#among other relics of the time for that series
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venacoeurva · 8 months ago
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I woke up with homestuck music stuck in my head that clawed itself to the surface after like 12 years and I just now realized what day it was
well
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deliciousangelfestival · 4 months ago
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I Hate It When You're Drunk - 4
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Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader
Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.
I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist
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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️
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“When the time is right, we will make our move,” Bucky declared, his voice resolute.
“Finally, our time has come,” Isaac, one of the resistance members, said. He was among the many whose family had been ruined for not supporting King Leonard's ascension.
“We want justice for what we've been through!” Lucas, another member, shouted, rallying the others into a cheer.
It was a well-known fact that King Leonard was a tyrant. Though the country appeared prosperous, many suffered behind the scenes, including the members of Bucky’s resistance. Each person in this room had been directly affected by Leonard’s ruthless rise to power.
The opposition, whether politicians or civilians, faced dire consequences for resisting the king. They lost their assets, their money, and often their lives. Bucky himself was a victim.
His mother, a vocal opponent of Leonard, had disappeared when Leonard began his ascent. When Bucky asked his father about her, he only responded, “It's best if you act like she didn’t exist.”
Those words left a lasting mark on Bucky. Over time, he discovered he wasn’t the only one who had lost a family member to Leonard's tyranny. At the military academy, he met Isaac, Lucas, and others who eventually formed the resistance.
As they planned their coup, the room buzzed with intense discussions and strategies. Isaac turned to Bucky, saying, “You play your part well. If we get the king, you could easily enter the royalty since you have the princess under your palm.”
The mention of you changed the atmosphere around Bucky. He glared at Isaac. “She’s not part of the plan.”
Seeing Bucky's anger, Isaac raised his hands in surrender. “Yup, I'm sorry,” he muttered before stepping away.
Bucky harbored no love for the tyrant king, but his feelings for you were different. You were innocent, a victim of circumstances beyond your control. He had grown up close to you and knew your struggles. This coup was as much about setting you free as it was about toppling Leonard.
The night was filled with fervent planning. Detailed strategies were discussed, each member contributing to the master plan to overthrow the king.
The next day, Bucky received a call from you. “The king wants to meet us,” you said, uncharacteristically cheerful. Given your complicated feelings toward your father, it was rare for you to show such enthusiasm.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
The day before
“Your Highness,” the servants greeted you as you nursed a headache with aspirin.
“Yes?” you replied, glancing up from your seat.
“Your Majesty has invited you to play chess.”
Both you and the king had starkly different personalities, yet you shared a common passion for chess. You found solace in the game’s strategy, a rare escape from the burdens of your royal duties. The king, ever the strategist, enjoyed the mental challenge it provided, a way to sharpen his mind amidst his ruling responsibilities.
“Tell the king to give me 10 minutes,” you instructed, rubbing your temples.
“As you wish, Princess.”
You knew better than to keep the king waiting too long. Within the allotted 10 minutes, you arrived at his game room. The room was a relic from another era, with its only entertainment options being a billiard table and a chessboard. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and leather.
Leonard had been waiting, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp with anticipation. He gestured to the chessboard between you. As you both took your seats, the game began. The soft clacking of chess pieces and the occasional murmur of strategy filled the room.
Leonard broke the silence. “Tell me, why don’t you want to marry Cassian?”
You moved a pawn, your eyes focused on the board. “My heart only belongs to one person. If I married another, I’d be a runaway bride.”
Leonard scoffed, clearly unimpressed. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the armrest, his gaze fixed on the chessboard as if it were a mere inconvenience.
You countered with a steely resolve. “It would be humiliating for you and for me. The king of Verudian have to bowed his head in apology to another country. It would be dreadful for both you and the kingdom.”
You leaned forward, attempting to reason with him. “Just as you loved my mother, the only person who truly held your heart, I feel the same way. It’s not something I can just ignore.”
Leonard’s hand hovered over a chess piece, the weight of your words hanging in the air. He sighed deeply. “In this world, you are the only one who shares my blood. My daughter. I want the best for you.”
Your heart skipped a beat at his admission. The words were a rare glimpse into the complexity of his feelings. “I understand what’s at risk. But you can’t ignore my feelings in this. I’ve spent years pleading for your blessing, and I’ve been patient. For once, can’t you consider what would make me happy?”
Leonard’s face remained a mask of stern calculation, though there was a flicker of something more vulnerable in his eyes. He exhaled sharply as if the weight of your words had momentarily pierced through his armor of indifference.
“I want what’s best for you, not just for me,” Leonard finally said, his voice tinged with reluctant resignation. He reached for a chess piece, his movements deliberate and slow.
His hand hovered over the piece, his fingers trembling slightly as he set it down. “You have the same persistence as me, and it’s clear you’re not going to give up easily.”
You leaned forward, heart pounding. “So, you’ll allow it?”
Leonard fell silent, his intense scrutiny making you shiver. After a moment, he reached out, his hand firmly grasping the piece you had taken. He moved it decisively, and then his eyes met yours.
“If I give you my blessing, will you stop hating me?” he asked, his voice softer but carrying a heavy weight.
You flinched, momentarily thinking you had misheard. After all these years of pleading for his blessing, could this finally be the moment you had waited for?
“Father?” you asked, your voice trembling.
Leonard looked at you with a resigned yet stern expression. “You’re right. You have the same persistence as me. All you’ve ever wanted from me is to marry him.” He paused, his eyes darkening. “I’ll allow it.”
Overwhelmed with emotion, you stood from your seat and embraced him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you said, your voice breaking with relief.
Leonard was taken aback by the sudden display of affection. It had been a long time since you had shown him such warmth. His stiff posture softened, and for a moment, he was caught off guard by your genuine gratitude.
Finally, your prayers had been answered. The weight of the past years seemed to lift off your shoulders as you relished the moment.
“You should start the wedding plans,” Leonard said, his tone matter-of-fact.
“This early?” You asked, still glowing with excitement.
“You’ve been waiting long enough,” Leonard replied curtly. “Why delay any further?”
“Yes, you’re right. I’ll go tell Bucky right away.” You said, already eager to share the news.
Leonard nodded. “After that, have him come to see me.”
“I will,” you promised, turning to leave with a bounce in your step.
As you left to share the good news with Bucky, Leonard remained in the room, his eyes fixed on the closed door.
A low chuckle escaped his lips. He picked up the knight chess piece, his fingers tracing its contours. After a moment, he broke the top part of the knight with a deliberate snap. The shattered piece fell to the table, a dark reflection of his true intentions.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
Present day
Bucky could hardly believe his ears when you announced, “He finally gave us the blessing.”
He pulled you into a tight embrace at that moment, his heart pounding with relief and unrestrained joy. Every sacrifice, every tear you had shed, and all the time spent waiting culminated in this single, breathtaking moment.
Bucky’s eyes were moist with unshed tears, his voice choked with emotion as he murmured against your hair, “I can’t believe it’s finally happening. We can be together.”
The weight of the years of struggle and hidden longing seemed to lift off both of you as you walked hand in hand towards the king’s chambers. The halls of the castle, usually cold and imposing, felt warm and alive with the promise of change. You and Bucky exchanged smiles and knowing glances, savoring the rare moment of peace before facing the king together.
When you entered the chamber, you both bowed deeply. “Your Majesty,” you said with a voice full of gratitude.
Leonard looked up from his desk, his expression inscrutable but his eyes sharp and calculating. “Princess,” he acknowledged with a nod, “Bucky.”
You stepped forward, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. “Thank you, Father. I never thought this day would come. I’m so grateful for your blessing. It means everything to us.”
Leonard’s eyes remained on you, but Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. He struggled to focus on the conversation, his mind racing with questions and doubts.
Why now? He thought, Why did the king suddenly relent? The timing doesn’t feel right.
Leonard then turned his attention fully to you. “You should discuss the wedding plans further with the planners. Now, leave us alone,” he said, his tone firm yet not unkind.
You nodded, still clutching Bucky’s hand, and left the room, leaving Bucky alone with the king. The atmosphere in the room shifted as soon as the door closed behind you. The air grew thicker, and Bucky’s instincts screamed at him that something was wrong.
The once grand and regal space now felt oppressive and claustrophobic, the air thick with an unspoken threat. The golden light that had once symbolized grandeur seemed to cast long, sinister shadows across the room.
King Leonard, who had earlier appeared as a benevolent father figure, now exuded an aura of dark authority. He rose from his throne with a deliberate movement, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits of cold resolve.
The transformation was chilling; the king’s earlier warmth was replaced by a ruthless edge, a reminder of why he was feared across the kingdom.
With measured steps, Leonard approached an old display case at the room's far end. Inside was a sword—a relic of the past, its blade reputed to have ended countless lives.
It symbolized power and brutality, a testament to the king's unyielding dominance. Leonard’s hand moved with a practiced grace as he lifted the sword from its resting place, the blade catching the light and casting a menacing gleam.
“Your Majesty thank you for the blessing,” Bucky said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He tried to mask his fear but couldn’t hide the slight tremor in his tone as he watched Leonard approach. He bowed deeply, his heart pounding in his chest, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.
Leonard’s footsteps echoed ominously against the marble floor as he advanced toward Bucky. The sword, now in his hand, seemed to radiate a malevolent energy. The king’s face, once serene, was now a mask of grim determination. Each step Leonard took seemed to reverberate with the promise of impending violence.
Without a word, Leonard closed the distance between them. The sword was held aloft, its blade catching the light and casting a cold, steely gleam. Leonard’s movements were precise and deliberate as he positioned the sword at Bucky’s neck. The cold metal pressed against Bucky’s skin, sending a shiver down his spine.
Bucky’s breath came in short, shallow gasps as he felt the sharp edge of the blade graze his neck. The metal was unforgivingly cold, a harsh contrast to the warmth of his own fear. Leonard’s hand was steady, his grip firm and unyielding as he held the sword in place.
The intensity of the moment was palpable. Leonard’s eyes were fixed on Bucky with a look of icy disdain, his expression devoid of any hint of mercy.
Leonard’s voice, when he spoke, was a low, dangerous growl, each word dripping with contempt. “Do you think I wouldn’t know about your little plan? You’ve been living in my kingdom, plotting behind my back. How dare you try to undermine me.”
The words were a cold, harsh reprimand that only heightened Bucky’s dread. He could feel the sword’s sharpness pressing against his skin, a tangible threat that made his pulse race and his breath hitch.
Leonard’s grip on the sword remained steady, his gaze unflinching. The blade’s edge was a constant reminder of Leonard's brutal power—power that was both feared and revered. He was the tyrant king.
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maybe-boys-do-love · 11 days ago
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SOTUS Review: Engineering the Bridge To BL
I'm not exactly a sucker for teen dramas. Miss me with Gossip Girl and Pretty Little Liars. Even less soapy shows like The OC or Dawson's Creek that I checked out because of their critical status in the genre were not shows that I felt compelled to finish after watching a few episodes. However, teen dramas were a rare space in media where queer characters were allowed to exist as secondary or tertiary characters, so in my young gayhood I searched amongst less popular shows for gay storylines like in Canada's Degrassi. I binge-watched Australia's Dance Acadamy until they killed off the gay character and sought out lists about groundbreaking shows from before my time like My So-Called Life.
The latter is not simply exceptional for its gay representation but for aiming higher than its teen soap peers for realist complexity in its characters. Later, shows like Freaks and Geeks and the UK's Skins would take up that torch, then Friday Night Lights, which had the genius to bring in the institution of American football culture in the South of the the US to ground its commentary on American racial and economic politics. Norway's Skam arrived in 2015 using the "Russ Bus" tradition for similar purposes--and used the strength of its writing to depict a globally celebrated queer story the same year as SOTUS. These elevated coming-of-age teen dramas I count among my favorite series ever in any genre.
I bring up all this TV history because I found no review yet that adequately conveys SOTUS's equivalent storytelling goals and prowess, nor do they fully indicate that SOTUS is one of the most compelling BLs to this day. Historically important, they read, but mediocre production values, primarily for straight women and homophobic, with a hazing setting that might be triggering for viewers, all implying its a relic of a less enlightened time in BL history that later shows will improve upon. While I'd recommend reading them to learn more about the history of the series that I'm less interested in covering here, these are not exactly rave reviews. What a surprise to begin the series and witness right out of the gate precision, complexity, and depth to its queer depictions that's equal to any Thai BL that followed in its groundbreaking wake.
The series manages to engineer (wah wah) bridges to blend the naturalistic elements of those other elevated teen drama precedents with the tropes and styles that populated Thai BL novels (like the pink milk from 2Moons2) and will define Thai BL series in the years to come. In Thailand, the series Love Sick came first in its BL focus, but, as lovely as Love Sick is, it sprawls across flatter characters in its focus and fails to celebrate the breadth of queerness in some harmful ways. On the other hand, SOTUS, in pacing, casting, characterization, and theme development, links BL to a plot-driven Western style and decidedly queer perspective. There's a reason it was the show to begin the more intense global interest in BL series.
Below the cut, you'll find my review about the qualities that made SOTUS so outstanding to me.
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SOTUS initially struck me with the tightness of its dialogues and cuts, especially compared to many other Thai BLs that I've seen, which have a bawdy theatrical spaciousness in their tempo, more in line with broad comedy or soap opera, telenovela, and Thai lakorn. Not so in SOTUS. It gives time enough for its actors to emote but orients toward storytelling precision. Plot-forward Thai BL comparables I've seen so far might be Not Me or Moonlight Chicken. Unlike those series, SOTUS won't be any cinematography nerd's dream, clearly limited by its budget in this matter, but it works hard to keep the limits of a small budget from distracting. The cheaply licensed scoring music, for example, is surprisingly effective, its repeated pulsing dread adding to the momentum ignited by the SOTUS initiation of the freshman at Thai universities.
Senior year of high school, I selected universities for application based on my fear of hazing. No fraternities near campus for me. The gendered organization and reputation for homophobic cruelty were existential threats to me as a closeted teenager. For many gay men, including myself, frat houses and initiation ceremonies were also sites of homoerotic fantasy. Thus is the duality of gay experience.
The Thai hazing context differs from the US (no gender segregation, for example), but the series mines the same psychological tension between danger and eroticism with its controversial use of the real-life SOTUS hazing induction system--the abbreviation stands for Seniority, Order, Tradition, Unity, and Spirit--to ground its queer romance. The actual implementation of it at Thai universities has more issues than the show depicts and, while the series' hazing is a form of bullying that can trigger some, the mildness of the abuse depicted ought to be stated, especially when compared to American ideas about hazing abuse and queer media's depictions of homophobic violence. SOTUS portrays shouted verbal instructions and physical endurance trials as the means of degradation, with no physical violence and reprimands with consequences when its believed seniors have disrespected their charges or put them at risk.
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Rather than a critique of the SOTUS system itself, the system provides the organizational hub for the series' broader societal commentary, and itts treatment elevates the show to the likes of Friday Night Lights or Skam. Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice title was taken from a line in Fanny Bruney's Cecilia about the two faults being both the cause of miseries and the reason for their termination. The series treats the SOTUS system and everything else within in the same manner: with complexity rather than binary keep-it-or-leave-it moralism. The S.O.T.U.S. values parallel the confines of a deeply imperfect society that when seen as strictly authoritarian pass down rules and pain from the elder generation to the the next. However, when viewed and practiced as the series encourages by the end of its story through a more nuanced understanding of the Asian filial philosophies at play, the values of seniority, order, tradition, unity, and spirit also invite compassion and affinity flowing in both directions across the generations.
The slowly emerging slight but significant age-gap romance between righteous freshman Kongpob and head 'hazer' Arthit is the central device for this exploration, but every element and scene, from the side couples to the food orders, develop our sense as viewers of the social order that the show wants to address. And the scenes move like well-lubricated assembly-line machinery toward their final purpose. It's obsession-inducing.
Despite the machinery of SOTUS's pacing, it delicately fashions its character and an environment gently permeated by homophobia and misogyny. Celebratory moments occurred to highlight themes without drawing attention to themselves, heterosexual coupling and marriages, for example, or a classmate coming out. Slurs surfaced casually, too, and old-fashioned masculinities were performed not as major plot points, spectacles of violence, or lessons for characters to immediately learn from, but to illustrate how inherited ignorance and constraints bear down almost invisibly on the characters. No one was demonized or ostracized for their ignorance, not because the writers view their actions positively but because they view their ignorance as a product of systematic failings, failings each generation can and will attempt to improve upon as they inherit the reigns. No one generation will make it all perfectly right. They are only human.
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You can feel that humanity in the way the characters are written. All of the characters are distinguishable and interesting. They're written well and performed with heart. We have actual girls just chilling and being friends in a BL series, which was historically novel. Ingenues and horny girls and shy lesbians. The guys are recognizable guys, which is another feature Thai BL does exceptionally well. There are some dorks, some bros. The best friend in the freshman group is shy with strangers but open with his friends and fierce on the basketball court. I've known people like these. They are characters that are broad enough to recognize from a distance (or less screen time) but not simple stereotypes.
Then, on top of this you have the casual trans, gay, and nonbinary inclusion of bit parts and side characters that, to this day, only Thailand is doing in its shows to this extent. Its just impressive to see that their BL industry started off from the get-go at this level. But in SOTUS its not simply casual inclusion, either. These characters, unlike comparable characters in Love Sick, delineate moments of queer kindness that blur the understood hierarchical order of the initiation system and the heteronormative order holding our romantic leads back. In subtle ways they offer queer guidance and a model to Kong on his journey.
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Then there's Kongpob and Arthit at the queer center of it all. Ugh! These two characters! These two performances! In Singto's watery sphynx-like eyes, in Krist's clinched jaw, in the electrified space between their bodies that the characters must restrain themselves against crossing, these are the heights of longing the romance genre can reach at its peak. There's an inner pain in these characters. That pain is old-school romance and its old-school queer pain.
I've read complaints about the physical intimacy in this show that I realize after watching the series are ignoring the characterizations of repression and inexperience that impact every interaction between Art and Kong, even their kisses. They aren't on the het timeline, instead having their first kiss and relationship in college, which is why SOTUS aligns with the teen drama genre so well despite its university setting. The greenness of their physical affection (we see it grow more competent and comfortable as the show progresses), however, belies an emotional chemistry that's intense, erotic, and intimate. Many more explicit BL scenes feel tame compared to Arthit grabbing Kong's shirt in rage or whispering in his ear in front of a waiting taxi.
I'm looking forward to SOTUS S and its Our Skyy episode to see more about KongArt's partnership, because their characters resist the seme/uke categorization of the BL genre they emerge from (which are also basically the stereotypes of top and bottom that gay men placed on themselves lol). Their ages and behaviors are reversed from the expected, first off. Kong, the younger, pursues, making him technically the seme and Arthit the uke, character definitions that also indicate sexual preferences of top and bottom. This wasn't unheard of in BL texts from what I've read, but less typical. Then there's the matter of Arthit being the one who initiates physical affection, partly due to Kong's regard for his challenges with internalized homophobia. Apparently, even the pronouns used between the pair are an intimate negotiation rather than an accepted order, returning us to the more complex ways the S.O.T.U.S. acronym can be enacted.
Plus, Kong's played by Singto with impressive power and confidence that's still soft-spoken, slippery, sibilant. To my trained eyes, its a character with mannerism and speech that are legibly gay. Not so legible that all his peers will notice, but he's clockable for queer eyes and worrisome for those afraid of deviation from the norm. For me, this is Thailand's biggest BL breakthrough (and its persisted down this path*) because, for many in the LGBT+ community, challenges begin well before anything to do with sexual attraction.
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Gender deviance is the key issue. I was teased by a classmate at 8, well before I had a sexuality, that when I walk I move my hips like a f*gg*t. Don't worry. He wasn't totally wrong. I have a killer strut and I own it now. His antagonism wasn't about who I liked; it was my swish, my non-masculine behaviors. The hatred of gender deviance (and its misogynistic reasoning) is the underlying bogeyman for much of homophobia. Even plenty of men who are perfectly happy to have sex with men, at least where I live in the US, take issue with effeminacy. (Try finding the most overt lesbians on tv outside of OITNB, too!) That applies to audiovisual media, too. Unless comedic, consumers have tended to be more excited about queerness when the bodies and expressions appear in-line with gender expectations. The power of Thai BL and Singto's performance of Kong is how it opened space in the market and audience's minds to take queer affects seriously in young adult romance.
It's no surprise, then, that Kong forges friendships with the characters who are overtly LGBT during the series. The associations made between Kong and the fullness of the LGBT spectrum provides a more complex context for the show's choice to include him expressing the BL trope of 'only gay for you.' While it's a harmful concept broadly, the show seems to be using it subversively. How much more regressive it would've felt coming from Arthit! With Kong and all of his queer associations, it plays as the words of a gay romantic. With the diversity of coming-outs and identity-naming we now have in BL, Kong's moon-eyed statement made on the night his boyfriend comes out for him holds less of a harmful influence on the whole.
Context is just as important to the oft-critiqued scene where Kong says that he'll make Arthit his wife. Based on what I'd read and how impactful and problematic people felt it was, I thought the statement had been a romantic declaration late in the series. Imagine my surprise when it occurred in the first episode as an attempt by Kong to disrupt the patriarchal power of the seniors. Rather than illustrating the show's belief about gay relationships being the same as straight relationships, the scene points to the patriarchal assumptions the series intends by its end to disrupt. The exchange gets reenacted when the freshman decide to act it out at the faculty beach outing for everyone. The seniors interrupt, and the freshman fear they're about to be punished for disrespecting their elders only to find out they're being invited to finally celebrate their inclusion into the faculty. It's denied fruition as a tool to dis-empower and a true testament of Art and Kong's relationship.
It's at the beach where the freshman are given their gears, one of the many examples of how the series used symbols with significantly more depth than the copy-cats that tried to make bank by using the exact same motifs later. The proceeding BL engineers owe not a debt but an apology to SOTUS. The engineering faculty fit perfectly with the show's questions about systems and how individuals fit into them. We have these gears, which could simply be cogs in a machine that forces you to fit in and lose your humanity, but SOTUS envisions the gear as a heart, something unique, attempting to find its place and fit its grooves within a greater purpose. Its a symbol of authentic belonging.
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The pink drink, which could've simply served--and has served in other series since--to be a symbol of pink gay girly tastes, is more fully used to emphasize Arthit's stubborn desire for familiarity, his inexperience (in trying other drinks), and a certain childishness in his preference for sweetness, a childishness that humanizes him to his freshman paramor. A trade even occurs with the drink, shifting all these meanings onto Kongpob as he begins to face his own prideful assumptions about his own righteousness.
Beyond all the English teacher symbolism and queer value, though, SOTUS is just the kind of well-told romance that will make you swoon. Despite a low budget and simple plot, its performances, editing, and most of all its script mesmerize. People shouldn't watch it as a history lesson. Its too entertaining to be relegated to that. Labeling it as simply historically important doesn't do it justice.
SOTUS stands tall among teen dramas, a literary work in a genre that doesn't require those heights; SOTUS stands tall among queer media peers, paving new lanes for queer storytelling and performances to walk down; and SOTUS stands tall among its BL peers. Clearly many of the greats in Thai BL, like 1000 Stars, Bad Buddy, and Until We Meet Again, aim to evoke their predecessor, more out of love and awe than an apology (as has been suggested by others). The ways they differ seem to be additions and diversification of queer narratives rather than a critique. SOTUS is simply one of those Great Stories. It inspires binging, revisits, investigations, and, most importantly, the biggest feels. Watch it now if you haven't. Watch it again if you have. Its not a piece of history. Its the kind of story that doesn't get old.
*Thank goodness for LITBC bringing Korea some overtly gay characters. Japan's got a few options--KENJI!--but not enough for my liking yet. I haven't seen enough of the other country's output to make a judgment.
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Tagging @dropthedemiurge for being the biggest supporter of my new-found SOTUS obsession and @respectthepetty for the petty watch that got me over my lack of motivation to watch this series! Petty was half-joking but also so right about the kink undertones to this relationship!!!
There are certainly more versed BL history experts so feel free to let me know about any mistakes I made with my history! I'm just a broad and casual tv history and queer fiction and history fan tryna share my new-found BL joy.
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brunchable · 3 months ago
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The Morning After
Part I || Doctor Strange × f!reader × Steve Rogers
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Word count: 7.5K Characters: Black Widow Reader, Strange, Rogers, The Avengers Summary: You wake up in Stephens bed after drinking the Asgardian Ale Thor brought from Asgard. Warning: One night stand, Love Triangle? A/N: The photo ain't mine, I saw it on pinterest and I thought. . . what if y/n woke up in Stephen's bed? Also inspired by this song lol. I think all of my fics is inspired by a song. HELP. This is a multiple part story. I hope you enjoy.
PART II [R18+]- Coming soon.
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“Gather 'round, friends, it’s Thor, the God of Thunder, here to tell the tale of one fateful evening—a night when the legendary Asgardian Ale, brewed in the heart of the golden city. A brew so potent, it has brought down the fiercest of warriors, now, this tale is not of epic battles or heroic deeds, but rather of a night where this very ale claimed yet more victims from among the finest heroes of Earth.”
"Now, let me set the scene: it was a grand feast in the tower of the Man of Iron, where Midgard’s greatest heroes gathered to celebrate their triumphs. The mood was joyous, the laughter loud, and the drinks… well, the drinks were stronger than even the mightiest of Asgardians would dare admit!”
"Enter Doctor Stephen Strange, master of the mystic arts, and Y/N, the ever-resourceful Black Widow. Brave, cunning, formidable—yet even they were no match for the enchanting pull of the Asgardian Ale. Oh, they thought they could handle it, that it was just another drink… but little did they know, the ale had other plans!”
"And so, as the night wore on, the ale did its work. It loosened tongues, softened hearts, and—most importantly—muddled minds. By the time the moon had set and the sun was ready to rise, these two found themselves in a most… shall we say, unexpected situation.”
"For when the morning light crept through the windows of the Sanctum Sanctorum, the good Doctor and our dear Black Widow awoke to find themselves in a predicament that no amount of sorcery or spycraft could easily explain. There they were, side by side, both equally confused and—dare I say—horrified by the night’s unforeseen outcome!”
"What follows, dear friends, is a tale of confusion, awkwardness, and a series of events that might just lead to something more… or, at the very least, a very, very interesting morning."
× × × ×
The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow that danced across the ornate rugs and ancient relics scattered around the room. Doctor Stephen Strange stirred, his mind still foggy from the remnants of sleep, feeling an unfamiliar weight on his arm. 
The silk sheets, usually cool and comforting, felt oddly warm and heavy. He shifted slightly, the soft rustling of the fabric the only sound in the stillness.
As he blinked his eyes open, the grogginess quickly gave way to sharp clarity, and he was greeted by a sight that immediately jolted him awake: You, the Black Widow, your tousled auburn hair splayed out on the pillow next to his. The vivid auburn strands created a stark contrast against the deep blue of the pillows, and the way the sunlight caught the strands made them seem to glow. 
His movements woke you up, your eyes, wide with shock, were locked onto his, mirroring the panic that he felt.
Stephen’s mind raced, trying to piece together the events that could have led to this surreal scenario. The faint scent of your perfume, mingled with the familiar, comforting smells of the Sanctum, filled his nostrils. The warmth of your body next to his was both foreign and startling, a stark reminder of the unexplainable situation he found himself in.
Simultaneously, you both glanced down at the sheets, lifting them cautiously. The sight underneath made your eyes widen further. 
You exchanged a horrified look, your faces a mirror of disbelief. Quickly, you dropped the sheets, looked at each other again, and then, as if needing confirmation, peeked under the sheets once more.
"AHHH!" Stephen screamed, jerking away from you.
"AHHH!" You echoed, scrambling to sit up, clutching the sheet to your chest. "What the hell, Strange?! Look away!"
"What the hell, Y/N?!" Stephen shouted back, equally horrified but with his head turned away from you. "Why are you in my bed?!"
“Your bed?!” You looked around, recognizing the distinctive décor of the Sanctum Sanctorum, “Why am I in your bed!?"
“Shit.” Stephen rubbed his face, still trying to wake up fully.
You both sat there for a moment, the awkward silence, the sound of Wong humming a catchy tune as he walked past the door with a tray of breakfast pastries resonated into the room. He paused, glanced into the room, and then continued on his way without a word, though his eyebrows were raised high enough to practically touch his hairline.
"This is not happening.” Stephen groaned, running his hands through his hair. 
You remained quiet, looking traumatized while staring into space, forcing your brain to form any recollection.
"Last thing I remember, we were having that ridiculous amounts of Thor's Asgardian ale. Then we. . . we—”
Suddenly Thor laughing in ridicule echoed in his head. You Midgardians truly are a delicate lot, he said.
“We what?!”
“Underestimated it. . .?”
Just then, Wong finally walked in, this time holding a tray with teapots and cups. He paused mid-step, his eyes darting between the two of you. 
"I see the Doctor is taking 'house calls' a bit too literally now," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Wong, this is not what it looks like!" Stephen exclaimed, scrambling to his feet, the sheets tangling around his legs and causing him to trip while trying to cover his bottom half. He flailed, grabbing onto a nearby chair for balance, only to have it tip over, sending him crashing to the floor.
"Very graceful.”
Wong shook his head, setting the tray down on a nearby table. "I've seen strange things in this Sanctum, but this... this takes the cake. Breakfast is ready, by the way.”
"Wong, I swear, I don't know how this happened.” Stephen managed to extricate himself from the sheets and stood up, his face a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. 
"Sure, you don't. Just like you didn't know how the Eye of Agamotto ended up in the fish tank last week?” Wong raised an eyebrow. 
“That was a magical mishap!" Stephen protested.
Wong chuckled, heading toward the door. "Well, whatever happened, you two might want to get dressed before the rest of the Avengers show up for the morning briefing. Can't wait to hear the explanation for this one.”
Without a word, Stephen quickly conjured a portal to another room, vanishing through it in a swirl of golden sparks to get dressed and, more importantly, to escape the awkwardness.
You hurried to get dressed as well, eager to avoid lingering in the uncomfortable silence, and made your way to the meeting room. 
As you head to descend the grand staircase, your mind is still racing, seeing Stephen without his clothes—an image you've never dared to imagine before. You turned a corner and—thud!—collided directly with Stephen, who had just stepped out from his portal.
"Whoa!" you both exclaimed simultaneously, your voices overlapping in a jumble of startled sounds.
There was a moment where you both froze, staring at each other, shocked to see each other so soon when you planned to avoid Stephen the rest of the day. . . or indefinitely. 
Stephen recovered first, awkwardly adjusting his cloak as though it might somehow smooth over the situation.
"Uh, sorry, I—didn't see you there," he stammered, trying to step aside and give you space.
"No, no, it's fine," you replied quickly, waving it off with a forced laugh that sounded more nervous than casual. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
You both tried to continue walking as if nothing had happened, but in your haste to act normal, you ended up sidestepping in the same direction, then awkwardly shuffling the opposite way, only to block each other again.
"After you," Stephen said, his voice a bit too high-pitched with forced politeness.
"No, no, you go ahead," you insisted, waving him forward, though your hand gesture came out more like a nervous flail.
Finally, after an excruciatingly long moment of shuffling and half-smiles, you managed to move past each other, continuing down the stairs at a brisk pace, trying to put as much distance as possible between yourselves. 
You both knew you'd failed miserably at playing it cool, but neither of you dared to look back or acknowledge it. As you reached the bottom of the stairs and headed toward the meeting room, you couldn’t help but wonder if this day could get any more embarrassing. Judging by the start, it seemed likely. 
× × × ×
As you entered together, Tony Stark was already there, phone in hand. He didn't say a word, just snapped a photo the moment you both walked in.
"Morning, lovebirds," Tony said with a mischievous grin.
You groaned, shaking your head. "Seriously, Stark?"
Tony laughed, pocketing his phone. "Oh, this one's for the highlight reel. Don't worry, I'll send you both a copy."
As you took your seats, trying to ignore Tony's teasing, Thor walked in, grinning broadly. "Well, well, looks like my ale claimed a couple more victims. Didn't I warn you about its strength?"
Stephen groaned. "We might have underestimated it a bit."
"A bit? I think I need a new liver." You grimaced, rubbing your right side.
"Next time, perhaps you two will heed my warning. Asgardian ale is not for the faint of heart!” Thor laughed heartily.
You rolled your eyes, still in a grimace. You didn't remember him giving an actual warning, "Thanks, Thor. We'll keep that in mind."
"Next time, we're sticking to the lightweight stuff. Like water." Stephen added.
"Wise choice. But where's the fun in that?” Thor shrugged.
Just then, Barton sauntered in, a wide grin on his face. "Hey, I heard we had a slumber party at the Sanctum last night. Everyone had fun?"
"What did I miss?” Wanda raised an eyebrow.
“Oh these two here tasted the might of my Asgardian Ale!" Thor declared proudly, slapping Stephen on the back so hard it nearly knocked him out of his chair.
You and Stephen exchanged a quick glance. "Something like that," Stephen said.
Thor nodded, grabbing a seat. "Ah, the joys of revelry. Once, I woke up in a field surrounded by screaming goats. No idea how I got there.”
"That sounds... interesting, Thor. Thank you for sharing." You say with your best sarcastic tone.
“You’re welcome. The best stories come from the nights you can't quite remember. Especially when you wake up in unusual company.” Thor laughed with cheer, obviously taking a jab at the situation.
Steve, who had been quietly observing with a smile at the corner of the room, suddenly narrowed his eyes, sensing the tension.
You sank into your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Tony, what did you do?”
"Sorry," Tony replied with an unapologetic grin, "I think I accidentally sent your highlight reel photo to that unwanted group chat Banner created.”
“Wow, thanks Tony.” Bruce mumbled.
"Great, just what we needed," Stephen muttered, rolling his eyes.
Cap, ever the gentleman, quickly stepped in to steer the conversation back on track. “Alright, since everyone is here, let's focus on the briefing. Stephen, how's the mystical side of things?” 
× × × 
Stephen cleared his throat, trying to compose himself and focus on the task at hand. "Right, uh... mystical threats. So, recently, we've had some minor disturbances in other dimensions, particularly around the... um…”
He trailed off, his mind suddenly flashing back to the previous night. He remembered the two of you huddled in a corner, both of you giggling like kids, as you attempted to teach him how to perform a simple card trick without using magic. You had insisted it was a basic skill every “sorcerer” should know, and despite his vast knowledge of the mystic arts, Stephen struggled with the sleight of hand. Each time he messed up, you would burst out laughing, and eventually, so did he, the two of you caught in a cycle of laughter that seemed endless.
 Stephen blinked rapidly, trying to refocus. "Uh, disturbances... yes. There was an issue with a, uh, pocket dimension, near the, um..." His voice wavered as another memory surfaced.
This time, it was the two of you back at the Sanctum, stumbling through the portal he had opened, both of you laughing hysterically at something neither of you could now recall. You had accidentally knocked over a priceless artifact, and instead of being concerned, you both had fallen into fits of uncontrollable laughter. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind, making his heart skip a beat.
He coughed, desperately trying to get back on track. "Right, so the, uh... the pocket dimension. We managed to stabilize it, but there were... complications. Minor, really…”
But his voice faltered again as another memory slipped through. This one was quieter, more intimate. The two of you were sitting side by side on the balcony, sharing a drink. The atmosphere was calm, almost serene, as you both watched the flamingos fly away. You had leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder, and he remembered the warmth of your presence, the soft sound of your breathing in the quiet night. He couldn’t recall what you had said, but he remembered the way it made him feel—content, at peace, and something more that he wasn’t ready to name.
"Doctor Strange?" Steve’s voice cut through the haze, bringing him sharply back to the present.
"Uh, yes, sorry," Stephen stammered, feeling his face flush. "What I mean to say is... the mystical threats are... under control. Nothing major. Just a few minor disturbances that we've, uh, managed to contain.”
As he spoke, his eyes involuntarily drifted toward you, catching your gaze for just a split second before he quickly looked away, his face turning an unmistakable shade of pink. He turned his head abruptly, pretending to adjust his cloak to hide the blush that had crept up his cheeks.
"You sure everything’s alright in the mystical world, Doc?" Tony asked, the teasing tone in his voice barely concealed.
Stephen nodded quickly, trying to compose himself. "Yes, absolutely. Everything’s fine. No major threats. We’re good. All clear.”
But as he finished, another flash of the previous night’s events hit him—a quick, jumbled memory of you leaning in, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered something that made his stomach flip. He had no idea what you had said, but the memory of your breath on his skin was enough to make his heart race all over again.
"All clear," he repeated, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. His mind was anything but clear. If anything, it was more muddled than ever, filled with fragmented memories that both excited and terrified him.
Steve, sensing something was off but choosing not to press, simply nodded. “Alright then. If there's nothing else, we'll wrap this up.”
Stephen exhaled in relief, glad the briefing was over, but as everyone began to file out, Tony's grin only grew wider. He had clearly picked up on Stephen's discomfort. 
As you stood to leave, Stephen risked one last glance at you, his heart still racing. You were avoiding his gaze, your expression unreadable, but he could tell you were just as distracted as he was.
× × × ×
After the meeting wrapped up, the Avengers began to disperse, each heading off to their respective tasks. Just as you were about to leave, you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, you saw Steve Rogers standing there, his usual calm demeanor in place, but there was something softer in his eyes as he looked at you.
"Y/N," Steve began, his voice gentle but carrying that unmistakable authority. "Got a minute?”
"Of course, Cap. What’s up?” You nodded, though you felt your heart skipped a beat. 
Steve smiled slightly at the use of his nickname, "I couldn’t help but notice you seemed a little… distracted today. Is everything alright?”
"Yeah, just… you know, last night's party and all that. Still trying to shake off the effects.” You hesitated, trying to decide how much to share.
"I understand. But if there’s anything more to it, you know you can talk to me, right?” Steve nodded slowly, but the way his gaze was glued on you made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. 
“Thanks, Steve. I appreciate that. Really, though, it’s nothing major.” You offered a small smile, appreciating his concern.
Steve studied you for a moment, his blue eyes holding an intensity that made your heart flutter. He seemed to be debating something internally before he finally spoke again, a hint of hesitation in his voice.
"Listen, Y/N… I was about to head back to the compound, and I was wondering… do you need a ride?” 
"A ride? On your motorcycle?” 
Steve nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. I know it’s not the usual mode of transport around here, but I thought you might like some fresh air. Clear your head a bit."
“That sounds nice, actually. I could use a little fresh air.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of riding with Steve on his motorcycle. It was such a classic, straightforward gesture—so very Steve.
“Great,” Steve said, and you could hear the relief in his voice, “Shall we?”
As you walked out toward the front of the Sanctum Sanctorum, your thoughts still spinning from the day’s events, you heard a voice call out your name.
“Y/N, wait,” Stephen’s voice, a little rushed and breathless, echoed through the hallway. 
You turned around to see him approaching, his expression serious but laced with something else—something you couldn’t quite place.
“Stephen?” you said, your hand resting on the doorframe. “What’s up?”
“I, uh,” Stephen hesitated, his eyes flicking from your face to somewhere over your shoulder, where Steve was waiting by his motorcycle. He seemed to be searching for the right words, but they didn’t come easily. His brow furrowed slightly as if he was wrestling with something internally.
You waited, feeling the weight of the silence stretching between you. There was a tightness in your chest, a nagging sense that something important was about to be said. 
You took a small step closer, trying to catch his gaze, but his eyes kept darting away, unable to meet yours for more than a fleeting moment.
“Stephen?” you prompted gently, your voice softening as you tried to encourage him. “What is it?”
He finally looked at you, really looked at you, and for a split second, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a carefully guarded expression, but that momentary glimpse was enough to make your heart skip a beat.
“I just wanted to have a quick chat before you head out,” Stephen finally said, though his voice was quieter than before, almost as if he was second-guessing his decision to speak up. “It won’t take long.”
The hesitation in his voice was palpable, and it only added to the growing tension between you. You could see the conflict in his expression—the way his jaw tightened, the way his hand flexed slightly at his side, as if he was holding himself back from saying something more.
You nodded, though a part of you was still trying to decipher the emotions playing across his face. “Sure, no problem.”
As you turned back to Steve, you caught a glimpse of him watching the exchange with a blank, unreadable expression, but it’s obvious that he was paying close attention. The realization that both men were acutely aware of each other’s presence only added another layer into your growing anxiety.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” you said to Steve, forcing a smile that you hoped would mask the unease that was creeping into your chest.
“Take your time. I’ll be right here,” Steve replied, his voice steady and reassuring, but his gaze lingered on Stephen for a moment longer before returning to you.
You offered Steve a grateful nod before turning back to Stephen, who had already started walking toward a quieter corner of the main hall. As you followed him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this conversation than either of you were willing to admit.
Once you were alone, Stephen stopped, his back to you for a moment as he seemed to gather his thoughts. When he finally turned to face you, his expression was conflicted, his usual confidence replaced by uncertainty since he doesn't know where or how to place himself.
"I just… I wanted to make sure everything’s okay between us after this morning," he began, his voice careful, measured. "I know things are a bit… awkward.”
There was a pause, and in that silence, you tried to read the emotions flickering across his face. His eyes, usually so focused and intense, were softer now. It was as if he was waiting for you to give him some kind of reassurance, something to ease the tension that had settled between you.
"I mean, everything's been chaotic," you replied, your own voice laced with a nervous edge, "but I don’t want it to make things weird between us either.”
Stephen nodded, though you could see the way his shoulders tensed slightly, as if he was bracing himself for something. "Yeah, I feel the same way. It’s just… I’ve been trying to piece together what happened last night. . .”
His words hung in the air, unfinished, as he hesitated again. You could sense the unspoken question lingering behind his words, the uncertainty that mirrored your own. But even as he spoke, his eyes searched yours, as if looking for an answer that neither of you were ready to give.
“It’s pretty clear what happened,” you interjected, your tone firmer than you intended. “I think it’s best if we just leave it as it is. . . My mind is already a mess, I just need some time.”
Stephen’s heart sank at your response, but he tried to hide it, his expression tightening for just a moment before he forced a nod. The disappointment that flickered across his face was subtle, but it was there, and it made your stomach twist with guilt.
He had hoped—needed—there to be more to say, a way to unravel the confusion that had been left hanging between you both, but your words made it clear that you preferred to bury the past, to move on without digging deeper. 
It wasn’t the answer he had wanted, but he couldn’t bring himself to challenge it.
“Yeah… maybe you’re right,” he finally said, though the words felt hollow as they left his lips.
A heavy silence settled between you. Stephen opened his mouth as if to say something more, but then closed it, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. The weight of unspoken thoughts and unacknowledged feelings hung heavily in the air, filling the space between you with a tension that neither of you knew how to break.
You searched his face one last time, trying to understand the depth of what he wasn’t saying, but his expression had shifted back to that carefully controlled neutrality. Whatever he had been about to say, he had chosen to keep it to himself.
Finally, you took a small step back, glancing toward the door where Steve was waiting. “I should probably go. Steve’s waiting.”
At the mention of Steve, Stephen’s heart gave another uncomfortable lurch, and this time, he couldn’t completely mask the flicker of jealousy that crossed his face. It was brief, barely noticeable, but you caught it.
“Yeah, of course,” Stephen said, his voice more strained than before. “Don’t keep him waiting.”
You offered him a small, apologetic smile, sensing the shift in his mood but feeling it was necessary to draw a line. “Thanks for understanding, Stephen. I appreciate it.”
He gave a nod, though the word “anytime” felt almost like an afterthought, his voice lacking the usual warmth. There was something deeply unsettling about the way this conversation had ended, but you knew that pressing further might only complicate things even more.
With that, you turned and walked out of the room, leaving Stephen standing there, his thoughts a chaotic mix of regret and uncertainty. 
He watched as you joined Steve outside, noting the way Steve’s face lit up slightly when he saw you. The two of you exchanged a few words, and then Steve handed you the helmet with a warm, reassuring smile.
Stephen’s heart twisted painfully as he watched you climb onto the motorcycle behind Steve, your arms wrapping around his waist as you settled in. The sight of the two of you together, so close and comfortable, stirred a deep sense of jealousy within him—something he hadn’t expected to feel so intensely. 
He had kept his feelings hidden for so long, not wanting to complicate the dynamic between you, but seeing you with Steve, even for a brief moment, made him wonder if he had waited too long.
As the motorcycle roared to life and sped down the street, Stephen stood there, alone in the quiet Sanctum, grappling with the realization that he might have missed his chance to tell you how he really felt—a part of him couldn’t shake the thought that maybe forgetting wasn’t the best idea after all.
And as Steve drove, he glanced briefly in his side mirror, catching a glimpse of Stephen standing in the doorway, watching you both leave. Steve’s grip on the handlebars tightened slightly, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to focus on the road ahead. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the ride back to the compound had become far more complicated than he’d anticipated.
While the motorcycle sped down the road, the world around you seemed to blur into a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, guilt, and something deeper that you weren’t ready to face. 
You tightened your grip around Steve’s waist, trying to ground yourself in the present, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the look on Stephen’s face, the things you didn't give him a chance to say. And with each passing mile, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made the right choice—or if you were leaving something important behind.
× × × ×
The motorcycle roared down the winding roads, the wind rushing past you as you clung to Steve’s solid frame. The world around you blurred into streaks of color—trees, buildings, the sky—yet the rush of the ride did little to quiet the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind.
You should have felt the thrill of the ride, the freedom of the open road, but instead, all you could focus on was the conversation with Stephen. The way he hesitated, the way his eyes darted away from yours, as if he was hiding something—no, not hiding, holding back. The tension in his voice had been undeniable, and now, as you sped away from the Sanctum, you couldn’t help but wonder what he had really wanted to say.
Being Black Widow, you were trained to compartmentalize, to push emotions aside when necessary. But the events of the morning, combined with the tension between you, Stephen, and Steve, made it hard to keep everything neatly locked away. Stephen’s hesitation, his guarded expression, and Steve’s quiet concern—these were things you couldn’t easily ignore.
Your thoughts were interrupted as Steve turned slightly, his voice carrying over the noise of the motorcycle. "You okay back there?" he asked, his tone gentle, but with an undercurrent of concern.
You realized you’d been holding your breath and quickly exhaled, trying to shake off the lingering tension. "Yeah," you called back, forcing a smile that you knew he couldn’t see. "Just… a lot on my mind."
Steve nodded, though you could feel the way his body tensed slightly beneath your grip, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced by your answer. He knew you too well; he could sense when something was deeply weighing on your mind. "If you want to talk about it…"
His offer hung in the air, but you didn’t respond right away. What could you say? That you were torn between the memory of a night you couldn’t fully recall? That you were struggling to untangle your own emotions, not knowing if you should pursue them or let them go?
The motorcycle continued down a long, empty stretch of road, and you assumed you were headed straight for the compound. But after a few moments, you noticed Steve taking a turn down a road that didn’t lead in the direction of the compound. It wasn’t the familiar path back—this road led toward the outskirts of the city, a more secluded area.
"Steve?" you called, a note of curiosity creeping into your voice. "Where are we going?"
Steve didn’t answer right away, his focus on the road ahead, but you could sense the deliberateness in his actions. After a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder, his expression calm but with a hint of something more—something determined. 
"Thought we could use a detour. Clear your head a bit before we head back. I think you need it”
Steve continued down the road, the city slowly fading away behind you. The landscape became more open, with rolling hills and patches of forest lining the sides of the road. It was a route you hadn’t taken before, and the unfamiliarity of it was oddly comforting—a break from the routine, a moment to breathe.
After a while, Steve slowed the motorcycle, turning onto a narrow, tree-lined path. The air was cooler here, the dense foliage creating a canopy overhead. Eventually, he brought the bike to a stop in a small clearing by a quiet, shimmering lake. The water was calm, reflecting the sky and the surrounding trees in perfect stillness.
Steve cut the engine, and for a moment, the silence was overwhelming. You both sat there, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. It was peaceful, almost surreal, after the whirlwind of emotions and confusion you’d been dealing with all morning. He took off his helmet and dismounted, looking back at you with a soft hesitant smile. 
"I figured you might need a break. This place… it’s always been somewhere I go when I need to think."
You followed suit, removing your helmet and stepping off the bike. The ground felt solid beneath your feet, and the cool breeze off the lake was refreshing, grounding you in the present moment. 
"It’s beautiful," you said softly, taking in the serene surroundings. "I didn’t know a place like this existed around here."
Steve nodded, his gaze fixed on the tranquil water. "Not many people do. It’s kind of a hidden spot, but it’s been here for as long as I can remember. I come here sometimes. When things get… complicated."
You glanced at him, his words resonating more than he might have realized. "It’s peaceful," you acknowledged, though your tone was still guarded, your mind alert even in this serene environment.
Steve watched you closely, his expression understanding. "You don’t have to talk about what’s on your mind," he offered, his voice gentle. "But I’m here if you need to."
It was a simple statement, but it carried weight. You were used to relying on yourself, keeping others at arm’s length. But Steve’s quiet presence, his never-ending support—it was different. Disarming, in a way you weren’t accustomed to.
There had been a time, not too long ago, when you had harbored a crush on Steve—a deep, confusing mix of admiration and affection that you had tried hard to push down. He was Captain America, after all—the embodiment of everything good and noble, and for a while, you couldn’t help but be drawn to him. 
But you had convinced yourself that his heart belonged to someone else, that he was still in love with Peggy Carter, the woman from his past who seemed to cast a long shadow over his present. You had seen the way he looked at Peggy’s picture, the way he spoke about her with such reverence, and it had made you believe there was no room in his heart for anyone else.
So you had buried those feelings, told yourself it was better to move on, to focus on your work, on the missions. You had even started to convince yourself that those feelings had faded, that they were nothing more than a fleeting infatuation. But now, standing here with Steve, you felt them stir again, refusing to stay buried.
And then there was Stephen. Your growing affections for him had caught you off guard—what started as a mutual respect for his intellect and strength had slowly turned into something more, something you hadn’t quite been ready to confront. 
The way he could be both infuriatingly arrogant and deeply compassionate, the way he had made you laugh at the party, the way his presence had a grounding effect on you—it had all begun to carve out a space in your heart that you hadn’t anticipated.
"It’s not easy to sort through," you admitted, your voice low, almost reluctant. "There’s a lot to unpack."
Steve nodded, his gaze steady. "You don’t have to unpack it all at once," he said quietly. "Take it as it comes."
His words were kind, but there was an undercurrent of something more—a tension that hummed just beneath the surface. 
You met his eyes, and for a moment, the usual defenses you kept so firmly in place wavered. Steve’s patience, his willingness to let you take things at your own pace—it was a kind of understanding that you weren’t used to, and it made the knot in your chest loosen, just a little.
But as the silence stretched on, you couldn’t ignore the way Steve’s gaze lingered on you, the way his jaw tightened slightly, as if he too was conflicted by something. There was something he wasn’t saying, something that made the air between you feel charged, like the calm before a storm.
You felt a pang of guilt as you remembered the way Stephen had looked at you that morning, the way his voice had faltered when he tried to talk about what had happened. 
And now, here you were with Steve, who was looking at you with that same unspoken emotion in his eyes—only this time, it felt different. More complicated.
"Steve…" you began, unsure of what you wanted to say, but needing to break the silence that was becoming increasingly heavy. "I appreciate you bringing me here, but…"
"But you’re thinking about Stephen," Steve finished for you, his voice quieter now, his eyes darkening with something you couldn’t quite place—was it hurt? Jealousy?
You blinked, taken aback by his directness. "It’s not like that," you said quickly, but even as you spoke the words, you weren’t entirely sure they were true.
Steve turned away slightly, his gaze drifting out over the lake, but his expression was tense. "Maybe not. But something happened last night, didn’t it? Between you and him.”
You didn’t answer right away, the truth of his words settling heavily between you. "I don’t know what happened," you finally admitted. "It’s all a blur."
“But it’s on your mind,” Steve pressed gently, though there was a tension in his voice that hadn’t been there before. 
You tilted your head, sensing the shift but not fully understanding its source. "You’re acting a little… weird, Steve.”
Steve’s eyes flicked away from yours, out over the lake, as if gathering his thoughts. "Weird? No, not weird," he said, "Just… trying to figure something out.”
"Figure out what?" you pressed, genuinely confused. You knew Steve well enough to recognize when something was bothering him, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was this time. "Is it about the mission? Or something with the team?”
Steve exhaled slowly, his shoulders tensing as he processed your words. He wasn’t angry—not exactly—but there was a quiet intensity in the way he looked at you now, a mix of emotions that made your heart race. 
"It’s not the mission," he said finally, his voice low but steady. "It’s about you.”
"Me?" you repeated, caught off guard. "What about me?”
"You and Stephen," Steve clarified. There was no accusation in his tone, but it was clear that something about the situation was weighing heavily on him. "I saw the way he looked at you this morning. And I saw the way you looked at him.”
"Steve, I—”
"You’re on his mind, Y/N," Steve interrupted, his voice softening, but the tension in his posture remained. "And he’s on yours. I can see it.”
There was no use denying it, not when Steve was looking at you with that penetrating gaze, as if he could see right through you. “Yeah,” you said softly. “He is.”
"I can’t compete with that," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
You frowned, still not quite understanding where this was coming from. “Why would you need to compete, Steve, what are you talking about?”
Steve’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. When he finally did, his voice was rougher, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. "I care about you, Y/N. More than I probably should. But seeing you with Stephen… it made me realize that maybe I’m too late. Maybe I should've just been honest from the start.”
The air seemed to leave your lungs as his words sunk in. “Steve..”
“I didn’t want to say anything," Steve continued, his eyes still focused on the water, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I didn’t want to make things complicated between us. But now… I can’t pretend I don’t feel this way. I can’t pretend that knowing that something happened between you with him doesn’t… doesn’t hurt.”
You stood there, stunned into silence. Steve’s confession was the last thing you had expected, and the weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders. You had always known Steve cared about you, but this… this was something entirely different. And it brought all those buried feelings rushing back, feelings you had tried so hard to forget because you thought his heart was already spoken for.
But then there was Stephen, who had slowly, subtly made his way into your heart. The warmth of his smile, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he could make you laugh even in the direst situations—it all made it impossible to ignore the connection that had been growing between you two. 
And now, you found yourself standing at a crossroads, torn between the man you adore and the man who had become an unexpected part of your life.
"Steve, I didn’t know," you whispered, your voice shaky with the shock of his sudden confession. "I never thought…"
"I know," Steve said quickly, finally turning to look at you. "I know you didn’t. And I don’t blame you for that. But now that it’s out there… I just need you to know. I need you to know how I feel about you.”
The raw honesty in his voice made your heart ache, and for the first time in a long time, you felt truly at a loss for words. You had always seen Steve as your rock, your steady, unflappable friend, but now, standing in front of you, he seemed almost fragile, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before.
"I don’t want to lose you," Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and you found yourself leaning into his palm, the closeness between you suddenly overwhelming. His thumb brushed softly against your skin, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. 
"But I don’t want to stand in your way, either. If you have feelings for Stephen… if you want to be with him… I’ll step back. I’ll let you go.”
His words broke something inside you, and you felt tears sting your eyes, though you fought to hold them back. The way Steve was looking at you—so full of raw emotion, so open and unguarded—made your heart twist painfully in your chest. 
"I don’t know what to say— I don’t want to lose you either.” you said, your voice trembling.
Steve’s face was so close to yours now that his forehead touched yours and you could feel his breath on your skin, the warmth of it sending a surge of conflicting emotions through you. 
For a moment, you thought he might kiss you—there was a part of you that wanted him to—but he didn’t. Instead, he just held you there, his hand still cradling your cheek, his eyes filled with an emotion that you thought would look at you that way.
"You won’t lose me," Steve promised, his voice low and full of conviction. But there was a vulnerability in his words, a silent plea for you to understand just how much you meant to him. The weight of it settled heavily in your chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.
Your mind raced, caught between the intensity of the moment and the memories of everything that had led up to this. You remembered the times you’d watched Steve from afar, admiring his strength and kindness, wishing for something more but always telling yourself it could never be. And then there were the recent moments with Stephen—the shared laughter, the way he’d looked at you during the party, the connection that had grown between you when you hadn’t even been looking for it.
"I… I don’t know what to do, Steve," you admitted, chuckling as a way to cope. "I care about you, I really do.”
Steve’s eyes flickered with something—understanding, pain, maybe both. "It’s okay," he said softly, though you could hear the strain in his voice. "I just needed you to know. Whatever happens, I’m here for you. I always will be.”
The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten with emotion. How had things become so complicated? You had tried so hard to move on from your feelings for Steve, to protect yourself from the heartache of unrequited love. And then Stephen had come into the picture, turning your world upside down in ways you hadn’t expected. Now, the idea of hurting either of them made you feel sick to your stomach, but you knew that avoiding the truth wasn’t an option either.
You reached up and placed your hand over Steve’s, still cupping your cheek, and the warmth of his skin against yours was both comforting and confusing. 
"Steve, I… I need time to figure this out," you said, your voice shaking with the weight of your own indecision. "I’m so torn right now.”
Steve nodded slowly, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek one last time before he let his hand drop. 
“Take all the time you need,” he said, though there was a trace of sadness in his eyes, “Whatever outcome you choose, I won't change, I'll still care for you just like how I do now.”
× × × ×
Stephen paced back and forth in the Sanctum’s main hall, his thoughts tangled and uneasy. The morning’s events had left him shaken, not just because of the unexpected situation he had woken up to, but because of the emotions that had surfaced in its wake. He had tried to push them aside, focusing on the day’s tasks, but every time his mind wandered, it inevitably drifted back to you—your shocked expression, your voice as you insisted that it would be better to forget what had happened, and the lingering warmth of your presence beside him.
He needed to understand. Not just what happened, but to confirm he doesn't want to let this go easy. After last night. . . he thinks he’s now in love with you.
Stephen leaned back in his chair, his thoughts racing. There was a spell he could use—Memoratus Arcanum, a memory recall spell. It wasn’t a spell he used lightly, but this wasn’t a decision he was taking lightly either. 
The spell would allow him to relive the events of the previous night with perfect clarity, to see everything as it had happened, unclouded by the fog of alcohol. Most importantly, it would help him understand the feelings that had been awakened in him.
With a steadying breath, Stephen stood up and moved to a small table in the corner of the room. The study was filled with the familiar scent of old books and the faint, lingering aroma of incense—comforting smells that helped him focus. He gathered the items he needed for the spell: a small silver mirror, an incantation sheet and a candle to help center his thoughts.
He set the items on the table and sat down cross-legged in front of them, the silver mirror resting in front of him. Lighting the candle, he watched the flame flicker for a moment before closing his eyes, centering himself as he began to chant the incantation. The words flowed easily from his lips, a familiar rhythm that calmed his racing thoughts.
As he finished the incantation, the mirror’s surface began to shimmer, the room around him fading as the spell took hold. The mirror now showed the swirling mists of memory, and Stephen leaned in closer, his heart beating faster as the mists cleared to reveal the events of the previous night. . .
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inkmonster21 · 3 months ago
Text
Hearts Across the Divide
2.) A Close Call
Noa x Fem!Human!Reader
Series Masterlist
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~oOo~
You hoist yourself up on the tree branch and begin the climb, going from the grip of the bark on the trees to the crumbling concrete of the fallen city. You swing from one of the overgrown buildings landing perfectly on the other side. You smile to yourself proudly. Father's words always ring in your ears as you venture out into the overgrown city. “Too small… too weak… be taken… or killed… safest for you… At home. At village.”
You climb into an old crumbling building, the archways barely holding the ceiling up. You walk in carefully walking through the endless corridors. You walk into a large open space, one, two, three floors!
You wrap your hand around a vine of ivy, sliding down until your feet meet the concrete surface of the bottom floor. You walk down the bottom floor, many many rooms. Most were filled with junk, some filled with few valuables. A shimmer of something catches your eye. You bend down in the growth, retrieving a gold shimmering chain. Dangling at the end was a blue gemstone. You gasp with a smile. Mother would love this. You go to stuff it in your bag, seeing a shuffle as you turn your head.
You freeze at the sudden sound of movement. It could be an animal. It could be an ape. It could be another human. All three alike make the nerves on your neck rise. A rock suddenly flies at your head, only missing by an inch. You gasp and waste no time running in the opposite direction. You duck behind a fallen tree, begging your heart to still.
The shuffling becomes louder, rummaging around in the ruins. You lean over slightly, just a peak, to calm your nerves. One single Ape walks in slowly. His eyes are wide as he looks in every direction.
Noa continued through the old remains, keeping an eye out for any relics that might help him understand more about the human ways. He knew from Raka that human civilization had left behind knowledge, and Ceaser was one to know of this knowledge, it was just a matter of finding it among the overgrown buildings and rubble.
As he walked, Noa occasionally paused to examine an old sign or bit of debris, hoping to uncover a clue about the past. As Noa passes by a dark entrance, he hears a soft scuffle coming from the shadows.
His ears immediately perk up, his senses on high alert. He stops, his eyes scanning the darkness in front of them. A low growl rumbles from the darkness. You sit from behind the tree with fear.
Noa tenses, his attention immediately focused on the source of the growl. He slowly moves to stand strong, his body positioned protectively. He scans the shadows, trying to see through the darkness and identify what’s hiding in the entrance.
Noa barely has time to react as a cougar pounces upon him, its weight knocking him to the ground. He hits the concrete hard, the wind momentarily knocked out of him. He tries to push the cougar off of him, but the animal is strong and fast, its claws digging into his flesh.
You watch as the young ape struggles against the wild cat attack. Noa reaches for his spear and lodges itself into the side of the cougar, causing it to yowl in pain. But the cat is not deterred, its attention is still fully focused on Noa. It continues its attack, its claws digging deeper into his flesh. Noa grits his teeth, doing his best to hold the cougar off. But the animal is strong and determined, its weight pressing down upon him.
You huff and stand quickly, sprinting at the wild animal. You run into the predator, knocking it off the ape.
Noa’s eyes widen in surprise as he watches you roll to the ground with the cougar. The cougar growls, its attention shifting towards you. It snarls and readies itself to attack.
The cougar snarls at you, its eyes narrow as it sizes you up. You smile, confident in your abilities. Noa watches from his position on the ground, a mixture of awe and concern on his face.
You don’t waste any time attacking the cougar, your movements are swift and calculated. With a well-aimed kick, you knock the cougar leg off balance, causing it to stumble. You move in, grabbing the fur on its neck and using your body weight to bring it to the ground.
The cougar struggles, its claws scratching at you. But you hold it firmly, your grip strong and secure. You quickly pull off a small knife that’s attached to your waist, your eyes focused on the cougar. You stab it into its side. It’s thrashing and struggling, it’s eyes full of anger and fear. But you don’t waver.
The cougar’s body goes slack, it’s the final struggle over.
You roll off of it, your breath coming heavy from the effort. You look down at the lifeless body of the animal, a mix of triumph and satisfaction in your gaze. Too weak, huh?
As you turn to look at Noa, you see he’s sat there eyes wide watching you with a mixture of awe, shock, and fear.
You watch him warily, not quite sure what to expect. He is not from your village, and the way he looks at you shows a clear interest.
But you can’t shake the feeling of caution. He is an outsider, after all. You don’t know his intentions or what motives he may have. Father’s warning words ringing in your head. “Any Ape outside… will hurt you… they are not fond of humans.” Your gaze flicks back to Noa, your eyes studying him carefully.
Your gaze travels down to Noa’s arm, noticing the gashes on his wrist. The cloth wrapped around his arm is bloodied and torn, clearly from the attack from the cougar. You take a step closer, your concern trumping your caution for the moment. “You’re hurt.” You raise your hands showing innocence.
He winces slightly as he looks down at his injured wrist, the gashes on his skin still bleeding. "not bad," he tries to dismiss, though the pain in his expression betrays him. Downplaying the wound. You stare at him with worry. “Can I help?”
Noa can see the concern in your eyes as you ask for help. He hesitates for a moment, reluctant to show any weakness. But the pain in his wrist is gnawing at him, and your offer seems genuine. He finally nods, a small but unmistakable acknowledgement. "Yes," he manages.
You slowly take a seat beside him, your focus shifting to the cuts on his arm. Your movements are firm yet careful as you inspect the wounds. He winces slightly as you touch the gashes, but he doesn’t move away. You then dig into your bag and pull out a proper dressing, which you begin to carefully apply to the wounds.
As you tend to his wounds, Noa can’t help but be distracted by your closeness, the way your touch sends tingles through his skin. He watches your face as you work, his gaze focused on your every movement. There’s something about you, something he found captivating and unfamiliar.
Your eyes meet Noa’s as you finish securing the bandage on his wrist. He looks at you, his gaze intense and appreciative. He can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude towards you. But there’s something else there as well, a feeling of curiosity and attraction that he can’t quite explain.
Suddenly aware of the fact that you were still holding onto his wrist, and the warmth of your touch seeping into his skin. You quickly dropped his arm, your blush deepening as you realized how long you had been holding on.
But Noa doesn’t seem to mind, his gaze focused on your face. He can see the blush on your cheeks, and it only serves to enhance your appeal.
He wanted to say something, anything…
But you both suddenly snapped out of the moment by a commotion. Noa turns in the direction of the noise, seeing Anaya and Soona bursting through the brush. Whatever moment you had been sharing was now broken. Before Noa could even turn back to you, you were gone. Disappearing into the trees.
Noa watches for a moment, his gaze following your form as you disappear into the foliage. He can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment, the moment between you and him now broken by the sudden arrival of Anaya and Soona.
Anaya and Soona approach Noa, and their eyes are immediately drawn to his injured arm and the dead animal on the ground. Anaya, the more outspoken one, grins at Noa. "Looks like you got…into some trouble," he teases.
Noa can't help but stare off into the distance, his heart yearning to follow you. The sight of you rushing away is still fresh in his mind, and the feeling of your touch on his skin still lingers. “Echo helped… Echo saved… me.”
Anaya and Soona's eyes widen in surprise at Noa's words. "Echo?" Anaya echoes, a mix of disbelief and intrigue in his voice. Noa looks down the path again. “she ran… heard you coming.”
Noa couldn’t explain what was happening. There was something about you, something that drew him in, that made him want more. The memory of your touch, the feel of your hands on his fur, was burned into his mind and left him yearning for more.
You finally slow your pace, stopping to catch your breath. You were now a safe distance away from the ape and his companions, far enough that you doubted they’d be able to find you.
You think back on the encounter, your mind racing with conflicted thoughts. The young ape didn’t seem malicious, he had even allowed you to help him when he was hurt. But you knew how Apes behaved around humans. They were protective, they were dangerous. You lean against a tree, your heart still racing from the adrenaline.
“You are far… from the river's edge, sister.” You jump slightly at the voice of your brother. Loui hangs upside down from a tree branch. He wears a sly smile on his face, seeming amused. You release a shaky breath. “don’t tell father, please.”
Loui gets down and stands in front of you. He sees the scratches from the wild cat. “Trouble?” You shake your head. “Just a cougar.” Loui rolls his eyes at your words. “Don’t let mother see.”
You and Loui make your way back to the village, the setting sun casting a warm, golden glow over the surrounding landscape. As you walk, you notice the other apes going about their evening routines, making dinner, tending to their young, and sharing stories around a fire.
You keep walking, the conversation between you and Loui light and teasing.
“Children.” You and Loui look up as your father’s deep voice rings out, the leader of your village standing tall. Loui immediately straightens up, knowing that when your father spoke, it was best to listen. Your father nods at Loui, acknowledging his efforts for the day. Then, he turns his gaze to you. His expression is stern, his eyes sharp.
Your father's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of the scratches on your skin. He steps forward, examining the injuries on your arms with a frown. It's clear that he's not happy to see you hurt. “What happened?” His tone was gruff but filled with care. You hesitate for a moment, knowing that your father wouldn’t be happy with the truth. "I… I slipped," you say, avoiding his gaze.
Loui chimes in, helping to back up your lie, “At the river… rocks get slippery… hard for her to balance.” Your father looks at Loui, then back at you, his expression still stern. He doesn’t seem completely convinced by your story. Your father sighs, still not completely satisfied but deciding to drop it. "What matters is that you're both home," he says, his voice gruff.
You and Loui watch as your father walks away, his broad shoulders stiff and tense. Once he's out of earshot, you nudge Loui playfully. "Close one.” He rolls his eyes before pushing you, “You need to stop… getting me into trouble.” You laugh as Loui rolls his eyes at you, playfully pushing you in response.
"Me? Getting you into trouble?" you retort. “Yes… you, my dear.” Your mother’s calm voice rings out as you near the fire. You and Loui both turn at the sound of your mother’s calm voice. She sits by the fire, a soft smile on her lips.
"Oh," she says, shaking her head at your appearance. "What you… gotten into…this time?" Your mother stands, concern etched on her face as she moves to examine the scratches on your skin. She gently takes your arms in her hands tenderly as she inspects your injuries.
“Nothing. It’s not that bad.” You pull your arm away. Your mother tsk-tsks at you as she inspects your arm.
"You say nothing. But it looks… painful…" she says, her tone scolding but gentle. You try to pull your arm away, but your mother firmly holds on, continuing her inspection. Your mother continues to examine your arm, her expression growing more and more disapproving.
"Looks like… claw marks," she mutters, her eyes narrowing. "Where did this come from?" You look away from her gaze. Your mother’s eyes narrow as she leans in, her voice dropping lower. “Are you going into the overgrown?” she asks, her tone serious.
You feel a pang of guilt, knowing that you had indeed been sneaking into the overgrown areas, which was strictly prohibited for you specifically. You look away not wanting to lie. “Nothing happened.” Your mother's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a hint of admonishment in her gaze. She understands your desire to explore, but she worries for your safety.
"Maybe not this time… but could the next time… you sneak off… You know it’s dangerous…" she starts to say, her tone a mix of concern and reprimand. You roll your eyes “I can handle myself. I did just fine today.” Your mother frowns at your response, her eyes narrowing again.
"Just fine, hmm?" she asks, her tone now disapproving as she holds your arms. "You come home… scratch marks all over your arms…and say you were ‘just fine’?” You let out a sigh, knowing that this was a discussion you and your family had had many times before.
They didn’t understand your need to explore, they didn't understand your thirst for adventure. And every time you tried to explain, it ended in the same argument.
You feel the familiar mix of frustration and loneliness well up inside you. You would always be an outsider, a lost cause.
Your mother sighs, her expression a mix of worry and resignation as she watches you turn and move away. "Bandage it up," she says sternly. "And stay away… from the overgrown." But you’re already walking away, her words falling on deaf ears.
You enter your small hut, a sense of weary resignation settling over you. You place your bag on the small table, the sound of it hitting the wood echoing in the silence. The space is cozy, yet feels empty, lacking the warmth and comfort that should come with a home. You sit on your makeshift bed, piled with pelts and handmade pillows, feeling the weariness from the day's events settling into your bones.
As you sit on your bed, your mind drifts to the events of the day, specifically the ape you had rescued from the wild cat. You remember his eyes, the way he had looked at you with both caution and curiosity. The image of him burned in your mind.
Your mind fills with questions as you consider the ape. You wonder if he was nearby, if he was part of a different tribe, were they friendly, would see him again? The endless cycle of questions swirls in your mind, mingling with confusion and a hint of longing.
Miles away Noa lay in his nest, his mind consumed by the thought of you. His fingers traced the cloth you had tied around his arm, the touch of the fabric sending a shiver down his spine. His thoughts were filled with your face, your voice, everything about your brief encounter playing over and over in his mind.
In the silence of the night, he wondered about you. Who were you? Where did you come from? Why had you helped him? The questions swirled in his head, adding to the whirlwind of confusion and curiosity that had gripped him since your encounter.
As Noa lay there, the thoughts of you continued to swirl in his mind, until finally, exhaustion took over. His eyes began to grow heavy, his mind slowly drifting off into the realm of sleep. But even in dreams, he dreamt of you.
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raayllum · 7 months ago
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Gift Giving & Primal vs First Elves :: Or Going Off Into the Deep Lore Deep End
Remember that meta I compiled about Greek mythology, deceptive gift giving, and TDP? Yeah it's time to talk about the gift motif properly as well as some other deep lore things because these excellent thoughts ( @spicyviren, @kradogsrats, and @its-leethee) got the wheels in my brain spinning.
AKA an unknown amount of sectioned word vomit into the nature of magic, where it comes from, how deep magic operates, some gifts and motifs, and Leola, just a little.
Let's go.
Gift Motif
The gift motif is one that's a bit of a slowburn in TDP. While characters will often pass and hand over objects — tools, artefacts, metaphorical responsibilities or trust (handing over the egg, for example) — to one another, there's not a big emphasis on gifts in the first three seasons.
There are some, such as Callum's letter from Harrow (that he's given by Claudia once again initially as a goodbye), Ezran giving Bait to Barius in S3, and Rayla's family pendant, but most of these, as you've might already noticed, are contextualized within Goodbyes. Whether the gift motif will amount in arc 2 to escaping this "final gift" context remains to be seen, but that's how it tends to work in interpersonal relationships.
There is an element of peace offering in hoping that returning Zym — a gift and/or gesture of good will — will help usher in peace, but I think (as of now at least) that ties further into the series' theme of Reciprocal Exchange (the assassin mission being an eye for an eye vs olive branch for olive branch) than outright gift giving. (Although we will probably talk about Exchange and gift giving at some point because there is also a thematic tether there.)
However, there is one other thing that is more and more often referred to as a gift in Arc 1, and that's Magic. Specifically, dark magic.
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Now, this actually isn't that dissimilar from what the Goodbye gifts amount to, either. In Harrow's letter, he gifts Callum the Key of Aaravos believing it to be a powerful magical relic of some kind; Rayla's pendant makes its way from Ethari to her to Callum, who then uses it for magical purposes; and Bait, as a glow toad, is connected to an arcanum himself.
I do think it's noteworthy though that in Arc 1, (dark) magic being a gift is emphasized upon, specifically because of these lines for Khessa:
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Upon first watching it back in 2019, it made sense that dark magic would be referred to this way, even when I just thought maybe it was that humans had been given 'nothing,' as Claudia says. Dark magic is closely tied to ideas of theft and thievery — stealing magic from others to harness its power for yourself — and the series is deeply interested in concepts of ownership or who has 'true' ownership over something, in magic, a throne/crown, a price to pay, etc. This follows neatly into Arc 2 (for ex: why Karim seeking to steal the Sun Seed is a metaphorical dark path even if it didn't outright involve dark magic through Kim'Dael), which we'll build on later.
That said, given the depth of the knowledge at the Great Bookery that is open to Sunfire elves more than any other type of elf, and the information that Tales of Xadia and Ripples gives us...
While elves warned that if humans were meant to wield magic they would have been born with it, [Leola] gifted the wisest humans with secrets: the language of the dragons and the runes that shaped spells. With the unicorn’s gift, the most determined minds among the humans could finally harness primal magic.
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It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters [...] Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. And so there came a calamity.
It makes it more than likely than, unlike other elves such as Lujanne or Ibis, Khessa had reason to believe/know that there used to be primal human mages in the past... and that it wasn't 'enough' for them ultimately, because they still hungered and developed (and were given?) dark magic. "Your kind could not be satisfied with what you were given" was about the rejection of primal magic from Leola (the unicorns) in favour of a darker kind that involves theft and "dirtying yourself" (5x08) with dark magic.
But at the same time, this complicates the Gift Giving motif of including not just dark magic, but being also for primal magic — for humans, at least.
And also for elves. (Ignoring how "great orb" is very similar to "great one" for now.)
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Janai: It was a gift. But there's more to it than that. The great orb began as this. Karim: This is... a sun seed?
Now, the Great Orb being grown from a Sun 'literal' seed makes sense. We've known for a long time that in Xadia, "magic is everywhere. It's just part of the vibrance or spirit of things" (1x05). Primal magic naturally occurring in plants, animals, and elves likewise makes sense on that note. Just as not "many could bear the gruelling path of a rune mage," Karim cannot bear to have patience and faith in something that will only come to fruition centuries later.
That said, I raise the question: how functionally different is the Great Orb from say, a sun primal stone would hypothetically be? If primal stones and primal magic were gifts to humanity from unicorns — from creatures connected to the Star arcanum, for lack of a better understanding — then why not magic from Startouch (?) elves to other elves.
How do we know that all magic isn't simply a gift that was given once upon a time?
From the First Elves to the Primal Elves.
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Primal vs First Elves
So what's the difference between First Elves and Primal elves?
Well we have a few pieces of lore:
1) Zubeia's status as a "heavenly majesty" (which we'll come back to in the next section) gives her authority to speak in the name of the first elves, who are effectively gods to humankind and/or Xadians ("Have our Gods died? / Where do the fabled Great Ones hide?" —the Epic of the Void
2) It seems that the First Elves are, as of now and for a while, exclusively in reference to what would otherwise be called Startouch elves, although the latter is seemingly a name that came later given Rayla's affirmation of "ancient legends". This is reaffirmed in Tales of Xadia's two lone mention of First Elves:
No group of elves presents a greater mystery than the Startouch elves. Sometimes called the First Elves, those bound to the Star primal are rumored to have made great marks on Xadia’s ancient history—but beyond story and legend, little real evidence is left to us today [...] Among the few extant records of Startouch elves are the Scrolls of the First Elves, now kept in the Great Bookery of Lux Aurea.
3) At a post-S2 con in 2019 (how's that for a far reach?) we got a timeline of the events of Xadia laid out for us. The description of the very first piece of history and era we know of goes as follows, with the Rise of Elarion happening 2000 years ago re: the Dragon Prince era ("The Return of Aaravos"):
The Era of the First elves is the first recorded era 5,000 years prior to the current era. Dragons and elves were not allied during this period. There were no distinct primal elves. This is an era before all that. Humans suffered during this period. 
—2019 con timeline
4) Justin and Aaron reaffirm this at the 2:30 ish minute mark of this video (a couple of months before even S3 was released) by reaffirming distinctly to Primal elves. Later (7:40-ish mark) we see this distinction reaffirmed again through the statement of, "The patterns have been that these primal based elves have grown cultures and civilizations that have become separate and differentiated from kind of whatever the early days were with the First elves were."
Okay, so there was 100% a time where there were only First Elves, and humans, and Primal elves as we knew them (maybe still with the hands and horns, but no arcanum? Or no singular, distinct arcanum) didn't exist. Why does this matter?
This is where the deep lore timeline gets tricky, as we don't know precisely when 1) humans received magic and 2) at what stage the First Elves / Great Ones / Startouch elves 'left' Xadia, only that they did, apparently, when Elarion (the human city) needed help: "Elarion, unworthy whelp / Wept as the stars turned black the sky / They donned their masks / They turned their backs / And left Elarion to die". Why abandon the city (beyond indifference/cruelty as Aaravos would likely claim), who knows.
However, we can assume the timeline looks something like this:
Era of the First Elves
Primal elves (and presumably archdragons *) are crafted / develop into being, whatever that means
Humans are magic-less and are having a bad time
Unicorns / Leola extend sympathy despite the fact that the First Elves tell her not to (Book One: Novelization / Tales of Xadia)
Humans have primal magic (Ripples / Tales of Xadia)
This attracts negative attention, consolidated in Elarion ("the stars she asked their light to cast / and stop the dragons’ fiery might" / "as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted")
Elarion asks for help and the Stars leave
Aaravos, the last star — presumably already Fallen from the First Elves — gives them dark magic under the guise of protection even though it will inevitably help him (i.e. give him the ability to possess people)
Dark magic replaces primal magic as the primary form for humans
Tension and violence escalates (unicorns are hunted to near extinction). Sol Regem is removed as King of the Dragons
Under Dragon Queen Luna Tenebris, the daughter of an elven leader suggests the Judgement of the Half-Moon, causing for humans to be banished rather than eradicated, and the continent split in two
Again, nothing too crazy / not too much we haven't already known or guessed at for a while.
But like I said, I'm gonna propose two theories, so bear with me:
Theory #1: What is Deep Magic?
The First Elves engaged with what we're gonna call Deep or Old Magic, for lack of a better term. There can be an assumption at times that this magic would be more 'pure' or less 'diluted' than dark magic or even the primal magic we've seen on screen. However, I think that's less than likely. Dark magic is often times a bad path for good outcomes, and primal magic can be a 'good' magic for bad outcomes (the blood freezing spell, for example).
While dark magic is a more textually malevolent magic system and primal magic is more true neutral — able to be used as a tool and a source of connection for the user — I don't think this necessarily means that Deep Magic is inherently enlightening (we see with the Ocean arcanum and S5 that knowledge can be an immense burden) or that it's on the opposite end of the spectrum and is outright benevolent.
What, then, am I suggesting Deep Magic to be? Well, we have some clues likewise from the same old interview post-s2 that we haven't had much basis to (potentially) understand until now, in which it's stated:
Deeper magic and deeper gifts that the original beings received [...] practical, usable, powerful magic is drawn from the six primal sources, right? But there is this idea that there's this earlier, less differentiated power kind of magic that's deeper and more - I don't kind of want to say what all of them are. It's not that important now, it has more to do with the history of beings and their interactions with each other. But Aaravos cares about some of this stuff. The best I can say is that one of them's Power — but well, what does that mean?
The six primal sources — potentially just five (hence why only 5 gemstones seem to occur naturally in nature, and Star seemingly doesn't) — are all based around physical, somewhat tangible principles. Earth, Ocean, Sun (fire/light), Sky (wind/weather) are perhaps the most tangible, with only Moon dipping into something into something more metaphysical: illusions and questioning the nature of reality, the nature of death, etc. However, I'd argue that the Moon arcanum's emphasis on death still makes it something that is particularly important to creatures who are mortal (but more on that later).
What I am arguing for is then, therefore, that Deep Magic is magic drawn from Concepts and Ideas > tangible things found in nature or parts of other magical creatures.
Three concepts, to be exact: (translated dark magic screenshot from Cartoon Universe spells reversed).
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Zubeia: He chose as his instruments those who had strong hearts and strong minds, but who had an insatiable thirst and fascination with magic (power).
Three quasar diamonds, three deep magic concepts. Heart, Mind, Power.
("To know something truly and deeply, you must know it with your head, hand, and heart. Mind, body, and spirit." / "She laid before me her scales, her blindfold, and her sword, and told me to choose.")
Now, I don't know if it's these three concepts exactly — I could Truth, or Justice, or something like that — or even if it's three. But given what little we know about Deep magic thus far and how much the series' likes its threes, I think that's the likeliest number and combination.
We've known for a while that there's something weird with the connection between dark magic, spells that use blood, and 'star' magic. We know it's unlikely that Aaravos being able to possess people who have used dark magic was just a happy accident discovered after humans started using it. We know that when Callum is offered the dark magic version of the cube in his dreams, the symbol is blood red: "You can have unlimited power." And that dark magic "became the key that unlocked a place of power for humans in Xadia" (Tales of Xadia).
So what if dark magic stems from the vein of Deep magic that's taken from the concept of Power? What if when Aaravos offered his pawns "unlimited" Power, or when Kpp'Ar accused Viren of (potentially using star magic) "making the same choice you always made: the one that gives you Power," they meant it?
Alternatively, this could mean that most other Startouch elves — their longevity, their indifference — comes from the vein of Mind and subsequent intellectual detachment? Enough intelligence and reason not to hunger for more (Power), but not enough compassion and empathy to sympathize with others (Heart).
And it would also tie into Leola being unique among her own kind for her heart taking pity on the humans, and giving them primal magic — perhaps in the vein of Heart, if we're keeping things consistent — and why love ("To know something truly and deeply [...] I love you with all of myself, and I always will" / "To love is simply to know this: the tides are true as the ocean is deep") has been consistently tied to Callum unlocking arcanums. The "Narrative of Strength (power)" vs "Narrative of Love" being even more literal than we thought.
This wouldn't be too out of line since Moon arcanum philosophy already borrows heavily from Plato's idea of the forms/reality (Plato's allegory of the cave, anyone?) and the forms basically mean "your imagined ideal of the object in your mind is going to be more perfect than any tangible, 'real' version of the object could ever be." That being applied to living beings who are literally in the sky would track a certain amount, in addition to the idea that however primal magic is set up in Xadia right is "the whole world is like a giant primal stone; sky magic is all around us, and it's also in me, with every breath we take." But I digress.
With the distinction of Deep Magic as 1) separate and a sea that flows into the primal as well as 2) older and earlier than primal magic, now onto the next theory:
Theory #2: First elves and the Archdragons?
Now admittedly this one is more speculative since beyond knowing 1) the First elves = what we'd call Startouch elves, 2) the rest of them except Aaravos 'left' Xadia a while ago, and 3) the aforementioned possible 'Mind' deep magic thing, we very quickly run out of set knowledge into full blown speculation. Beyond
With that in mind, I wanna talk about the... weirdness, I suppose, between the Archdragons / draconic royal family and the First Elves.
There's a few notes to this: we know that Ancient Draconic is the language of primal magic, indicating that dragons existed and presumably had primal magic before elves did, and that elves had to be given that linguistic knowledge at least to a certain degree.
Then we also have the way Zubeia is referred to being mirrored with the way she describes Aaravos later:
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Likewise, the one person/creature we've seen referred to as a god outside the Epic of the Void poem is Avizandum by Harrow (bonus points for the game motif of "entire armies have fallen like toys" because of him):
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Bloodmoon Huntress also asserts that from an elven point of view (or at least Lain and Tiadrin, and presumably Runaan, too) that "Dragons are the lifeblood, the very core of Xadia" and generally assumed that dragons have the most powerful connection to their individual primal sources.
So I'd be willing to wager (esp since Sol Regem is at least 1,2000+ years old) that Archdragons at least once upon a time had been contemporaries of the First Elves if not peers. What and why that connection exists and how relevant it is for today, I don't know, but I do think there's something there, especially since the one example we have of a First Elf-Dragon relationship in Aaravos, Avizandum, and Zubeia, was perceived to be positive somewhat on all sides — a matter of trust on his end (in order to be "betrayed") and a matter of reverence and importance on theirs; "admired and loved by all" / "you meant something to him".
There is also something to be said for the Archdragons being the most powerful embodiment of the primal sources (alongside maybe some rare and noteworthy elves, like Queen Aditi) still being "unable to risk a direct confrontation" with only one singular and Fallen Startouch elf. What would a whole slew of them at the height of their power look like? (And yet it is implied that the Nova Blade is "ivory draconic" so... maybe you just have to get a First Elf close enough to the mouth to be consumed / bitten? Or perhaps the Nova Blade is made from the tooth/claw of a 'Star' arcanum dragon.)
TLDR; it's looking more and more like Startouch elves as we understand them and First Elves in generally are — while emotive and feeling the way humans and elves are — something very different from anything else we've seen thus far in terms of knowledge and power skill, and that distinction is only going to be made more and more apparent as the story goes on.
Theory #3: Where do we go from here?
So if Deep Magic is distinct from Primal, and is distinct from 2/3 kinds of Deep Magic in dark magic (derived from 5-primal and Power deep magic thoughts)... where do we go from here, magically speaking?
Well, the important thing to note is that the story has given us some thematic clues. Aaravos is concerned with exile and power, both things we see thematically most represented by human characters (with some elven exceptions like Karim and Kim'Dael). The other Star touch elves are very on brand for "Xadian exile" as their favourite punishment as well as extreme isolationism ("I knew I had to be strong alone" etc). Therefore, whatever answer we give Magically also has to reconcile these issues from a thematic and character based standpoint.
It seems like a switch of where people are concentrating energy — for Startouch elves and humans — needs to have a drastic shift to one of the other veins/concepts of deep magic that will hopefully heal the rifts. If Aaravos is Power (humans) and the others are 'Mind' (Xadian indifference/isolation and banishment) for lack of a better idea, then subverting that binary and shifting more to a third 'Love' path seems to be very on brand for TDP. Holding both at the same time but being guided by a higher principle of peace and harm reduction is what Ezran's 4x03 speech is all about, after all.
Something something both Xadia and magic and the First Elves being reunited with Xadia / humanity and elvenkind as TDP's endgame, something something.
Other Gift Giving Thoughts
The other thing I wanna talk about now that everything else is laid out is how gifts are Given, in TDP. We see time and time again relationships and magic systems being framed on the idea of whether they are giving, taking, both in a bad way or in a good way. There seems to be two main indicators for gift giving, therefore, either that in the receiver is worthy, or that the exchange is going to be reciprocal.
At its best, a gift works as intended.
Humans (and elves?) are given primal magic and generally use it for exploration and to care for themselves / one another The sun seed is given to the Sunfire elves, but they must nurture it. Callum gives Rayla her father's bow and she uses it to protect them. Callum achieves enlightenment and understanding of him and is rewarded with primal magic twice, even if the Ocean in particular is a bit murkier than he'd probably like. Gifts and belongings are relinquished or restored for freedom, for hope, for peace.
Here we have to wonder if Leola's Last Wish reconciles both the Goodbye gift motif and the gift of Magic motif, possibly resulting in the gift of the sun seed or more likely something to do with primal magic / alleviate the fallout of dark magic's consequences.
For example, to get an answer from Rex Igneous — a seeming wealth of knowledge — you have to give him a worthy gift that is also a sacrifice of some kind, according to Nath'an.
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However, Ezran points out the major flaw in this line of thinking, as "We offered gifts that meant a lot to us, but the truth is, they don't mean anything to you." Not everyone is going to value the same thing or think the same thing is worth the price that was paid.
We see this interpersonally most with the mage fam ("Maybe the world would be better off without magic" from Soren, whose life was saved with it) and with Rayla and Callum (as Rayla's gift of sacrifice by leaving is something Callum did not want and rightfully did not receive well, alongside her moonstone pendant). Again: what is defined as worthy, or worthiness, is in the eye of the beholder.
Just like one of the initial thoughts that inspired this meta, Khessa asserts that dark magic is a magic that "takes" > being reciprocal for both parties, nevermind a gift. The irony, however, runs a bit deeper, as Aaravos thinks the same of his fellow stars:
But the stars kept from them one secret still: that their first lesson—patience—was not a gift of the stars at all. You see, patience is a lesson the humans taught themselves. No, the stars do not know patience, for they have no need for it. The stars want for nothing, and take all to their liking.
And we see this idea of a 'false gift' show up time and time again in the series. Nyx pretends to offer passage but actually wants to steal Zym; Rayla's act of love in leaving is a curse upon Callum's heart and wellbeing; dark magic itself is a false trade of sorts, given how unevenly it tips scales in Aaravos' favour and how much it ruins both the environment and body of its caster.
[The elven thief Lasair] never saw the precious blossoms fade and turn to cold ashes when exposed to the dawn. They never learned their gift was perceived as a curse, not a trade. 
—Tales of Xadia
Kim'Dael goes to Queen Aditi under false pretences ("The Queen's Mercy") but the gift that Aditi gives her is nothing good at all:
What pretty bauble, she wondered, had she tricked the queen into forging as a token of protection? What could be powerful enough to ward away the wrath of dragons?
Just as humans sought the stars' help to protect them from the ire of the dragons, Kim'Dael sought Aditi's. And just as Aaravos offered them a false magic that would protect and ultimately trap/destroy then, so does Aditi, with magic that doesn't seem to be entirely dark or primal:
“But know this: the binding around your neck—it is made with magic not unlike your own. It is a magic that demands, that takes."
A form of magic even maybe that demands sacrifice for that kind of Power.
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You could almost say it's something Deeper.
Conclusion
Hope you enjoyed going completely off the rails with me, and that this long (winded) post got you thinking! I'll probably do a followup discussing the implications of what we have here for potential Laurelion-Aaravos later. In the meantime, take the fruits of my labour, and spin your own hamster wheels if you'd like.
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egrets-not-regrets · 22 days ago
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Blue Planet
Korio the Space Shark Astartes, watches the The Blue Planet documentary with his bonded human, Runa.
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Author’s Notes:
Dialogue in High Gothic are bolded and italicized.
This is partly based on this post about what kind of present day media survives in 40k. Do not talk trash about Imperial Saint Sir Davyyd At’unnbrugh unless you want to die by Tyberos! This is my new Space Shark boy for #Space Marine Husbandry Sentience.
whai (stingray - Maori Dictionary)
Also, spoilers? for what's in The Blue Planet documentary series?
Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan
@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @whorety-k
@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams
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It’s their weekly movie night. His little whai enthusiastically pulled out a set of DVDs. The cover of the set of discs looked oddly familiar. He remembered having seen something similar in passing on a bookshelf in the Red Wake’s office among his personal collection of archeotech. Korio had asked about what it was, and the Red Wake replied that it was some ancient relic of Davyyd At’unnbrugh, an Oothecan Imperial Saint of great importance. He held the saint in high regard, to the point of killing an ignorant idiot who decided to insult the saint. Korio wouldn’t deny that he was interested in what these discs contain since Tyberos had never let anyone watch the contents in those discs to his knowledge. He wondered if the Oothecan Imperial Saint may have been a descendent of David Attenborough of Ancient Terra.
Runa put down the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table then opened the DVD case. Apparently, Korio heard of someone who had a very similar sounding name as David Attenborough in his time, that also made something similar, so he was very interested in watching this documentary series. If he enjoyed it, Runa considered borrowing other Attenborough documentary sets for future movie nights. 
Korio settled onto the couch, watching Runa insert the first disc into the DVD player. She returned to his side and pressed play on the remote control. Dramatic music started playing as David Attenborough started narrating about the power of the oceans and the lives of the creatures that reside in them. What a variety of strange alien creatures... all within and around the oceans of Ancient Terra. He never expected that Terra once had been such a lush place that teemed with life. 
He felt a round bowl placed in his lap, the strong smell of buttered popcorn wafting into his nose. 
Runa tapped his hand and said, “Have them. There enough for us.” her grammar in High Gothic still stumbling. Not for the lack of trying. High Gothic was rather difficult to learn. 
The Carcharadon turned on the translator egg and corrected her, “Have some. There is enough for both of us.” saying what she was trying to convey, letting the device repeat the phrase so she could understand. 
Runa listened carefully, then repeated what he said, understanding the words that were left out. Her bonded astartes nodded his approval. 
Korio rarely spoke the local baseline language, preferring to speak High Gothic. They had been getting by using the translator egg and basic sign language. However, Runa started to learn High Gothic, wanting to better communicate with her bonded Astartes. 
To Korio’s surprise, it was Runa who asked him to help her to practise speaking in High Gothic, let alone taking the initiative to learn the language. Using the translator device, she expressed that it was getting frustrating using the translator all the time in order to talk to him directly, since he rarely spoke in her native language. At that, the Carcharadon felt a tinge of guilt for not learning more of her language. Perhaps their bonding wouldn’t have been fraught with so many difficulties had he learned and spoke the local language earlier. That was not a mistake he was going to make twice. He agreed and bit by bit, they learned to communicate in each other’s languages, slowly relying on the translator device less and less. 
These small practice sessions had the added bonus of doubling as bonding sessions as well; allowing Runa to slowly lose her fear towards her bonded Astartes, and allowing Korio to establish a closer relationship with his bonded human. It was pleasing to see Runa relax more in his presence and even catch a few laughs on occasion. Those were rare and Korio kept the memory of her laughter close to his hearts. 
That eventually led to their almost weekly movie/documentary nights like the one tonight. Sometimes they watched shows in High Gothic with subtitles in english, other times they watched the opposite. Any shows relating to sharks usually drew his interest, but while some were interesting, others with their poor animation and nonsensical plot quickly got rejected. However, he found historical movies and documentaries depicting Ancient Terran historical technology and natural history the most fascinating. 
For this particular documentary, it was in english with High Gothic subtitles, which was probably for the best since it allowed the Carcharadon to listen to David Attenborough’s actual voice. Korio watched with interest, wishing that he had asked the Red Wake’s permission to view the contents of that relic so he could have a comparison. The blue whale was introduced first, the largest animal on Terra, even bigger than the carcharodon that was kept on the bridge of Nicor. Korio inwardly scoffed, he has killed Tyranids larger just as big and ten times as deadly. The blue whale would be a walk in the park, but he couldn’t deny the curiosity to see that large creature in person one day. 
Runa looked up at him and noticed his focused interest. She said, “There are tours to go see whales. I will take you some day.”
“Tours. Tours.” Korio corrected her, then asked, “Blue whales?”
She smiled, “Yes, tours for blue whales and others.”
There was a softened look in his normally stoic expression, “Some day.” he quietly replied as his grey hand tenderly caressed her cheek. Runa blushed, still getting used to Korio’s random affectionate gestures.
The documentary continued, introducing other sea creatures from other parts of Ancient Terra, showing bait balls of small fish, followed by their aerial and underwater predators. As he watched the different species of sharks grouped up into giant shoals to follow the massive biomass of small prey fish; Korio was reminded of how the multiple battle companies came together to rejoin the chapter’s main fleet in preparation for the next large battle. 
Korio and Runa started on the popcorn while watching the pack of orca attacking the mother-calf pair of grey whales. Despite her larger size, the mother grey whale was unable to save her calf. He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed by the prey or disappointed by predators since the whole ordeal lasted six hours as Attenborough mentioned. 
Runa suddenly took the translator egg, commenting, “Different groups of orcas around the world, can develop hunting techniques to specialize hunting certain prey.” 
Korio listened to the translation and hummed in acknowledgement. That was similar to the different fighting styles from the different legions and chapters of Astartes. 
The scene switched to a whalefall being consumed by the scavengers of the deep. The Carcharodon recognized the hagfish as he had seen them in the research laboratory at the aquarium. Glancing down, he saw Runa reaching into the bowl and taking another handful of popcorn. Impulsively, he bent down and sneaked a mouthful of popcorn from her hand. His bonded froze and looked at him with a strange expression. He sat back up and looked back at her, a glint of sly humor in his dark eyes. Runa’s expression twisted into something between consternation and amusement, before bursting out in giggles. Korio felt pretty proud at that moment. 
Runa caught her breath, “You sneak! If you wanted to be fed, you could have just said so. No need to be like that sneaky leopard shark at the aquarium!”
“Here. Sneaky shark.” She snorted as she held up a few pieces of popcorn at her fingertips to his mouth. 
Korio gently picked the popcorn from her fingers, his sharp teeth barely grazing her skin. He swallowed then replied with a slight grin, “Your sneaky shark. More.”
Runa huffed, “Yes, yes. My sneaky shark.” holding up another few pieces of popcorn for him with a wry smile on her face. Korio felt pleased that Runa responded positively to his impulsive attempt to get her to feed him. Not that he needed to be hand-fed, but at least it confirmed that she was willing to touch him and how much more at ease she was with his presence now. 
He went back to watching the documentary, watching the shoal of squid laying and fertilizing the masses of egg capsules on the seabed, every now and then eating the popcorn that Runa fed him. How alien that they laid eggs in large clusters like that, but in numbers that big, Korio supposed there would be enough young to survive despite predation. To be fair, they were rather delicious, it was a good thing these small squid existed in such large numbers. 
There were only a few pieces of popcorn left. Korio quickly took the handful and placed it in front of his bonded, “Have some, Runa.” he said quietly. 
She looked surprised at first, but then smiled at him and grabbed the popcorn then stuffed them in her mouth. 
“Thank you.” she said. His mouth twitched into a slight smile. 
The first disc came to an end. Runa asked him, “Do you like it? You want more?”
The Carcharodon grinned, looking forward to view the next disc in the series along with his bonded human, “Yes. More.”
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spectrechosts · 2 months ago
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Treasure
A story of a dragon and the thief who keeps bothering her. Another pretty new one, has one followup and will probably get more.
Full Series
Madyssorth the Golden, Lady of the Deep, Queen Beneath the Mountain, Keeper of the Endless Vault, breathes a huff of flame from her snout.
The Thief is in her vault again. She can smell her. Hear her clinking through piles of treasures, toppling them as if every item in her vast hoard is not meticulously placed.
She rises from her slumber and stretches her great wings, wiggles her toes and rolls her shoulders. It's so hard to get a good nap with the Thief around, every month she insists on intruding.
The Dragon stomps her way toward the intruder, clawed feet sinking deep into piles of coin (It's such a simple system! You can walk on the coins! They're all the same! They aren't organized!) as she goes.
"There's my lady." Says the Thief, wearing (WEARING! AN ANTIQUE!) a pilfered crown plucked from her collection.
Madyssorth lifts the crown off her head, gingerly places it back where it belongs with the other relics from that kingdom. Other relics that are now in disarray from the Thief's perusal.
"You disturb my collection." She grumbles. "I should eat you, pestering thing."
The Thief pouts.
"Come now, don't be grumpy." She says, looking up at her with those stupid eyes. "I brought you a present."
She takes a shard of a shattered amulet from her pocket, and Madyssorth's eyes go wide.
"Is that-?"
"A fragment of Ghax'zis the Quiet's phylactery." The Thief says, relishing in how the Dragon's eyes follow it. "You know, there's only one of these in human possession. Rest have all been snatched up by some dragon, I heard."
Madyssorth picks her up by the back of her shirt with her teeth, carrying her like a scruffed kitten. She practically prances through her hoard, until she reaches a spot piled with regal rugs and pillows and drops the human into it.
"The fragment." She says, holding a claw out expectantly.
"Is that how you ask?" Counters the Thief, lounging in her newfound comfort smugly.
"The fragment or I eat you."
She giggles and hangs it on Madyssorth's claw. The Dragon rushes off through the vault, as if the amulet might vanish if not placed in just the right spot in time. The Ghax'zis exhibit. She takes a human form to place it, not trusting her massive claws with the delicate task. In a glass case, carefully warded, all the fragments of that which held the vile lich's soul. She feels giddy, circles the display over and over, admiring it from every angle so she can be absolutely certain it's just right.
It takes almost an hour for her to return to where she left the Thief- where the Thief demonstrably no longer is. She sniffs her out among the relics of the Children of the Virgin, inspecting the jewels that adorn a silver goblet.
"Put that back." The Dragon whines, picking her up again after she does and returning her to her pile of cushions.
"Do you like your present?" The Thief asks, as the Dragon takes her human form again and lounges with her.
"Yes!" She breathes, heart still fluttering. "It's perfect, Gronarum is going to be so jealous. He'll have to admit that mine is the superior hoard."
"I'm glad." Hums the Thief, and they relax together until something catches her eye and she leaves the pile again.
She smirks and bites her tongue as she's once again scruffed and returned and joined in human form.
"Maddy," she asks, stifling laughter, "what is this?"
"What is what?" Madyssorth asks, brow furrowed. "You've been busy, you should rest."
"Rest right here, where you've made a spot for me?"
"Yes?"
The Thief giggles, sinking into a pillow.
"What??" Asks the Dragon, confused.
"Maddy… You're arranging me." Says the Thief, and Madyssorth flushes.
"I'm- I am not!"
"You aaaarreeee!" Beams the Thief. "You think I'm a treasure!"
"N-No!" The Dragon whines. "I just think that- that you should stay right here, in your spot, when you're in my hoard. So I know where you are."
"Because I'm treasure."
"Because it's comfy and you keep touching things when you wander!"
"Mmm." Hums the Thief, looking at her in a way that makes her feel… things. "And only you get to touch your treasures, right?"
"Right!"
She just keeps looking at her, hungrily.
"W-What?"
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batshieroglyphics · 5 months ago
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[FIC] Been Through the Darkness ~ Star Wars Prequels ~ Feel the Change in the Wind ~ pre-JastObi ~ Teen
Title: Been Through the Darkness Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Era Author: Batsutousai Series: Feel the Change in the Wind Rating: Teen Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Jaster Mereel Warnings: Alternate Universe, time travel, canon-typical violence, Jedi culture positive, True Mandalorian culture positive, danger to children, Death Watch, Tor Vizsla being an asshole, character death (it's Tor) Summary: Jaster hadn't expected to see Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi or his feral student again, but it turns out it is a very small galaxy. Event: @jastobiweek 2024
Jango came over to join him, kneeling on the cushion next to him as Jaster opened the first file in the packet, which was a video. It opened in a dark room filled with the shadows of bodies. Someone was crying quietly nearby, and someone else breathed out a curse in Mando'a. A door opened, flaring bright light through the room, and three beings in armour stepped into the room. One stayed by the door, but the other two strode forward, bodies shifting as they got out of the way. "You should all be honoured!" a voice called in Republic Basic, as the two beings stopped moving in what was probably the centre of the room, assuming who- or whatever was recording was at the farthest point from the door. "You are in the presence of your Mand'alor!" The lights flared to life in the recording, and the entire crowd flinched, the recording jerking like it, too, had been surprised by the sudden light. Jaster felt his eyes widen as he recognised the armour of one of the two beings in the centre of the room, their back to the recording device, and his certainty crystalised when Tor said, "You are honoured, for you have been chosen, deemed suitable to join our cause: that of true Mandalorians, of the Death Watch. You will learn to fight, to survive, to be conquerors. You will never again find yourselves to be weak. Your tears will dry up, for you will have no cause to shed them. "And, to those among you who show the greatest potential, an even greater honour awaits you: I will welcome you into my own clan, name you my own children. You will be trusted as leaders, commanding hundreds in the war against the Cowards and the Faithless, those who hide behind their false Mand'alor and the accursed Republic. We will erase those who are too weak, too afraid, from the history of Mandalore, as has ever been our way. "You will be my Faithful, training in secret, until the day we can step out into the light light and take what is ours!" And then Tor raised a fist above his head, revealing a hilt, which lit with a burning black blade: the Darksabre. "I alone hold this artefact, this relic of Mand'alore past, and it proves me, not that pretender as the true Mand'alor! With it, I will lead us into our glorious future!" The other armoured being standing with Tor motioned with their hands, and the crowd hesitantly started cheering. The recording panned slowly around, and Jaster flinched as he realised that every member of the crowd was a child, many with signs that they'd been crying recently, almost all of them with visible bruising, cuts, or torn clothing.
Read it on Archive of Our Own by clicking this text!
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sporesgalaxy · 1 year ago
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abt ur homestuck post- im actually in the middle of reading it for the first time right now (i can only do it in short bursts so its taken me a while) and i agree with you that homestuck is, among other things, an almost amber-perfect relic of the time it was created in. it is EXTREMELY distasteful at some points when looked at with a modern day lens but i remember the days when it started, when it was popular, and so much of the things it has were just... normal in those times. its almost startling to see in such clear view how things have changed over the course of my adolescence, as someone who knew of it but never read it as a kid. like homestuck DOES objectively suck in a lot of ways that make it painful for me to read but its also incredibly fascinating to look at, from both a storytelling standpoint and a cultural one. some of the concepts also interest me. i was really enamored by the captchalogue system and the way it interacts with the environment and characters on a sort of meta level. i think homestuck is also a bit of an example of a series of pretty good ideas executed very poorly
YESSS YES EXACTLYYY I straight up have nothing to add you so get it. autopsying this beast is just fascinating
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snekverse · 11 months ago
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MCD Tarot deck 0-VII
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Here are the first seven cards of my MDC Tarot deck, a project a year in the making!! For times sake and my own sanity, I'll only be doing the major arcana, but expect the next seven (hopefully) soon :)
Introductions + explanations under the cut! and disclaimer: I know VERY LITTLE about tarot, so please take all this with a grain of salt!
Aphmau, the Fool - Among other things, The Fool is representative of new beginnings, opportunity and potential, things Aphmau's character (specifically in MCD) encapsulated. Her newness to the world is a huge part of her character in the beginning of the series, and towards the end as the lore fleshes out it gets reflected in her dynamic with Irene, and being Irene's reincarnation. She is the culmination of the fresh start Irene wanted, and was filled with the potential to be everything she could never be.
Zoey, the Magician - Among other things, The Magician is representative of manifestation, resourcefulness, power, and inspired action. This was somewhat of a hard call on my end, but I think her dedicating the 15 year timeskip to research on how to free Aphmau and co. from the Irene Dimension, and ultimately succeeding even though it would cost her her immortality, aligns with this best. She worked hard and used all her power to change fate, to return her loved ones to their rightful home, which is pretty inspirational if you ask me.
Lucinda, the High Priestess - My note for this one is "I don’t know how to explain how this makes sense to me it just suits her" so there's no real reason for this decision lol. Among other things, The High Priestess is representative of intuition, sacred knowledge, divine feminine, and the subconscious mind. You could argue that MYST Lucinda inhabits some of these, being very comfortable in her femininity and having a strong sense of intuition as well as knowledge most of the cast isn't privy to, however we all know that MYST =/= MCD so do with this information what you will.
Zianna, the Empress - Among other things, The Empress is representative of nature, nurturing, and abundance. This is based somewhat on headcanons, but Zianna is heavily associated with being a kind, doting mother. She loves and nurtures her children, and in MYST we see this kindness applies to others' children as well as her own. Additionally, The Empress when reversed encourages one to make self-love and self-care a priority, something this ever-doting woman desperately needs after devoting all her time and energy to other people's needs for the past several DECADES.
Garte, the Emperor - Among other things, The Emperor is representative of authority and establishment, and when reversed is representative of domination and excessive control. This is based somewhat on headcanons, but Garte more so resembles The Emperor reversed, being a cold and controlling tyrant, both as the leader of a nation and as a father figure. He is a man of strict rules and regulations and tends to abuse the power he holds over people.
Zane, the Hierophant - Among other things, The Hierophant is representative of spiritual wisdom, religious beliefs, conformity, tradition, institutions. Zane canonically is the high priest of a very large and traditional religion, this aspect of The Hierophant is self explanatory. He is literally the head of an institutionalized religion of which he is very knowledgeable about. When reversed, The Hierophant is representative of personal beliefs and freedom. This is based somewhat on headcanons, but I believe Zane's hunt for Irene's Relic/the Divine Relics is a personal goal, and ties into breaking free from the controlling nature of his father, his nation, and his religion: who would dare control you when you become their god?
Donna and Logan, the Lovers - Among other things, The Lovers card is representative of love, harmony, relationships, values alignment and choices. I feel like this one if the most self explanatory, as their entire arc together is about over coming differences, and choosing to love each other in spite of those differences. Y'all remember how freaked out Logan was when he got turned? Specifically about Donna's reaction? And how she chose to love him anyways because this plot point happened before Jess added her werewolf kink to the canon lore? They constantly choose to be happy and they choose to be together, who else could I have picked for this card?
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skylarkking · 4 months ago
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Now that I'm not stoned out of my mind from pain meds (for now) I believe I can share an AU of mine with some clarity and cohesiveness and also with a shameless OC x Optimus idea. It takes place in TFP BUT with changes to the lore for more depth. Infodump rambles under cut.
Basically wth the whole lore thing you have your original 13 primes but they aren't called that. Instead they are called the 13 Knights of Primus.
Basically the 13 Knights were servants of Primus during the beginning of time and they were responsible for maintaining Primus's relic, that relic being Cybertron itself. Primus granted the 13 Knights the ability to create in order to maintain Cybertron. However, Megatronus would discover that they also had the ability to destroy.
When this revelation was discovered, Primus's counterpart Unicron would emerge from his realm to investigate. Since Primus is the creator God and Unicron was the destroyer God, Unicron saw the Knights as a threat to his domain. After all, how dare the Creator make something that could destroy? It was an insult and a violation of their pact to keep eachother balanced (Primus creating things that Unicron can destroy and Unicron destroying things so that Primus could create).
In Unicron's fit of rage over the betrayal of his trust he too violated the pact by creating the 13 Heralds of Unicron. These heralds were counterparts to the Knights and they would become guardians of Unicron's relic (that being Earth). However the Knights would discover the Heralds and a battle between them would shake the cosmos in a way that would alter the very fabric of reality.
Each Knight that fell a Herald would follow. The amount of death and chaos from it would cause Megatronus to go mad from grief, resulting in him accidently killing Solus during an outburst where he pleaded for peace between the Knights and Heralds.
Solus's spark would become the Allspark and her body The Well of Allsparks, a permanent reminder of the tragedy.
This would trigger a series of events that would result in Megatronus being killed by one of the other Knights and becoming known as "The fallen." However, it would also cause a Herald to rebel against his brothers and sisters, earning him the title of "The Risen."
The Risen would actually stop the conflict by killing the other Heralds on his own. This of course angered Unicron so violently that Unicron attacked Primus's relic directly just to spite Primus, the remaining Knights, and The Risen.
Working together they would banish Unicron back into his realm and force him to go into a deep sleep. But not without a cost.
Since the Heralds were directly connected to Unicron just like the Knights were with Primus, The Risen would end up perishing in the calamity. However, his spark would not be destroyed.
Instead, it would end up returning to Cybertron after drifting among the stars for eons. Similar to how Optimus in the series is the reincarnation of the 13th original prime (in this AU the 13th Knight) The Risen would also be reincarnated.
Fast forward to pre-war Cybertron, The Risen would be reincarnated into a rather.... unique individual. I have yet to give him a name but I am leaning towards Emersus.
Emersus was mad in the eyes of the High Caste because of his rebellious and chaotic nature (blame the Herald heritage lol). He would often say things and do things that would purposefully expose the High Caste's corruotion and manipulation. They would perform Empurata on him, but that only made things WAAAAY worse. His "madness" would become even more voletile.
He would end up killing an Elite Guard member (at the time, the cybertronian version of a cop), and he would end up being sentenced to the Pits. He would climb up the ranks and meet Megatron, known at the time as Megatronus. The pair would duke it out and end up in a draw with both warriors exhausted and badly wounded.
After getting patched up Megatronus would speak to Emersus to find out more about him. Emersus would tell his story to Megatronus where he found out that they shared rhe same views of the High Caste and its corruption.
Emersus would befriend Megatronus and the pair would become a tag team in the arena. After some time Megatronus would introduce Emersus to Orion.
To say Emersus would go from IDW Whirl level energy to a flustered mess would be an understatement. Emersus wasn't sure what he felt for the archivist, but it was something.
That feeling would continue to grow the more the pair interacted with eachother. He kept the feeling in check for the most part and hide it deep inside himself, something he would end up regretting.
After another run in with the Elite Guard, Emersus would be put to trial and found to be guilty of an absorbent amount of crimes, most of which he didn't even commit. They would then banish him from Cybertron and launch him into space in a stasis cell.
That cell would drift through space and eventually crash in the artic circle on earth. Emersus's frame would fly out of the pod and bury itself in the deep snow and ice.
Fast forward millions of years, Emersus would be discovered by human scientists which then leads to a rather hilarious interaction between them and agent Fowler.
Basically the scientists were exploring an ice cave when they saw the one optic mech frozen solid with his head staring at them. Of course he couldn't see them as he was in stasis lock, but imagine you turn around in a dimly lit ice cave and you see a frozen one eye bot just staring back at you.
To say the scientists got quite the scare would be an understatement. Of course this discovery would send agent Fowler out and then the Autobots.
Ratchet would discover that Emersus was still alive somehow and the bots would manage to break him out of the ice. When Emersus was brought back to the base to thaw and hopefully be revived Optimus would stay close by.
The others didn't understand why their Prime (oh yeah, forgot to mention that those who inherit the matrix are still called Primes but that's after it was passed down a few times and the matrix is essentially the keystone to Cybertron but i digress) was acting this way and it wasn't until Ratchet brought it up that Optimus told them of their history.
Of course Emersus would do what Emersus does best and scare the slag out of the Autobots. He would shoot up from the medical berth screaming "NO! YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME! ITS A LIE!" thinking he was still back on Cybertron. He would then stiffen up with shocks of electricity and fall to the floor like a sack of hammers.
After everyone had calmed down from the rather terrifying outburst, Ratchet would run some diagnostics on Emersus and explain that, due to the long term deep freeze, a lot of Emersus's body and processor was badly damaged. Ratchet could try to fix what he could, but it would most likely only delay the inevitable.
Optimus being Optimus would ask Ratchet to try his best as Emersus was a close friend to him. Ratchet would successfully get Emersus fixed as best as possible and Emersus would eventually wake up again.
At first Emersus was confused and delirious from everything he had endured, but would snap out of it when he saw Optimus. Of course Optimus looked different from when he was Orion, but Emersus still remembered him.
The series would then kick off and Emersus would be the chaotic inventor (think Cyberverse's version of Wheeljack but with ✨️murder✨️ energy).
As the series goes on and approaches the episodes with Unicron, Emersus would begin to get nightmares that would progressively get worse until the episodes with unicron would cause him to stop recharging due to the intensity. These nightmares however were not nightmares at all, but instead were visions being sent to him by his old master.
Unicron would eventually capture Emersus to convert him back to his Herald and, because a mutual friend was in dire need, Optimus and Megatron would team up to save Emersus.
They would delve into the core of earth and find where Unicron was attempting to use his ancient relic to return to that domain.
Emersus however would be the obstacle in their way, taking on a twisted and horrifying form influenced entirely by Unicron. The pair would fight against their friend and Optimus would be the one to snap him out of it.
After severing the connection between the relic, Unicron, and Emersus, Optimus would revert to his pre prime state and Emersus would lose a ton of memory, so much so that he doesn't even remember Optimus at all.
Since he couldn't remember Optimus but remembered Megatron, he would follow him and Optimus out of there. The story would go through the usual timeline with the Orion Pax arc and Emersus would would follow alongside.
Of course Orion remembered Emersus and was confused as to why Emersus couldn't remember him. Megatron would use both of their ignorance to his advantage. Emersus became a sort of body guard while Orion became the archivist.
The pair would actually grow close yet again and the vehicons would gossip about how much calmer Emersus was around Orion. Megatron didn't like that his body guard was distracted and he forbeyed him from going near Orion.
This caused Orion to begin his suspicions that something wasn't right. When Orion found out the truth he immediately went to tell Emersus. The pair would work together to escape and Orion would be restored to Optimus.
Since then the pair would be even closer than before, but it would become rocky when Emersus rediscovers his true heritage again. He would become isolated and distant, often locking himself in his workshop to "prevent a monster from doing damage."
At this point Optimus would finally convince Emersus to at least allow him in. Emersus would break down for the first time in millions of years. Optimus being the cinnamon roll bean he is manages to calm Emersus down and the pair confess feelings.
Fast forward through the episodes and we come to the Omega Lock arc and Emersus is forced to surrender himself to Megatron along with the relics and keys. Emersus would be kept prisoner for the duration of the season 3 episodes involving Darkmount and would end up falling into a deep depression. In fact, it was so deep that his workings began to give up on functioning despite Knockout's best efforts to prevent it.
Emersus would have a mental breakdown similar to The Fallen that would result in him lashing out violently towards Megatron. Thw pair would be locked in what would seem like a mever ending duel ultil Ultra Magnus would enter and stop the whole thing. Or rather, he'd delay it since he was no match for Megatron and a pissed off Emersus. Look he doesn't like his death matches interrupted okay?
Anyway, resume fight and Emersus would end up losing after his body started to malfunction. But just as he was going to be deactivated BAM! In comes an upgraded Optimus and all hell breaks loose.
Emersus would end up going into stasis lock again and wake up in the new base with Ratchet and Optimus not far from him. It's then that Ratchet expresses his concern for Emersus's wellbeing as this second stasis lock almost killed him.
Emersus being the stubborn aft he is brushes it off. Speaking of stubborn afts, let's explain Ultra Magnus's dynamic with him.
Emersus does not like Ultra Magnus on the same level that IDW's Whirl hates him. In fact, Emersus almost beat the slag out of him when he commented how "an Empurata shouldn't be clinging to a Prime." It was such an angry outburst that it took Bulkhead, Bumblebee, AND Smokescreen to hold him back.
Thankfully the trio were able to cool his circuits and, after storming off muttering curses, Optimus would explain that Emersus and him were Conjunx Endura and that he needed to be more respectful.
Ultra Magnus would begrudgingly agree to not be an aft to Emersus and they would eventually learn to get along (kinda like how Wheeljack did).
Jump through the episodes and when we get to Ratchet getting kidnapped by Soundwave the duty of medic and inventor would land on Emersus and Raphael until they could rescue him.
When the final battle occurs, Emersus would unleash a pent up fury on the Decepticons alongside the other Autobots. When Megatron fell and Cybertron's lights were restored, Emersus would have one last stasis lock before dying in Optimus's arms.
They would meet again in the realm of the Prime's and that's how the story ends. I might write it, might not, but hey, if you've read this far then thanks for coming to my Ted talk lol.
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phoenixwatchesmovies · 11 months ago
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2023 Favorites
I'm kinda glad I was keeping track of what I watched, in retrospect, because looking back over my posts this year, I realized I forgot about a lot of stuff. XD After looking over the recaps and excluding rewatches, here's my top ten New Stuff I Watched for 2023:
10. Cabinet Of Curiosities
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Bizarre nightmares unfold in eight tales of terror in a visually stunning, spine-tingling horror collection curated by Guillermo del Toro.
If GDT is your guy, give this a watch. Creature features, cursed objects, aliens, you name it. 8/8 tentacled eldritch abominations.
9. Wolf Creek
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Three backpackers stranded in the Australian outback are plunged inside a hellish nightmare of insufferable torture by a sadistic psychopathic local.
Holy shit, this was intense. And as I said initially, so mean. If you're into Texas Chainsaw Massacre, try this. I'm into franchise bingo, so I'm going to look into the sequels and TV series. 3/3 heads on a stick.
8. Requiem For A Dream
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The drug-induced utopias of four Coney Island people are shattered when their addictions run deep.
I get the feeling this is one of those that hurts so much more on rewatching, so there's that to look forward to. I've also rarely seen movies that do so much harmonizing between the music and the visuals, and it was so satisfying. 4/4 refrigerator jump scares.
7. Evil Dead Rise
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A twisted tale of two estranged sisters whose reunion is cut short by the rise of flesh-possessing demons, thrusting them into a primal battle for survival as they face the most nightmarish version of family imaginable.
This was probably the most fun I had with a horror movie all year, TBH. Horror exploring family dynamics will always be a fave, and this brought plenty of fresh stuff to the franchise while also holding onto the core traits. 5/5 Staffenies.
6. Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves
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A charming thief and a band of unlikely adventurers embark on an epic quest to retrieve a lost relic, but things go dangerously awry when they run afoul of the wrong people.
This was the most fun I had watching a movie all year, period. If you know nothing about DND, it's a good fantasy movie. If you're a DND nerd, the game mechanics are baked into it. If you're a fan of found families, guess what! 6/6 stealth checks.
5. Cowboy Bebop
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A ragtag crew of bounty hunters chases down the galaxy's most dangerous criminals. They'll save the world--for the right price.
I got exactly what I wanted out of this, so haters be damned. The anime is a masterpiece and a classic, but if you're not in the mood for the existentialism and other heavier themes, here ya go. 3/3 shower-bath-showers.
4. The Black Phone
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After being abducted by a child killer and locked in a soundproof basement, a 13-year-old boy starts receiving calls on a disconnected phone from the killer's previous victims.
Near perfect, as far as I'm concerned. The older I get, the more kids-in-danger as a concept fucks with me, making this the most stressful movie I watched this year (though It Chapter One gave it a run for its money, and I still think they would make a great double feature). 5/5 black balloons.
3. Evil Dead (2013)
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Five friends head to a remote cabin, where the discovery of a Book of the Dead leads them to unwittingly summon up demons living in the nearby woods.
It's gnarly. It's badass. I almost puked. I had THE BEST time. The story works as an effective allegory, the effects are gruesomely awesome, and the finale is metal af. Plain and simple. 70,000/70,000 gallons of fake blood.
2. The Crow
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A man brutally murdered comes back to life as an undead avenger of his and his fiancée's murder.
Beautiful, sad, aesthetic for days, hella good soundtrack. *chef kiss* I still haven't seen The Batman, but they seem visually similar, so if you like that, you'll probably like this. For more in-depth thoughts, read my post. 1/1 epic rooftop guitar solos.
1. The Fall Of The House Of Usher
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To secure their fortune (and future) two ruthless siblings build a family dynasty that begins to crumble when their heirs mysteriously die, one by one.
Not just a new favorite Mike Flanagan. A new favorite in general, and my number one for the year. I just screamed about this one last month, and I don't have anything more to add. I've seen Succession comparisons, and while I have no idea how accurate that is, there's my "if you like that, here's this." Holy crap. 7/7 deadly sins personified.
Happy New Year! 🥂
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frangipanilove · 7 months ago
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Pilgrims Under The Field Of Stars
St. James, St. Christopher and Santiago de Compostela (part 1) (part 2)
This is piggybacking off of @bookqueenrules' excellent post about Daryl's pilgrimage. I mentioned Santiago de Compostela briefly in this post from the other day, where I promised that I would dig up my old notes and compile it into a post.
The symbolism around the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela was among the first things I started researching back when I became part of TD. I was trying to make heads or tails of the Sirius symbolism and all the astronomical references on the show, such as the Sirius and the Venus symbolism, the North Star symbolism and other things. The “Way of St. James”, or Camino de Santiago to Santiago de Compostela, the world famous pilgrimage under "the field of stars" seemed to fit the symbolism perfectly.
It all really started with Morgan. Who can forget the coda after 5x8 Coda? The thing was, he gave me major pilgrim vibes. His whole demeanor, his chlothes, his backpack, his apparent “peace of mind”. His bow staff always reminded me of a pilgrim’s walking stick…
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We watched him reach Father Gabriel’s church, and it was almost as though it had been the goal of his "pilgrimage" all along. He placed a series of mementos/trinkets on the alter (relics?), and as we all remember, he “resurrected” the cross that many of us interpreted as a representation of the "resurrection" of Beth. He had a moment of silent contemplation, before he smiled in contentment.
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The rabbit’s foot was one of the items he “presented” on the alter. It was originally gifted to him by Eastman in 6x4 Here’s Not Here. I’ve talked about how Beth’s connected to the symbolism around rabbits here.
In those early days of analyzing the symbolism, Morgan always struck me as something of a St. Christopher figure. Back in those days, TD was very concerned about what role Morgan would play in Beth’s “resurrection”. He was the first thing we saw after Beth’s “death”. There was also the fact he had "resurrected" the cross. It seemed plausible that he would somehow be involved in “resurrecting” Beth as well. Back then, we all assumed this would happen within a few episodes. Obviously it didn’t happen that way, but regardless, many of our theories around that time involved Morgan in some way.
St. Cristopher was the patron saint of travelers, especially those driving motor vehicles, which again seemed particularly fitting because of all the car symbolism around Beth. There’s an enormous amount of car weirdness around Beth, I’ve written about it here, here and here, but also in a bunch of other posts.
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After I had started to see Morgan as St. Christopher, I couldn’t unsee it:
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St. Christopher’s claim to fame was that he had carried a helpless child across a river, not knowing the child in reality was Christ. Beth, much like Rick, was always surrounded by resurrection symbolism on TWD, making them both Christ figures. If Morgan, a possible St. Christopher figure, had found her after 5x8 Coda, helpless in a car, and carried her to safety, it would have been a great parallel to the story of St. Christopher and Christ.
Another thing that lined up extremely well with TD's theories around cars and Beth's resurrection was this:
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Yes, St. Christopher is the patron saint of travelers, “including motorists”…
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Being kidnapped and thrown into the trunk of a car qualifies as being a “motorist” in my world… Good thing there’s a saint that protects against that stuff...
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St. Christopher medallions are normally kept hanging from the rear view mirror of cars:
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Which is interesting, because in 5x16 we saw this:
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Morgan, making sure to grab his rabbit’s foot that was hanging from the rear view mirror of his car. I was always inclined to interpret him as a St. Christopher figure, and with imagery like this, it seemed like it couldn’t be entirely coincidental.
There were also other things about St.Christopher that seemed to fit perfectly into the symbolism around Beth, such as the fact that St. Christopher is sometimes shown as a dog in iconography:
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Obviously, any type of dog symbolism would immediately be in my radar. It was the Sirius symbolism that put me on the path to Santiago de Compostela, to the pilgrimage under the field of stars in the first place, as Sirius refers to Sirius the Dog Star:
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There were other things as well. Pilgrims along the Camino de Santiago like to place their worn out pilgrim boots on trail markers along the way. I thought that this type of imagery was quite similar to all the boot/foot/shoe symbolism we see in TWD:
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My theory on the foot/shoe/boot/dismembered limb symbolism we’ve seen on the show, is that it’s a reference to the British English word “boot’ which translates to “trunk” in American English. Basically, it’s trunk symbolism. But I wondered if the themes around “pilgrimage” could be a part of it as well. Symbolism in TWDU is always multi-layered, so it was definitely a possibility.
Also, keep in mind that Morgan's rabbit's foot is also part of the foot/shoe/boot/dismembered limb symbolism. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if all the other dismembered limbs were foreshadows and callbacks to Morgan's rabbit's foot.
We saw Beth get her foot trapped in an animal trap, and through the years, we’ve seen countless examples of this type of imagery:
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We saw Jadis steal Rick’s boots in season 6, we saw Father Gabriel step on a nail and get a minor crucifixion and a stigmata wound in 5x8 Coda, we saw Daryl examine and bandage Beth’s ankle in 4x13 Alone…
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Further, it’s interesting that the symbol of Camino de Santiago to Santiago de Compostela is a scallop shell. It’s the same kind of shell we see around the Venus symbolism and the "Birth of Venus" painting:
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We saw Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” (or a replica, I would assume, seeing as the original is at the Uffizi in Florence, Italy) in season 3, when Merle tortured Glenn at Woodbury:
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But even though there were many interesting coincidences, they existed mostly in my own head, and there wasn’t really anything tangible or groundbreaking in terms of the symbolism pertaining to pilgrimage, Santiago de Compostela and St. Christopher anywhere in TWDU….
…until season 6 of FTWD rolled around:
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Daniel Salazar, seen here perfectly healthy after having been shot in the head, pulling out a St. Christopher medallion in FTWD 6x2 Welcome To The Club. I had been theorizing about St. Christopher since right after Coda, and suddenly a St. Christopher medallion appears in FTWD...
Let me say that again: TPTB placed a St. Christopher medallion on a character who survived getting shot in the head:
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Now why would TPTB ever do such a thing?
Well perhaps because…
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…it protects people who wear it! Yup, that’s why. The symbolism is about protecting travelers, remember? Motorists in particular, including kidnapped girls in trunks of cars...
We saw the St. Christopher medallion regularly from season 6 and onwards, It changed owner quite a few times, before it finally was gifted to Alicia by Victor Strand, and became inextricably linked to her.
At one point, Alicia and Strand had a falling out. Her boyfriend Will brought the medallion to Victor Strand, and told him he had taken it from one of the dead, knowing that Strand would recognize it as the same medallion he had gifted to Alicia, tricking him into believing she was dead.
The medallion eventually gets returned to Alicia, and she’s wearing it through her months long fever after her bite, which I’ve discussed here.
Later, Troy (I miss him so much...) showed up as a one-eyed, newly “resurrected” Sirius figure, wearing Alicia’s St. Christopher medallion. This was meant to be "evidence" that he had actually killed her (spoiler alert; he hadn’t, because Alicia was still under protection of the medallion. He tried, but did not succeed at killing her. He did however manage to snatch her medallion, and used it to torment her mother, claiming to have killed her).
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Going into the series finale of FTWD I knew the medallion would be part of a “resurrection” of sorts, and I was right. At one point, Tracy, Troy’s daughter gave the medallion back to Madison, who placed it in the empty magazine of a gun and put it in her pocket. Some time later, Tracy shot Madison in retaliation for killing her father Troy:
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... but Madison survived, because...
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The medallion in the empty magazine stopped the bullet...
Say what you will about resurrection symbolism, but that medallion literally stopped a bullet. And remember, it was introduced to TWDU by a man who survived a gunshot to the head. I'd say its protective powers are pretty substantial, maybe in particular against gunshots.
And, remember how I made a point out of St. Christopher being a protector of motorists and people in cars? Wait till you hear where Madison was when she survived getting shot...
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You guessed it, she was in a car indeed, and not just any old car, she was in a Ford Mustang, which I've talked about a few times already. Remember that we saw the blue Ford Mustang in the teaser for TWDDD season 2. Mustangs are absolutely resurrection symbolism, and we can clearly see why here (we can thank eagle-eyed @wdway for discovering that this was another Ford Mustang).
Later, Madison sacrificed herself by burning down the fort with a walker horde inside, something which made Tracy forgive her for killing her father. Madison's lungs were already in rough shape after her first death fake-out a few seasons earlier, when she burned down the Dell Diamond Stadium in a similar fashion. Tracy believed she was now dying, and was actually sad about it. She placed the medallion next to Madison, who then subsequently "woke up” from the "dead":
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So, yet another resurrection there.
The next thing that happens, is the "resurrrection" of Alicia, last seen in seasson 6 after miraculously recovering from a walker bite. She is the first person in TWDU to get bitten, develop the fever and then subsequently recover from the fever, and that in itself demonstrates the immense powers of the medallion:
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And if that's not enough resurrection symbolism for one day, Alicia brought Skidmark, Daniel's cat. Remember the cat symbolism from TOWL 1x6, when Michonne found Jadis' dossier in a cat sculpture...cats are said to have nine lives, and are known to survive the strangest things…
So Alicia "resurrects", there's a reunion between mother and daughter, and there's even a reunion between Daniel and his cat.
That's one powerful medallion if you ask me, reunions and resurrections for miles...
Now, how does this tie into the rumors about Daryl possibly going to Spain for season 3 of TWDDD, and what does it have to do with Beth? Well, remember this all started with Morgan bearing a striking resemblance with a pilgrim, and it was Morgan, who through subtle hints introduced the symbolism around St. Christopher to TWDU. It was formalized in FTWD 6x2, but it started literally right after Beth had been shot in Coda. The St. Christopher symbolism was brought on to FTWD by a character who had survived getting shot in the head, so idk, those types of injuries aren’t necessarily fatal I guess??? Especially not when you're protected by the patron saint of travellers and motorists...? I wonder who else this possibly could apply to…?
The symbolism around St. Christopher deals specifically with protection of motorists and people who travel by car…or who have been kidnapped and thrown into the trunk of a car, and potentially also been put in the trunk of a car to be protected from an incoming walker horde or something to that effect…
And the symbolism comes from a man who once assisted a helpless child in crossing a river, not knowing the child in reality was Christ. It would be interesting if Morgan, our St. Christopher figure assisted Beth, our helpless Christ figure in getting to safety somehow after Coda, like our early theories suggested.
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In TWDDD 1x6 Coming Home, we hear Losang, leader of The Nest, explain how he first ran into Laurent and the nuns while returning from a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. It was the references to the stars of the Milky Way under which the pilgrims traveled that put me on the track of Santiago de Compostela all those years ago, we’re talking after season 5 here. And now we finally have the first explicit reference to the Camino de Santiago and Santiago de Compostela in TWDDD 1x6.
Likewise, it was Morgan’s appearance, right after Beth had been “killed” in 5x8 Coda that put me on the track of St. Christopher, and while the clues seen around Morgan were subtle at first, we finally got the first explicit St. Christopher reference in FTWD 6x2 Welcome To The Club. And the medallion symbolizes reunion, resurrection and rebirth, that much is abundantly clear.
Then there’s the fact that St. Christopher in eastern iconography is depicted with a dog’s head, something which ties him even closer to the Sirius symbolism and the astronomical themes around Santiago de Compostela, the “field of stars”.
To me, it’s very reassuring when symbolism stays consistent over time, and this has been a symbolism slow burn unlike any other. It’s been subtle at times, but it’s definitely been there, and now it’s getting more and more explicit.
So, will we possibly discover that Beth is explicitly implemented in the symbolism around St. Christopher and Santiago in TWDDD season 3? Considering that the working title of TWDDD was “Pilgrim”, and pilgrims are most definitely travelers, therefore protected by St. Christopher, I think we can say that at the very least, there’s thematic entanglement. Add to that, the Camino de Santiago, or the “Way of St. James” as it translates into in English, is all about pilgrims. St. James, or simply “Jacob” (Santiago), is the patron saint of pilgrims. I know that others, such as @galadrieljones have studied the symbolism around “Jacob” extensively, and would probably have a lot of additional insight on that.
So, as @bookqueenrules suggested in her post, is Daryl on a pilgrimage in Europe, and will he find Beth?
The symbolism seems to suggest "yes", so sure, why not?
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howlingday · 1 year ago
Note
Would the Imperium of Man execute Ironwood for trying to run from Salem?
I'm not an expert on Warhammer, so I'm not really the best person to ask on matters of the Grimdark universe. However, I will answer this to the best of my knowledge and ability.
I tried to find an answer on Google, but I couldn't find a specific answer to this question, which was "does the imperium punish cowardice?" The most obvious answer to this is "Yes" and that's usually by the blade of bullet of the Commissar, whose entire job in the Imperium is to execute cowards as a deterrent of treason and to instill good order and discipline among the guardsmen they are tasked to guide. Kinda like a drill instructor on the battlefield who will put a bullet in you if they get a whiff of anything less than proper soldier behavior.
However, this scenario is very... unique, and complex in a way that goes beyond simple cowardice. See, General James Ironwood, whatever his intentions may have been, was trying to help Atlas by keeping himself, the city, its people, AND the relic out of Salem's reach. So, yes, while he is essentially running away from the threat of the Grimm, it can also be observed as a tactical withdrawal to prevent even worse casualties, or the fall of Remnant.
Again, I'm not an expert. The better people to ask Warhammer questions would be @the-wayward-arc or @weatherman667 , though I also asked my buddies in the Discord their thoughts on the matter, and they responded with similar answers, saying either Ironwood would have been shot OR wouldn't have due to the tactical reasoning for his retreat. One response was, "If you're throwing Ironwood into the 40K universe, he would have tried to get an Exterminatus on Salem." Take that as you will.
And because I'm still trying to figure out the difference between a laspistol and a lichtor (hint: only one of them MIGHT kill ya), I also asked my buddies IRL, who have been in this nightmare of a universe since they were kids. I described to them this scenario,
"There's this general, and his kingdom is about to be destroyed AND the only thing that could stop the Big Bad from destroying everything. Would he be executed in the 40K universe for cowardice?"
The first guy's response,
"If it's a general, he's never seeing the light of day again. The Inquistors would send a guy to torture him to death, and the Imperium would send their guard to overthrow and replace him. And since he's not only acting in cowardice, but he's also sacrificing ammunition resources to the threat, he might be be turned into a servitor as punishment."
My other buddy said,
"It's hard to say in the setting of the 41st millennium. Funny enough, there's actually a similar scenario in the Siege of Terra where a Captain is ordered to move sky plates to block orbital fire, which saved a bunch of ground forces and civilians, but at the cost of their flying fortress that Dorn needed to protect Terra as a contingency plan. An atrocity of 100% casualties may be considered a success if the objective was achieved. A cleric was given a position in the Inquistors because he made the mistake of not reporting an error, then lying that the mistake was an indication of heresy, which it was. Actions as you see them now could be condemned or praised in the future, but you won't know in the now."
The second buddy then proceeded to drop the biggest lore bomb I've ever heard from the recent finale of the Siege of Terra series. But I won't spoil it here.
Was Ironwood a coward? Would he have been punished? What WH foe is equivalent to the Grimm? I have no idea, BUT what I do know is that I appreciate you coning to me with these fascinating questions.
Until next time,
KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!
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inkmonster21 · 3 months ago
Text
Hearts Across the Divide
12.) The Failure
Noa x Fem!Human!Reader
Series Masterlist
~oOo~
Loui, fueled by determination, arrives at his village. He swiftly sets about gathering his resources and troops, amassing spears, bows, and arrows, drawing upon almost their entire arsenal of weaponry. The young ape leader is determined to handle the situation without relying on Noa.
As the sky turns into a canvas of vibrant hues, Loui's troops line up. Gemm, with practiced precision, applies war paint to Wuka's features, crafting intricate patterns that symbolize strength and determination. Loui, next in line, stands tall, ready for his transformation into a warrior.
For Wuka, donning the war paint was a rare occurrence, a relic of a time when conflicts required such measures. However, the recent development of your abduction had ignited a fire within him, pushing him to don the paint once again. The village, recognizing your significance, also felt a deep connection to you, and your capture had ignited a protective fire within everyone.
Under the cover of the night, the group of 10 apes commences their journey, led by the determined figures of Loui and Wuka. The two apes take the lead, their keen senses and tracking skills guiding the group as they follow the trail left behind by your captors.
Loui and Wuka, determined to bring you home safely, were unfazed by the thought of spending days, even potentially weeks, out in the wilderness. Their commitment to your rescue burned brighter than any obstacle they might encounter.
After two days of tracking, the group finally closes in on the sound of laughter and hoots, indicating the presence of an enemy camp. Night has descended upon the landscape, offering the perfect cover to approach their adversaries under the cloak of darkness. The team stealthily moves forward, wary of each step to avoid detection as they draw nearer to the source of the ruckus.
The scene that unfolded before them was one of peculiar camaraderie between human men and apes, both engaging in banter, drinking, and laughing together. Among the apes, however, they could detect the signs of warriors who had seen their fair share of combat, their scars and weary eyes telling a tale of struggle and violence.
As their eyes scanned the gathering, one particular ape stood out from the others. His towering stature and dark demeanor commanded attention, exuding an air of self-importance that demanded respect. The ape's gaze was fixed with a look of intense hatred, as though he were anticipating an event of great significance. The air crackled with tension as he lingered, his dark eyes watching and waiting.
Wuka's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and shock at the sights before them. This was a first, never having seen these apes before, and the proximity to humans after so long only added to the surrealness.
Loui, meanwhile, clenched his muscles, his breaths becoming heavier as he fixed his gaze upon the large ape. There was no doubting it; this towering figure was the leader of this ragtag group.
Loui gave a subtle signal to his fellow apes, a slight gesture that was nearly imperceptible. His words were hushed, yet full of determination. "On my move," he repeated, the message understood by the group. The apes understood the cue, and a sense of collective adrenaline began to rise. With bated breath, they waited for the command to move, their focus fixed on Loui's signal.
Loui moved swiftly and silently, landing in the camp with barely a sound. His gaze scanned the area, searching for any sign of you. Yet, there was no glimpse of your presence amongst the hoots and cackling of their adversaries.
Loui searched with a desperate fervor, his eyes darting around the camp, desperately scouring every inch searching for a sign of your presence. But no matter how high or low he looked, your whereabouts remained a mystery.
Loui, poised to enter a tent in his desperate search, is suddenly halted by the sound of a low voice behind him. “Looking for something?” Startled, he whirls around to face the source, his eyes locking with whoever spoke.
The towering ape, exuding an aura of menace, towered over Loui with a chilling grin across his face. The power dynamic was immediately noticeable, the large ape displaying an air of authority and dominance.
Loui's voice was a low, gravelly rumble, his question filled with a mixture of anger and determination. "Where is she?" he demands, his eyes narrowing as he meets the gaze of the larger ape, demanding an answer.
The large ape's smug smirk remained fixed on his face as he stared down at Loui, taking a moment before finally responding. He relished the power he held in this moment, the knowledge that he was the one in control.
“Did I not say… for Noa… to come claim his pet?”
The large ape's tone was mocking, dripping with a hint of smugness. The emphasis was deliberate, a reminder that you were seen as nothing more than a possession in his eyes.
At Loui's signal, the apes from his party suddenly dropped down from the treetops, launching themselves into the fray. The element of surprise was exploited as they began their assault on the enemy camp.
Despite the sudden onslaught, the large ape's reaction was shockingly calm. Rather than being caught off guard, he seemed almost amused by the attack, replying with a snarky response, "Is this all you brought?."
Within the chaos of the attack, Loui and the large ape engaged in a fierce tussle, their bodies locked in a struggle for dominance. The sounds of grunts and growls filled the air as the two powerful figures clashed violently.
The intensity of the battle escalated, with some of the village apes being brutally beaten. Many were nearing the brink of death, while others had already fallen in the fight. The odds were stacked against Loui's group, their numbers quickly dwindling under the onslaught of their adversaries.
Wuka fought valiantly, but he found himself quickly overpowered by a brutal blow to his back. He stumbled, collapsing to the ground with a loud thud, his body racked with pain and fatigue.
"Loui!" Wuka's voice echoed weakly, a desperate cry for help as he lay weakened on the ground. His body ached from the blow he had sustained, his strength fading as he tried to push himself back up.
Wuka spoke with strained breaths, his voice filled with determination despite his weakened state. "Save her… at all costs." he urged, his eyes meeting Loui's gaze with fierce intensity. The weight of his final words sank in, a final plea to prioritize your safety amidst the chaos of the battlefield.
Wuka's eyes, once aflame with determination, gradually lost their brightness, the life slowly seeping away. With each passing moment, the light within them diminished, until finally, they became vacant, a poignant sign that his spirit had departed from this world.
Loui's grief-stricken cry echoed through the night as he watched Wuka's life slip away. Anger coursed through him, fueling his every movement. The ape towering over him took the opportunity to shove him down, a smirk spreading across his face as he reveled in his power over Loui.
The large ape grabbed hold of Loui, dragging his battered form to the edge of the camp. With a dismissive gesture, he tossed Loui outside, his words ringing out clear and cold. "I want Noa." The message was simple, a demand for Noa to present himself.
The six apes remaining, battered and bruised, emerged from the camp, their numbers reduced to half of what they had initially begun with. They staggered weakly, each bearing the marks of the brutal battle they had endured. Four of their fellow apes had fallen in the onslaught, their bodies left behind in the camp's clutches.
As Loui returned to the village, his heart ached with the weight of his newfound responsibility. He had lost his father and now held the mantle of chief, a role he had never desired but was now thrust upon him. The absence of Wuka was a void that could not be filled, leaving a sense of emptiness that echoed through the village.
Haunted by his father's last words, Loui now bears the burden of fulfilling Wuka's final wish. With a heavy heart, he realizes that saving you will require the very person he once harbored animosity towards – Noa. The weight of this realization weighs on his soul, but the memory of his father's voice urges him forward.
He did not want Noa’s help, but he needed it.
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