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allophonicmess · 11 months ago

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Past's Lilac Haze

Chapter 1

Masterlist

You only wanted to help you niece with her theatre project. And it got you and your Timelord husband involved in an alien attack on one of London's most famous theatres.

So much for his retirement plans.

14th Doctor x Timelord!Wife! Reader

"Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,

Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,

Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew,

As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire.

I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb."

You read with your best olden accent and high-pitched tone, imitating a squeaky girl's voice as the play asks you to. No reaction. You looked up from your script, expecting Rose to, in turn, answer with her line.

"Ninny's tomb." You repeated, nodding expectantly towards the crumpled printout in her hands. It was covered in annotations and highlighting, making it somewhat hard to read the actual text.

"You have to correct me now. Because I said Ninny's tomb." You explained, moving onto your knees to lean over and point her to the correct line. But she just stared at the text, trying to figure out what to do.

"Uh, but why do I need to correct you?" She suddenly started flipping through the pages, trying to find some context that seemed to be missing. She sighed, shaking her head in frustration.

"You need to correct me. Flute says it wrong. It needs to be Ninus tomb." You explained, showing her your own less annotated but aged copy.

"But you just said that! Ninus tomb-"She felt irritated. It was a mistake to even enter the theatre club. She wasn't made for the stage, as learning text was way too hard. And she knew her acting wasn't much better; her mum noticed it too, cringing during the open rehearsals but always pretending to love it.

"No, that's the joke. Flute says Ninny's tomb so that Quince can correct him- "You stopped, setting down your text." We'll take a break. I can see that you are losing concentration."

You got up, placing your booklet on the wooden coffee table that sat in front of the red satin two-seater. Rose had asked you to help her with her theatre role, much to the dismay of the Doctor (who bragged that he once was a Shakespearean actor, but Rose didn't care too much). So you offered her the chance to choose your study environment from any place she could think of. But instead of using the room emulator, she decided the Tardis library, which now came in a gorgeous dark wood and deep red satin theme, was the perfect environment. And you had to agree; It was a great choice.

"I'm going to get us some drinks, and then we can continue. You want tea or hot chocolate?" you asked, gently rubbing her shoulder. You loved your new role as her magic alien auntie, or so she coined the term.

"Go back to your texts? I thought you two were done." The Doctor called as he entered the room. He had taken the day to set some things with Unit. They called in multiple crisis meetings to ensure that another incident like the Toymaker would not be possible. He hated the politics of it. So boring. But he saw the action plan as a positive initiative to prevent further harm to Earth or its citizens, so it was worth the effort.

He confidently walked over to you, catching you by the waist to pull you into a hug. He hugged a lot. It was as if his body felt the need to compensate for the hug-free dry stretch during number 12. Not that you minded; his clinginess was somewhat cute.

"There is no need to get back to the text. I'll just text my theatre teacher and tell her I quit." Rose sighed, dropping her script next to your booklet on the table and sinking into her seat.

"No, you can't!" The Doctor whined, but he quickly whispered into your ear. "She that bad?" He cringed, hoping that Donna had been exaggerating.

You rolled your eyes, thinking of a good answer. "Not bad, just… slow of study." You laughed softly at your own joke. But you quickly regretted it when you saw that twinkle in the Doctor's eyes. He had caught on. Oh no.

"Slow of study, you say?" He spoke with a booming theatre voice.

"Oh no, please." You shook your head at him, hoping to make him stop. But it wasn't any good as, with starting his fourteenth life cycle, he had reached his Dad-joke era.

"Please don't" You pleaded softly.

"Have you the lion's part written?" He continued, moving away from you to kneel down at the side of the sofa. He was going all in, hiding behind the sofa's armrest only to slowly come up behind it. He looked at Rose with a playful expression, which shifted into a mix of shyness and embarrassment. The young woman tried to look away, to keep the frown on her face. But she couldn't fight the smile that spread over her face caused by the Doctor's shenanigans.

"Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study" he asked in a pinched voice. He stayed low, looking between Rose and the texts on the table.

A moment of silence as the Doctor stayed true to his role, and Rose's attitude began to crumble. You watched with a smile on your face. You believed him about having been a Shakespearean actor. He had talent.

"You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring," Rose answered in a small voice. She crossed her arms, trying to appear uninterested as the Doctor began to cheer.

"Ha! See, you do know the text!" He laughed, quickly getting up and moving around the sofa to stand behind it. He laughed, shaking Rose by her scrunched-up shoulders. She tried very hard to keep quiet but stood no chance against the Doctor's infectious laughter.

"You will give the best Peter Quince performance there ever was. I just know it!" He turned, looking at your reaction. But you simply stood in the doorway, grinning softly at him.

You loved to see him at ease in his new life; just see him be happy.

He loved to make you happy; be the cause of that radiant smile.

"Okay, then. You help her study since you seem to know the text by heart." You crossed your arms in a challenging manner.

"I'll go get some drinks." You turned into the hallway to get to the kitchen, but Rose stopped you, calling your name.

"It would be really helpful to go and see a performance, no? For uhh... Artistic inspiration." She suggested but continued before you had the chance to comment. "And I don't mean the recordings. They are nice, sure, but-"

"It's not the same as live theatre." The Doctor continued, nodding in agreement. He had settled down on the other seat next to his niece, casually leaning back, arms crossed over his chest and nodding slowly.

"Exactly!" Rose swiftly turned around in her seat, looking at you with expectation. She knew that she didn't need to persuade the Doctor. He was ready and excited for any type of trip despite his retirement. You were the one she needed to convince.

"No." You stated simply. "We can go to the theatre like regular people. You know, take the bus, pay for tickets and so on. But we are not travelling." You shook your head. The term holds a much more significant meaning to the three of you than to the ordinary person. But Rose was all too aware that she had the two of you wrapped around her finger.

"Oh, c'mon! We don't have to travel far. It was on at the Globe this summer. What's a few months, eh?" The Doctor argued, his legs now kicked up onto the table.

You huffed a laugh. "Just a few months? Funny coming from the man that is still having difficulties with precision landing."

"Oh, no, not this again." He sighed, "I land where I need to go; the Tardis works in mysterious ways. It knows when I need to be off by a few days… or years…"

Right. You felt no need to comment on what could only be a joke.

"Besides, I spent the last years always on the go. Been able to practice a lot, you know? I mean, compared to you-"

"We don't talk about that now." You warned him gently yet firmly.

He turned around to face you, genuinely sorry about bringing the topic up.

"Talk about what?" Rose picked up on the tense situation. This was precisely what you tried to avoid.

"I'll explain it to you eventually, but not now. It's a bit touchy." You told her, hopefully stopping her from asking any further. And she understood, nodding with empathy and then turning back to her text, thinking that any talk about travelling was over.

For a moment, the library got very quiet. Only the soft cracking of wood and the rustlings of paper could be heard.

You were going to be strict, just once. Only this one time.

…

To hell with it.

You sighed deeply: "I love the Globe, I really do. But this year's version wasn't any good."

Your comment made Rose set down her notes and turn in your direction slowly. She was about to activate her puppy-dog look, but you already gave in.

"1598-"You couldn't finish your sentence in time as she had already gotten up to wrap you up in a big hug.

"But! My rules." You hugged her with a soft smile. The Doctor watched you two with amusement.

"We go there, we watch the play, and we leave. No prancing around and no adventuring."

Rose let go of you, nodding very quickly and waiting for further instructions. You huffed a laugh at her giddy expression, nodding towards the hallway to notion her to get to the console room.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She called, running towards the console room.

The Doctor also got up, watching after and chucking softly at her. "She is making you go soft." He noted, pushing up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "Soon she will be unstoppable, spoilt rotten and hijacking the Tardis", He joked, moving in slow, languid steps towards you. You were still leaning against the wall by the door.

"Nah, not on my watch." You pushed yourself off the wall to exit the room. But the Doctor quickly caught your wrist, holding it gently. He looked at you apologetically.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up. That wasn't appropriate nor funny." He looked at you sadly, trying to let you feel his honesty. You nodded, turning your hand in his hold to his hand.

"It's okay. She'll have to know eventually. Keeping a tragic backstory hidden from that one? You wish." You joked, squeezing the Doctor's hand and leading him outside. He quickly moved to kiss your temple. It made you pause, taking him in momentarily and appreciating how your story had turned out.

"But- "You spoke into the moment of silence.

He huffed a laugh: "But?... You fly?"

You grinned, keeping yourself steady on his shoulders as you reached up to peck a kiss on his lips.

"You know it, Darling."

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #fourteenth doctor #the doctor x reader #reader insert #dw #14th doctor x reader #14th doctor #rose temple noble #dw specials #x reader #timelord!reader #timelord #dw spoilers

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fearnesbells · 10 months ago

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so about that laudna-has-no-future 4sd chat...

marisha ray has throwaway lines and that is her god given right like anyone else and truly this may mean nothing

BUT

me personally i bluescreened when marisha said "what does laudna have to look forward to, she's dead" in response to a question of would laudna rather make contact with her future or past self.

i think laudna and her evolving worldview over the course of this campaign is sooooooo interesting so thoughts under the cut

"the worst thing that’s ever happened to me has already happened."

we all remember this! this is the response that laudna gave to orym when he softly pointed out that laudna seemed like she had the most positive outlook of the group. it was a central tenet of laudna's character up until that point, that despite the darkness that coated her soul, she was probably the one with the most zest for life.

she tended to believe the best in npcs that the party encountered. she had a rat marionette that got boners and made her laugh. she was wholeheartedly devoted to imogen and never, never believed that the end was the end.

and then, when orym asked her how she accomplished that, she responds in a framing of perspective.

she was murdered by the briarwoods at twenty years old. how can anything seem awful in comparison to that?

she died, and then she got to join an adventuring party. she died, and then she got to use her strange, eerie powers for good. she died, and then she met imogen.

she has hope because she's seen the lowest possible point her life can come to, and can only climb upwards from there.

she had a hope for a future, because of this. a good future. at least one that was better than the worst thing that had ever happened to her. and that future included imogen—

"can keep you from that. can keep us from that."

she had hope.

we all know this quote. this quote is the cottagecore lesbian life that marisha spoke to in four-sided dive. but i think to look at where laudna's at now, and to understand "what does laudna have to look forward to, she's dead", we have to look at the quote in greater context.

laudna is speaking to a possible future here. but in her words she's also saying that she understands that that future might mean abandoning what they feel called to do by the gods. in this moment, she's not guaranteeing a future, she's explaining to imogen that they have a choice.

and as of now, episode 82, arrived on the moon, they've made that choice. they're orpheus. they've descended into hell, and they can't look back if they want to make it out.

it's important to note that laudna wasn't lying way back in heartmoor when she was talking to orym. the worst thing that could ever happen to her had already happened. but she was operating then on her very human understanding of the world.

since then, she's died (again), been resurrected, seen magic beyond comprehension, and surrendered herself over to the spirit of her murderer that lives in her head.

there are no rules anymore. and laudna has learned that there is always something worse.

the quiet life she talked about with imogen might have been taken from her forever. the narrative has grown teeth and it has sunk them into both her and the woman she loves.

"what does laudna have to look forward to, she's dead"

she's orpheus, yeah? we know how this story ends. her love's been called to the hell planet by fate. she won't get out without losing something.

maybe—maybe—there's still hope for that cottage together somewhere. i don't mean to rule it out entirely. but i think that laudna herself, the character, has lost all belief in that possibility at this point. and that presents such a foil to the laudna that we met in episode 1.

sometimes the tragedy comes built-in.

even if. even when.

(all quotes pulled from critical role wiki's transcripts page)

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i-write-things · 1 year ago

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How do you think (Yan or non-yan) Chrollo would react to finding out through Neon in the York New arc that -reader- is their soulmate/the person they are supposed to fall in love with? I'm planning on perhaps writing a fic like this in the future and I'd love your input.

(Of course! I'm always happy to help out another writer! Thanks for the ask, and to anyone else reading this, don't be shy! Send in an ask! And be sure to look at my fandoms list, I don't just write for Chrollo!)

(further requested details for context: Female! Nen user! non-hunter! reader who is similar to Chrollo in that they are skeptical of most people. Strangers to lovers! I wrote for Regular! Chrollo, but it could also be interpreted as Yandere.)

---

There is very little that someone can do to shock Chrollo. But...this. This does it. A soulmate? No. He is incapable of a love like this. How does he, of all people, have a soulmate? He thought that it was for the select people who wanted love, who sought it out. Has he ever pondered something like this before? Yes, but that was it. A flimsy thought before.....this.

The paper in his hands from Neon's ability that he stole...how? He had to be reading too much into this. He was well known for reading into things much more than necessary.

Humans are curios creatures by nature. They are afraid of the unknown. Which is why they crave answers. To prepare themselves for a haunting truth. But sometimes, reality is stranger than fiction.

Which is exactly why the fortune he wrote out to plan ahead for the next step of his life shocked him. No warnings about a chain user, nothing about a clown. But... someone else. But no amount of warning could have prepared him for this astonishing news he held in his very hands.

'The night rises and falls. A spider and raven meet at last. Both curious of one another, The Spider's head ponders raven's past.'

'Stars burn bright, with cupid's might. A match made in dark, A bond will spark.'

'Time ever flows, The soulmates dance. Here, the spider shows It's in a trance.'

'The night rises and falls. The spider in the raven's nest, Though it could weave webs of deceit. This love was something it could not best.'

...Was he really to love someone? When? Where? How? Truthfully, Chrollo did not take himself as someone to love. Someone who could love. And this raven...would they accept him as he is? His true self, whoever that is, as the Spider's head?

The raven...

He felt his lips quirk up slightly. A part of him wants to avoid this person. After all, this is someone who he would love, given he meets them. He knows his line of work would be dangerous. Then again, would he really fall for someone who couldn't protect themself? He thinks not.

Why fight it? If fate has set for him to have a lover, who was he to deny it? It's not something he could control.

A heavy gust of wind blows the paper out of his hands. Rather than holding onto it, he lets it flow with the wind. He inhales deeply, enjoying the cool, crisp air brought by the gale. He looks up at the night sky, stars shining brightly beside the full moon. Trees sway, creating a peaceful ambiance. The park bench he sits on is cold from the nightly temperatures. He closes his eyes and listens....then he hears it.

The crow of a raven. He opens his eyes and sees a hooded figure in all black walk past along the concrete path. How did he not hear her footsteps? No doubt, she was someone special. Chrollo was an observant man. He knew exactly who this was.

The raven...

The spider quietly rises from his seat and approaches the walking hooded figure. "What brings you to this place at a time like this?" He inquires.

"I have my reasons. I'm pretty sure you do, too. Go about your night as I will mine." She says coldly. There was no emotion to her voice.

"Do you believe in fate?" He asks suddenly. "...Why are you asking me? Don't you have places to be?" She spoke with an icy tone, yet again. She whipped her head around, allowing for him to get a good look at her. Her eyes, skin, hair... He quickly took in it all. So, this is what his soulmate looked like? Funny...he never imagined having one, and yet here she is.

He stoically stares up at the moon. He breathes in another breath of cold air. "Hm...that's quite the question. No, I don't have anywhere to be, other than here. So, the answer is both yes and no at the same time. It's rather interesting how that works, isn't it?"

The girl stops and looks at him, confusion written all over her face. But Chrollo can read people beyond the surface. The eyes are the windows to the soul, as they say. He can see intrigue, as well.

"Who are you?" She demands. Chrollo looks back at her and quietly chuckles to himself in a manner he would had someone challenged him to a fight after losing his Nen. "Who are you?" He smirks, scanning her for any reaction. She isn't afraid. She isn't upset. No, she's completely calm.

"I asked first." She countered. Her face was made of stone as she said this. She showed no emotion during this entire encounter.

"Chrollo." He finally answered, smiling. He was enjoying this. Was he in love? No. That would, inevitably, come with time. But was he drawn to interest? Most definitely. "Hm. Goodbye, Chrollo." She hummed, walking off.

"You didn't give me your name."

"I know."

The raven...

'Humans.....are so very....interesting.'

#i write for you #chrollo #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #writing for you #This was fun to write #I've had an idea for a soulmate AU #but it's completely different from this #But I like skeptic reader #very different :)#But thanks for the ask anyways #Thank you and goodnight <3

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aihoshiino · 5 months ago

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chapter 153 thoughts

Heads up, this chapter review contains canon typical discussions of abuse, CSA and suicidal ideation.

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: Ten! TEN chapters since the 143 kiss happened and went entirely unacknowledged and unaddressed! Ah hah hah! [<- read this in count von count's voice]

Aqua Hoshigan Status: (Still) white

LET'S

FUCKING

After like 140 chapters and an RPF jumpscare, we finally get a continuation of 152's impromptu father-son therapy session and start digging into the real deal no bullshit Kamiki Hikaru's brain and his relationship with Ai. A lot of the stuff laid out here are things that I had personally speculated about in prior posts and it once again feels really satisfying to see that I've been keyed into what the series has been laying out for its characters now we're getting some answers.

Before digging into the meat of things, the usual shout out to Mengo's art for this chapter. I am repeating myself on this point to the extent that I say "i know I say mengo's art is really good every chapter, but" every chapter but holy fuck, dawg. The expression work, especially on Kamiki and Airi is so fucking good and the way it contrasts the movie's portrayal of those events is insanely effective. I am Once Again begging the universe to conspire events such that Mengo draws a horror manga someday pleeeeeease I have been so good

kamiki's production house being called EYES is so on the nose it looped back to being genuinely hilarious to me.

Honestly this chapter is soooooo hard to talk about w/o me wanting to just break down every single line of dialogue in it and I already know i'm gonna go sicko mode talking about the flashback so I'll broad strokes it for now. What I WILL say is that Hikaru fucking quoting the opening monologue of the series got me right in the gut. These last two chapters have been really laying it on thick with the volume 1 callbacks and while this too is ridiculously on the nose it did make me start barking like a fucking dog so who's to say if it's really good or bad.

Hikaru's POV here in general is just fascinating. It's so juicy finally getting some insight into his weird little brain right from the man himself. The way he's characterized here - or rather, the way Hikaru chooses to characterize himself - is extremely compelling. He seems resigned and weary, almost - surrendering himself to the role of the despicable villain with a sort of wry self-awareness that got a bit of a dark chuckle out of me.

What's most interesting though is the final exchange between the two of them. Hikaru dismissing the idea that Ai ever loved him is understandable but what really jumped out to me was Aqua's respose to this - he honestly seems like… not just confused but almost mad that Hikaru supposedly still doesn't understand Ai's true feelings.

also. can i just say. i earnestly and genuinely thought the DVDs had been completely forgotten and were never going to come back up. what a jumpscare.

real bold of aqua to say this is nonfiction after the whole rpf debacle btw

We transition at last into an actual honest to god flashback to his past from Hikaru's actual POV, the likes of which I didn't think we'd ever get lol. I take Hikaru's lack of quibbles with his portrayal in the movie and that the flashback begins at Airi and Uehara's funeral as an indication from the story that 15YL's portrayal of Hikaru and those events is true enough that it doesn't need to relitigate them and thus, we can analyze this flashback with those events as context.

Something I couldn't help but notice immediately is that Hikaru's hoshigans start off as white this chapter. Given the future/hope (white) futurelessness/despair (black) dichotomy the last handful of chapters seem to have cemented, I think this makes a lot of sense in representing that while Hikaru is certainly not over his trauma, he seems able to conceptualize a future for himself now that he isn't bound to Airi; he has escaped her grasp. Or so he's able to believe, for a moment.

God, Hikaru's little meltdown once he spots Taiki is so heartbreaking. Kindaichi obviously means well, but his words must have sounded like a horrifying curse to Hikaru - the idea that for the rest of his life, he would never escape what Airi did to him.

hikaru begging ai to save him is soooooooo…… augugugugugh. this is all in line with what i'd predicted for their relationship but seeing it actually on page is such a gut punch. I just feel so fucking sorry for both these kids - both of them so desperately hurt and trying to heal and struggling in their own ways.

Because like… man! Not to be like "this rape victim's trauma is so hard for this other person to deal with" but… yeah, I'm really glad that even in just the framing, OnK makes it clear what a tremendous weight and pressure this is on Ai. I've talked before about the potential for her need to love and be loved to lead her into unhealthy and codependent dynamics and I think the HKAI relationship (as seen from Hikaru's POV) is exactly the sort of thing I was imagining.

With that in mind, even though we haven't seen her side of the story (YET……. IF WE GET AI POV NEXT WEEK AUUUUAUAU CAN YOU EVE N IMAGINE), it's not hard for me to imagine why Ai might have needed to withdraw. Because the sort of love Hikaru wants from her - something utterly all consuming, all encompassing, a world containing only two people and shutting out everything else - is not something she can or wants to provide. She's too full of compassionate curiosity for other people to give her love exclusively to one person alone… especially if a certain two troublemaking twins are already in the mix.

Admittedly this is as far as I can go in my analysis of this bit until we actually see how the breakup as a whole went down because I am admittedly still very confused as to the timeline here lol. The impression I'd always gotten was that Ai and Hikaru broke up before the twins were born, but the pacing of the flashback places it after Airi died, which we know wasn't super long before the Dome concert but I feel like Hikaru looks way too fucking young to be like a 17-19yo person here…. so who even knows. Hopefully we'll get some clarification next chapter. In ether case, I do think the twins threw a wrench into the HKAI relationship one way or another so I guess we'll see.

The fact that we're actually getting the real deal HKAI breakup happening on-panel also makes me feel a bit less insane about the Movie Arc skipping over that in recording (though I still ain't ever gonna forgive not focusing on how everyone felt about filming Ai's death even when we do see the final product). That said, I do still have issues with it that I talked about in an ask just the other day so I'll just repeat what I said: "Not only is [the HKAI breakup and the 'I can't love you'] line given a huge amount of weight, so is the fact that Aqua and Ruby had seemingly misinterpreted or even actively twisted it. If that’s the case then I’d say it’s even MORE important for us to have seen what 15YL’s version of events looked like so the contrast with the real thing can hit all the harder."

We already saw that with this chapter having a page very strongly echoing a similar one from the Movie Arc, a direct representation of the real version of events the movie fictionalized and it hits like a truck. I mentioned it up top but fuck, man. Hikaru and Airi's faces here are incredible. Hikaru's blank, innocent expression contrasted with that vile grin on Airi's face with her hair splayed everywhere… if Frill's portrayal of her was like a snake, the real thing made me think of some kind of spider.

That same page also seems to imply that Hikaru didn't only suffer abuse under Airi but may have suffered CSA prior to meeting her that caused him to become hypersexual. This is, unfortunately, in line with the way a lot of CSA victims will cope with their abuse and it really surprised me to see this aspect of it portrayed the way it was with Hikaru - already an exceptionally rare sympathetic and tasteful portrayal of a male CSA victim's experiences in manga. I've said over and over that I'm really impressed with how OnK is handling this aspect of the story but it really does continue to catch me by surprise.

Hikaru only ever to hear 'I love you' as a lie, while Ai can only ever say it as a lie… ouuughhh that's juicy.

Moving on a bit, the Ruby/Hikaru parallels are still going strong… Hikaru's insistence that so long as he has Ai he can endure anything very strongly echoes Ruby's speech in 143 about how if she has Gorou, her oshi, then that's all she needs. This means Aqua/Ai parallel stonks are on the rise which makes me very happy. I also hope this is a lead in to more directly addressing something that has been quiet subtext for a while - how destructive the pressure of being someone's singular saviour can be and how unhealthy this dynamic is, even for the person being saved. The idea that isolation and a lacking support system causes dysfunction is something we see sort of gestured at across the series so I'd love to see OnK explore codependency more explicitly through this angle, too.

No break next week…! Going by the editor's note in the JP version of the chapter, it looks like we'll be continuing this flashback and getting some of Ai's perspective so I'm really looking forward to it. After what a slog to keep up with the Movie Arc turned into, it feels sooooo fucking refreshing to be getting material I feel excited and energized to chew on. It sure did take until the last arc to explore some of this though, huh………..

hey ai. why did you break up with your boyfriend while you were brushingyour teeth. are you okay.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #chapter reviews #hikaru kamiki #ai hoshino #csa mention

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willbyersabyss · 5 months ago

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This shot has been discussed extensively about how it hints at byler and El eventually figuring it out, but I want to talk about the drawing just before this one. And maybe even consider a different context for this drawing too...

The drawings are completely different. This one has a wider head and the thought bubble is skinny. These two drawings symbolize different things.

So what does this version of the drawing mean? Well just listen to what El is saying. She says that Vecna is going to be in someone's mind, but the thought bubble that represents the mindscape is above Will. This means that Vecna is already in Will's mind. But Will doesn't feel him until he gets back to Hawkins... why? And why would Vecna be in Will's mind during the finale, but we never see? Well... we did.

The Upside Down is Will's mindscape. This is hinting at that. Vecna has been residing in the UD the entire season, and we do in fact see this in the finale.

If that didn't convince you then the next thing El says will. El mentions Terry and Billy who both have a shit ton of parallels to Will. Terry's mind loop sequence relates to Will (see here). Billy's name is literally William, he had an abusive father, and he was possessed, all things that relate to Will. Interesting thing to bring up while the mindscape bubble is above Will.

Terry's mind is in a loop/stuck in time and so is the Upside Down. Billy's mind was stuck in the memory with his mom on the beach. The Upside Down is stuck because of a memory. Will's memory.

Let's bring El's drawing back into it's original context for a second. The girl in the middle represents Max. The two figures in the mindscape are Vecna and El. But they're above Will. So Max's mindscape somehow also collided with Will's. When did this happen?

When she travelled to the Snow Ball. Vecna and El are both in her mind at the same time during the Snow Ball. This is when El's drawing comes true! And this is when it connects back to Will!

This is the only time we see the California crew once El reaches the Snow Ball memory. Will is almost entirely out of shot! We don't see his reaction at all here. Very convenient that we don't see even a snippet of how Will is feeling during the Snow Ball sequence. We only see him again once they go into Vecna's mindscape...

OK! But how do we know the Snow Ball memory connected to the UD at all? When Vecna showed up, so did the spores. It started rotting and turned dark just like the UD. The only thing that's missing is the vines which we see in Vecna's mindscape later.

(I already have another post explaining how Max's Snow Ball memory links to the UD being stuck in time here!)

Robin says that Nancy's house is frozen in time, not the entire UD. We honestly don't even know if the entire UD is stuck on the same day. It's entirely possible that the Wheeler house is stuck on November 6th, but other parts of the UD are stuck on other days. Why? Because Will travelled into a memory.

When Will got kidnapped, he was probably trying to think of happy memories because he was scared and accidentally ended up in a memory. This transformed a once rocky smoke land into Hawkins.

What memory? This is where the other byler drawing shot comes in. El's drawing lines up with Mike and Will here to represent how Will chose a happy memory with Mike (and others) to hide in when he got kidnapped. Not just a memory Mike is in, but MIKE'S HOUSE! We only saw evidence of the Wheeler house being stuck. So I think Will thought back to the most recent happy memory of the party playing DnD just before he got kidnapped. This would place Will at the Wheeler house and explain why it's stuck on that day.

If the rest of the UD is on different days, it's possible that Will mastered this trick and continued memory hopping until the entire UD transformed to replicate Hawkins. But if the entire UD is in fact stuck on the same day, maybe Will wandered too far out of the Wheeler house memory and this triggered the rest of the UD to look like Hawkins.

BUT I’ve also been recently pondering another theory. The UD isn't just Will's mindscape, but multiple, or a meeting place for mindscapes. Perhaps Vecna's collection of minds completed the Hawkins puzzle being pieced together in the UD. Will contributed first, but so did other victims. Evidence? Max's Snow Ball memory was already seen in the UD at the end of s2.

The Snow Ball decorations are there. This along with Robin's comment proves that the UD might not be entirely stuck on the same day. The Snow Ball decor shouldn't have been there if that were the case because the dance wasn't until December, not November. As I said in the other post I linked, Max travelling into her Snow Ball memory influenced the UD version to replicate it. There's some time paradox stuff happening here.

So basically: El's drawing hovering above Will was not only to hint at byler, but also to link him to the concept of memory travel, implying that he has done this before, despite us never seeing this occur… or did we?

#i clickbaited with byler #evil laughter #will's mind theory #will byers #stranger things theory #byler #el hopper #max mayfield #mike wheeler

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quirkwizard · 8 months ago

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So recently I have been on a huge tabletop RPG kick so I thought it would be fun to talk about Class 1-A playing their own tabletop game, both the characters they'd play and how they'd be as players. For the sake of this, I will be writing in the context of Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition since that's the system myself and others would be the most familiar with.

Rikido Sato: Half Orc Life Cleric Doesn't really get the game too much. Tends to forget the rules a lot and his own abilities. Just kind of picked a class at random. Is the king of bringing snacks and the like, all of which are homemade.

Mashirao Ojiro: Wood Elf Open Hand Monk Pretty average in all respects as a player. Not too remarkable in all respects. Doesn't realized how bad the monk is until they started playing, but is too attached to the character and their concept.

Koji Koda: Firbolg Shepard Druid Is only really here to hang out with his friends. Too shy to really do any roleplay with the rest of the gang, mostly doing small moments with his animals friends. Accidently made an overpowered build.

Minoru Mineta: Dhampir Phantom Rogue Knows the rules, but is a power gamer. Uses the game more as a power fantasy to look as cool as possible at all times, even if it is dumb, though will quickly panic if anything goes slightly wrong.

Hanta Sero: Gith Horizon Walker Ranger Really interested in all the lore and history of whatever the dungeon master came up with. The kind that dungeon masters either love or dread. Is the one constantly asking question and cracking the odd joke about it.

Toru Hagakure: Changeling Arcane Trickster Rogue Super big into the roleplay of it all and is always excited. Mostly took Changeling so she'd have the excess to play as many roles as possible. Probably makes little masks to remind people who she currently is.

Yuga Aoyama: Aasimar Glory Paladin Is insanely devoted to the role of the noble paladin, much to the detriment of everyone else. Likely says the line "But it's what my character would do more then any other player. Constantly hints at a backstory that nobody is biting on.

Mezo Shoji: Hobgoblin Gloomstalker Ranger Not the biggest into roleplay, does fairly well with the actual gameplay. Plays the typically reserved ranged. Tried to tie his and Koda's backstory together to try and take some of the stress off of him in terms of roleplaying.

Kyoka Jiro: Half Elf Whispers Bard Wasn't really sure about all of this before play and went with a bard because she liked the idea of playing music. It was a rocky start, but quickly got into it and started having fun. Will make custom songs and playlists for the party, as well ambient tracks and battle music.

Denki Kaminari: Air Genesi Storm Sorcerer Wanted to try it out because it was popular. Went with something he thought was cool and did not expect it to be so complicated. Needs to be constantly handed the book and remined of the rules in order to make sure he gets it. The amount of math hurts his head. Eijiro Kirishima: Goliath Giant Barbarian Like Denki, wanted to get into because it was popular. Bakugou helped a lot with building the character. Has a lot of fun smashing stuff. Plays his role pretty well, even if his character doesn't go beyond the nice brute whose name is very close to Kirishima's own.

Mina Ashido: Satyr Glamour Bard One of the students the most into the roleplaying. Is very light hearted and goofy about the whole thing. Can play a lot in bard stereotypes because she thinks it's funny. Another instigator, though mostly from her getting too into character at the worst of times. Fumikage Tokoyami: Tiefling Fiend Warlock Has been playing the game the longest and super familiar with all of it. Always makes characters he thinks are "cool", which means are super gothic and depress, both in class and in race. Does occasionally have Dark Shadow dress up and roleplay as his patron. Ochako Uraraka: Fairy Zealot Barbarian Ochako just wants to smash stuff. She has a lot of fun rolling dice and doing cool stuff with her friends, both good and bad. Likes playing the typically pixie before going nuts. Can be an instigator, but tends to backtrack when she realizes just how badly it goes wrong. Tsuyu Asui: Halfling Moon Druid Like Koda, is mostly here to have fun with friends. Often plays mediator both in and out of character. Does a good job with roleplaying thanks to how much she had to play pretend with her simplies. Always causes a riot whenever she becomes a dinosaur. Shoto Todoroki: Hill Dwarf Fighter Champion One of the worst players both in game and in roleplay. Played a character Izuku basically made for him. Is somehow still one of the best because he is constantly getting amazing rolls at the most critical moments, much to the frustration of Bakugou.

Katsuki Bakugo: Custom Lineage Chronurgy Wizard Powergamer, no question. He knows the rules back and forth to make the most broken build possible. Acts like D&D is a game you can win, even when it comes to roleplaying. Not a full on murder hobo, but by far the biggest instigator in the group.

Tenya Iida: Warforged Devotion Paladin Very much devoted to the rules, both in and out of the game. Gets confused when people say that he's doing a good job at playing a robot. Collects a lot of dice. One of the best Dungeon Masters of any of the students, though can be rather controlling at times. Momo Yaoyorozu: High Elf Forge Cleric A really good player with the rules though can be pretty awkward with the roleplay with how much she tries to get into it. One of the best DMs in the class. Makes custom miniatures for everyone in the party. Puts a lot of money to make the ultimate game room. Izuku Midoriya: Variant Human Bladesinging Wizard The perfect player. Knows the roles, but focuses more on making characters. Takes the most notes, pay attention, and makes sure everyone is having fun and feels included. Likely gets roped into the role of dungeon master more then anyone else because of these reasons.

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inolienkiki · 1 month ago

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I'm being very vague about plot points and character names here in the faint hope that it may entice some of you to watch this show.

on my... 4th? 5th? rewatch of DARK I'm paying a lot more attention to the character arcs, to figuring out how everyone got to the point they did. For a while the extent of my Adam takes was "haha stupid idiot man point and laugh, you can't even kys correctly" but recently I saw a post that made me stop and think and actually try to empathize with this character. This was immeasurably depressing (which is probably why I hadn't been considering it before).

The material extent of my take hasn't changed- I still think Adam is a truly stoopid person and by far the dumbest out of the three main characters in this show- but the context I have for this has changed a lot. See, each one of these characters is a planner who develops strategies for years down the line and uses all the information at their disposal to make those plans- but the way they get that information, and therefore how much they're able to do with it, is VERY different.

Adam remembers information. Everything he knows he got from his younger self; he functions almost entirely on memory. When he does stuff, like sending his younger self to summer 2019, or sending his sister to the apocalypse, or even attempting to build the God Particle machine in 1888, he's doing it because he remembers how all this stuff happened, and thus needs to keep it that way. Adam never actually seeks out new information, because every time he has in the past, it's absolutely demolished his life. He was investigating at the very beginning of the show- going into the caves, talking to his family members to figure out how much they knew- but at some point, he stops. He's lost that. He no longer views the knot as something to discover or manipulate, he thinks of it as something to escape from, and often completely fails to take others' plans or ideas into account. For 33 years he was sitting on the information that alt-Martha said she knew him, and not once did it occur to him to figure out why she said that or what bearing it might have on his plan. Seriously! If he'd investigated that, he could have altered his plan so it actually worked! And I don't blame him.

Eva generates information. Everything she knows she got from her older selves. Because she has almost absolute control over her own domain, and because she's been working in harmony for almost her whole life, she essentially bootstraps the information back to herself. You could call this working on memory, too, but I think it's a clear enough distinction, since she's actually honest to her younger self once they start working together. We don't have much on Eva, unfortunately, but we do know that her son was responsible for the notebook, and somehow I doubt he went and measured the "megahertz values" of all the cave time travel when they could've just used Adam's notebook and copied them over. (I don't buy that he actually killed Eva, but that's a different story.) Eva's son also works with his younger selves just like she does. Noah and Egon seem to as well, working with her. It's smart, it's thorough, and it totally would have worked, if it hadn't completely backfired.

The White Devil researches information. Out of all the main characters, she seems to do the most research. First off, she's actually a scientist, so naturally it's in her background. Even before she finds out about time travel, she's looking into the incident at the power plant, questioning Bernd about it, and being weird with Tronte. The very first thing she does when she gets access to time travel is go 30 years forward and look herself up. When she can't find her future self again, she realizes she's going to have to do this on her own, and proceeds to do so for the rest of her life. When Eva presents her the opportunity to work with another version of herself, she decides she wants more information, shoots her in the fucking head, and thereby goes and gets it. I'm confident that out of all the characters in this entire show (apart from origin HGT) this character is the only one who has any idea how time travel works or what to do with it. I love her for it.

So, I guess... trust the numbers, not yourself?

#dark #dark show #dark netflix #jonas kahnwald #martha nielsen #claudia tiedemann #name one character who went through more than [Adam]#no. actually. i dare you. name one

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douglysium · 6 months ago

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In Defense of Smirke's 14

This is an exerbt from a larger article discussing episode 13 of TMAGP. So if you want to understand the full context you can do so here- https://docs.google.com/document/d/12_bKOpD_Ffic1yTDNEJGb2UlN2oUnSQn5lLKKnDCtMU/edit#heading=h.uwedvf2nuk5c

Why Smirke’s 14?

I’ve seen more and more people asking why people such as myself have been deferring to, or even adamant about, Smirke’s 14 still being applicable, and to be honest I don’t think I’ve done the best job actually sitting down and explaining all the logic in a cohesive way. Considering Lena mentioned balance and opposing forces in episode 13, and how that rings similar to Smirke’s original philosophy of balance among the Entities, I figured now was a good time to mention it.

A mistake that I think a lot of fans make is that they assume the Entities sort of invented fear or are the reason fear exists when this doesn’t seem to be the case. For example, The Extinction and The Flesh are not the reason the fear of global warming / advancing technology and being butchered / consumed / disfigured exist. They merely feed on, and sometimes exacerbate in specific target people, already existing fears and concerns. In MAG 200 we get “Then came minds that knew it differently. They grew slowly, over the millennia; inch by inch they found new things to dread. The fear of their own end, of the things that lived in the darkness, became a fear of the darkness itself. And as they grew to know what it is that they saw, to give it names, and struggle at learning, so too did they learn to fear that their eyes might deceive them, or show them too much. And as they learned to know their friends and kin, so too did they learn to fear the unknown figure, the coming of the stranger, and the silence when they were alone. And when they found fire, that bright ignition of home and hope and progress, the thing that was fear gorged itself on a newfound terror once again.” This fits in line with what we know about the Entities. Generally speaking, what usually happens is once a fear of something becomes great or common enough on a mass scale an Entity will emerge to feed on it. As I’ve mentioned before, these Entities are all parts of a bigger whole but it helps to think of them as specialists. Each Entity specializes in tracking down and consuming specific types of fear, sort of like how different parts of our body have different purposes and can be made out of different tissues and materials for different reasons. Saying the Entities are the only reason various fears exist would be like saying the only reason animals have meat is for carnivores to eat them. In reality, animals started developing various tissues and meats before certain creatures evolved to take advantage of the resource.

The closest we get to the idea that one or more Entities created a fear from scratch is “Once upon a time there was fear. Old fear. Primal fear. A fear of blood and pounding feet, a fear of that sudden burst of pain and then nothing. And that fear was nothing. Went nowhere. Knew not what it was. Then it became. Or perhaps it always was and simply entered. But fear was here and true and was itself, and it hungered. It wished to know more. It wished to feel more. It wished to be more. And to those things that hurried through the grass, that shivered through the night in their burrows and their caves, because they knew the dark held flashing talons and shining eyes, they fed the fear. It was blunt and it was simple, but still it was solid enough to satisfy. And the thing that was fear was sated and content.” However, while some parts of this are ambiguous, such as whether or not the fears were born attached to the TMA universe, the way it’s phrased makes it sound like what most likely happened is the fear of being hunted caused the first ever Entity (The Hunt) to come into existence. This line says that the primal fear “went nowhere.” It would have gone nowhere because nothing was feeding on it but “Then it became. Or perhaps it always was and simply entered. But fear was here and true and was itself, and it hungered.” Suddenly an Entity manifests from or because of that fear and begins to hunger it. Once again, even in the beginning, the cause and effects are existing fears birthing new Entities.

It’s also important to mention that the Entities couldn’t always manifest in the physical world. It is stated “And as the things that were fear hovered at the edge of the world, the flowing horror of these minds nourished them, swelling some and withering others, pushing and pulling the shattered, swirling mass of terror into ever newer and undiscovered forms. And something else began to happen. Some minds did not simply recoil from them and feed them. Some seemed almost to call them, to court them, to hunger for them in return. Minds that saw the faces of the things that were fear, and were compelled as much as they were repulsed. Whether or not they knew what it was they did, they called out. And they were answered. Time is different for fear, and it cannot be said exactly who was the first to open themselves and be filled with the power of terror. A hermit, huddled in a pitch black cave through winter, who emerged and brought the depth of night with him wherever he trod. A pestilent chieftain who found her breath sloughed from her body and rotted whatever it touched. A warrior driven from their village, who found their face as smooth and shifting as the sands of their home. Which came first does not matter, the unseen gap was bridged, and the thin veil between the world that was and the things that were fear had been torn, ever so slightly. And with this tear, they grew stronger, bolder, pouring themselves into the world and creating monsters. Long things that wore you like a suit, smiling things that stripped you from your bones, unseen things that watched and watched and watched and never left you. And with each new creation, each new servant, the Fears reached further and fed the things that made them. And with this newfound power came greed. The hunger for more, the unformed, unfocused, but impossibly huge desire to exist. To join the minds that gave them shape and purpose, and finally drink their fill ‘til they were one and the same. They had no concept of how, or when, or even why, but they needed it. They needed it.”

The Protocol universe seems quite similar to the TMA universe in that it closely parallels ours in many ways. Many of the cultures that exist in our universe exist there, such as the UK and various countries to name a few, and many of the common fears seem like our own. Even if the Entities are recent additions to the Protocol universe a lot of the fears that gave birth to, and sustained, them would presumably still exist. The fear of being butchered for The Flesh, knowledge and being watched for The Eye, the unknown for The Stranger, violence for the Slaughter. etc.. These aren’t completely alien and distinct cultures or worlds here but places that closely mirror or resemble our own. So a lot of the fears would be the same which would mean basically all of the sustenance for the existing Entities would still be there.

While this does address the various categories this does not address Smirke’s 14 specifically, so let’s talk about that. I’ve seen a lot of people under the impression that Smirke somehow caused the Entities to organize themselves into the various categories we see characters throughout the series using but I think this gets the cause and effect of the Entities backwards once again. Smirke is only one guy and not only is he just one person but a majority of the people didn’t know the Entities existed, much less anything about Smirke’s categories. There weren’t a lot of statements were a victim got jumped by say a creeping figure in the dark and surmised “ah this must be related to the ghost that attacked Jan last week as a manifestation of The Dark.” To most people most supernatural events would be brushed off as delusions and the ones that weren’t wouldn’t usually be immediately assumed to be related without due cause. Even in the Post-Change world there were plenty of victims who seemed unaware of the full scope of the Entities and Smirke’s categories. At best Smirke’s categories would affect the manifestations directed at people who were aware of them but most people are not fully aware of these categories. So overall Smirke’s categories would have been but a drop in the metaphorical ocean that is collective fear.

Smirke made the categories based on patterns and behaviors he had noticed in the Entities and their manifestations. Some manifestations seem attracted to the same kind of emotions, or others clash because sometimes they are fighting in an attempt to bring out two often contradictory emotions. The weird spider people are more likely to work together with other weird spider people but they are more likely to fight the weird destructive burning people. So on and so forth.

For a clearer example of what I mean I would point to the various artifact books. The so-called leitners. The leitners didn’t just start popping into existence so that Jurgen Leitner could collect them. Rather, they already existed which prompted Jurgen to look for them and store them in his library before it was subsequently attacked and destroyed. The Entities did not change their entire general behavior on a global scale because one person found a book, Leitner just wrote his name in existing books. Likewise, what Smirke was at least trying to do was note already existing behaviors and manifestations and find commonalities between them. It wouldn’t be super different in concept than any other of the numerous pattern based categories humans make. For example, we divide animals into things like fish, mammals, birds, reptiles, etc.. These categories are usually based on shared traits between these animals but even they are not perfect categories or little boxes. Every mammal gives live birth… until it’s a platypus. How we divide up animals are just made up human concepts to note various patterns and differences. You could also use colors as an example like Gerard does, we assign names and categories to various colors, we even have things like primary, secondary, and complimentary colors, but in reality all colors are just all pieces of a wider spectrum of electromagnetic waves.

Smirke also mentions weird dreams in MAG 138 (The Architecture of Fear) when he says “Did I ever tell you about the dreams? I’m sure I must have. I would dream about them, you see, as a young man, long before I devised my taxonomy. I would find myself in nightmares of strange, far-off places: a field of graves, a grasping tunnel, an abattoir knee-deep in pig’s blood. I believed then, as I still believe now, that these places I saw were the Powers themselves, expressed in their truest form, far more entirely than any “secret” book can claim. And if, as I came to believe, the Dread Powers were themselves places of some sort, then surely with the right space, the right architecture, they could be contained. Channeled. Harnessed. So yes, hubris. Not simply in that, I suppose, but in believing that those I brought into my confidence shared my lofty goals.” Which might imply one or more Powers were trying to communicate with him directly.

Jon does make a point that Smirke’s system is not flawless and it is often subjective as he notes in MAG 183 (Monument) in response to Martin saying he shouldn’t have a domain because he’s not an Avatar “It’s just a word. A word used by… fools like Smirke to try and sort everything into neat little boxes, to reduce the messy spray of human fear into a checklist: Human, avatar, monster, victim. Only now, now there’s a binary. There’s finally a clear dividing line and, well, I’m sorry you’re not happy with which side you’ve ended up on.” Jon also mentions that the domain that appears in the episode is “Dead? Yes. Very much so. This place is… an homage, shall we say. A monument. To him and those like him, who tried to… categorise the world with themselves at the centre. In so doing, constructed the architecture of its suffering.”

However in the next episode, MAG 184 (Like Ants) Jon says “The whole place would collapse and then, without The Corruption’s influence, I think The Buried would flow in to fill the gap.” to which Martin retorts “I thought you said Smirke’s Fourteen was a load of bull?” before Jon explains “I said it was limited, and draws artificial borders, but it does have its use when it comes to conceptualising these things. Regardless, I’m pretty sure we’d be left somewhat… entombed.” This fits in with what Gerard says about the Entities in MAG 111 (Family Business) “And like colours, some of these powers, they feed into or balance each other. Some really clash, and you just can’t put them together. I mean, you could see them all as just one thing, I guess, but it would be pretty much meaningless, y’know, like… like trying to describe a… shirt by talking about the concept of colour.” Using the color example again, technically all colors we see are just varying wavelengths of light but responding to someone asking “does this look red to you?” with “red, blue, purple… what’s the difference? They’re all the same” isn’t that helpful. If I were to put it another way, imagine trying to go through your life without using any units of measurement. Someone asks how far away a country is and you have to explain it to them without any standardized unit of measurement. It’s certainly possible for some but most people would find it even more obtuse, arbitrary, and unwieldy than even the equally made up standardized units of measurement like kilometers and miles.

However, these categories are not clean, they can be nebulous, and people may organize them differently. In MAG 167 (Curiosity) it is noted that a previous Archivist, Angus Stacey, tried to come up with his own categories: “Angus had been too keen to learn, too ambitious in his academic legacy. He had had grand plans to revise Smirke’s Fourteen, and, in doing so, burned through his resources, his luck, and ultimately all but one of his assistants.”

At the end of the day I think what Jon and TMA are saying is that yes the Entities are kind of incomprehensible and that very incomprehensibility means that the only way many people can process what they are and why they act in certain ways is by dividing them into categories. Jon also points out to Gerard that fears can vary depending on the culture and person and Gerard responds with “A lot of them, yeah, but others are deeper than that. And when our fears change, so do these things. But it’s not quick. Gertrude reckons they’ve basically been the same since the Industrial Revolution. She and my mum both liked to follow Smirke’s list of fourteen.” Which makes sense, most people don’t want to die or be stabbed. Gerard’s comment also makes it sound like other people might categorize the Entities differently but he also says “I always think it helps to imagine them like colours. The edges bleed together, and you can talk about little differences: “oh, that’s indigo, that’s more lilac”, but they’re both purple. I mean, I guess there are technically infinite colours, but you group them together into a few big ones. A lot of it’s kind of arbitrary. I mean, why are navy blue and sky blue both called blue, when pink’s an entirely different colour from red? Y’know? I don’t know, that’s just how it works.” The Smirke’s 14 aren’t as specific as some people make them out to be and can actually be quite broad and sweeping categories.

So with that in mind, I think Smirke’s fears are a lot more helpful and generally applicable than people give them credit for. And I mean, Smirke was onto something since he does seem to be one of the people that came up with the Entities’ rituals in the first place. Upon hearing about an attempted ritual for The Dark he realized every Entity probably has a similar ritual. As he says in the statement of MAG 138 “So many have abandoned us, casting about for rituals that I helped design. In my excited discussions with Mr. Rayner, I perhaps extrapolated too much from his talk of a grand ritual of darkness. The Dark, I thought, was simply one of the powers, so it stands to reason that each of them should have its own ritual. Perhaps they already did, even before I put pen to paper.” Once again implying that ideas about The Dark and rituals for the Entities to react to possibly existed before Smirke and he was simply collecting / noting various patterns and similarities. He may simply have been the most recent or well known person to put these thoughts together but not necessarily the first. Even then, Smirke wasn’t completely right because while his theory about balance was technically right in the sense that you need a ritual to summon every Entity into the universe for one to work he seems to have tied each ritual too closely to a single Entity (which luckily caused them to fail until Jonah worked out the issue).

Smirke does ponder if he brought the Entities into existence when he says “Fourteen powers, with their opposites and their allies, each with an aim no more or less than manifestation. Apocalypse. Apotheosis. I wonder, did my work bring about these dreadful things, or – did I simply develop the means by which they can be known?” But I don’t think he’s the sole reason they exist and I’m more inclined to say that he developed “the means by which they can be known”. His categories allowed others to try to understand the Entities and what they want in a manner that was more digestible. In MAG 200 we see Jon walk through the birth of each of the Entities and interestingly The Web seems to have identified itself as being at least somewhat distinct from the other Entities even if it does identify the other Entities as parts of itself: “But there was one, the part that some would call the Spider, that had been given a gift beyond all its brethren. The minds that feared grew suspicious of their own schemes, of connections and consequences, and over time these suspicions became threads, then webs, then nerves that granted the Spider, the Mother-of-Puppets, the Hidden Machination, a mind of its own; to plot and plan and draw its own connections, its own conclusions. Wheels, within wheels within wheels… It would not, could not tell its other parts, for were they even able to understand such things, which they could not, to trust, to share in such a way ran counter to its very essence.”

We also know that the Entities used to be more harmonious but then began to clash and warp as more fears came into existence: “And as these tiny, strange minds grew and learned, they did something new. They began to take their thoughts, their instincts and their horrors, and they crystallised them. They gave them sound and form and shape to share them. And as they did the thing that was fear felt itself began to tear, to crack and fracture along a thousand unseen fault lines. It bled and warped and multiplied, and could no longer see itself as once it did. It could never be whole again.” Funnily enough, this implies that language probably has a big part to play in the manifestation of the Entities but it seems like a general thing as opposed to Smirke singlehandedly fracturing a nigh primordial being with a checklist of vague categories. The invention of language created new ways to transmit and think about fear. Languages that we know probably also exist in the Protocol universe (such as English).

So how does one reconcile The Web distinguishing itself from other parts? Well, I would use Leitner’s example of a large body. In MAG 80 (The Librarian) Leitner says “Imagine, you are an ant, and you have never before seen a human. Then one day, into your colony, a huge fingernail is thrust, scraping and digging. You flee to another entrance, only to be confronted by a staring eye gazing at you. You climb to the top, trying to find escape and, above you, can see the vast dark shadow of a boot falling upon you. Would that ant be able to construct these things into the form of a single human being? Or would it believe itself to be under attack by three different, equally terrible, but very distinct assailants?” Well, the thing about a body is you don’t have complete control over all parts of it. Your iris will automatically contract or relax when exposed to light, your body may have an allergic reaction to something that won’t harm it, your nails and hair will continue to grow so you must cut them, etc.. So The Web is still kind of an amorphous blob and a part of a greater whole but it’s a sentient blob? At least sentient in a way conventional humans can more easily understand.

This is all to say that I think Smirke’s categories are kind of less impactful on the Entities than people give credit for while also being more useful than people give them credit for. I’ve seen people wonder if the Entities blended together when they went through the gap in reality and while that’s possible, if we use Gerard’s color example, the Entities might be closer to wavelengths of light. So it might just be like shining a light through a hole. Sure the light might look like white light sometimes but at the end of the day all the colors of the rainbow are still in there somewhere. I think people get too hung up on Jon saying the categories are bogus while ignoring the times where he admits their merit or finds them convenient to use.

There’s always the chance that I could be wrong, I admit, but I don’t think people give Smirke’s categories enough credit. It’s possible that the people in this new universe use different categories or divide the Entities up differently but that wouldn’t necessarily mean that say The Desolation just no longer exists. Just like me switching from meters to feet as a unit of measurement doesn’t literally change distance. All I’ve done by doing that is just change my point of reference for what’s happening, and the distance is still the same.

Also, from a narrative perspective, while the categories CAN be obtuse and limit one’s understanding (while this might seem reductive to say) the fear categories are a major part of TMA’s identity and what help make it unique from a lot of horror. I’ve seen people who don’t like the Fears and wish the categories didn’t exist (and arguably they missed Jon’s point about arbitrary lines) but at the same time most horror I’ve come across doesn’t really have the various Entities like TMA does. I would go as far as saying that it helps set TMA apart from a lot of other stuff at the end of the day. But, like I said, who's to say that the people in the Protocol universe don’t have their own categories and dividing lines or things didn’t get shaken up at least a little.

However, I think some people are also getting too caught up on previously established manifestations of the Fears. It feels like some people have a long checklist of things like “fire, dirt, ocean, cameras, etc.” and just go through that list looking for things to checkmark. If something isn’t on that list they assume that it must be a new Fear or breaking all the known rules. But remember what Leitner says in MAG 80 when Jon asks “What about bones? Does one of them manifest with, with bones?” “You’re thinking too literally. Examining the physical categorisation, but ignoring the meaning of the thing. What are the bones? In the Distortion, your “Michael”, the structure of a skeleton, an established reality in your mind, is twisted and warped into an impossible form. But in other cases? Are they a symbol of slaughter and butchery? Are they the familiar made wrong? Or are they simply part of the messy, physicality of flesh?” It’s not so much as what the Entities manifest as but why. The Entities can manifest as seemingly just about anything as long as it generates their respective fear. The Vast often manifests as the sky and storms but The Spiral manifested as a storm to torment Michael Crew. Almost any Entity could manifest as needles or what have you in the right circumstances depending on what the focus is. It’s important to focus more on what the fears embody generally and not just tunnel vision on the physical manifestations. The Stranger is the fear of the unknown and mystery for example, not simply just the fear of clowns or circuses. In this way, reducing The Stranger to “the circus one” can be inaccurate despite the relation. The Desolation is the fear of loss and destruction, so while it can be fire it can just as easily hypothetically be a natural disaster like a tornado, earthquake, or even a swarm of locusts destroying your crops. It could even be a bank draining all your assets.

That being said, the reason why I think Smirke’s 14 is still at least somewhat applicable is because none of the cases we have gotten have really been anything that Entities haven’t done or couldn’t do before. This is already long enough so I’m sorry that I can’t go through each of these in extreme detail but RedCanary seems Eye related, Arthur sounds like the Anglerfish, the case in episode 2 is one of the most Flesh statements I’ve ever heard, the case in episode 3 reeks of The Corruption, the case in episode 4 is music that can make people fight each other (probably The Slaughter), the case in “Personal Screening” seems like The Eye again, Needles is a bit unclear to me but considering someone tried to stab them The Slaughter wouldn’t be unlikely (but Enttiies like The Flesh are possible), the case in “Give and Take” sounds like a manifestation of The Stranger, episode 8’s case resembles The Lonely, Episode 9’s case sounds like either The Web or The Desolation, Mr. Bonzo sounds pretty in line for what we’ve seen in regards to The Stranger, whatever “deep” is calling out to Gordon in episode 11 sounds the most like The Buried (The Buried is even referred to as the “Forever Deep Below” in TMA which would relate it to “The Deep” Gordon is talking about. There’s an argument for The Vast too but considering all the graves and the desire to bury things in them I’m more inclined to assume Buried), and episode 12 is just Mr. Bonzo showing up. If you want my full thoughts or have any specific questions you can check out the respective articles here (TMP Quick Thoughts Archive).

There’s one Entity I haven’t mentioned though. That’s The Extinction. The Extinction is sort of confirmed to exist but it’s a bit unclear. In MAG 175 (Epoch) Jon says “Of course it was real – A-At least in the sense that – it was a thing people feared. Whether it was strong enough in its own right to be considered at a level with Smirke’s Fourteen, or – whether it was on its way to getting there, I – maybe. This sort of thing is always muddy.” Whether or not The Change allowed the Extinction to gain enough fear to fully emerge is still unclear. There’s an argument that The Extinction was possibly sent back to square one since it seemed like Jonah didn’t need to involve it in his ritual so it’s possible it didn’t emerge in time. But, like I said previously, a lot of the fears that started giving birth to The Extinction in the first place within the world of TMA probably still exist in Protocol.

Then you have to consider the possibility that other characters or monsters may have been dragged with the Entities to the Protocol universe. If something like the Anglerfish or any number of other beings tied to the Entities got sucked into the Protocol universe it would not be impossible for them to introduce the already existing categories to new people. Likewise, they might still have many similar alliances and biases, a being that identified itself as being a part of The Stranger might still tend to dislike The Eye.

As mundane and unsatisfying as my answer might seem, my reasoning basically boils down to “I have yet to see any conclusive evidence that would prove to me this isn’t Smirke’s 14 and The Extinction” and “All of the stuff we are seeing is stuff Smirke’s 14 did or could do to begin with.”

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #the magnus archives #tma #smirkes 14

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perotovar · 11 months ago

Text

ásjá - a winter solstice story

Ásjá by Heilung (i highly recommend listening to this while reading)

Our second single release is a love song. Maria sings to the listener of love, recovery and prosperity, chasing away evil and welcoming love. The piece contains a quotation of some lines of “Hávamál”, combined with a selection of blessing words meant to provide help to the listener in a troubled time. Kai brought his vocal part of 'Asja' back to us after a month of isolation, fasting and meditation in nature. Only the spirits know the full meaning, but we do know that the context is love, prosperity and protection.

pairing: pero tovar/ofc!helga (but this is mostly a character study) rating: T word count: 7.4k (idk what happened here) warnings: minor swearing, google translated spanish (sorry), historical inaccuracies in favor of fantasy/magic, my american norse pagan perspective of these practices, if i missed anything else lemme know! dividers by @saradika-graphics beta and norwegian translations by the lovely @chloeangelic thank you, honey ♥

summary: Pero picks up a contract that leads him "somewhere up North", but what he finds instead is unlike anything he imagined for himself. Or, what would happen if Pero encountered the Vikings during their winter celebration?

this is apart of @hellishjoel's 12 days of pedro. thank you for including me, kylee, and make sure you all read the other presents!

god jól, everyone🌲❄️🌙🐺

It was fucking cold.

With shaking hands and numb limbs, Pero made his way further up the hill. The wind picked up the further he went into the trees.

The contract he’d taken up was for a man by the name of Ingvar. A strange name to Pero’s ears, but that hardly mattered to him. This Ingvar was to be taken care of, and Pero had to show proof.

Not a problem.

The problem, at least for the moment, was the fucking weather and his own lack of foresight. He was told that Ingvar was “somewhere up North”, and that was it. He didn’t exactly plan for just how cold it would be. His fingers were going numb and red, and he saw every breath that left his lungs. If William were here, he’d tell Pero to quit his “bitching” and to make camp.

The camp, he could do. The bitching? Unlikely.

Pero and William separated after the… events in China. They stayed together to do a few jobs together, but William decided to make his way back to China and meet up with Lin Mae again, possibly even settle down. Pero didn’t fancy seeing the people that had arrested and almost killed him, and black powder wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. At least not to him. He rather liked the uncertainty of his job. Found comfort in it, in fact. His future was set for him in this line of work. He would live doing the things he loved most; fighting, fucking, and drinking. And the ending was always the same. At least, that’s what he told himself.

A low whisper brought Pero out of his thoughts. He snapped his head towards the direction of the sound and furrowed his already heavy brow. The sound of a raven cawing caught his attention, making him hum skeptically to himself before deciding this was as good a spot as any for a fire.

Once settled on a fallen tree and attempting to warm his hands with his meager fire, Pero dug into his travel pack. He grumbled at the pitiful excuse for food he had left. He grabbed a piece of thick, dry bread and started ripping off chunks and eating that. Perhaps he could hunt? Find a rabbit, or something a little bigger. He remembered to make a bow this time. Swallowing the last chunk of the bread, he picked up his bow and arrows, and threw his cloak-slash-blanket over his shoulders. It was going to be dark soon, and he didn’t like the idea of starving his first night in this frozen Northern hell.

Another whisper.

Pero’s body went taut. He looked between the tall trees and the endless sea of white ahead of him. Nothing. A rabbit hopped by, distracting him. Before he could think too hard, he knocked an arrow and let fly. The arrow landed in the snow just after the rabbit hopped away.

“Mierda,” he grumbled. (Shit.)

He crouched low and slowly followed after the rabbit. He made his way toward a small clearing, which seemed to be in the center of the forest, if his tracking skills were getting any better.

There was a large stone in the middle, towards the top of the clearing. There looked to be a large blood stain in the center of it. Pero raised a brow and grunted quietly. This was none of his business, clearly.

Suddenly, the rabbit made its way to the middle of the clearing, next to the large stone. Pero sighed and lined up a shot, hoping for the best. He released a breath at the same time that the arrow left his fingers, and another whisper passed through his ears.

He gasped quietly and time seemed to stop as the arrow traveled through the cold air. A shiver ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath, trying to make himself as still as possible.

The sound of the arrow piercing the rabbit startled him out of his frozen state. He blinked a few times, the white forest coming back into view as he looked down at the dead rabbit in the clearing. He exhaled and slowly stood, settling his bow on his shoulder. He looked around again, and when he saw nothing, slowly made his way down the hill and towards the center of the clearing.

He picked up the dead rabbit and removed the arrow, tucking it into his belt to clean and use again later. Standing in the center of the clearing, he looked over at the bloodstained stone and felt that shiver go down his spine again. He looked up at the gray sky and decided it was time to go back to his camp. He hooked the rabbit’s carcass onto his belt, pulled the cloak over his shoulders tighter, and shoved his hands inside the fabric.

“Maldita nieve,” he grumbled to himself. (Fucking snow.) As he climbed back up the hill, he felt a sharp pain in his foot and lost his balance, catching himself with his hands in the snow. He hissed loudly and looked down at his boot. A small spike was poking out through the top, meaning the sharp rock was piercing through his foot. He groaned and leaned against the hill, steadying his breathing. He counted to three in his head and yanked the rock from his foot. “Fuck,” he exhaled loudly, a few drops of his own blood covering his palm as he looked at the rock. A small symbol was carved into it, making him squint his eyes, trying to decipher what it was. Pero shook his head and sighed, pocketing the strange rock to inspect later.

On his way back to his little camp, limping the whole way to not put too much pressure on his foot, he grabbed some branches to make the fire last a little longer. Once the meager fire came into view, he swore he saw someone sitting on the log he was using before. He froze in place, heavy boots landing in the snow abruptly. He squinted his eyes and grew confused. An old man? What would he be doing out here?

Pero looked around the frozen forest to see if there was anyone that could be with the old man. When he didn’t see anyone, he looked back at the campfire, and the old man was gone. He’d completely vanished. Pero grunted quietly and rubbed his eyes with frozen fingers. He shook his head to snap himself out of it and made his way over to the campfire.

After putting the rabbit on the spit and it started to cook, Pero made his bed for the night. He’d do his best to sleep, but didn’t have high hopes. Once the rabbit was cooked, he stabbed it with his knife and started eating it messily. He groaned at the taste of fresh, hot, cooked meat and enjoyed it, even if it was pretty bland. It warmed his bones a little and made him more comfortable, pulling the cloak tighter around his shoulders.

The sound of a branch snapping behind him went unnoticed by Pero’s ears, too focused on the food. He hadn’t eaten in days. The second snap, however, was heard, and it made him drop the rabbit onto the ground and grab his sword, brandishing it in front of him as he stood.

“¿Dónde estás, bastardo?” He grumbled under his breath, his heavy breaths puffing out into smoke. (Where are you, bastard?)

He sighed in frustration when he didn’t see anything. He was seriously starting to consider if this contract was even worth it. And if it wasn’t, would he be able to make it back without dying? Either from the cold, or whatever it was that was playing with him. He mumbled obscenities to himself and sat back down on his fallen tree.

He picked up the rabbit and groaned at the dirt now covering it. He blew off what he could and decided to continue eating it, dirt be damned. He was hungry.

Once full, he looked up at the moon in the sky, trying to figure out how late it was. He rubbed his hands over his arms to keep warm and added a branch or two to his fire. He grabbed a piece of spare cloth from his travel pack and quickly wrapped his foot. He laid down next to the fire and pulled the cloak up over his shoulders and shut his eyes. He didn’t feel tired, but he couldn’t help closing his eyes. He tried to fight it, to keep his guard up, but it was useless.

He started to feel lightheaded and turned onto his back, looking up at the moon again. The moon and the stars, so bright he almost didn’t need the campfire, were swirling around and moving in close and further away. The trees surrounding him looked to be moving side to side.

What was happening? Did the old man poison him somehow? Who was that old man?

His vision went blurry and he felt like he was spinning in place despite laying on the ground, completely still. He let out a weak groan and tried to move, reaching for his sword.

The last thing he saw before his vision went black, was the silhouette of a large dog, or perhaps a wolf, in the distance hidden behind the trees.

Warmth. He felt warm. And a pounding headache.

Pero slowly blinked awake and groaned at the light that hit his eyes. The smell of cooked meat and root vegetables hit his nostrils. His stomach whined in protest.

“For en merkelig fyr…” An older male voice said, somewhere behind him. (He is a strange one…)

“Kjekk, da,” A younger, female voice replied. (Handsome, though.)

He didn’t understand any of it. It wasn’t a language he’d heard before. Eyelids fluttering, he slowly opened his eyes to a small gathering of people all looking down at him. He startled and reached for his knife, and grunted when he didn’t feel it.

��Vi har våpnene dine. De er trygge.” (We have your weapons. They’re safe.)

Pero turned his head in the direction of the voice and squinted his eyes at the woman. She looked to be in her 30s, with a baby attached to her breast and drinking.

“No entiendo,” he grumbled, voice hoarse from lack of use. “¿Dónde estoy?” (I do not understand. Where am I?)

He took in his surroundings, now sitting up, and saw that he looked to be in a small room cut off from a much larger group of people. He heard laughter and song outside the cloth separating the, assumed, larger hall from where he was now. He furrowed his brows. A celebration? What for?

“¿Dónde estoy?” He repeated, voice slightly harsher. (Where am I?)

“Har ikke hørt det språket før,” one of the men said. (Haven’t heard that tongue before.) Pero looked up at him and squinted his eyes slightly. The man was large, with a full beard, and an even fuller middle. But there was no denying his strength; age hadn’t stopped this man from doing well in a fight, Pero assumed. Not that he couldn’t take him, of course. He looked at the man’s belt and saw a one-handed axe attached to his belt and thought better of it, especially without his own weapons.

Suddenly a small sting came from his foot and he snapped his head down at the young woman tending to the wound he’d gotten on his way back from the clearing. He’d almost completely forgotten about it, too cold to even really feel it. The young woman startled and blushed, keeping her head down as she cleaned the cut.

“Det er et vakkert språk, da, er det ikke?” The first younger woman’s voice came through, a slightly entranced tone to it. (It is a beautiful tongue, though, no?) He looked to his left and saw her batting her eyelashes at him. He huffed a breath in amusement. He’d had his fair share of women giving him looks like that, almost always with a payment in mind, but his thoughts were elsewhere, even if it did feel nice. And she was a tad too skinny for his own tastes.

Pero exhaled. This was clearly getting nowhere. Fine. “Where am I? You know English, yes?” He asked, exasperated, in the general direction of anyone who might be able to answer him.

The shy girl cleaning his wound lifted her head and smiled softly at him. “I know a little,” she said quietly, her voice heavily accented.

“Finally,” he sighed. “What is going on?”

“A few of our men found you in the forest, passed out. Your lips were blue.” She won’t make eye contact with him, bur her brows furrowed like she was worried for him. “We have lost some of our own men in a similar way before. It is not pretty.”

Pero hummed softly and nodded his thanks. “Did any of them see an old man? In the woods?”

The girl tilted her head and asked the man next to him, the one with the axe in his belt, if any of them had seen such a man. The man raised a brow and shook his head, looking at Pero skeptically.

“Ingvar says–”

“Yes, I understood, thank you–” Pero cut himself off and looked back at the man with the axe. This was Ingvar? Pero looked back at the girl and nodded his head as she bandaged his wound, his own cloth wrapped around his ankle. He would have to be careful if he was to carry out this contract. “Thank you,” he repeated, the words foreign on his tongue.

The girl nodded, cheeks pink, and stood to leave. As she left, the cloth covering them moved to show a large fire in the middle of the hall with an even larger feast around it. The girl came back with a tankard of something for him and he took it gratefully. As the sweet liquid hit his tongue, he coughed slightly.

“What is this?” He wheezed a little, looking at the cup like it slapped his mother.

The girl giggled before saying, “Mead. It is honey wine.”

Pero rolled the words around his tongue for a moment. “Interesante,” he hummed to himself. (Interesting.)

“Vel, han er våken. Tilby ham noe å spise, men hold øye på ham. Han ser ut som en leiesoldat, og jeg stoler ikke på ham,” Ingvar grunted, leaving the room and rejoining the festivities. (Well, he is up. Invite him to eat, but keep an eye on him. He looks like a mercenary and I do not trust him.)

Pero watched him closely as he left, and took another drink of his mead, eyes hard.

“Would you like some food, mister-”

“Tovar,” Pero grunted. “Yes. I am very hungry.” He turned on the cot and got to his feet quickly, but quickly lost his balance, a couple of the women catching him as he stood on shaky legs. He sighed in frustration and stood on his own, shrugging off their help. The girl held her arm out to him, and didn’t seem too offended when he just stared at it.

“Tovar. This way,” she smiled, her face a little pinched.

“What are you celebrating?” He asked, looking around at all the food. His stomach roared at the smells.

“It is the third night of Jól. You have heard of Jól?” She asked excitedly, turning to him as she found a place for him to sit. He slowly made his way down at a long table nearby where Ingvar sat at the head of the table. A leader. This contract was getting more difficult by the second.

“I have not,” he grumbled. “What is this… Yool?”

The girl giggled again, this time at his attempt at the word. “Jól is the celebration that welcomes back the sun from the harsh Winter. Our crops start growing as the sun comes back, and the snow melts away.”

Pero hummed as he listened, nodding his thanks when she handed him a full plate of different meats, root vegetables, bread, and cheese. “You are farmers?”

The girl nods. “Most of us. Some are warriors.”

Pero hummed again, chewing on a piece of meat. “How did you learn English?”

The girl turned a little sad, but smiled anyway. “We used to have a man that came from… Eng-land? He died last year,” she sighed. “He taught me and a few of the children how to read and speak English. How did you learn?”

Pero frowned around his food and sighed.

“I am sorry, forget–” Pero held up a hand to stop her. “Apologies. I am… unused to kindness from strangers,” he grunted, not meeting her eyes. “A dear friend of mine is from Scotland. We have separated so he could be with his woman. He taught me.”

“Scotland?”

“It is near England.”

She nodded, slowly picking at her own food. The two of them grew quiet and just ate for a while. The celebrations continued around them, and it gave Pero a chance to take it all in.

In the center of the hall was a large hearth, with an even larger tree in the middle, lighting up the hall. It looked like the one he was using earlier as a bench, so they must have gotten it from the same forest. He can’t be too far from there, then. There were candles and flames everywhere, lighting up the hall brightly, but warmly.

He looked back at the girl and found her already staring at him. She startled, cheeks going pink again, and looked down at her food. He smirked a little, but hid it well. She was amusing.

“What is your name?” He asked.

“Sigrid,” she said softly.

“It sounds strong.”

“Yes. I am more drawn to medicine, so I suppose the name is ironic.”

Pero chuckled. “Hardly.”

Sigrid smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them again before Pero asked, “Who is Ingvar? He seems like a powerful man.”

“He is our Jarl. Our leader.”

“Is this like a king?” Pero furrowed his brows. He didn’t think this contract would be finished.

“Not exactly. But no less powerful.”

“I see,” Pero grunted. As if on cue, Ingvar stood from his seat at the head of the table, a large grin on his bearded face.

“Venner! Kvelden er ung, og festen er rik. Vær så snill, nyt, for mine gamle beindekk. Jeg ser dere alle i morgen tidlig.” Everyone raised their drinks and shouted… something, but Pero didn’t catch it. Sigrid leaned over and translated what Ingvar said for him. He nodded his thanks, but he was skeptical at best. Ingvar left through a door behind the throne that sat in the center of the hall. (Friends! The night is young, and the feast bountiful. Please, enjoy, for my old bones tire. I will see you all in the morning.)

“He cannot be that old, no?”

“He has been around much longer than I,” Sigrid shrugged. Pero laughed softly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You are a child, of course he has.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes, but didn’t deny it. “If seventeen winters makes me a child, then yes.”

Pero choked on his mead and hit his chest to keep from coughing too hard. “Yes, it does,” he wheezed, laughing quietly. Sigrid laughed, too, eating some bread and cheese. A small child ran up to Sigrid and asked her a question as he tugged on her dress. Sigrid looked back at Pero apologetically and he waved her off, eating some more meat.

This was hardly the setting he expected for himself when he took the contract, but he couldn’t deny it, it was a pleasant one. The food was good, and the people seemed friendly enough. He couldn’t help but be confused by the contract; who was dumb enough to put a hit out on a powerful leader like Ingvar?

Sigrid mentioned that some of them were warriors. That didn’t surprise him at all. Just by looking at the people around the table, men and women alike, he could’ve figured that out on his own.

He sighed to himself and chewed thoughtfully. Suddenly, he remembered the small stone that pierced his foot. He looked around at the people around him to be sure no one was watching before he felt around his pocket for the stone. When he didn’t feel anything, his body went taut and he froze. Shit. They probably found it when they grabbed his weapons. Where were his weapons?

Sigrid came up to his side with the small child from before holding her hand and looking at him from behind her. “Tovar?” She asked softly. He looked up at her, heavy brow still pulled down. She gave him a quick once-over before clearing her throat. “We have sleeping quarters for you, but Lord Ingvar wishes to speak with you first.”

Pero chuckled humorlessly around his food before putting it down on his plate. He grabbed the mead and took a drink, making a face at the taste. He wasn’t sure he’d get used to that anytime soon. “Of course he does,” he sighed. “You will translate for me?”

Sigrid nodded, braided blonde hair swinging with the movement, and looked like she was trying to steel herself. He admired her mettle.

Pero followed after her, keeping light pressure on his foot as they went through that door Ingvar went through before. It led down a short hallway and ended up in a large bedroom. Ingvar was sitting on the edge of the bed before standing tall and fixing Pero with a hard look. Pero grunted and rested a hand on his hip as he leaned on the uninjured foot, waiting to get this over with.

“Hva heter du?” Ingvar grunted. (What is your name?)

“He asked your name,” Sigrid said softly.

“Tovar,” Pero narrowed his eyes.

“Hvorfor er du her?” (Why are you here?)

Sigrid translated quietly.

“Your people brought me here. I was wondering the same thing,” Pero shrugged with an attitude. Ingvar gave him a look, clearly unimpressed. Pero rolled his eyes.

Ingvar looked at Sigrid and she blushed, nodding. “He didn’t mean–”

“Yes, I know what he meant,” Pero sighed. “I had a contract. I came to fulfill that contract.”

Sigrid spoke quietly and Ingvar seemed tired as he nodded.

“Var navnet mitt på denne kontrakten?” Ingvar sighed. Pero gave Sigrid a look as she quickly translated. (Did this contract have my name on it?)

“It did…” Pero raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. Ingvar nodded again, but Pero spoke up before he could say anything. “I decided not to complete the contract when I saw your celebration and… status. I may be a mercenary, but I am no fool. I do not go after lords or kings.”

Ingvar raised a brow and chuckled quietly before letting out a loud, hearty laugh. “Jeg vet ikke om du er smart eller dum,” Ingvar smiled, cheeks flushed with mirth. “Jeg takker deg, men tilgi meg for at jeg ikke stoler på deg helt, Tovar.” (I do not know if you are smart or stupid. I thank you. But you will forgive me for not completely trusting you, Tovar.)

Pero nodded and shrugged. “I understand.”

Sigrid looked between the two of them, looking much less nervous. She quickly spoke to Ingvar quietly, asking him a question. Ingvar nodded, a small smile on his lips.

“Nyt festen, Tovar. Vi diskuterer hva vi skal gjøre med deg om morgenen.” (Enjoy the festivities, Tovar. We will discuss what to do with you in the morning.)

“I wish to leave,” Pero grunted, looking between Sigrid and the Jarl. Sigrid looked a little crestfallen, but took one more look at Ingvar before he waved them off. She pushed Pero out of the Jarl’s quarters and back out into the celebration. “Sigrid?” Pero asked, confused.

She sighed before looking up at him. “The Jarl wishes to keep you here until Jól ends. To keep an eye on you, make sure you keep your word.” She started wringing her hands together and bit her lip.

“How much longer is Yool?”

Sigrid went quiet.

“Sigrid.”

“Nine more days,” she sighed, looking down.

Pero’s eyes went wide before he shut them and sighed heavily. He looked up at the ceiling and mumbled, “Joder yo,” under his breath. (Fuck me.) “Fine. Nine more days and I will leave.”

Over the course of the first four days, Pero was treated like he belonged with these people. He still didn’t quite know where he was. If someone were to give him a map, he couldn’t tell them, but he knew he was probably at the top somewhere. He was shocked at how much he liked it there despite the bitter cold.

He felt eyes on him the whole time and he didn’t like the feeling, but he understood it.

He taught Sigrid and some of the children some Spanish words and in turn he was taught some words in their tongue. Norse, he was told.

Pero also found himself helping the warriors Sigrid mentioned before, called Vikingr. Their job was to sail to faraway lands, raid strangers of their belongings, and bring it back home. He didn’t judge. He’d done worse, and frankly, it sounded like something right up his alley. He mostly helped with keeping their longships cleaned for their next raid when the snow thawed.

And he ate. He ate a lot. There was so much food at the feasts in the evenings. He tried to eat as much as he could in the hopes that it would carry him on his journey home. Wherever that was. Every feast started with a chant and “offerings” to their Gods. Some of these “offerings” came in the form of the mead Pero had - reluctantly - grown to like, and other times it came in the form of one of the farmer’s poor goats.

While he didn’t understand a lot of these people’s customs, he couldn’t deny it, they were a hearty people.

He’d also caught the eye of some of the women there, too, but he mostly ignored them. They were all too young for him, and he was too busy not getting killed. He still wasn’t given back his weapons. Or the strange stone. His wound would take a while to heal yet, but he could put pressure on it again.

On the fifth day, he was helping chop wood for people’s homes. During the feast, everyone in the village congregated in the Jarl’s home to be surrounded by the fire given by the Jól Log and enjoy the food, but they all needed wood for their own homes as well.

He stopped to take a break and wiped the sweat from his brow as a cool chill blew past him. Pero looked to his left, the feeling of someone looking at him catching his attention. When he saw it wasn’t one of Ingvar’s men, he startled a little. It was a woman. Older than the ones that mostly watched him, and far more… Interesting. To him, at least. He raised a brow as she turned and left, clutching her basket closer to her body. He’d seen her around during his time there and she seemed to keep mostly to herself. She was unattached from what he could tell, and wondered why. She was beautiful.

Pero snapped himself out of it and shook his head, going back to chopping the wood.

On the sixth day, he saw her again. He’d asked Sigrid what her name was as he saw her making her way through the market, and she said it was Helga.

Helga.

He liked the name.

Helga was a thread-weaver. She made blankets, scarves, anything to keep one warm and covered. Pero was given clothing that suited the temperature better, and he felt strange without his armor, but he was never given a scarf. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted one before now.

He asked Sigrid if she could ask Helga for him for a scarf, and the girl giggled, pushing him toward the woman. He sighed and walked over to her, looking at the weapons and tools surrounding them at the market. He tried not to make himself too obvious, and it mostly worked, he thought. He was genuinely impressed with the craftsmanship of the weapons.

Pero sidled up to Helga’s side, but before he could say anything, she stepped away from the stand and walked back to her house. He watched her go and frowned.

This was going to be tougher than he thought.

The seventh day was much like the day before, but instead of chopping wood, Pero was asked to help around the Jarl’s home. He noticed a lot of the young women that stared at him worked there, so he tried to keep mostly to himself. He’d never cleaned linens or blankets before, but found it to be quite relaxing. There was a rhythm to it, and he could do it without much help.

“Tovar,” a young voice asked from his left. He looked up, finishing the fold of the blanket he was holding. He grunted in acknowledgement. “Jeg og noen av kvinnene har lurt på noe,” the girl was blushing hard up to her ears and biting her lip. (Some of the women and I have been wondering something.)

Pero smirked a little and nodded for her to continue. He picked up on the gist of what she was saying, thanks to Sigrid’s teachings of Norse.

“Hvor fikk du arret fra?” she asked meekly. (Where did you get your scar?)

Pero’s face pinched slightly and he shook his head. “I do not wish to talk about it.” The girl’s eyes went wide and she started scrambling out apologies, her hand pressed to her chest. A sad smile crossed his features before he shook his head. “It is okay,” he said quietly.

The girl frowned, cheeks bright red, but nodded as she turned and left. Pero exhaled quietly and looked down at the linens he was folding.

“I do not believe she meant any harm,” a low, feminine voice said to his left. He hummed in acknowledgement before he froze, realizing that she spoke perfect English. He turned his head and nearly jumped out of his boots when he saw Helga standing there. She smiled and started helping him with the linens. “Tovar, yes?”

Pero huffed a laugh and nodded.

“I have noticed you watching me.” She had a soft smile on her lips, brown hair pulled away from her face in a braid. She turned to look at him, blue eyes full of heat as she looked over his face and chest.

Pero blinked, eyes slightly wider. He went to speak, but all that came out was a croak, making him cough. “Apologies,” he wheezed, the side of his fist pressed to his chest. “I am sorry for staring,” he mumbled, turning back to his own linens as his cheeks flushed. “I am still getting used to the customs here. There are two days left of your celebration, and I will be gone.”

Helga hummed noncommittally and pushed her small stack of folded linens toward him to add to his pile. “That would be a shame.”

Pero furrowed his brows and added her stack to his. He looked at her incredulously, but her head was faced down as she continued folding. He didn’t say anything and continued as well, his thoughts running a mile a minute.

“I thought only Sigrid and a few of the children spoke English,” he said after a few moments of silence.

“They are not the only ones.”

Pero snorted and shook his head. “Clearly not,” he hummed to himself. He cleared his throat and glanced at her before continuing. “When I arrived at this place, I was in the forest. I am not sure how far it is from here, but I saw an old man,” he started, keeping his eyes downward. “I was hoping I would see him here in the village, but I have not.”

Helga hummed a noise for him to continue.

“He wore a cloak, the hood covering his head. He sat in front of my campfire, but I only saw one of his eyes,” Pero’s brows furrowed further, confusion filling his head. “I am not sure if he was missing one or if it was covered.”

Helga stopped folding and looked at him, a small smirk on her lips. “Did he have a long beard?”

Pero looked up and blinked. “Y-yes. You have seen this man?”

“Once or twice,” she said. “He is a wanderer. He does not stay in one place for very long.”

“Who is he?”

Helga bit her lip and shrugged. “He has many names. We cannot be certain which he likes best.”

Pero sighed in frustration. “Why was he at my camp?”

Helga smirked again and finished folding her linens. “Perhaps he was looking out for you,” she shrugged again, leaning over to pick up her basket of fabrics. “Enjoy the feast tonight.” She grinned and left the Jarl’s home, leaving Pero quiet and watching her retreating form.

Pero exhaled and looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. When he looked down, there was a scarf folded on top of her pile of linens.

“Du får tingene dine i morgen, etter den siste festen,” Ingvar grumbled. (You will receive your belongings after tomorrow’s final feast.)

“Must I stay the whole time? I wish to return home,” Pero growled, crossing his arms over his chest. Not that he had a home to return to.

Ingvar rolled his eyes and waved him off. Sigrid grabbed his elbow and pulled him out of the Jarl’s bedroom. Pero grumbled obscenities in Spanish to himself until he was sat at a table in the hall. It was the eighth night, and he was getting tired of being watched constantly. He had no intention of hurting anyone here. He might if they didn’t give him his things, though. The people around him continued to have the same energy this night that they always seemed to. He supposed that came from actually understanding what you were celebrating, and not having to worry about death or arrest at every corner.

“You leave tomorrow evening, yes?”

Pero startled and looked to his right. Helga sat next to him, a plate of food in front of her. She smiled warmly at him and he softened. “How do you do that?” He huffed a laugh and shook his head before grabbing a piece of meat and eating it.

“You do not pay attention,” she said simply.

He squinted his eyes at her and grumbled around his food that he did too pay attention, thank you very much. She laughed softly and it made him bite his tongue. She had been nothing but kind to him while he was there and she didn’t deserve the frustration he felt to be forced on her.

“Where do you live?” Helga asked softly. “Where will you go?”

Pero bit his lip as he tore a piece of bread in two. “Nowhere. I am a mercenary. I go where the work is,” he shrugged, shoving the bread in his mouth.

“You enjoy this?”

Pero raised a brow as he chewed.

“You like not having anywhere to call home? You do not have to leave,” she hummed around her own food, taking a drink of some mead.

“What do you mean? Of course I do,” he scoffed. “Ingvar wants me dead. His men are constantly watching me.”

Helga rolled her eyes. “You really do not pay attention,” she sighed, setting down her cup and turning to face him. “You have not heard how people talk about you?”

“I am still learning the language,” he frowned, chewing messily and lips greasy.

“Why are you learning the language if you want to leave?”

Pero blinked and looked down at his plate. He frowned, thinking about it. Why was he learning the language?

“Because you like it here, Tovar,” she said softly. “We like you.” It went unsaid, but he got the feeling that she liked him, too.

“Pero.”

“What?”

“My name is Pero.”

Helga smiled, pink dusting her cheeks. “I do not think you will have many people protesting if you stay. The children love you. And I think you would make an excellent Viking.”

Pero raised a brow and exhaled, thinking about it. Having a place to call his own would be nice. And he was familiar with the kind of work the warriors did, from what he’d heard.

“You do not have long to think about it, Pero,” Helga hummed. She picked up her plate and stood before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I would like it if you stayed,” she whispered into his ear. He looked up at her with soft eyes and she smiled down at him with her hand on his shoulder before turning and leaving.

Pero shut his eyes and exhaled once again, then looked in the direction of the Jarl’s personal quarters.

Would it be such a terrible thing to stay?

On the ninth day, Pero woke with a startle. He thought he’d heard a whisper next to his ear again. He’d been mostly dreamless while he was in the village. Last night, after his talk with Helga, he dreamt about the old man and the wolf in the woods. He didn’t understand any of it, and he barely remembered what the dream actually entailed, but he remembered the feeling. He felt… odd. Not bad or wrong. Just… different. Comforting.

As he got dressed in the clothes that were given to him, he looked over at the scarf Helga gave him. It was a brown color and the material was rough, but also thick and soft. It kept his ears warm. He wrapped it around his neck before slipping his feet into his boots, making sure to be careful of his injured one. He made his way over to the Jarl’s quarters and knocked on the door.

“Er du sikker?” (Are you sure?)

Pero nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “Yes.”

Ingvar sighed and crossed his arms, too. “Du forvirrer meg, Tovar. Men hvis dette virkelig er det du vil, tror jeg ikke at jeg ser noe problem med det.” He shrugged and looked at Sigrid’s smiling face. “Gå og hent tingene hans.” (You confuse me, Tovar. But if this is truly what you want, I don’t suppose I see a problem with it. Go get his things.)

Sigrid nodded happily and ran from the room. Pero and Ingvar awkwardly avoided eye contact. Even if neither of them were enemies, the circumstances of their acquaintanceship were less than ideal. When Sigrid returned, she was carrying Pero’s weapons in both arms and looked to be struggling to do so.

Pero furrowed his brows and gently took the weapons from her. She sighed in relief, but smiled shyly up at him. “I am happy you decided to stay,” she giggled.

Pero smiled down at her, then gave a grateful nod to Ingvar before leaving the room. Sigrid walked next to him while he attached his sword and hunting knife to his belt. He carried the armor under his left arm. “Me too,” he grunted awkwardly. “I am unsure how I will fit in, but…” He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck.

“I think you will be fine,” she nodded, sure of herself. One of the small children, a younger brother of hers he found out, came up to her and tugged on her dress. He mumbled something Pero didn’t quite catch. Sigrid tapped on his shoulder to get Pero’s attention, making him look down at the two of them, dark eyes intimidating, but soft. “She lives at the end of the village,” Sigrid winked, then took off with her younger brother.

Pero’s cheeks flushed, but he chuckled to himself. He made his way through the village, waving or nodding to people as he saw them. It was strange, being accepted as he was. He wasn’t the only gruff and hardened warrior here, and no one seemed scared of him for his scars or his accent. The feeling was so foreign to him.

As he walked up a small hill toward the end of the village, he heard a quiet thud against the grass. He looked down and saw the strange stone from the forest laying there. Right, he’d completely forgotten. It must’ve fallen from his belongings. He picked it up and looked at it, thumbs running over the strange markings. It was almost shaped like a fork, but with three prongs. Maybe Helga would know what it meant.

When he made his way in front of the door of the last house in the village, he hesitated before knocking. The sun was slowly setting and it was getting a tad colder, so he eventually knocked.

“Et øyeblikk!” (One moment!)

Pero smiled to himself as he heard her voice behind the door. Once the door opened, he raised his head and smiled sheepishly, the shape on his face still foreign to him.

Helga’s face softened as she saw him and rested a hand on her hip. “Well, come on in, then,” she grinned, opening the door wider for him. He nodded gratefully and stepped inside her home, the smells of burnt leaves and the feeling of a warm fire engulfing his body.

“I will find my own home, you need not keep me here if–”

“Hush,” she chuckled softly, taking his armor from his arms and putting it in her bedroom for cleaning later. “You are more than welcome to stay here,” she looked up at him with a bit of shyness. The first time she’d ever looked at him like that. “If you want to, that is.”

Pero took two steps closer to her until his face was mere inches from her own. “I want nothing more,” he said softly, rubbing the knuckle of his index finger against her cheek. She shut her eyes and exhaled softly, nodding.

“I was just getting ready to go to the feast,” Helga smiled, looking up at him. “Would you like to join me?”

Pero’s lips quirked up into a soft smile of his own before he remembered the stone he was holding. “Yes, but first,” his brows furrowed in thought. “It is silly, but… I found this strange stone while I was in the forest.”

Helga hummed and tilted her head to the side, letting him continue.

“It has a marking I have never seen before. Do you know what it means?” He asked, showing her the stone lying in the palm of his hand. She picked it up and rubbed her thumb over the marking like he had before.

“Where did you find this?” Helga asked, face pinched in confusion.

“In the forest. There was a small clearing with a bloodstained stone, and–”

“The ritual site,” she smiled up at him, clutching the stone in her hand. “We sacrificed one of the cows on the first day of Jól there.”

Pero blinked down at her, hands holding her arms and rubbing softly. “I see…”

Helga laughed softly. “You’ll get used to it,” she winked. “This is one of the runes. It seems we forgot one.”

“What does it mean?” He hummed, cupping her face in his large hand. He rubbed his thumb against her cheek.

“Protection,” she said softly. She looked at his lips, then looked back up at his eyes. He did the same and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. They stayed there for a few moments before he released her and pressed his forehead against hers.

“Surely the feast can wait a few moments,” he growled into her neck, kissing against the soft skin there. Helga bit her lip and smiled, fingers tangling into the thick curls at the back of his head.

“It can,” she gasped, startled by the small nip he left against her shoulder. Pero slowly walked them toward her bedroom and laid her on top of the bed. The curtains in front of the window were drawn. Something caught his eye in the window and he looked out, hovering over Helga’s body.

In the distance, on top of a hill, was a large black wolf. It seemed to make eye contact with him before it turned and left.

A chill ran down Pero’s spine.

a/n: if you're at all curious, here's a decent idea of what i imagined the stone to look like 🥰

#pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x ofc #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #12 days of pedro #12dop #oaksfics

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