sheathing his blade.

“I am.” Liathlas turned to Mabli. “Thank you for your hospitality and thank you for your help.”

“The jungle provides. Safe journeys to you.” The itzel replied.

The morning sun was rising as the duo exited the hut and hurried down a nearby rope walkway to the jungle floor. Malyck pulled out the small tracking device and activated it. It projected a tiny holographic screen, showing a blip in the far distance.

“I hope I am interpreting this thing correctly.” Looking a little confused at the device. “If this is Scarlet’s location, it shows her deep in the jungle in that direction.” He looked at Liathlas who nodded back at him. They rushed off quickly.

“So, you’ve been wandering the jungle all this time?” Liathlas asked as they made their way through the brush.

“I have. Since the fall of the jungle dragon, I’ve been searching for others from my tree.”

“That’s why you never returned to the us then?”

“Correct. As long as the chance exists that others from my tree still survive, I cannot return to your Grove. I must find them and make sure they are safe. Then I will bring them to your Pale Tree.”

“Understandable.” She replied. “What are we going to do when we find Ceara?”

“Can she truly be trusted?”

“Ceara?”

“Yes, Scarlet Briar.”

“Ceara…”

“Whatever her name is now. Can we actually trust her?”

“Um…well. I know what she has done while under Mordremoth’s control. And I’ve heard some stories about her since and judging what I have seen of her these past few days, there is nothing that would make me think she would betray us now.”

“She left with the coutiers and did seem to be somewhat happy about it. And this tracker is leading us right to her…and them.”

“Afraid they’ll see you as their harbinger again?”

Malyck abruptly stopped, vexed at the term. He turned his ire towards Liathlas, glaring at her. “Don’t ever call me that.” he snapped at her, pointing at her sternly. “I am not their ‘harbinger of doom’ or whatever title they had for me. If

Liathlas was slightly taken aback by his outburst. “Well, sadly, you are correct.” She relented. “No argument there.”

Malyck glared at her a few moments before turning to continue through the jungle.

“If you don’t trust her, why are you going after her?” Liathlas asked, a slight inquisitive tone in her voice.

Malyck paused again, looking off into the jungle, sighing lightly. “In the hopes that you are telling the truth about her. Also, the group of courtiers number twenty or more. You will need as much help as you can get to stop them.” Again, they continued through the jungle.

Hours passed. “We’re getting close.” Malyck whispered as they made their way through the terrain. “Here.” They found the tree where Ceara had attached the tracker. They could see the remains of a camp nearby.

“They were definitely here.” Liathlas said as they entered the camp area.

“Hmm…if they are heading for the corpse grove, they would most likely be heading towards the west.” Malyck pointed and paused. “I think I found her.”

“Oh! Where…” Liathlas paused at the sight of Ceara hanging from the tree in the distance. Liathlas’ heart skipped a beat when they also noticed a giant creature nearby that was making its way to her. “No! We have to get to her!” The duo rushed through the vegetation.

Ceara was staring at the approaching beast trying to formulate a plan to somehow get out of her predicament. The creature was easily ten times her size with a very long barbed tail. It stopped, raising its nose in the air before letting out a low growl. It continued to lumber slowly towards her.

“Don’t move…don’t breathe…” she thought to herself. “I can’t end like this.” Her thoughts were interrupted by a pistol shot that struck the creature in the side of the head. It turned, roaring in pain. Various illusions appeared around it, attacking it fiercely.

“Liathlas!” Ceara thought as she squirmed in her bindings. More pistol rounds rang out, hitting the beast in various places along its body. The creature fought back against the illusions before letting out a roar and running off into the jungle.

Liathlas ran up to Ceara, Malyck not far behind. He pulled out a knife and started cutting through the vines that bound her. Liathlas removed her gag.

“Thank the pale tree you’re ok.” Liathlas gasped.

“I am, thank you, and don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” Ceara sneered. Malyck cut her hands free which Liathlas grabbed. Malyck wrapped an arm around her legs as they were cut free. They helped her stand. Ceara wobbled a moment as she regained her balance.

“The tracker worked.” Ceara noted. “That’s a relief.”

“Indeed. How long ago did the Court leave?” Malyck asked.

“I’m not sure. They didn’t take too lightly to me being in their presence as you can tell.”

“Hmm…The corpse grove is at least a day’s journey from here. We’ll need to hurry to catch up to them.” Malyck stated.

“Corpse grove?” Ceara’s asked.

“A bad place.” Liathlas interjected.

“It is. It is a place where the mordrem create their troops from the remains of others” Malyck added.

“Like a factory?” Ceara’s brow furrowed. She remembered a vision she had months prior while trapped in the Mists with Ventari.

“Somewhat.” Malyck nodded.

“Ceara?” Liathlas asked, noticing Ceara’s far off stare.

“I’m ok.” She replied, snapping back to the present. “I just remembered something from a long time ago.” She turned to Malyck. “So, this corpse grove. It’s a tree like the Pale Tree?”

“In theory, it is but not as grand. It serves one purpose and one purpose only. We have to get moving.” Malyck explained.

“And that purpose is to create the mordrem.” Ceara pondered.

“Correct.” answered Malyck.

Ceara thoughts drifted to the vision of the young pale tree she saw. “A seed.” She thought to herself.

“Ceara? Um…your clothing?” Liathlas interrupted her thoughts.

Ceara looked down at her naked body. “Hmm…I’m sure one of the courtiers has my armor and I’m going to make their life very miserable when I take it back.” Ceara fumed at the loss of her prized possession.

“Yes, but…right now…” Liathlas started. “We could fashion something for you.”

Ceara looked at her dumbfounded. “From what?” she asked, holding her hands out as she looked around her surroundings. “There’s nothing here.”

“Of course, there is! You just wait here!” Liathlas exclaimed gleefully as she started running around the immediate area. It wasn’t long before she returned with lengths of vine and some giant leaves.

“Oh no…” Ceara’s shoulders drooped as she whimpered to herself.

Malyck casually glanced at her momentarily before chuckling to himself. It wasn’t long before Liathlas had created some makeshift clothing for Ceara to wear out of the leaves and vines.

“This just isn’t going to work.” Ceara complained, looking down at her makeshift outfit.

“It’s the best we could do given our current circumstances.” Liathlas replied to her. “It’s better than being completely naked.”

“What does that matter? We fell out of our pods into the world naked in front of everyone. No one cared then. Why should we care now?”

“Because there are other people in the world other than sylvari.” Liathlas barked at her.

“Feh.” Ceara spat, rolling her eyes at her.

“We need to hurry if you two are done bickering.” Malyck interrupted. “I’m sure the courtiers have reached the corpse grove by now and found what they are looking for.”

“What they are looking for…” Ceara muttered, sighing lightly as they started their trek through the jungle.

“Hmm?” Liathlas looked at Ceara curiously.

Ceara returned her gaze. “I think I know what they are looking for.”

Malyck stopped and turned abruptly. “Which is?”

“A seed. A seed like that of the which the Pale Tree sprouted.”

“How do you know?” Liathlas asked, her eyes widened at the thought.

“I…I’ve been having a vision. A vision showing me a small, rounded object set in a vine covered alcove. A young version of the pale mother appears above it.”

Liathlas and Malyck stared at her in silence.

“There’s more. Anytime I get close to it, a dark sword that resembles Caladbolg appears and cuts it down, causing it to disappear. The sword remains in place of the seed.” Ceara looked at Liathlas, whose mouth was agape.

“Another seed?” Liathlas gasped.

“We need to find it before the court does.” Malyck looked at the two. “Let us hurry.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier!?” Liathlas asked Ceara as they rushed through the jungle.

“Because I didn’t know what was happening. I just recently put it all together and that’s the best thing I could come up with.”

“If another seed exists that is amazing!” Liathlas said gleefully.

“And terrifying.” Malyck responded. “What kind of power does it hold that the Nightmare Court is searching after it?”

“I don’t know, but it must be immense.” Ceara replied to him.

“What do we do with it when we find it?” Liathlas asked.

“We secure it so that no one can take it.” Malyck answered.

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“And there it is.” Nafiona spoke as her group of courtiers crested the ridge. They had travelled most of the day to reach this area of the Maguuma jungle. She smiled as she looked over the valley below. Within it stood a tall, twisted form of a tree, its branches covered in dark pods. They could see various creatures moving within the small grove within its base.

“Behold, my courtiers. The corpse grove lies before us!” Nafiona gestured grandly.

“It is within your grasp, m’lady!” one of the courtiers spoke excitedly.

“Indeed, it is.” Nafiona smiled proudly, placing her hands on her hips. “Now, let us prepare to remove the vermin from within. Ready the cannisters!” she ordered as she turned to her courtiers.

“Yes, m’lady!” her entourage shouted in unison as they saluted her. Quickly the courtiers assembled two small cannons facing towards the grove below, each with a stockpile of ammunition next to them. Nafiona picked up one of the cannisters, smiling coyly.

“Madam Scarlet…I have to admit that your toxic spores are a wonderful creation. With this newly engineered version, even more potent than before, I’ll have the power I need to take control of the Nightmare Court, and then the Grove, and from there, all of Tyria.” She turned to one of her courtiers. “Are we ready?”

“Yes, m’lady.” The courtier Ordhran responded.

“Good.” She handed the cannister to him, in turn he quickly dropped it into the weapon. It automatically fired the metal cannister into the area of the twisted tree below. They watched it explode, a cloud of gas erupting into the air.

“Fire. Cover that whole area in spores!” Nafiona ordered her troops proudly. “Leave nothing standing!” Round after round the cannons fired into the grove below, until the entire area around the tree was covered in a fog of toxic gas. Nafiona laughed to herself as the last round was fired. The barely audible sounds of the mordrem inhabitants could be heard as they seemingly fought to stay alive in the toxic cloud. It wasn’t long before sounds of the dying gave away to silence.

Nafiona turned to her courtiers. “Now, the time has come to claim our prize.” Her entourage saluted her. “Caelan, you stay here with a small group and guard the cannisters.”

“Of course, m’lady.” He saluted her as she turned away. Nafiona and her group travelled down a narrow pathway along the ridge to a group of gigantic, thorned vines that formed a crude bridge over the chasm below. It led them to the corpse grove, where Nafiona hoped to find what she was looking for. The toxic gas had mostly cleared when they reached the area, swept away by the breeze. The bodies of the mordrem laid strewn across the ground, some still writhed as the courtiers approached.

“Kill them. Kill any that are still alive.” Nafiona ordered. Her followers searched through the area, slaying any mordrem that might still cling to life.

“It seems all of been taken care of, m’lady.” One of her followers announced.

“Good. Now, tear this place apart. Do not stop until we have found the prize I seek.” She paused a moment. “Ordhran?”

“Yes, m’lady?” He watched as she walked over to a large vine protruding from the ground, running her finger along one of the sharp thorns. “How is the sword coming along?”

“Perfectly.” He stated. “It will be ready soon.”

“Hmm… if the prize is here. We will need to hurry.”

“Yes, m’lady. I will double the efforts.”

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“I can’t believe you are wearing her armor.” Caelan said disbelievingly to Orla, as she fiddled with one of Ceara’s gauntlets.

“It almost fits! It is a little loose in the hips, but other than that it’s almost perfect!” she replied excitedly. “Besides, it’s not like she’s going to need it anymore.” Orla smiled at him.

Caelan shook his head as he looked over Ceara’s rifle. “I can’t seem to figure this thing out. All these little screens and switches, but I can’t get anything to work.” Orla paid his prattling no mind and she continued to fiddle with the buttons on one of the gauntlets.

“Or this thing.” He continued as he picked up a silver cylinder shaped object. He flipped a switch on back and forth, tapping it against his hand.

“Oh!” Orla gasped as she was enveloped in a stealth field. Caelan looked up and saw Orla gone.

“Orla!? Where are you!?”

“I’m right here!” she giggled, seemingly from nowhere. She crept around him, only he noticed her footsteps in the loose dirt.

“Stop playing. We don’t have time.”

She reappeared next to him, a disappointed look on her face. “You’re no fun, Caelan.” She returned to her place and sat on a downed tree. “Hmm…I wonder what this does.” She spoke softly pressing one of the buttons. A series of holographic screens and keypads projected from the gauntlet.

“Oh my! Caelan! Look!” he looked up from working on the rifle.

“Oh wow!” he exclaimed. “What is that!?” He leaned the rifle against the stack of cannisters and approached her.

“I’m not sure!” Orla slowly reached up and tried to touch the holograms. Some of the keys lit up as her hand passed through them. “Whoa!” She tried again, cautiously placing her fingers in the keys. They lit up as she touched them.

“Hahahaha! This is…this is so neat!” she laughed.

Caelan reached up and touched a screen, his hand passing through.

“I think they only work with the gloves.” Orla said as she playfully tapped at the various buttons. “Hmm..nothing seems to work here either.” She continued, slightly disappointed.

“I guess she has some kind of security or something.” Caelan replied to her, looking out over the corpse grove.

Orla pressed another small button in the hidden panel. A pair of holographic projections of Scarlet Briar appeared and leapt at the preoccupied Caelan.

“Caelan!” she screamed just as one ignited a holographic sword and swiped at him, hitting his arm.

“Orla! What are you doing!?” he screamed. Orla pressed the button again causing the holograms to disappear. She ran up to the injured sylvari.

“Are you ok!? I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I didn’t know that would happen!”

Caelan looked at the wound, golden sap ran down the sleeve of his armor.

Another courtier came running up “What was that!?”

“I don’t know! They just appeared and attacked! One of her weapon systems, I think.” She said as she helped Caelan remove the armor from his arm. “Do we have anything to bandage this wound?” she asked.

“Just a moment.” The courtier said as he rushed to a nearby pack. He returned with some medical supplies. Orla applied an oil to the wound before wrapping it in a bandage.

“There. Now stay off your feet and don’t do anything strenuous for at least two weeks.” She joked.

“Funny.” Caelan replied, strapping on the armored sleeve. “Orla, do you think all this will work? What Nafiona is planning?”

“Are you having doubts?” she asked him, looking at him in the eyes.

“It’s not that I’m having doubts. I would just hate to think that after all we have done here, that what she is looking for doesn’t exist here…or at all.”

“It does exist. This is the realm of the jungle dragon. There is one here. I’m sure of it.”

Caelan nodded his head and smiled at her. “It is. We’ll find it.”

“We will.” She smiled back at him.

Caelan reached for Ceara’s pistol that lay on a small pack next to him. “At least this works. Though it doesn’t seem to have much ammunition. Maybe…two shots by the looks of it.” He looked at Orla. “What about all those little gadgets?”

“Well…” Orla started as she moved to a small stack of gas cannisters. She reached up and grabbed a few of the things she had removed from the satchels of Ceara’s armor. “This is a food bar of some sort.” She said removing the wrapping, taking a bite from it. “And I don’t know what this is.” She held up a small device.

“And what about that little thing?” Caelan pointed at another device.

“Not sure. There is a switch and a little screen.” She activated the switch causing the screen to light up. “it shows a map of some sort with a bunch of little while dots.” She showed him the screen.

“What about that little button?” he asked.

She turned the screen back to her. “I don’t know.” She pressed it and disappeared in a flash of light. Caedan waited a few moments for Orla to reappear.

“Orla? Orla are you still here?” he asked. “Orla!?” He turned to one of the nearby courtiers, who shrugged dumbfoundedly back at him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time passed as the sun moved to the west. The trio dashed as quickly through the jungle as they could. Malyck put his hand up, stopping them abruptly. “Get down.” He whispered, quickly dropping into the plants of the jungle. Ceara and Liathlas followed suit.

“What is it?” Ceara asked.

“Courtiers.” He said peering out. Three members of the Nightmare Court could be seen in the distance, standing near some equipment. “Looks like guards. We must be getting close.”

“I see them.” Ceara scanned the jungle. “What are they guarding?”

“I’m not sure. I believe the corpse grove is just beyond the ridge.” Malyck unholstered one of his pistols.

Ceara looked at him inquisitively. “Do your weapons actually have that kind of range?” she questioned.

Malyck glanced at her for a moment then back to the courtiers. “Sadly, no. We’ll have to move closer.”

“Others might be nearby. They’ll hear your shot.” Liathlas cautioned. “If we get close, I could stealth us to take them out fast.”

Malyck nodded. “That seems like the best way to take care of them.” Returning his pistol to its holster.

“Hopefully, none of our other friends are waiting for us in that brush.” Liathlas muttered as they started moving through the jungle again. Slowly they crept through the thick foliage, cautiously making their path. They paused again as they neared the courtiers.

“That’s my rifle…and my pistol…and my saber…and my other things.” Ceara hissed through her teeth, eyeing the courtier who was fidgeting with the futuristic looking weapon. Liathlas looked at her, placing her finger over her lips giving Ceara a signal to keep quiet.

“Well, it is!” Ceara whispered harshly to her. Liathlas gave Ceara a perturbed look. Ceara glared back at her a moment.

“Those weapons they have set up. They must have used them to launch those cannisters into the grove below.” Malyck stated. “Looks like three guards.”

“Charr mortars, by the looks of them.” Ceara added.

“And the one with your rifle looks somewhat worried.” Liathlas also added, noticing the courtier seemed to be fidgeting nervously.

“It doesn’t matter. He dies either way.” Ceara glared at him. “How do you want to do this?” she whispered to Malyck.

He thought for a moment. “I’ll walk towards them out of the jungle like I’ve been hurt, and try to pull them close, dropping their guard. Both of you stealth and try to position yourselves to take them down quickly when I give the signal.

“What will the signal be?” Liathlas asked.

“You will know. Now.” Malyck slowly stood, clutching his right shoulder. Hunching over, he hobbled slowly through the brush, his breathing labored. The duo watched him as he slowly entered the clearing. Liathlas waved her hand, casting her stealth field causing them to disappear.

“H-Help…” Malyck stammered as he clumsily shuffled across into the clearing. “Help me…”

The courtiers turned towards him. “Halt!” one of them ordered. “Come no further!”

“Help…” Malyck gasped as he dropped to the ground. One of the courtiers motioned to Caelan to stay put by the cannisters. They approached him; weapons drawn.

“Not one of us.” One of them sneered, shoving Malyck’s head with his foot.

“Put him out of his misery.” The coutier brought his sword up. Malyck rolled out of the way as the point of the blade came down, piercing into the dirt.

“Just as I thought!” the courtier snarled. Clones of Liathlas appeared near them and attacked. Malyck pulled his pistol and shot the courtier that attempted to stab him..

Caelan took aim at one of the clones when Ceara appeared in front of him.

“Ma…madam…” he stammered. She snatched the rifle from his hands, then proceeded to strike him in the jaw with the stock of the weapon, knocking him out. Powerup in the rifle, she turned to see her comrades finishing the other guard. She looked down at Caelan, who lay unconscious, his mouth open.

“Still catching flies with that maw of yours.” Ceara shook her head. She undid her holster from his waist, strapping it around herself. She saw some of her other gadgets sitting on top of the stack of cannisters, which bore some familiar writing. She grabbed one, staring at it.

“What is it?” Liathlas asked as she approached.

“Spores…toxic gas…from the Nightmare tower. The same used as in Lion’s Arch.”

“Are you…are you sure?” Liathlas asked very concerned. They looked out over the grove below as Ceara looked over the mortars.

“They bombarded that area to clear out the mordrem.”

“Then we can use this supply against them while they are searching for the seed.” Malyck suggested.

“I’m not sure that would work. I would imagine Nafiona and company would have some kind of antidote handy in the event of it being used against them.” She looked the cannister over, turning it upside down. “It explodes above the air, spreading the gas over an ar-“ A light lit up and the cannister beep.

“Thorns!” Ceara spat as she threw it as hard as she could over the ridge. It exploded in the air.

“Double thorns.” She gasped.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What is going on up on the ridge?” Nafiona turned to see the remnants of the exploded spore cloud dissipating in the air near the cliff wall. “Ordhran, check to see what those fools are doing up there.” She ordered.

“Yes, m’lady.” He bowed to her and marched towards the vine bridge.

“A lone soldier?” Liathlas asked as they watched Ordhran crossing the vine bridge.

“I could take him down from here.” Ceara brought the rifle up.

“No, that would only draw more of them. Wait until he reaches us.” Malyck backed away from the ridge. The others followed.

It wasn’t long before Ordhran reached the crest of the ridge. He stopped momentarily before reaching the end of the pathway, focusing his hearing.

“Silence. Doesn’t bode well.” He thought to himself. He brandished his sword and shield, moving cautiously up the path. Cresting the ridge, he projected a force shield just in time as he was bombarded by mesmer attacks. He turned and ran as fast as he could back towards the corpse grove.

“Briars!” Liathlas shouted.

“Stop him!” Malyck yelled. The trio rushed the ridge. Ceara fired her weapon at him, as did Malyck. The rounds bouncing off his force shield as Ordhran quickly rushed across the vine bridge. Ceara fired another round, hitting the ground at his feet.

“Thorns! Thorns! Thorns!” she cursed.

“Well, now they definitely know we’re here.” Liathlas muttered.

Ordhran ran into the grove to Nafiona. “M’lady! Scarlet Briar lives. And she has help.”

“Oh, really? That’s not surprising. How many?”

“I’m not sure. There were many. I was attacked immediately.”

“Well, then I guess we prepare for an assault. Get everyone at the ready.”

“Yes m’lady!” He bowed to her and turned. “Everyone to arms! Now!” he shouted. The command spread through the courtiers as they gathered quickly, bringing their weapons to bear.

“It seems our former acquaintance, Scarlet Briar, is up on the ridge, possibly with a small army. We’ll crush her, and her motley group with ease!” Nafiona announced. A raucous cheer rang through the air as the members of the Nightmare Court stood ready.

“M’lady, should we press the attack with a little surprise?” one courtier asked.

Nafiona looked at her and smiled. “Why yes, I believe we should. Mesmers place your portals now! We’re going to pay Madam Scarlet a visit!” The courtier, along with another opened ethereal portals of swirling energy in front of the group. “Attack!” Nafiona commanded. The group of sylvari rushed through the openings.

“Well, I guess we could use the mortars against them?” Ceara suggested to her compatriots. “I still don’t think it will do any good.”

“It’s our best bet right now.” Malyck rebuttaled.

“Um…we have a problem.” Liathlas spoke up, noticing two swirls of energy starting to form near them. “Mesmer portals.”

“Run! To the jungle!” Malyck shouted. Liathlas cast another stealth field about them, and the trio bolted for the dense foliage. The Nightmare Court poured out of the portals, taking up positions around the mortars and stack of cannisters. Nafiona followed them through.

“They have retreated, m’lady.” Ordhran announced. Nafiona’s eyes narrowed, and she scanned around the area.

“Judging by these tracks, it looks like they ran off into the jungle.” A courtier suggested as she knelt looking over footprints in the dirt.

“Get a scout party together and do a quick search of the area.” Nafiona ordered. The courtier bowed to her and pointed to two other sylvari to follow.

“Check on them.” Nafiona motioned towards two courtiers standing near their fallen comrades. Another checked on Caelan.

“These two are dead, m’lady.”

“And Caelan?”

“He’s alive.”

“Wake him.” She ordered. The courtier started trying to awaken the unconscious sylvari.

“Ordhran. It’s obvious the seed is not in the corpse grove.” She pondered a moment. “I dare say it is in the south. In the area where the jungle dragon fell.”

“M’lady?” he asked.

“The sun is starting to set so we’ll set up camp here for the night.” She said, turning to the large sylvari. “The mordrem will be active and we need to be prepared. Also…” she paused, a sly smile forming. “I believe there is a pact camp to the south. Send them a courier. Tell them…tell them that Scarlet Briar lives and is here in the jungle. It is believed that she is trying to resurrect Mordremoth.”

“With pleasure, m’lady.” He bowed to her. Nafiona chuckled to herself as she watched her followers start setting up the camp.

#Guild Wars 2 #GW2 #Scarlet Briar #AU Ceara #HoT #Heart of Thorns #sylvari

11 notes · View notes

bigbrotherlouis · 4 years ago

Note

for director’s cut: the raleigh/airport scene in ‘i can’t find nothin’...’ if you would like to!!!!

ANGELA you’re gonna make me talk about sex scenes on main?! let’s DO IT

(director’s cut meme)

andrei understands, on some level, why they have to fly commercial, (i’m always going to make players fly commercial in fic if i can. direct action.) even with a job like theirs, but in practicality, when he’s wandering around the raleigh airport at six am after their flight out is delayed, he doesn’t.

marty’s laughing at him in the way that means he’s trying to be subtle about it, but andrei’s too grumpy to care. (this was for la.) it’s too fucking early and the line for coffee is too fucking long.

“it’s too early,” he whines. marty flips over the book in his hands to read the back cover.

“boo fuckin’ hoo, bud.”

“i’m tired.” and again, in russian, “я устал.”

“не— не— i don’t care,” (i couldn’t remember how to phrase this properly and i didn’t want to look it up, plus it’s funny) marty snaps back. “it’s your own fault for watching tv until one in the morning.”

“it was gossip girl,” he mutters. “important american culture.” (in one of my transition workshops where we learned to handle moving countries, we watched mean girls as an example of american culture. true story.)

“uh huh, and degrassi is exactly how canadian high school was like.” (didn’t like the flow on this sentence but i couldn’t figure out how else to phrase it. oh well.)

andrei is, like, ninety percent sure marty didn’t finish high school in canada, but he’s not willing to take the chance that he’s wrong and get teased about it. “please, can we go to starbucks now? давай, давай.” [let’s go, let’s go] (translation is always a struggle, and even more so when it’s a different alphabet like russian. i decided to include translations when context isn’t immediately clear for the reader’s comfort. also, this is something my family does-- use a different language when we want to stress something, like svechy stressing that he wants to leave)

“talking in russian won’t get me to go any faster, svechy,” marty says, placid for the early morning, and shoves a book into andrei’s hands. “here. read this and distract yourself.”

“i don’t read until i awake.” (svechy’s syntax was hard for me to write, because i want it to be clear, true to character, and respectful all at once which is hard to balance. it’s why svech’s grammar can sometimes seem a little inconsistent-- sometimes, i chose respect and readability over true to characterization. also, transliteration of accents can make people seem childish or dumb which is absolutely not what i want!)

“sucks to suck.”

andrei grumbles under his breath, a mixture of russian and english and some of sebastian’s favourite swedish (this should be finnish. oops.) curses thrown in there too, absently drumming his fingers on the cover of the book he’s still holding. marty is paying him no attention, which almost bothers him as much as the lack of caffeine does.

he’s cocking his head to read the spines of the books in the airport store when he feels the heat of someone step behind him, too close for politeness, and he’s whirling before he can even really think about it. (there really aren’t a lot of places spies can meet up by accident without getting too repetitive, especially in something that’s supposed to be silly and short, but an airport felt plausible.)

“whoa,” says joel, stepping back out of andrei’s elbows. “easy there.”

“joel?”

“in the flesh,” he says with a grin, and andrei’s thinking about how twice is a coincidence but three times is a pattern when (this is me lampshading their constant meetups because i didn’t feel like expounding on it LOL)— “is that twilight?”

“i— what?”

“the book you’re reading.”

andrei looks down at his hands and then scowls in the general direction of the shelves. fucking marty. (this is the whole reason they’re in the bookstore. for me to make this joke about svech holding twilight.)

joel tips his head to the side and grins wider. “didn’t peg (haha peg) you for a vampire guy, but i can see it. wait, fuck, are you from transylvania?” (apologies to americans but this is a little jab at your general geography abilities)

“no, not in in russia,” he says absently. “siberia, yes. transylvania, no. why you here?”

“well, i just like to lurk around airports for fun. you see interesting people like this.”

“really.”

joel snorts. “no, i have a flight, dumbass. i’m a business bitch.” (my rule of thumb for writing joel’s dialogue is to think of the most ridiculous thing i can imagine a person saying in any given circumstance and then assigning him that line.)

“a business bitch?”

“yeah, dude. makin’ money moves n’shit.”

“you’re not following me?” andrei asks, aiming for teasing, pretending it’s not a real question. (more lampshading. i was lazy.) joel makes his eyes go wide and innocent, and mostly doesn’t succeed.

“andrew,” he says, outraged. “are you accusing me of being a stalker?”

“yes.”

“oh, so you’re definitely team edward. (this joke fell into my lap) i see how it is. can’t a bro say hi to his bro in an airport, especially after getting a decent brojob the last time they saw each other?”

andrei mouths the word brojob (i crack up every time this term is used and joel would absolutely say it) and then shakes his head. “no.”

“tough crowd. what are you doing here, buddy?”

“waiting for marty to finish so we can go to starbucks. too early and he is too slow.”

“yeah?” joel looks over at where marty is now examining the overpriced souvenirs with a very careful air, taking them off the shelves and putting them gently back. (i was very into this image) “wanna go stand in line with me?” (high romance there, bee)

strictly speaking, marty and andrei are supposed to be together when travelling, just in case someone gets snatched. it’s happened before, but andrei really, really wants something to drink before they fly out to fucking vancouver, or wherever they’re going. he can’t even remember. besides, if joel was going to snatch him, he would’ve done it earlier, in the hotel when andrei was fucked out and happy. he shrugs. (listen. i didn’t want to do any worldbuilding because it was a fun au so i did the bare minimum.)

“sure. marty, i go to stand in line,” he yells and marty waves a hand without looking up. the line stretches down the hallway, too many people patiently waiting for a rush. (i’m so familiar with this and it makes me sad just writing about it) andrei can’t fault them; he’s tired too, which is why he doesn’t realise that joel’s pulling him towards the bathrooms instead of the coffee shop, pushing him into the family stall and shoving the door closed. (i’m gonna be honest: i have absolutely no idea why i made this a sex scene. like none. i remember being halfway through and being like “....i’m writing?? airport sex??” but i don’t remember why i decided it was a good idea.)

for a second, andrei thinks this is when he gets kidnapped and killed, a rival taking him out in the crowded airport where no one can see. the bulgarian maneuver would’ve been a lot less conspicuous, but oh well. (this is referring to the bulgarian assassins who killed a journalist in the 80s? i think? with a poison-tipped umbrella and i’m just now realising that’s probably not common knowledge)

instead, joel clicks the lock in place and presses up close, plastered to the front of andrei.

“wha—” says andrei, but it’s swallowed up in joel’s mouth, swallowed up in the kiss that joel gives him. he kisses back, of course he does, because it’s a fucking good kiss. joel hums, coaxing his mouth open for a minute and then biting on his lower lip before pulling away. he doesn’t go far, hands skimming down andrei’s body until he drops to his knees on the dirty bathroom floor.

“we are in a toilet,” andrei hisses. “in an airport.” (svech has the practical response)

joel shrugs, giving him the biggest shit-eating grin as he undoes his belt. (joel is never not going to be smug) “guess you have to be fast, then. besides, i owe you one.”

technically, he still got off last time, even if it was pretty basic, it’s not like andrei’s going to say no, not when joel is looking so eager and mischievous.

“don’t make too much noise,” instructs joel, (i realised after i posted the fic that both blowjobs start with someone giving instructions and i’m gonna say it’s because it’s a literary parallel and not because i don’t know how to transition into sexual acts) and then he’s got his mouth on andrei’s dick and andrei can’t think of anything else to say. he bangs his head against the door and clamps a hand over his mouth, digging his fingers of his other hand into the wood behind him.

joel is good enough that andrei’s not going to last long, not like this, getting off on the secrecy of it all. (read: i just didn’t want to write a lot. but also i think svechy has an exhibitionist streak in him and joel definitely does) it’s a tiny bit shameful in the way that makes him groan into his palm, makes him rock his hips into joel’s hot mouth. joel just hums around andrei’s dick and that’s— okay, that’s a lot. andrei’s gonna get a splinter under his nails from digging so hard, or maybe he’s gonna die on the spot, or like something because joel pulls off to just go right back in again and fuck. (fun fact! i’ve never had sex i don’t know what i’m writing)

“fuck,” he hisses through the meat of his hand. “fuck!”

it’s too loud, probably, and joel’s eyes flick up to his with a warning.

“sorry,” andrei breathes. joel pinches his thigh, sharp enough to sting, and embarrassingly, that’s what makes him come with a noise between a breath and a whine.

“baller,” (joel pick something less sexy to say i dare you) joel says smugly when andrei comes back to earth, enough of a douche move that andrei can’t help but roll his eyes. he flicks joel on the cheek.

“you suck.”

he grins. “well, yeah. obviously.” (low hanging fruit but he’d say it so i wrote it)

“idiot,” andrei mutters and then tugs on joel’s shoulders until he stands up, pulls him in until he can nudge at joel’s jaw with his nose. “i help you?”

joel shakes his head, his hair tickling the side of andrei’s cheek. “nah, i like it when you owe me. hey, does it count as being part of the mile high club if we’re still on the ground?” (i was literally in the middle of posting this fic to ao3 before i realised i had not made a mile high joke which was unacceptable. typed it right into the text box)

“no?”

“damn. it’s on my bucket list.”

“you so weird,” andrei tells him, not managing to keep the fondness out of his voice, and then yawns so hard his jaw cracks. “i’ll pay you back with a drink.”

“oh my god,” says joel and then pinches andrei in the side so he twitches. “i just gave you the best airport blowjob—”

“only airport blowjob.”

“the best fucking airport blowjob of your life, and you’re thinking about drinks? fuckin’ ridiculous, andrew.”

“not andrew, yo-el.” (this is svech getting back at joel as best he can. trying to give it as good as he gets it. establishing banter!!)

“sure, bro,” joel mumbles and andrei shoves at him so he can get his pants back on, fumbling with the door. “next time better be fuckin’ phenomenal. you owe me big time.”

“excuse me, you said it was payback. we equal.”

“maybe i changed my mind,” joel says with a grin, bumping him with his hip.

“maybe i disappear forever,” he replies, halfway between teasing and halfway to serious. joel reaches up to fix his snapback (this is also for la.) and shrugs.

“nah, you’re too sweet to do that.”

“i’m not sweet.”

“uh huh, bro. keep tellin’ yourself that shit.”

the line’s gone down, incredibly, and they’re close enough to the counter that andrei has to start thinking about what to order. he should probably get something for marty, or risk getting whined at all flight.

“yo,” says joel when they’re two people away from the barista. “you got digits?”

andrei hesitates and then holds up his hands, wriggling his fingers. “uh. yes?” (it’s probably more in character for real life joel to ask for instagram instead but this joke made me laugh so much that i couldn’t bear to leave it out. also it’s a little fun second language moment)

joel blinks at him for a long second and then breaks out into a wide smile, shaking his head. “nah, not those. i mean, like, a phone number.”

“i don’t have a phone,” he mutters and then pulls one out of his pocket. (YES this is a tumblr post ripoff but svech wasn’t just going to give it up so easily so in it went) “okay, give.”

he dutifully types out the sequence joel rattles off and then sends a smiley face to the number when joel makes him text.

“cool. now we can text instead of ambushing each other in public.”

“that not me,” andrei tells him. “all you.”

“you’re jumpy and it’s cute.”

“i’ll delete your number. block it.” he warns and joel waves a hand.

“yeah, yeah,” he says cheerfully and then leans over to tell the barista what he wants to drink. it’s the most ridiculous sugary concoction, hardly any coffee, and andrei stares at him in horror. (this is projection for my horror at some of the things i’ve seen in american coffee shops. that’s just. so much sugar. also prime chirping opportunity to show their personalities and dynamic a little)

“you gonna drink that?” he asks and joel frowns a little. “is just sugar. candy.”

“yeah, so? it tastes so good.”

“you not gonna have teeth.” he orders two cold brews and pays. “you gonna die early from sugar.”

“somehow,” joel says with a sparkle in his eye, “i don’t think it’s gonna be the sugar that’ll nerf me in the end.” (minor foreshadowing here! also lmao @ the thought of joel saying nerf)

he gets his vanilla bean java chip unicorn whatever frappuccino— literally, what the fuck— and takes a satisfied sip.

“disgusting,” says andrei. “no more kissing for you.”

“aw, bud, how am i gonna practice? you said i needed it.” (it’s not stated in the fic but joel learned how to flirt from watching tk and patty and i think it shows)

“lost cause,” he tells him airily. he’s about to suggest something— he’s not even sure what— when someone appears over joel’s shoulder.

“farabee,” the guy says. he looks stern, but that might be the impressive beard. or the death glare he’s levelling andrei’s way. “where the fuck have you been?”

joel brandishes his drink. “caffeinating it up, g. stayin’ alert and awake.” (real life joel has said this at least once to claude, and i will stand by that statement)

g’s frown gets deeper. “we’re going to miss our flight.”

“nah, we’ve got time— oh, shit. yeah, we gotta bounce, bruh, but i’ll catch you later? text me.” (inelegant departure but my goal was to not overthink things in this fic, like i’m prone to do, so i left it) he almost literally get pulled away by his elbow, towed by his ginger friend through the airport so he can enthusiastically wave his goodbye.

“well,” marty says out of nowhere, reaching for his cold brew and making andrei jump. “there’s good news and bad news.”

“okay.”

“the good news is that he’s cute and somehow into your stupid face.” he takes a long drink, conscious that andrei is about to hit him for making him wait and enjoying it very much. (he’s dramatic and also i wanted to draw out the surprise a little) andrei needs new teammates.

“the bad news?” he prompts.

“the bad news,” repeats marty, grimacing. “the bad news is that he’s definitely in the same line of work as us.”([john mulaney voice] the other shoe just dropped.)

everything in andrei’s head grinds to a stop. “uh. what?”

“i recognize his handler. giroux, french canadian division.” (i’m gonna work g into fic when i can bc i love him)

“joel’s american,” he says absently and marty takes another drink, shrugging.

“so philly’s an international cooperation team. (this was my way of making the international aspect of the spy teams make sense, and also to not have this be enemies-to-lovers, as much as i love that trope) can’t imagine that ever happening.” he gives svech a look which, yes, andrei knows they work together because of a treaty or whatever, but still. he wants marty to be wrong about joel, for so many reasons.

mainly because he doesn’t like feeling like he’s been conned, not when he’s so good at doing the conning, and this is a big one. (it’s not my fic if there’s not at least a little angst!)

“fuck,” he says glumly. marty pats him on the shoulder.

“well,” he says. “at least he’s cute.” (marty’s trying to show his support for svech here! he just wants good things for his friend :)))

that was so fun to do, thank you so much for asking! ily!! <3 <3 <3

#personal issues #fic talk #hockey fic #hockey #hockey bros #my fic #long post #selkiefinalist

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otterskin · 4 years ago

Text

A Rebuttal to a ScreenRant thing on Loki and the Thor films for no reason other than the catharsis similar to shooting at clay pigeons that aren’t even trying to fly

Don’t click on this but here’s the article - https://screenrant.com/mcu-things-make-no-sense-about-loki/

Ah, ScreenRant, my old foe...you hath fallen so far these past few years...time was you were almost legitimate, but once you were sold to new owners, you became a rag of thoughtless clickbait 'journalism', seeing plotholes where there none. Let's dance.

ScreenRant Text: (So you don't have to feed them clicks)

Loki is often considered one of the greatest superhero movie villains of all time due to his never-ending schemes and tricks. As Thor's adopted brother, Loki has always been jealous of the God Of Thunder. His animosity mostly stems from the inheritance of the Asgardian throne.

Loki was denied the throne because he is the biological son of the Frost Giant ruler Laufey. After being abandoned by his father, he was adopted by Thor's father Odin and raised as an Asgardian prince. While Loki's never-ending deviousness makes for great entertainment, there are a couple of things about him that make no sense.

We begin with a Bonus Round! Loki is considered one of the greatest superhero movie villains of all time for various reasons, but the 'never-ending schemes and tricks' thing is a little...lackluster. It's not exactly what I'd say made himso successful, nor is it particularly true, but this is a matter of opinion. I'll let it slide. This, however:

His animosity mostly stems from the inheritance of the Asgardian throne.

Untrue. Thor 1 even has him state explicitly that the throne was never an objective of his, which is something I liked very much about the character and that film. It didn't go for the boring, stereotypical, low-hanging fruit, but actually tried to give the character a bit of humanity and zigged when most characters of that ilk zagged. That's the actual reason people like Loki, IMO. He surprised people by being - gasp - interesting. His animosity comes from a variety of things, but to simplify, if I may get schmaltzy, it comes from his fear of rejection and abandonment, and of being seen as less-than.

Loki was denied the throne because he is the biological son of the Frost Giant ruler Laufey.

We are never told why he was 'denied the throne'. We can guess. We assume this is the case, but it also seems like a) as the elder son, Thor was always first to inherit and b) When Odin promised that both his sons would be kings, it seems likely that at one point he intended to install Loki as king of Jotunheim, but then changed his mind. However c) it's mentioned clearly in an older scene in the script that Odin and Frigga had hoped that while Thor was officially king, that Loki would essentially be sharing many of his duties and would wield substantial power.

I won't say this is 'wrong'. Loki, after all, claims it as the reason Odin didn't choose him as his successor. He may have been right. But we don't know that. Ambiguity is part of what makes films interesting, but apparently nerd media can never have a 'maybe' for an answer, sigh. This is a bigger problem than ScreenRant, so I'll let it go.

After being abandoned by his father, he was adopted by Thor's father Odin and raised as an Asgardian prince.

...this is what Odin said, immediately after Laufey tells us that Odin is a 'liar and a thief'....and then is proven right. Again, it's possible this is true, but we're also given reason to doubt Odin, and it's also possible Odin thinks he's telling the truth but is...wrong! Which he is about many things. It's something that makes him an interesting character. Ambiguity and interpretation. It's what makes you think about something long after the movie stops playing.

While I'm already disagreeing with SR here, this is more a fandom-wide problem of taking the text at face value only and reading the most shallow interpretation possible. However, stating that Loki's animosity comes from wanting the throne is in contradiction to what we've seen in the films, or at least a gross oversimplification. I award myself a half-point for that.

Points: 0 SR, 0.5 Otterskin

10. Unrealistic Survival

During the final moments of Thor: The Dark World, Loki became impaled and passed away in the strong arms of loving brother Thor. Dead? Not really. He was back in Thor: Ragnarok. Apparently, that was just one of Loki's holograms and the villain himself was very much okay.

However, recent history in the MCU proves that he holograms cannot be touched. In Thor: Ragnarok, Thor even failed in his attempt to throw a rock at Loki’s hologram. But in the death scene, Thor just happens to be holding him comfortably. And given that rocks go right through a hologram, then any other hologram shouldn't have been stabbed either.

EHHH wrong. Yes, Loki's 'light' magic can't be touched when there's nothing else there. But, as we see also in Thor Ragnarok, it can be touched if Loki is inside it - say, when he's pretending to be Odin. Thor grabs his shoulders and holds him in place after throwing Mjolnir. Great moment. As for that wound....who says Loki wasn't actually injured? After all, the scene was filmed 'for realsies' at the time and a reshoot retconned Loki into surviving later...but that doesn't mean he faked the whole thing. It's also possible that Loki just plain survived, due to some unknown Frost Giant ability that perhaps he didn't even know he had. We've never gotten a clear answer. And yes, keeping up the pretense of his death is still 'faking his death', even if he was really fatally injured. So no contradictions there.

SR - 0, OS - 1.5

9.Poor Attempt At Trying To Kill Thanos

Before he was made to look incompetent by Thanos, Loki was a very intelligent villain. Catching and defeating him wasn't easy, and this was all thanks to his ability to create illusions at will. He used this trick very many times and it always worked.

But when Loki is trying to kill Thanos in Infinity War, the only trick up his sleeve is pretending to pledge loyalty to the Mad Titan with secret intentions of stabbing him with a blade. Of course, Thanos stopped him and killed him. Why didn't Loki use a smarter trick? More importantly, why didn't he use his tried and tested illusion trick?

Hmm. Plenty of people have complained about this, but I never had a problem. For me, the answer is simple: what kind of intelligent is Loki? He's not a mastermind. He's not particularly gifted at tactics. What he's good at is misdirection and manipulation. And, when he does it, it usually has some kind of terrible personal effect. When I saw this scene, I had no problems with it from a character standpoint. Loki is a character who thinks with his emotions and does things based on that, even if they aren't logical. It's his fatal flaw going back to Thor 1 and present in every appearance since. In this case, I think Loki was manipulating Thanos. Manipulating him to kill Loki. Probably because Loki knew that would mean he'd spare Thor. However, this is my interpretation, and you're allowed a different one, SR. We'll just disagree on this one. I leave it to the commenters to decide who gets this point. For now, I'll give us both a 0.5.

SR - 0.5, OS - 2

8His Evolution Into A God

According to the MCU, Loki's parents are the Frost Giants Farbauti and Laufey. Despite his parents not being gods, Loki evolves into the “God of Mischief.” How is this possible, given that he was only adopted by Asgardian parents who were gods, but he himself had no god lineage?

RELATED: 10 Loki Memes Only Real Fans Will Understand

For Thor, his god status is understandable given that his biological father and grandfather are gods. So, can one become a god even when they aren't directly related to any god?

...I don't even know where to start with this. First off, we do not know who Loki's mother is. In fact I don't think it's even in the comics. If you mean the myths, then Laufey is his Mother, not his father, and in many myths Laufey is in fact Às (Asgardian), while Farbauti is his giant Father. He would also have two younger brothers. This is not the case in the MCU. There's some evidence that Loki's mother, whoever she is, is not a jotunn - he has biological features the giants do not, and Sir Kenneth Branagh indicated in the commentary for the movie that he was 'at least part giant', which could mean 'only part'. Eh.

Next...have you not been paying attention? This whole character arc is about Loki finding out he's not 'a god' due to his blood and trying to figure out who he is without that blood. At the end, he embraces his identity and decides for himself to be 'God of Mischief' and 'Odinson' regardless of his bloodstatus, while also, if not exactly coming to terms with his heritage, no longer hiding or rejecting it. Yes, it's about him 'becoming a god' and always having been a god, reaffirming his identity and recontextualizing it. It's his whole...THING. And in fact, it’s the main thesis of Infinity War. It’s the challenge to Thanos, which he then accepts. Infinity War is Thanos’ ‘God Quest’, in which he endeavours to gain the powers of a deity. However, what being a ‘God’ meant to Loki is being ‘an accepted part of a family’. Thanos destroys his children in his quest to become a god. It’s an interesting contrast between the two ‘villains’.

Geezus, this is just being dense. And for the record, many Norse Gods and Goddesses are also giants, full-blooded and otherwise. Skadi, Goddess of Skiing, is my favourite goddess ever and she’s full giant. Her husband has very handsome and large feet, which is her preferred feature on a man. You know. To walk on snow with.

Two points to me for dealing with this nonsense. And a half a point for Skadi, she always gets you a half point.

SR - 0.5 OS - 4.5

7.Blue Hue

As the son of a Frost Giant, Loki was born with a blue skin tone. When Odin adopted him, he cast a spell that changed his tone from blue to white. However, Loki never seems to have an idea about his true skin color. Given his history of mischief, he has never attempted to change back either.

After, Odin’s spell to keep Hela far from Asgard ended in Thor: Ragnarok, his spell on Loki ought to have ended too. Or perhaps Loki has always been aware that he is blue. If so, then the confusion ought to be cleared up.

You know what? Point to SR for knowing Odin cast a spell on Loki and that Loki is blue (dabadeedabadie). We gotta throw them a bone, and that’s something other people forget or get wrong all the time.

As for the spell not breaking...Dr. Strange said it himself. A dead wizard’s spell is harder to remove. A spell falling apart in the event of the wizard’s death seems like a major design flaw. Can you imagine if other things worked like that? If a test was too hard, you could pass if you killed the teacher? Or if you locked yourself out of your house, all you had to do was track down the locksmith and murder him to destroy every lock he ever made?

I find it highly unlikely Odin would have been foolish enough to create a spell that would have failed upon his death. Hela was being actively contained, and even then she didn’t immediately appear upon Odin’s death. It still took her a minute to break free.

SR - 1.5 OS - 5.5

6Mind-Controlling Hawkeye Instead Of Fury

Loki found himself in the S.H.I.E.L.D. base after using the Tesseract’s portal to transport himself. One of his first tasks involves mind-controlling Hawkeye so that he can use him as security.

He also mind-controls Dr. Selvig to make him create the Chitauri portal.But it's strange that he doesn't mind-control the boss ,Nick Fury. If he had done that, everything he wanted would have been achieved more easily. Fury would have been his puppet and he could have used him to make the Avengers make regrettable decisions.

Honestly if he’d just walked into the UN it would have been easy-peasy, we can go down this rabbit hole until we end up in Oz. But hey, we’ll give this one to SR, as one of those typical ‘CinemaSins’ things that Alfred Hitchcock would reply ‘because then there’d be no movie’ to.

I would add that this is more Thanos’ plan than Loki’s, though, so we don’t know if that was ever an option the purple man would’ve allowed.

SR - 2.5, OS - 5.5

5Thanos Was Too Lenient Towards Him

Long before they became enemies, Loki and Thanos were associated. One of the instructions that Thanos gave Loki was to get the Tesseract as soon as possible, or else. Yes, there were stipulations from Thanos outlined to Loki by The Other. Loki was promised a kind of pain he'd never known before.

RELATED: 10 Best Recurring Jokes In The MCU

However, Loki wasn't able to deliver the Tesseract for more than six years, and nothing really happened to him. Given how ruthless the Mad Titan is, it's a mystery why he was so lenient towards Loki.

...interesting that being promised untold pain is related to recurring jokes, ha ha...not sure what that’s about.

I dunno, Loki got the most brutal and graphic death in the film, seems pretty un-lenient to me. Not to mention half the people he’d just saved were all slaughtered in front of him, making him responsible for Asgard’s second destruction.

As for why not sooner, Loki was living under an assumed identity for those 6 years as his own father, his death widly publicized as a popular play. I imagine Thanos caught a matinee or something. Let’s just call this a draw.

SR - 2.5, OS - 5.5

4Stopping Agent Coulson

During

Loki's invasion of Earth

Avengers

, he trapped Thor in a cage, and while he was talking to his brother, Agent Coulson tried to stage a surprise attack. Not so fast Coulson. It appears the God Of Mischief is also the God Of Anticipating. Coulson ended up shooting a hologram instead of the real Loki.But how exactly was Loki able to anticipate Coulson's arrival? Can he see the near future? If such is the case, why didn't he see the attack from Hulk coming? Why didn't he use a hologram during the beatdown that left him in a pretty bad state either?

These are getting weaker, not stronger, as we get to number one. Didn’t expect people to still be reading, huh? Guess I’m the real loser, wasting more time on replying to this than was spent writing it. Oh well.

Chances are Loki turned himself invisible and left a copy in his place before walking behind Coulson. Which he’s done before. Illusions and mind-tricks are his main power.

SR - 2.5, OS - 6.5

3Hatred For Thor

Thor has always cared about Loki, but Loki has always wanted to end his brother. During the events of Thor: Ragnarok, a flashback scene showed Thor and Loki during their childhood days. Apparently, Loki did plenty of bad things to Thor.He once transformed Thor into a frog, while he also transformed himself into a snake to fool Thor into picking him up. Thor loved snakes, so when he tried to pick the reptile, Loki transformed back to himself and stabbed Thor. Why was there so much hatred? According to the first movie, Loki used to love Thor. He only started hating his brother when he found out that Thor was going to be the Asgardian king.

Always wanted to end his brother? Where is that coming from? Because he stabbed him as a kid in Thor’s anecdote in Thor 3? These are Asgardian kids, I expect there to be five stabbings before lunchtime. Kids are practically given daggers as teething toys.

I’m guessing this writer has never been or met a pair of siblings. Why is there so much hatred? Gee, I dunno, maybe because ‘Thor won’t stop hogging the X-Box and it’s my turn, Mum, it is!’ I mean, brothers and sisters do terrible things to each other. They make each other eat dirt and bugs, push each other off the deck, cheat at chess, spit in their hair, hide frogs in their bed, you name it. Now upgrade that to the level of the gods and you got some real fun shenanigans, and several more centuries of time in your childhood to get up to even more mischief.

You can still love someone and turn them into a frog.

SR - 2.5, OS - 7.5

2Takeover Plan

Still, in the first film, Loki began scheming after finding out that he was adopted and he'd never become king. The God of Mischief assisted the Frost Giants in gaining entry to Asgard so that he could destroy the Frost Giant King Laufey before he could kill Odin.RELATED:

10 MCU Moments We Need To See In Disneyland’s New Marvel Land

Sounds good, but then Thor tried to feud with the Frost Giants too, and this didn't turn out so well for him. In fact, Thor was banished and dispatched to Earth because of this. It is thus strange that Loki thought Odin would like him for doing what Thor had done. Loki also waited for Odin to sleep first before trying to destroy Laufey. Wouldn't it have been better for him to try and do this while Odin was awake?

The order of events is all wrong. Loki did not discover his heritage until they went to Jotunheim, and didn’t hear the whole story until the Vault, at about the halfway point of the film. Yes, the film opens with him secretly helping the giants into Asgard to disrupt Thor’s coronation. He intended to goad Thor into going to the Bifrost to attack Jotunheim, and, as he says later to the W3 and Sif while their wounds are being treated, he hoped they’d be stopped there by Heimdall. However, Heimdall was more prideful than he’d accounted for, and that’s when they went to Jotunheim, which wasn’t the plan. Everything after that point is Loki improvising and reacting - it’s not so much a scheme as a scream, if you know what I mean.

Loki was unexpectedly made interim King while Odin was asleep and Thor banished. That’s a condition depending on Odin’s sleep and Thor’s banishment, either of which could end at any time, as Frigga tells him. She also tells him that Odin can see all of Asgard, even while asleep. Laufey reiterates this right before he tries to kill him. Odin also cries in his sleep, indicating he can perceive his children fighting on the bridge later in the film. Loki is putting on an elaborate play to demonstrate his loyalty to Odin and simultaneously sever his connections to Jotunheim, which he sees as a threat to his bond with Odin. He has room for only one father.

Were you on your phone when you were watching this movie? ...It’s okay if you were, but...man, you’re writing about this film, at least get the sequence of events right. It’s not a particularly complicated film.

I feel like I’m getting mean. Lose half a point for meanness, gain two points for two points made.

SR - 2.5, OS - 9

1Not Teaming Up With Hela

Loki and

Odin’s abandoned daughter Hela

had the same goals, but strangely enough, they didn't team up to make everything go smoothly. Given the kind of unity Loki had seen from the Avengers, he'd have been smarter enough to value teamwork more.When Hela arrived to take the throne and get revenge, Loki ought to have been the first person on her side. Her plan was basically a newer, small-scale version of his own plan in Avengers. Given his nature, it could have been more logical for him to team up with her then destroy her.

Same goals? You don’t mention them, though. I’d say their goals are entirely opposite. We see Loki’s rule contrasted with Hela’s quite clearly in Ragnarok. Loki withdrew Asgard from the other Realms (in my opinion, likely because he only has love for Asgard, and his interest in it and its people). He’s not interested in invading or enslaving or plundering (yes, yes, I know, Avengers, but that film was constantly making it clear that Loki wasn’t enacting his plan, but Thanos’, and he was being baby-sat by the Other to make sure he didn’t forget it. The stone was meant for Thanos, and we also know Loki wasn’t at his best self mentally at that time. He looked like he’d been chewing on coal and his skin had all the healthy pallour of a plastic bag. Compare that to Ragnarok, where he’s much more at ease and less...’my whole world has crashed down upon me’). Loki is like a cat in a sunbeam, happy to soak up praise, adulation, and acceptance from Asgard. Hela also wants those things - she’s upset when people don’t bow to her, that no-one remembers her, and that her cool paintings are gone. However, her solution to this is to kill everyone until she’s left with the people who are loyal to her. Loki’s was to create the play (which is either propaganda or much-needed Loki representation in the media, depending on how you view it), and convince people to like him. Hela demands loyalty, Loki wants love. Very different.

Her goal, of course, is to make Asgard great again, through conquest. Admittedly Loki did do something similar when he tried to flambé Jotunheim in Thor 1, but he did that for personal reasons, while Hela has a policy. Also, Hela wants Thor and Loki dead, and possibly was a large reason why Odin died (likely he was drained from imprisoning her). Loki loves Thor and Odin and does not want them dead; he also does not seem to want to be killed, at least by any hand not his own. There’s also the little problem of him being a frost giant, which Hela would likely not look kindly on (heck, original drafts of that painting depicting Hela conquering show her essentially enslaving the giants and forcing them to help build Asgard.) Hela isn’t looking for an equal partner. Loki wants equality above all else.

So no, no reason to team up.

SR - 2.5, OS - 10/10, a very good girl, here’s an invisible gold star

Aight, that was a great waste of time. But sometimes, you just need to refute every single point of something to feel better.

TL;DR: ScreenRant didn’t watch the movie(s).

#thor meta #screenrant response #waste of my time and yours #but I do feel better now

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curious-minx · 4 years ago

Text

Bob’s Burgers most reliable holiday provides another lowkey enjoyable, but messy episode. Whereas the latest Simpsons strikes a really sore vocal node.

The second holiday episode of Bob’s Burgers’ 11th season, much like the previous Halloween episode, this one also fails to live up to the series’ even higher Thanksgiving standard

That’s not to say “Diarrhea of a Poopy Kid” is not a good episode, but it does fall into the category of Bob’s Burgers episode I typically respond to the least: Character-based storytelling vignettes. The writing on these segment driven episodes tend to be looser and playful bending the show’s reality, but much like every time the other Fox family leaves the Springfield plane of reality into a pastiche styled playground for the writers to plug the characters into.

The overall animation and visual-based gags on this episode offers some of the best moments of the season and series in general. Having the Belcher stories revolve around action movie pastiches of 90’s action movie schlock like Air Force Once, Armageddon, and late 80’s Predator are extremely punny and really grasping hard for satire. The walk to Louise’s Breadator is succinct and makes total sense for Louise’s character to tell this kind of story, whereas Tina drawing inspiration from Air Force One for her story sags the episode down. This episode also has the gall to bring in Gayle, a character that usually elevates all of her episodes nothing much to do until the third and best segment told by Bob. Teddie is also frustratingly nowhere to be seen and Teddie is one of those characters that really only needs a small scene explaining away his absence like in the episode “Gayle Makin’ Bob Sled,” which Variety and I consider to be among the best of Bob’s Thanksgiving episodes.

Nitpicks and reminiscing on past glories aside, what’s most impressive about an episode as conceptual and overstuffed as this one, an episode that’s also poopy and gross-out from the very beginning, still manages to pack undeniable heart. Seeing a character as relatable and sad sack-y as Bob Belcher be passionate about his one favorite holiday reminds me of the everlasting and evergreen Ray Bradbury remark about how everyone is capable of writing poetry as long as you ask them to talk about something they are truly passionate about. Seeing how this episode climax revolves around Gene and Bob’s love of food and proves a powerful sentimental moment. Bob’s Burgers sentimentality works because the show’s core is silly absurdism, light and fluffy gross out gags and quirky twee-ness. Introducing the action movie element feels like the series trying to branch out its audience and try to catch some eyeballs of viewers looking for something more like Archer, American Dad, Rick and Morty, or even Treehouse of Horror style genre exercises. Bob’s Burgers and action comedy feels like putting garlic pesto on cinnamon toast, but Ryan Reynolds doesn’t think so.

Yes, that’s right. The biggest news out of the Bob’s Burgers camp…probably ever…is that the Molyneux sisters, the writers of this very action packed episode, have been hand selected by Mr. Detective “VanWilder” Pickachu himself to be head writers on the upcoming third Deadpool movie. Seeing that we live in a post Russo brothers world and how Dan Harmon was conscripted to punch up Doctor Strange scripts none of this should really surprise me, but I am still very much surprised by this development. The Deadpool 3 creative team and Reynolds is still promising to deliver an R-Rated Comedy, a rating and promise that is very much why Deadpool is the sensation that it is.

In the current media landscape the only way a big budget R-Rated comedy can get made is if it’s attached to something like a mega superhero sized brand. At this point in time Deadpool is the closest thing kids have to a Mel or Al Brooks and it is what it is. If anything Ryan Reynolds personally choosing the Molyneux sisters for a project like this makes me like Ryan Reynolds a little bit more. And he’s a man I previously had no real feelings or opinions about. The only other thing about Deadpool I know about is that the franchise has developed a particularly shitty reputation in terms of its treatment of main female characters and literally freezing them out of the plot. The future of comedy is being driven by the significant increase of women gaining these kind of writing gigs and it’s a beautiful thing to finally see witness. Especially when a company like Netflix has been really shitty to both of its own female driven comedies: Glow and Tucca and Bertie.

Sigh. I am thankful for all the sad little boys and girls wearing too much or maybe the right amount of eye shadow that will inherit this flaming Earth.

Three and half pear shaped pals out of an Oedipus Rex Complex.

////

Nerds! Nothing but a lousy rotten sniveling dweeb! You dorkus-rex! You body pillow huffing geek get over here and let the Simpsons set some things straight for you: A Comic Book Guy driven episode of the Simpsons is often where the show goes off the rails. The Comic Book Guy marriage episode is was one of those late day Simpsons that feel like a bad piece of dreamed up fan fiction that you found on the cutting room floor. Is the show interested at all with the fact that comics and being nerdy have become as mainstream as the Bible? No? They’re still treating geek culture as some sort of low hanging piñata fruit lousy with cheap references in place of actual jokes? Good! I don’t know why I would ever allow myself to think for a second that the Simpsons would challenge its own status quo 32 seasons in, but I keep coming back.

What I should really do is back up. The title of this episode is “Three Dreams Denied.” Ah, Dream Denial! That’s exactly what anyone watching an animated sitcom hopes for: dreams being crushed. This isn’t some kiddy Davy and Goliath feel good wholesome fable, this is the Simpsons where characters are given dreams, and those dreams get denied. The next part of the title I want to break down is the fact that there are specifically three dreams that being denied. Three! That’s a comedy number! As long as you have three of anything you’re doing comedy. Plain and simple.

During the Robert Zemeicks arc of the Blank Check podcast Griffin Newman, co-host and comedian extraordinaire and someone I generally admire a lot, has been bringing up the fact that he’s been spending a lot of his Quarantine rewatching the entirety of the Simpsons. By the episode of Used Cars Newman has already gotten past the Movie era and is in the 20th seasons. One observation he made about later day Simpsons is that these episodes have a tendency to end abruptly on a pile of unusable and reality bending plots still in the process of tying themselves up. And there’s no better/worse example of this than this episode.

Comic Book Guy goes to a comic book convention. Bart becomes a voice actor after befriending the comic book guy’s temporary replacement. Lisa feuds over her saxophone chair in the school orchestra with a new pretty boy voiced by the underwhelming Ben Platt. One of these plots is not like the other. This used to be the signature of a quality Simpsons episode that managed to tweak and divert expectations from the typical A & B sitcom storylines. This episode fundamentally fails to deliver on any of the three storylines and what makes it worse is that it’s an intentional choice.

Now I know I have spent this review harping on Comic Book Guy, but he’s not even why this episode for me is such an abomination. And it’s not because the cutesy, flimsy Lisa subplot either (although I do find it noxiously amusing that a week after an Yeardely Smith took issue with the Queer Interpretation of Lisa would feature her going moony eyed over a boy voiced by a defiantly queer actor), no, what tips this episode into the territory of the truly terrible for me is the Bart becomes a voice actor subplot.

The only defining quality of season 32 that I can discern is that the flagrant trolling on behalf of the writers. Can you believe we had three vignette driven episodes of the Simpsons in a row? Can you believe we would have meta reality breaking voice actor related moments back to back? When Lisa Simpson’s voice actor Yeardley Smith voiced the real world character of herself in the previous Podcast based episode it was clumsy and awkward as hell. Having Bart become a voice actor that ends up voicing a character of the opposite gender is the sort of kind of a funny thing that resembles a joke that the latter day Simpsons revel in. The characterization of voice acting work in this episode is downright insulting and explains exactly why this show suffers.

The character of Phil that serves as the Comic Book Guy’s replacement is a working voice actor. He let’s Bart know this by doing a series of completely basic, broad and unremarkable impersonations that Bart is seemingly impressed by. All you have to do to become a successful voice actor is do a silly voice and you’re golden. Maybe from the perspective of a series as lazy and indulgent as the Simpsons is when it comes to voice acting. The complete denial of Julie Kavner’s deteriorating voice that at this point sounds like gentle elder abuse. There are times when Kavner is downright incomprehensible at times. The other oldest member of the Simpsons voice talent, Harry Shearer was wrongheadedly trying to defend his right to voice Characters of Colors because in his words, “the job of the voice actor is to play someone who they’re not.” Obviously these words were not spoken by someone that thinks very highly of acting either. There is no one job an actor has to do, because the job of an actor is always changing from job to job. The character of Phil is not even attributed to anyone! I have spent over thirty minutes getting testy with IMDB search engines and reading another website’s recap and no one can tell me who did the voice of the Voice Acting Character on Simpsons. Lovely.

Much like the Comic Book Guy the Simpsons heart is in bad shape. This is a show whose entire existence seems to be made out of spite. Or to garner enough funds for Matt Groening to prevent him from ever having to serve any prison time for his exploits on the Lolita express. Great, see I’m bringing up the Lolita Express at the end of a Simpsons review. This episode really left me in a bad mood, but thankfully that’s what Bob’s Burgers is for.

SKIP. The only people that should watch this are people teaching a screenwriting class that need examples of what happens when you break your episode by haphazardly shoving three plots into one episode. If you can’t tie up one story in a satisfying manner then you really shouldn’t be telling a story at all. There’s also one really magnificent visual joke involving Homer and beer tea that is absolutely wasted on this episode.

#Bob's Burgers #Deadpool #MCU #2021 #TV series #TV review #TV #The Simpsons #voice artist #voice acting #rant

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borhap-au · 5 years ago

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Gwil x Tall girl.

You and Gwil have been friends for a good few years. You didn’t even know when exactly you started to call each other “my friend”, because it came out so naturally, you didn’t even pay attention to it. You just got along so perfectly, it didn’t take you long to start seeing each other a lot and hang out. And for a the bigger part of it, you really treated him as friend and nothing more.

However, there came a time when all of your friends found themselves a partner, and whether you wanted to admit it or not, you started to feel lonely. You were longing for someone who could make you laugh, who was easy-going and didn’t start any dramas, who was caring, faithful and respectful. It took you a good few weeks to realise the problem with you finding yourself a man was simple and right in front of your eyes. You said “no” to everyone else, because they were not like this. They were not like him. They were not Gwilym.

You facepalmed when you came to that conclusion. Gwilym? Really? You fell for your best friend? How cliché. Yet the truth was it was not really about the fact you were friends at all - on the contrary, you believed in relationships between friends. They had strong connection and knew each other very well, were less likely to cheat. It was about something completely different. Your height.

You were the tallest out of all your friends, you were even taller than some of your exes. You didn’t want to admit that, because you didn’t want to be one of those people who choose who they love because of their height, but you were really hoping for someone visibly taller. There were not many men among your friends who you could wear high heels around and still be shorter. One of the few exceptions was Gwil.

Was there even something that didn’t make Gwilym perfect in your eyes? You didn’t think so. Still, there was a problem - you never saw him dating anyone tall as long as you knew him. He always chose petite, much shorter girls, so much different from how you looked. Of course, you tried to get his attention. Got all dolled up for a few events with him. It didn’t go unnoticed, but he always gave you compliments such as “everyone look at my beautiful friend - doesn’t she just look stunning tonight?” that completely missed the point. Finally you decided to get over him and look for someone else.

After a few weeks, when you (foolishly) thought it worked, you had a meeting with him in a club. You had that one place you liked going to, because it always had some good classic rock music. You put on a dress and high heels, but you started to lose all hope that you’ll ever get him. Since you were friends, you knew a few things he liked and disliked about girls. He was not a fan of strong make up, he liked more natural looks, so that’s what you went for. What was the point of trying to hide behind make up now, since he saw you without any of it already?

When he saw you, he hugged you and said you looked great, but he always tended to compliment your looks when you met, so you didn’t pay much attention to it thinking it’s just a thing he does, because he’s a gentleman and wants you to feel good. You wanted to feel relaxed, therefore you immediately ordered a drink. You liked cocktails, because you liked the taste of fruit, but there was a problem about them - you didn’t even feel when you got drunk. Gwilym just wanted a beer, therefore he didn’t get drunk that easily. He didn’t want to drink too much, mostly to be able to make sure you’ll come back home safely after that. He was not expecting what was to happen next.

Maybe you weren’t drunk drunk, you were tipsy. Enough to remember everything and make decisions for yourself, but also to be very talkative. It started off typically, he mentioned one of your friends’ relationship and the sad vibes came back. He asked what happened - apparently it was very visible - and was genuinely concerned. You weren’t that annoying drunk person type, you were more of a funny type, Gwil never minded when you drank a bit too much. But tonight was different and he could sense that.

“It’s just...” you sighed, and waved it off. “No, it was supposed to be a fun night. Let’s talk about you.”

“No.” you hardly ever saw Gwilym being so firm. You knew he won’t let that go easily. Too bad for you - that “no” was honestly enough to make you start talking. You just needed a little confirmation he would listen. “Please, I want to know what’s going on.”

“It’s just that it pisses me off, you know? I really wish them well, all of them-”

“All of them?” he raised his brow.

“All of our friends that are in relationships. Good for them! Really. But it’s not that I don’t deserve love, is it?”

“Of course you deserve love. What do you mean?”

“Well, it definitely doesn’t feel like it. It doesn’t feel like love comes my way - it feels like it runs the fuck away whenever it sees me!” he smiled under his breath hearing that. You swore a lot when you were tipsy, and compared with how polite you normally were, it was a bit funny. “And once, just once when I find myself a perfect man, I am not his type!”

“Did he tell you that? Let me kick his ass.” of course he was joking, but it was his way of supporting you. Showing you he’s on your side.

“No, he didn’t. But I know I’m not. He likes petite, short girls, and I’m not one of them.” you sighed.

“Well, shame on him, if he can’t appreciate your beautiful long legs. You know what it is about? He’s scared that he’s cock will just look very small in your hand. No confident man would say no to a girl like you.”

“And are you confident?”

“Well, I would consider myself a pretty confident person. Why?” he didn’t get it. He didn’t get it at all. You knew you would have to be more clear with him.

“So you wouldn’t say no to me?”

“Of course not. You’re a very nice, sweet girl, you’re clever and-”

“Gwil, stop with the motivational speech. I was talking about you.”

“What?” he looked at you surprised.

“You are the guy I have a crush on. Silly me, huh? I’m sorry for the trouble, I don’t even know why I said all of that, I-” you didn’t even know what you wanted to say anymore. You felt embarrassed and wanted to disappear.

“You have a crush on me?” ‘oh yeah, great. Yes, repeat that, I didn’t feel enough shame yet’ you thought as you hid your face in your hands. You sighed again.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s not a long term thing, I found out recently. It’s not like I’ve been in love with you all those years. It’s just that I felt lonely recently and I realised I was longing for something. Apparently, all I needed was you. But you kept on going on dates with those small little girls, and I knew I could never be like them. I don’t know how that confession will affect our friendship. I low key hope you’ll get more drunk and forget about it. I don’t want anything more from you than I can get. You were always a fantastic friend, I hope not to lose you.”

He looked at you for a solid minute without saying anything. You were ready to take your things and get out of there. You were even sure in a few days you’ll get a text from him asking to return all the things you borrowed from him and those he left at your house, because he never wanted to see you again. Finally, he spoke.

“I was thinking about it too.” it didn’t make an impression on you. He was probably just thinking about how much he didn’t want to ever be with someone like you. You were a good mate, nothing more than that. “I got that idea for a few months, maybe even a year”. Oh, wait. What the fuck.

“What?” you asked being confused.

“I thought about dating you. After all everyone wants someone they can trust and they have genuine good time with, right? I just thought that by admitting that, I would destroy everything. That’s why I admire you for having the guts to say it, not thinking about consequences.” You vaguely remembered he once mentioned something about dating you, but as soon as you gave him a look, he backed out of it and pretended it was just a joke.

“And what are the consequences?” the stress of losing a best friend got you a little bit more sober.

“Well, the only consequence I see now is that we both know how we feel about each other. And it’s not a bad thing.”

“Do we? All I know is that you wanted to date me, because I’m a safe option.”

“No.” he said firmly, again. “it’s not like that and it never was. I wanted to date you because spending time with you, talking to you, it really makes me happy. And I hoped I can make you happy too. And really? You thought I only see you through the fact you’re tall? You are funny, smart and a real fun to be around. And you look really good in high heels. I have no problem with how you look, on the contrary, I think you’re beautiful and really attractive.” you thought that it wasn’t real. It was just a dream that didn’t happen.

“Is that a joke? Because if it is, it’s a real mean one.” your eyes got a bit teary.

“I’m as honest as I can be. You are beautiful. My type is not a short girl, I just happened to meet a lot of them, they are easier to find. Women like you - they are hard to find. Because you are special. And I know it’s a lot, and we’re a bit tipsy, but if you considered taking this friendship to another level I would be really happy about it.” now you were the one looking at him without saying a word. Could it really be true?

“What if we destroy our friendship by doing that?”

“Neither of us is a jealous person and we always find a way out of an argument. If kissing will be such a problem, we’ll come back to being friends. You have a special place in my heart, you always will. And I really want to try this out. I have high hopes for us. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try.”

“Me neither.” you smiled and put your hand in his. He pet your hand with his thumb. “I think it’s high time for us to try being together. After all, didn’t all of our friends say we would be very good as a couple?”

“I’ll ask you again tomorrow. When we’re both sober.” you stood up and then walked up to him and sit on his legs. He put his arms around you.

“And you’ll always hear ‘yes’“ you smiled and kissed him softly. He immediately kissed you back.

And yes, that was your answer the next day. He was a bit scared to ask you, thinking maybe it was just a dream. But it was real. You two together were real. And when the dating season ended, out of all your friends, you were the only ones still in a relationship, and getting stronger and more in love every day.

#gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee au #gwilym lee headcanon #gwil lee fic #bohemian rhapsody fanfic #gwil lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee fluff #requested #bohemian rhapsody x reader #gwil!brian may #gwilym lee x tall reader #long

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unicyclehippo · 5 years ago

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hey! if you're still taking prompts, maybe you could write something about ellie and dina on a scouting mission and in one of the houses they come across an old playstation, and when they get back to jackson they set it up and play it on one of their days off? basically something similar to a scene in uncharted 4, except its filled with soft, gay competitive banter

‘it’ll be written down in the histories of our people!’ jesse announces, bouncing up onto the overturned barrel and spinning to face them, arms outstretched, raised like he’s preaching to them. ‘on this day, on this very day, two of our own—ellie and dina—singlehandedly -‘

‘we’ve got four between us, actually,’ dina heckles from her place at the edge of the encroaching crowd.

‘ - brought to us a machine! a great machine! one that recalls the hallowed days of old wherein children could play inside for hours on end and not have to work!’

‘come off it, jesse, kids have always been put into terrifying situations in which their very lives are at constant risk.’ max grins at the low murmur of laughter that brings. ‘next you’re gonna tell us that they didn’t have to hunt for their own food.’

‘okay, i genuinely am not clear on how much you know about the before time,’ jesse tells him, the grandeur dropping from his voice. ‘but ellie and dina—‘

‘dina and ellie,’ dina calls. ‘it’s alphabetical.’

ellie, lured by the worry of what havoc even a small crowd can do riled up, takes her place at dina’s side, shakes her head. ‘it sounds wrong.’

‘you’re just saying that because your name comes first usually. you don’t want me to come first.’

‘i think i’m usually pretty good about that, actually,’ ellie mutters. a tiny grin flickers over her lips and then is gone. ‘what’s jesse doing?’

‘brief history lesson and also trying to get our names recorded in some book of historical excellence or something. maybe electing us as gods? not sure.’

‘gods, huh? hey, jesse!’ ellie waves to get his attention and her friend waves, hops off his claimed pedestal to join them.

‘well well, if it isn’t the two most adored hunters in town,’

‘adoration is fleeting business, yada yada, anyway, shouldn’t we maybe see if the thing actually hooks up to the generator before we start making any promises?’

‘sure,’ jesse allows, and he flips his hair back off his face, sends a beaming smile down at them. ‘but when it does—and it will, if there’s any kindness in this universe -‘

‘debatable.’

‘absolutely not.’ ellie places a hand over dina’s mouth, points a warning finger at jesse. ‘you promised no philosophy if i was in earshot, you promised.’

he relents, hands raised in surrender. ‘anyway, when it works, i will be giving you some kind of award.’

‘do you even have any authority at all?’

‘i’m thinking...knighthood?’ he muses. ‘presidents?’

‘gods?’ dina suggests, still muffled behind the hand she hasn’t bothered to dislodge. ellie drops her hand. ‘or angels. captains. queens.’

ellie leaves them to it and makes her way toward the hall.

‘hey! ellie-girl! just about ready to turn this bad boy on!’ tommy is on his hands and knees surrounded by a box of wires that have been upended on the floor. scavenged scrap material mostly but by the looks of things, they’ve managed to piece meal all the connections they need to get the television hooked up to this gaming thing. ‘glad you’re here, i really think you’re gonna like this.’

there’s a buzz in the air, as much from the generator as it is from the excitement of the other people here, some helping, most just watching and pretending to be doing something else like pouring coffee or looking for a place to hang an empty picture frame.

tommy ignores them all and scrambles up—pauses to rub at his knees and grumble—and makes his way to the couch where a small device sits. he taps a few buttons and grins when it lights up. without a moments hesitation, he holds it out to ellie.

‘what?’

‘take it. you found it, you should get to play first.’

‘me? i don’t know how—‘

‘it’s easy,’ he laughs her denial away. ‘and i’ll teah you.’ he presses it into her hand, and ellie knows she sees his fingers linger on the controller. ‘press that button—it’ll boot it up.’

‘i’ve got two boots-‘

tommy closes his eyes. breathes out long and slow. when he opens his eyes again, it is to see a very pleased smile on ellie’s face. ‘you and joel,’ he grumbles. ‘you’re not funny.’

‘i am. he’s not.’

‘no. neither of you are. just - just push the damn button, okay?’

ellie shrugs. pushes the button.

the television screen blinks on with a symbol she doesn’t recognise and the chirping sound of something activating. tommy guides her to a colourful box with a strange little orange creature and the description he gives makes no sense at all. a running game? collecting fruit? tropical island?

‘this sounds stupid.’

‘maybe. addictive though. i bet you can’t beat the first level.’

ellie frowns at the screen. the glare slides across to the man she considers to be her uncle and she finds him watching her, brows raised, a sly grin identical to when joel knew she was going to embarrass herself. like when he called her over so she slipped on ice that one time, ellie recalls.

‘that’s a trap,’ dina says, dropping into the space next to her. she brings her feet up under her, knee digging comfortably into ellie’s side. ‘he’s goading you.’

‘i’m aware.’

‘what are the terms?’

‘no terms,’ tommy shrugs. ‘i just think she oughta play a bit before she dismisses the whole thing. can’t say for sure it’s stupid until you see for yourself, right?’

the game is most definitely stupid. it’s the second week in a row that ellie has snuck into the hall to use her free hour on the device, and the stupid sounds the creature makes and the stupid incessant music is haunting her in her dreams.

‘you’re really very bad at this game.’

ellie sighs. hangs her head. pausing the game, she turns to watch her girlfriend step in from the kitchens and make her way over, leaning over the back of the couch. the television lights up her face and the light only makes the amused gleam in her eyes seem brighter.

‘it’s funny, you know, because you’re very good at everything else.’ she cocks her head to the side, nods slowly like she’s figured something out. ‘yes. i’m more attracted to you now.’

ellie can’t help but laugh. ‘more attracted because i’m bad at it, or because you’re better at something? see, i think it’s the second one.’

‘yeah. don’t know what it is.’

‘you’re a narcissist, maybe?’

‘you say the sweetest things.’ dina steps around the couch to sit at the opposite end. she sets her feet in ellie’s lap immediately, ellie bringing her free hand down over dina’s shins. it’s ingrained in her now, to be close to dina, to touch dina in these small ways. it’s just nice.

‘that wasn’t meant to be sweet.’

‘mm, but you mentioned me and i love me.’

‘narcissist.’

‘grouch.’ dina’s laid out lazy and comfortable, chin dimpling as she squishes her face down to grin over at ellie.

‘beautiful.’

‘flatterer.’ she nudges ellie with her foot, nods to the screen. ‘play the game.’

‘i’m bad at it.’

‘i know, i want to make fun of you. think of it like...the game is your entertainment, bullying you is mine.’

ellie laughs. turning her attention to the screen, the laughter fades to a simple expansive warmth in her chest and she chuckles again. ‘this is the hardest level yet,’ she warns. ‘you’d better have some good mockery saved up, i’m going to die a lot.’

‘i’m sure i can think of something.’

#tlou #tlou 2 #prompt fill #ellie x dina #video gays

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