#but i mean ??? she flies without a saddle so ??? as much as it hurts it is realistic

[stormbcrn]

My muse has died. Send in your muse’s reaction.

Rhaella:

Dead…..no no she couldn’t be dead.

Rhaella shoved away the knight who had come to tell her the new, racing through the halls and out ot eh pit. Her brilliant daughter had hatched dragons back into the world and the beasts were kept there freely coming and going through the open roof. Rhaella herself didn’t ride, her body to broken from life to handle it but her little princess was a wonder on them.

The knight was wrong, her baby couldn’t be dead.

What had he been saying? Something about a fall, the height, the dragon….but she never fell. In all the years she never even slipped.

Maybe it was Rhaella’s fault, maybe she had let her daughter go up to often. Maybe she should’ve insisted on the girl not trying.

Maybe she should have been a better mother.

Her daughters body was clearly broken, though someone had gone to the effort of trying to straighten everything out. There was no sound as she dropped to her knees and clutched at the still warm body. Tears fell silently as shock stole her voice, body heaving in great sobs that were soundless as the knights tried to figure out what to do.

When she found her voice again not even the dragons matched her scream.

daenerys is dead – send in your muse’s reaction!

[backjustforberena]

If Seasmoke was a cradle egg then that means he's known Rhaenys his entire life, she might be the first human besides Laenor he ever saw.

Seasmoke in obvious mourning refusing to leave Driftmark and letting Rhaenys be with him because they're the closest each other has to Laenor anymore.

There are two thoughts I have, specific to Rhaenys's mourning, in relation to Seasmoke. Sort of generalised, but hey-ho, I'm saying them now. One is that Rhaenys is the one left behind and faces continual reminders of her son's death and how he died. Corlys is able to sail off. Even if it is to the Stepstones, where he fought with Laenor, he's able to lose himself in that and work through his grief with action and with blood and sweat and tears. If he feels angry about it, he can chop a man's head off and pretend it's whomever he blames for the death (Qarl?). Not an option available to Rhaenys. She has, for her whole life, been stuck to the point of inaction, despite her spirit and nature wanting her to do something different, do something explosive and emotional and without consequence. It’s something that Eve said that really struck me when she spoke about Rhaenys in Episode 09, but that’s a whole other ask about Rhaenys’s character.

When it comes to the death of her children, she is stuck on Driftmark. She resides at Driftmark. She rules Driftmark. I would even go so far as to say she hides at Driftmark, as she has done as a way to protect herself ever since she lost her father. Now it’s something else. It’s a place of two hearts, two hurts. Good memories and bad memories. She sits in a chair she used to hold her babes in, next to the fireplace where her son’s body was dragged from. She sees the dragon that hatched from an egg placed in his cradle, a sad beast who he will never ride again. I expect the sky has never seemed to empty. It’s not only her children that populated it, but their dragons as well. That is helped when Baela comes and flies with her. 

I’m sure Rhaenys is the only person, other than perhaps Dragon-keepers, allowed anywhere near Seasmoke. And from the way Daemon talks about the dragon, it’s not got a formalised nest. It’s not where Meleys is, at High Tide (as I assume we can differentiate, and Driftmark is actually fairly large). We know dragons mourn. Dragons get lonely. How can Rhaenys not identify with Seasmoke?

I’m reminded of what Laena said about Vhagar: The workers at Spicetown report hearing her song at times. They say it is a sad thing. Perhaps it is good, when Seasmoke leaves High Tide, after Rhaenys (my headcanon) takes off his saddle. At least then, Rhaenys cannot hear Seasmoke’s cries.

The second thought (see, we got there), is that I think there has to be something uniquely dragon-like about this grief. Something Targaryen unleashed. Something that Corlys either cannot relate to, cannot bridge or cannot touch. Something that makes him think that what they have now is broken (I lost everything) and so sees the sea and the Stepstones as his way of escape and atonement. There has to be a difference between her reaction to her father’s death, the loss of her birthright and the loss of their daughter as this loss is the one that compounds them all. That makes it all come out in one roar/scream. For me, I suppose what I mean as saying her grief is dragon-like, is her grief being ugly, possessive and deeply solitary. 

That’s crystalised if Rhaenys has a particularly harrowing moment, deciding to get Laenor’s saddle off of Seasmoke. Let that creature be free, if she cannot be. Let him fly away, because he can, even if he doesn’t. And it’s a heavy-as-heck saddle; all metalwork and armour and harsh edges as much as it is leather. Emblazoned with a seahorse. And all the time, Corlys can get nowhere near. Parallel that, sort of, with Daemon striding after Laena before her death. Powerless. He can only watch.  It takes all her strength to pull it off, and even still, it falls from her arms as soon as all the weight is on her, not Seasmoke. She might drag it. Sit with it, bend over it and smelling her son’s scent on the leather. Rocking against it in the sand, as Seasmoke rises. Blinking tears out of her eyes, looking up into the bright son, as Seasmoke gives out a mournful call. 

[just-jordie-things]

Hi can you do 53 with Zuko?🥺 It could be after he joined the Gaang please? 🙏

prompt 53: against a wall kiss ___

Seeing him again was surreal.

That was one way to put it.

Other words that came to mind were frightening, exhilarating, calming, and insane.

Because you truly didn’t think you’d ever see him again.

After he’d made his choice in Ba Sing Se, to betray Iroh, you’d turned around and betrayed him.  You’d stayed by his side for so long, even on that dreaded ship, even when you were waiters in a tea shop, even when it was difficult to be his friend, you never abandoned him.  But that night in the catacombs, you’d made a choice of your own.

You’d chosen good.  You’d chosen Aang.  And you’d chosen to leave him.

He knew why, of course.  He understood that you hated him, that he hurt you, that he’d chosen wrong, but you leaving is what had broken his heart.

And so for Zuko, seeing you again was surreal.

The Gaang had accepted him into the group, on the basis that Aang needed a firebending teacher, and he was just desperate enough to accept Zuko.  But Aang had asked everyone first to make sure it was okay.

When the young boy looked at you, your eyes widened slightly, surprised that your opinion mattered to him, since you’d been with them for such a short time, and you had been a Fire Nation traitor.

“Yes, you,” Aang answered your silent question of surprise.  “You’re one of us, your vote counts” 

You open your mouth, but no words come out.  You’re gaping at a fish, eyes wildly darting between Aang and Zuko.

“I... yeah,” You answer weakly.  “If you think he’s supposed to be your teacher, then, yeah” 

Zuko begins to thank you, but you turn and walk away before he can say much.  You think you might burst into tears if you look at him for a second longer, and you need time to sort your feelings out before you say anything to him.

After Aang thanks Zuko for helping him master the last element, everyone leaves.  And the firebender is left standing alone in the Western Air Temple.  It stings a little, but his happiness in being accepted into the group outweighs the awkwardness.

Sokka shows him to his room, and he spends some time alone, thinking back on the crazy last couple of days that he’d gone through.  A lot had happened, he’d made a pretty life changing decision almost on a whim, and he needed to make sure it wasn’t a mistake.

As a figure appears in his doorway, he knows it wasn't.  In fact, he knows that following the Avatar to join his group was the exact right thing to do, for once.

“(y/n),” Zuko stands abruptly, and he’s staring at you with a look on his face you can’t quite decipher.  “You have no idea how glad I am to see you” 

He steps towards you, and you’re not sure if he’s going to try to hug you, but you step back slightly, and put a hand up to make sure he keeps his distance.

“Wait,” You say, your voice shaky as you stare at him with no emotion.  “Don’t... just.. don’t,” You shake your head, and take a deep breath to collect yourself.  “Zuko I... I don’t know what to do right now” You whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if I’m still angry at you,” You admit, thinking it was better to just be honest with him.  “I mean, I want to be.  I should be, but I...” 

Your eyes meet his, and all reason flies out the window.  All you can think about is how much you missed him.  How terribly your heart had ached for him since you’ve been apart.  He was never truly yours, but when he’d left, it felt like he was leaving you, and that you’d lost him.

Looking at him now, you knew deep down that you still loved him.

“I missed you” You confess, your voice cracking, and slowly, your hard exterior begins to crumble.

Zuko steps forward, hesitantly, and holds his arms out to you in silent question.

This time you don’t step away.  Instead, you crash into him, your own arms flying around his neck as you embrace him tightly, and cry into his chest.

You’d longed for this moment since the minute you’d gotten on Appa’s saddle in Ba Sing Se.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n/n),” The ex-prince murmurs into your hair, his arms circling your waist and holding you tight against him so you could never break free.  “I’m so sorry” 

“I- I’m so mad that y-you l-left me,” You stammer out in between shaky breaths of air.

Zuko thinks he might start crying too.

“I- I thought I’d n-never s-s-see you a-again” 

“Oh, my darling,” 

He pulls back from you, just enough that he can cup your face in his warm and gentle hands, and wipe your tears away as he looks you in the eyes.

“No matter how much you may have resented me, I would have never let that happen,” He tells you with grave seriousness.

You sniffle as the pad of his thumb brushes underneath your eye.

“And I’ll never leave you again, darling” 

“Promise?” You whisper, your breath fanning over his lips as you move in closer to him.

“I promise” He answers affirmatively.

You waste not a second more before leaning in the rest of the way, and softly capturing his lips in yours.

It’s not the first time you kissed.  He did steal a kiss from you once in secret back in Ba Sing Se, after a late night of closing up his Uncle’s tea shop and goofing off with you.  He’d just done it so quickly, so naturally before heading to bed.  In fact, even though it was new and strange and opened up an infinite amount of questions regarding your relationship, it had felt natural to you, too.

Kissing Zuko now felt like it had back then.

Natural.  And Right.

And as his hands dropped to your hips and he roughly brought you into his chest to deepen the kiss, it felt good.

You whimpered, a quiet little strangled sound dying in the back of your throat.  Maybe because of the crying, maybe because of Zuko’s warm fingers grazing beneath the hem of your shirt and burning your skin, either way, ir prompted him to push you backwards.  You stumbled on your feet, wanting to follow his command without breaking your lips from the heated kisses you were sharing.

Eventually, Zuko backed you against a wall, and he kept you firmly trapped between the stone and his chest.  You let out a breath of air as you’d run into it, and in the slight pause you took, he raised one hand back to your face.

His fingers barely ghosted over your jaw, his thumb resting on your bottom lip.  He watched in awe as he dragged the pink flesh downwards, before releasing it.

“I’m in love with you” He exhales, eyes meeting yours, and you smile coyly.

“I know,” You reply, knowing it’s not what he wanted to hear, before reaching up and kissing him again.

It’s passionate, and lively, as your hands fly towards his hair, tangling and pulling on the long raven strands just to get a rise out of him- and to hear th little noises he tried not to make.

But soon enough you were pulling apart to catch your breath again, your chest rising and falling as you panted, and Zuko thinks he’s never loved looking at you more than right now.

Your skin is flushed, your lips are swollen, and your pupils are blown wide and dilated, and the thought of you wanting him just makes him want you even more.

“I’m in love with you too” You finally tell him, breathlessly.

He grins at you, and his hands on your waist tighten as he hoists you up, bringing your legs around his hips before shoving you back against the wall and crashing your lips together again.

(Toph is somewhere in the temple begging to be carried because she just can’t stand her earth bending abilities right now) _

xoxo ~ jordie

[ga-yuu]

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 7~

I love how Yoshino and Kurama are literally flirting on the battlefield. Yoshino....I have already said it, but I’ll say it again, she’s the best character CYBIRD has ever created, according to me, that is. And I also love how she literally drools in awe at the sight of her male leads in every route.

WARNING!!! This story has a lot of violence, blood, and gore.

Chapter 6

*

*

*

-------Part 1-------

Kurama: "Troublesome woman."

He clicks his tongue and pulls me tight with one hand.

Yoshino: "........!"

Something warm touches my back as he straightened me and he positioned me in such a way so that I could lean on his chest.

Yoshino(blushing): "Kurama.....?"

Kurama: "Sit still, like an ornament. If you fidget, I'll have to do more."

As he says this, Kurama draws his sword with one free hand and lets it fly.

In the blink of an eye, the battle was upon us.

Enemy soldier 1: “....! The banner of the rebel army.”

(They saw us!)

Kurama: “Let’s go.”

One minute we’re floating and the next moment----

Kurama makes his horse dance and plunges into the middle of the battle.

I bit back a scream before I had time to reply.

Enemy soldier 2: “You’d be a fool to come in with that many hands!”

Enemy soldier 3: “Have the rebels gone crazy? Come on!”

Kurama: “It’s an annoying rumor, we’ll have to stop it soon.”

The sword, wielded with tremendous force, struck the enemy soldier in the torso.

The second blow had already flicked off the sword of another enemy, who had fallen from the saddle without a second thought.

Enemy soldier 1: “ARGGHHH!”

Kurama: “Get out of my way.”

Kurama grabs the enemy by the chest and throws him with ease.

(I can’t believe he’s so strong even without using any other powers!)

Rebel soldier 1: “Don’t fall behind Kurama-sama!”

Rebel soldier 2: “Yes, we’ll help Benkei-sama in any way we can!”

The rebel soldiers, desperate to catch up with Kurama, are also struggling with their weapons.

(Great, even though we are outnumbered by the enemy.)

As soon as he appeared, he slew five of his enemies, and his presence sent them into a frenzy and completely galvanized his allies.

But Kurama doesn’t care about that, he’s running fast.

Kurama: “Benkei is further back?”

The swords he wielded were brilliantly used to dispatch one enemy after another.

(I don’t have time to feel afraid of the enemy.)

Kurama, who is closest to me, is much more terrifying.

Despite my awe, I feel the same warmth as our bodies touch.

Kurama: “What are you thinking? Why do you keep making that stunning face at such times?”

------Part 2------

Kurama: “What are you thinking? Why do you keep making that stunning face at such times?”

(Ah.......)

As he rode his horse fast, Kurama forced my face upwards.

Uninteresting eyes look down on me.

Yoshino: “Kurama is the one who should not be looking the other way at a time like this.”

Kurama: “For me, it’s child’s play. More importantly, don’t be so cocky as to think you can hide things from me, Yoshino.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. I didn’t mean to. (+4/+4)

2. It’s just your imagination.

3. Kurama, is strong....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: “I didn’t mean to imply.....that I was hiding anything.”

Kurama: “If you want to fool me, I can call your name in your ear as often as I did that time.”

Yoshino(blushing): “That’s a bit....!”

Kurama laughed in the back of his throat in satisfaction when he saw my impatience at the sound of his gifted voice.

Kurama: “Remember this, even what you feel in your heart must be something that I give to you.”

Yoshino(blushing): “So, unreasonable....”

At that time-----

(.....!)

One arrow flies towards me with a bite.

Kurama: “Don’t look away.”

Yoshino: “Kurama!”

The enemy archers look aghast when they see me unharmed.

I was the only one who noticed the swirl of transparent wind that had forcibly twisted the trajectory of the arrow in front of me.

(Wind blade...)

Kurama: “......”

Kurama, who had been trying to manipulate his ability without turning around, suddenly touched my cheek as if to confirm something.

Yoshino: “Eh...”

Kurama: “I hope you’re not injured.”

Yoshino(blushing): “No, no, no I’m fine.”

Kurama: “So be it. Humans are vulnerable.”

(That’s...)

Yoshino: “If I get hurt, will Kurama be in trouble...?”

Kurama: “I’m not in the slightest bit of trouble.”

The red of his eyes took on a dumbfounded color at my question.

Kurama: “I told you I won’t kill you for now. It’s just that once you’ve spat, you don’t swallow.”

Yoshino: “You mean you keep your promises? Even with humans?”

I look back at Kurama feeling surprised.

Kurama: “To condescend to break a self-imposed rule is like begging to be reduced to a dwarf.”

 As he continued to speak, Kurama killed another incoming enemy soldier with a single slash.

(Metaphorically speaking, I thought Kurama was as terrifying as a natural disaster.)

A terrifying demon that defies logic and human understanding. That was my first impression of Kurama.

(But now, I know a bit more.)

(Kurama is just living on a different scale, neither good nor evil as I know it.)

(He’s arrogant, but reasonable, which is why I’m drawn to him without even knowing it. ....I’m sure the rebel army thinks the same.)

Kurama lightly swings his swords, which are dripping with blood, to get rid of the drops.

Even the gesture was cruelly beautiful.

Enemy soldier 2: “Damn it, stop that man!”

Enemy soldier 3: “AAAHHH!!!”

(We’re surrounded!)

Perhaps fearing Kurama, who leads the way with overwhelming strength, about five enemies attacked us all at once.

Yoshino: ”No....!!!”

Kurama: “It’s useless.”

------Part 3-----

Kurama: “It’s useless.”

On the contrary, without changing his color, Kurama makes his horse dance further in front of the enemy.

Enemy soldier 2: “Ku....”

The enemy, impatient to be out of range, struck a blow in the dark.

Kurama knocked it down with difficulty and twisted the enemy with his return sword.

Enemy soldier 3: “Eat this!”

Kurama: “......”

(I’m going to be slashed-----)

He came at me from the side, and our blades collided with each other by the skin of our teeth.

He clicks his tongue sharply and forcefully Kurama bounces off the enemy’s sword.

Kurama: “I don’t like it. Fighting for cover.”

Yoshino: ”Be careful!”

Kurama dodges a slash that comes at him from a blind spot.

Without blinking an eye, he literally flipped his enemy off, even as he slashed black hair fell in a heap.

Yoshino: “.....Kurama, are you hurt?”

Kurama: “If you’re so bored you’re asking unnecessary questions, take a nap.”(I love him!)

Yoshino: “Then I’ll have nightmares for sure!”(I love her too!)

Kurama: “You seem to have more blood in your veins than you care to admit. A few scratches won’t kill you.”

Despite this, Kurama does not let up his attack.

(It looks like you can afford it....)

As I say this, I’m not used to fighting for someone else.

From a while ago, the enemy’s sword skimmed past Kurama’s body.

Enemy soldier 5: “He’s too strong,....is he a monster!?”

Enemy soldier 6: “Aim for the woman! Let’s take her as a hostage....”

Yoshino: “Me....?”

I was horrified by all the glaring stares.

I then heard Kurama chuckled coldly above me.

Kurama: “Don’t you know that tricks are useless in the face of overwhelming odds? A little ignorance is a pity, but stupidity is a sin. Atone for it and be scattered with the dew.”

The swords wielded without mercy slaughtered one enemy after another, turning the earth red.

Enemy soldier 7: “Nnn.....”

The last person, shaking and clutching his sword, falls on his butt.

Kurama: “Stand up and I’ll kill you with honor.”

The enemy soldier shook his head in dismay, tears streaming down his cheeks as he was overpowered.

Without even looking at him, Kurama passes by.

Yoshino: “So you chose not to kill him....?”

Kurama: “He who is gripped by fear is as good as not alive. What is the use of slaying the dead?”

------Part 4------

Kurama: “He who is gripped by fear is as good as not alive. What is the use of slaying the dead?”

(-----After all.)

I felt the black wings that should have been invisible on Kurama’’s back spread powerfully.

(To be strong is to be cruel, arrogant.....and to be able to live your life the way you want to live it.)

Unrestrained and following his heart, Kurama is both terrifying and hauntingly beautiful.

(There is not the slightest deviation between Kurama’s words and actions.)

I spilled a small truth in the wind because I knew it so painfully.

Yoshino: “.....Thank you.”

Kurama: “......?”

Yoshino: “I never thanked you for your help. It was my misfortune and fault that I was taken as a prisoner, and it was Kurama who brought me to the battle in that condition, but....in the meantime, thank you for not letting me die now.”

Kurama: “Not for you. It’s for the sake of my strength.”

Yoshino: “I could feel it somehow. But if that strength is what’s saving me, I wouldn’t feel comfortable not telling you.”

Kurama: “.......Will you persist in your complacency even after being taken as a prisoner? On the contrary, you are stubborn. It’s appalling.”

Kurama’s lips twisted in a somewhat venomous manner.

(He doesn’t seem to be offended.)

(....Even though, Kurama is still scary, he can get a bit out of tune with these things.)

At that time----

???: “KURAMA!”

Yoshino: “Hm?”

A large figure broke through the enemy enclosure at once, and leaped from his horse in front of us.”

Benkei: “What are you doing here?”

Rebel soldiers: “BENKEI-SAMA! BENKEI-SAMA IS HERE!!!”

The soldiers on this side noticed and burst into joy at once.

In the midst of it all, Benkei-san’s eyes caught mine and widened.

Benkei: “------Fox princess!?”

Kurama: “She’s my prisoner.”

Benkei: “........ We’ll talk more later.”

Benkei-san quickly let out his hesitation with a faint breath.

He then stood next to Kurama and held his red miscellaneous sword in a dignified manner.

Benkei: “Get your feet up, all of you! To reward you for holding on to hope, Kurama going to give you a wonderful tomorrow.”

------Part 5------

Benkei: “Get your feet up, all of you! To reward you for holding on to hope, Kurama going to give you a wonderful tomorrow.”

Rebel soldiers: “YAYYY!!!!”

As Benkei-san’s loud voice shook the battlefield, the soldiers shouted in happiness.

(Great momentum.....!)

Enemy soldier 8: “Damn, what are these people?”

Enemy soldier 9: “We still have the advantage in numbers, don’t be afraid!”

The enemy soldiers soon came at us with a massive force.

(So fast----)

Kurama: “Hey, why do I have to give them a reward?”

Benkei: “As they say...”

It was as if they knew each other’s movements, and in an instant, the enemy in front of them was wiped out.

Benkei: “They’ve seen how strong you are. It’s a small price to pay for a name and a figure that attracts attention and gives you hope for life.”

Kurama: “You’ve got some nerve, Benkei, selling me cheap.”

Kurama, frowning like the incarnation of a grump, cut down two new enemies.

Benkei-san knocked down another enemy who had jumped out of his blind spot.

(These two are talking while killing soldiers and are in perfect sync.)

Benkei: “Shut up, man. It’s okay, being thanked doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

Kurama: “Less.”

Benkei: “Huh? What?”

Kurama: “....I don’t understand you.”

(Kurama?)

After an unusually short silence, Benkei-san also glanced at Kurama as he fought.

Kurama: “I’ve never been able to eat anything that humans offer me because it’s too warm. If I had been grateful I would have been fed up with being fed.”

Benkei(smiling): “It’s a masterpiece that you, a picky eater, should be forced to eat something you don’t like.”

After knocking down the enemy with gusto, Benkei-san turned around and smiled wryly.

Benkei: “Well, I’ll have a bite.”

Kurama: “What?”

Benkei: “Thank you for coming all this way to save me, Kurama.”

(......!)

Kurama(glares): “I’ll cut your tongue off.”

Benkei: “It’s my choice to be grateful. If you don’t like it, I’ll give you cat food.”

Kurama: “...............I don’t like beasts that flatter me like cats. I’d rather....”

Benkei: “Have good sake and snacks?”

Kurama(smile): “You understand me well. Let’s quickly end this crappy battle and return to Hiraizumi in triumph.”

Chapter 8

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: Read All About It! Pt 2

Luz sleeps only because she cried herself to complete exhaustion the night before.

She wakes up slowly. Her whole body is tired. She manages to push herself up, blinking away the remnants Knowing of sleep, and looks around. She's still wearing her school clothes. Eda probably carried her up here after she passed out. She'd cried in Eda's arm till she fell asleep, never making it out of the living room.

She looks at the window, the sun hasn't risen yet, casting her room in a cool gray-blue of predawn. She needs to get ready for school, but she knows that she has to talk to Eda first. Everyone is probably wondering just what all that was last night.

She climbs out of bed sluggishly and straightens out her uniform, and brushes her hair into some form of compliance before leaving her room and walking quietly down the stairs.

The living room is empty, but there are sounds coming from the kitchen, the clatter of plates, and silverware, and she can smell something delicious being cooked. Pancakes?

She walks in to find Lilith and King sitting at the table, the former sipping on her customary cup of breakfast tea, and the latter, gnawing hungrily on a fork.

King notices her first.

"Luz!" He drops the fork and jumps down from his chair, and scampers up to her, wrapping his arms around one of her legs and looking up at her worried. “Are you okay?”

Luz looks down at him and picks him up, kissing his furry cheek.

"I… don't really know how to answer that…," she says and King lets out a whine, nuzzling closer to her, which makes her smile a little.

"How ya feeling, kid?" She looks up at Eda as she walks over, and she shrugs.

"I… don't know," she admits.

"You wanna tell us what happened now?" she asks softly.

Luz sighs, but nods and Eda leads her to her customary spot at the table and they sit. Luz tells them about the events of yesterday. A variety of emotions filter across both Clawthorne sister’s faces as she recounts the day before Eda’s finally settles on rage.

"That rotten little bit-"

"Edalyn!" Lilith scolds before turning back to Luz. "I'm sorry you both had to go through that, Luz." Lilith frowned.

"So now you're just… waiting?" Eda asks and Luz nods. The older witch sighs. "I'm sorry, Luz." Eda laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"Thanks…," she mumbles.

"Chin up, kiddo. We'll deal with it as it comes. For now, how bout pancakes?" She smiles and Luz realizes that she's absolutely starving. She hasn't eaten since breakfast this time yesterday.

"Please," she moans. Eda grins and stands to grab Luz a tall stack of pancakes.

She wolfs it down in record time to fill her empty belly that’s eating itself and when all that remains on her plate is a puddle of syrup, she sighs contently, satisfied.

"Thanks, mom," she says as she stands to leave.

"Have a good day, Luz," Lilith says as she grabs her bag and makes for the door.

"Thanks, and you're right." She turns to Eda, who cocks a brow at her. "Boscha is a bitch," she says and runs for the door. "I love you guys, bye!" She bolts out the front door and heads for school leaving Eda cackling behind her. Lilith rolls her eyes at them. In another universe, Luz was definitely Eda's.

When her laughter fades away Eda's face grows more somber and she sits in Luz's empty seat across from Lilith, looking at her seriously. Lilith looks back at her, waiting, as she takes a sip from her cup.

"Theoretically…," she starts, tapping her long nails on the table. "We could just... kill this girl and dump her body in a river, right?" she asks nonchalantly.

Lilith looks at her over the rim of her cup for a long minute before she takes another long sip.

"Theoretically…" she agrees and sets her cup on the back on the table with a quiet clink. “But it would be easily discoverable in the river… burning on the other hand…”

~

Luz isn't surprised when she arrives at school and more people than usual look her way when she passes them.

She doesn't care about them though. Her only worry is about Amity and her parents. In the human world, she was used to people whispering behind her back or looking at her strangely. It's gotten easy for her to ignore.

Her friends and Amity are waiting out front, near the stairs.

Luz runs up to them.

"Hey, guys," she greets and it's noticeably more subdued than most mornings.

"Hey, Luz." They smile at her and if it's a little sad, she doesn't say anything. They too have noticed the looks their group is getting from other students. Amity is the only one who seems a little shaken up by it, shoulders tensing every time other students walk by into the building past them and their gaze lingers before they start whispering to themselves. It stabs at Luz’s chest, as well as the exhausted look on her girlfriend’s face.

She grabs Amity's hand and squeezes.

Amity blinks at her, surprised, but then she squeezes back. Everyone already knows, they have no reason to hide it anymore.

"Anything happen last night?" she asks quietly and Amity shakes her head, leaning her shoulder against hers.

"I don't think they've heard yet…" she frowns. Luz hums.

“There’s no point in worrying about it till something actually happens.” Willow reasons. It hurts her to see the two so solemn.

“Yeah, try not to worry about it for now,” Gus agrees.

“They're right.” Luz looks at Amity and she nods tiredly.

“Right…,” she mumbles, leaning her head on her shoulder, but their friends' words don’t bring her any comfort and Luz knows it, they don’t help her much either, but she appreciates the effort. She presses a kiss to green hair.

“Try not to worry, mi amor,” she says and Amity nods.

The bell screams soon enough and they have to all make their way to class.

They meet up again at lunch and it feels like everyone’s eyes are on her as Amity walks into the cafeteria with her lunch. She sees the table in the back where Luz and their friends are sitting and quickly makes her way over, she doesn’t look at anyone and tries to block out all the quiet whispering that she knows, without even having to hear, is about her.

She quickly sits down next to Luz. They try to just have a normal lunch, but Amity feels like she’s crawling in her skin with all the attention centered on her. She glances at Luz, who doesn’t seem at all bothered by it. She wishes she could do that, but between the gossiping and the looks in her so far today in class and just passing in the halls, not to mention the threat of when, not if her parents are going to find out, looming over her head, she just feels like tightly wound spring, looking to release all the tight energy spiraled up inside her.  

Luz looks up at Amity to see her staring intently down at her uneaten food with a pensive face and frowns.

"When was the last time you ate?" Luz whispers, jolting her out of her thoughts as she turns to look at her. It takes her long enough to answer that Luz knows that the answer is probably sometime yesterday.

"I'm not hungry," she finally mumbles, still picking at her food.

"I know… but please, eat something. For me?" Luz tries. Amity looks at her and the meaning is clear.

'that's not fair'

Luz smiles at that and Amity sighs and finally takes a bite.

It tastes like sawdust in her mouth but she eats it all anyway, for Luz, and maybe she does feel a little better with her belly full, but she's not going to say so. Luz looks happy about it though, and that's good enough for her.

What does lift her spirits are when a surprised shriek fills the cafeteria, and from where they're sitting they can see Boscha, jump up from her table, covered in her own lunch.

As she does, more food flies from several more directions, pelting her in the back and the face.

The whole cafeteria erupts into laughter as she wipes the green goo out of her eyes, especially as yet more food flies through the air to hit her from several directions and she runs out with her group of cronies behind her and screaming with rage.

Gus snickers to himself and they look at him.

"What was that about?" Willow blinks, and he grins.

"The illusion track," is the answer.

"Whaddaya mean?" Luz asks.

"Ed and Em rallied the illusion track students this morning to play pranks on Boscha. They've actually become really popular since they stopped all the mean jokes, not that it was hard to convince anyone, no one really likes Boscha," he explains. "Oh, you guys missed it this morning, but someone magiced her locker to explode trash slug slime on her when she opened it!" he laughs.

Luz and Willow grin at that and Amity smiled.

Her brother and sister are too much sometimes, and she loves them.

With the distraction of Boscha's drive-thru lunch, no one seems to be looking at them anymore and Luz throws her arm over Amity's shoulders, tugging her close. The human grins at her and Amity feels herself relax some.

Maybe the threat of her parents is still looming over her, but for now, here with her friends, knowing her siblings have her back and saddled up close to the girl she loves, she's happy.

The rest of the day goes by quickly. Thursday and Friday are easier, after  Wednesday the luster of their secret has already worn off and people are more distracted by the constant pranks being played on Boscha by the illusion track. Her locker has been filled with all sorts of gross and disturbing things between every passing period and something always goes awry at lunch.

Ed and Em deny ever doing a single thing to the girl when Luz asks them, but the devious looks on their face tell another story altogether.

It seems being one of the top students in the beast keeping track gives Viney some pull too if the griffin excrement in Boscha's locker or the baby chupacabra she finds in her bag during potions Friday morning are anything to go by.

Not to mention that Luz is well-liked by most of her classmates in all her tracks, and it doesn't take long for word to spread to the other tracks about what's going on and they soon join and collaborate with each other. There are a few people at Hexside Boscha hasn't bullied or demeaned, so no one blinks an eye at the potions slipped into her lunch that have… less than favorable effects or the sound effects the bard track adds whenever something bad happens to her. The members of the healing track are always curiously absent as well from the medical wing whenever Boscha has to go see them, for chupacabra bites or the like.

After school Friday they tell Eda and Lilith about the potion someone must have slipped her that made her break out in a full-body rash. Eda, as the chaotic witch she is, is delighted by it and even Lilith grins, though she tries to hide it behind her teacup.

They go upstairs Luz jumps on her bed with a tired sigh, Amity makes an agreeing noise as she plops down next to her, letting Luz curl up around her tiredly. She smiles to herself and runs her fingers through her girlfriend's soft, dark locks, they hang down the back of her neck now and her bangs droop around her eyebrows. Amity thinks it's a cute look, and while she of course isn't forbidding Luz from cutting her hair if she wants, when asked her opinion, she simply says she likes it how it is, which is enough to keep Luz from cutting it. She needs to cut her own soon, her roots are showing again, much to Luz's delight.

Luz hums contently in her grip and they just lay there.

"Hey," Luz starts after a while.

"Hmm?" Amity's eyes are closed, face buried in the warm girl's neck.

"I've been thinking… about switching to all potions track…," she finally says.

Amity's eyes snap open at that and she leans back to look at Luz. The surprise is clear in her wide eyes.

"What, really?" Is all she can ask and Luz nods.

"My potions teacher thinks I could go really far if I took potions more than once a week," she says.

"I'm sure you could, you're already the top student after all… but you love taking all the tracks." She frowns, brows furrowing between her eyes.

"Yeah, I do, but focusing on the thing I'm really good at seems like the more… responsible thing to do…," she says and now Amity knows something is up, and she has a pretty good idea of what it might be.

"Luz, does this have anything to do with my parents?" she asks and Luz frowns, eyes glancing away and Amity knows for certain now.

"I mean… they don't really like the multitrack thing right? Besides, I'm good at potions, maybe they wouldn't mind us being together if I was just the top student in the potions track only," she reasons, looking back at her again and Amity frowns. "I just don't want to lose you…," she mumbles under her breath. There's a pain In her heart at those words, that strikes Amity like a hot coal, her burns, hot in her chest

"Luz… no," she starts, pulling her hands away from the back of Luz's neck to cup her face, thumbs running across her warm cheeks. "I don't want to lose you either, but I also want you just as you are, I don't want you to change to try and please my parents, I do enough of that for the both of us already…" she says quietly. "If you want to take all potions, then do it because that's what you want to do, not for me, and especially not because of my parents. I love you just the way you are, querida." She presses her forehead against Luz's, who smiles, reaching up to hold the hands pressed to her face.

"I love you too," she says, leaning in to close the small distance between them with a firm kiss.

"You two are gross…" they both jump at the voice and turn to see King standing in the doorway, with his arms crossed.

"Probably," Luz grins, tightening her grip on Amity. "Did you want to come snuggle with us, King?" She asks in that baby tone.

"No!" he squeals.

"Good, more for me." Amity huffs, wrapping her arms back around Luz's neck, but is smirking to herself, face hidden in her girlfriend's neck. Luz grins, knowing what she's doing, and cuddles closer.

King lasts all of thirty seconds before he screeches and runs over, scrambling up the side of the bed to wedge his way between them.

"King demands cuddles!" He shouts as they laugh and squeeze him between them. Once he's settled down, they share a look over the top of his head, smiling at each other.

~

When Amity gets home she heads straight for her room and sets her bag down.

She's just sitting down at her desk when her siblings burst in unannounced, as they usually do.

"Hey, Mittens." Edric grins at her, as they make themselves comfortable on her bed.

"Soooo, how"s school been?" Emira drawls with a sly, knowing grin that completely betrays her.

Amity smirks at them.

"Rather uneventful on my part actually, though Boscha seems to be having an unusually hard time, but I'm sure you two don't know anything about that, do you?" she asks.

The twins glanced at each other, both wearing equally shit-eating grins.

"I can't say that we do," Edric says, kicking his feet as he lays on his stomach across her bed, head in his hands.

"Doesn't ring any bells." Emira flips her hair over her shoulder and leans back on her hands.

Amity just shakes her head at them, she's grinning.

A knock on the door makes them all freeze, smiles falling away.

"Yes?" Amity calls, trying to keep the sudden nervousness out of her voice.

The door opens and her mother appears.

Odalia Blight looks as prim and proper as ever. Her dark chartreuse hair pulled into a perfect bun atop her head and her lavender dress perfectly pressed and tidy. Her face is stiff and serious, though it's hardly anything other. Her sharp, olive eyes land on Amity.

"Amity, dear, your father and I would like to speak to you in his study," she says.

Those words send ice coursing through Amity's veins. This has to be it, the moment she has been dreading for two days.

"Yes, mother." The response is automatic, she doesn't even realize she's saying it. Her mother nods and disappears down the hall toward her father's study.

Amity takes a shaky breath as she stands.

The twins scramble off the bed to lay a hand on each of her shoulders.

"It's gonna be okay," Emira says and Edric nods.

"Relax, take a breath."

She nods and takes a slow steadying breath. The twins pat her and she walks out of her room and down the stairs toward her father's study. The large wooden door is indistinguishable from the rest of the house, unassuming, but it is one the Blight children never enter unless they've been summoned.

She knocks and a deep voice calls for her to enter.

She takes the handle with a shaking hand and pushes it open.

The room is large and spacious, lined with bookshelves fit to bursting with thick, leather-bound tomes. A large, violet rug lays over the dark wood floor and one large window fills the opposite wall from the door, in front of which an old, sturdy desk sits.

Behind that desk, sits her father, looking down at something in front of him. Her mother stands next to him, hands folded in front of her.

Alador Blight is a tall, thin man, with auburn hair that extends in a well-groomed beard that follows his jawline and grows long on his chin. He is never seen in less than long, black dress pants and dark gray, and white pinstriped dress shirt under a black vest, a gold chain hanging from one of the buttons to the pocket where his pocket watch rests against his chest.

He looks up and gold eyes the same shade as her own land on her.

"Come here a moment, Amity, we'd like to discuss something with you," he calls.

"Yes?" she asks quietly, folding her hands in front of her tightly as she stops in front of the desk.

"We were hoping you could explain this," her mother says, picking a piece of paper off her father's desk and holding it up to her.

She can't help but wince as the poster of her and Luz is held up in front of her face.

She swallows thickly.

"It's… a poster, Boscha posted at school," she says simply. Her mother makes a sour face at that.

"Clearly it is a poster." There's a sharpness in her voice that cuts at Amity. "What we are referring to, is what you are doing in this… scandalous photo," she says. Her father watches silently.

Amity doesn't see any way to mitigate this other than the truth, after all, it's right there, in full color. She mumbles something and winces when her mother sighs sharply.

"Blight's do not mumble, Amity. Speak clearly," she scolds.

"Kissing my girlfriend." She says louder, cheeks turning pink as she says it out loud to her parents.

"Girlfriend?" Her mother looks appalled. "The human?" She's aghast. "How long has this been going on?" she demands.

"Almost six months…"

"Six months?!" Her mother's olive eyes are wide and her father's brows tick upward at that.

"You've been gallivanting around with that human for six months?" Odalia is beside herself at that news, and Amity's shoulders hug her neck. Her mother presses a hand to her temple and shakes her head, but every time the word 'human' slips past her mother's lips makes Amity's stomach roil with anger. Like that's all Luz is and that's all they need to know about her, that she's human, not that she's the kindest, most thoughtful, loving person Amity has ever known

"The human…," her mother starts again.

"Luz" Amity finally speaks, cutting off her mother who looks at her, startled. Her father is also looking at her surprised now. Amity swallows, but plows on.

"Her name is Luz. Luz Noceda."

Her mother only frowns at that.

"Of all the witchlings on the Boiling Isles, you choose that girl of all people…, why?" her mother makes a face and throws up a hand, begging to understand why their most level-headed child has done this.

"I…" she glances between her parents. She has nowhere else to go with this. "I love her,"  is her simple, honest answer.

Her mother scoffs, rolling her eyes as she sets the offensive paper on her father's desk.

"You couldn't possibly know what love is," Odalia says imperiously. Amity clenches her fists.

She might be young, but she's not five. she's read enough books and seen enough people in love to know what it's supposed to look and sound like.

She's learned over the last six months exactly what it feels like to.

It's an all-encompassing desire to be with someone, wanting nothing but to make them happy, and being happy just because they are. Taking care of each other, knowing they're there for you no matter what, even when no one else is.

Luz has literally shed blood for her and kept on fighting, and if all that isn't love, then Amity is sure no such thing exists in this world.

She's been head over heels in love with Luz for long enough to know this, and maybe she's never bled for her, but she can at least make this stand for her.

"Yes I do, and I love her!" Her voice raises as she slaps a hand to her chest, leaning forward, gold eyes narrowed and mouth pulled back in a snarl, and her mother looks at her like she's lost her mind.

Auburn brows shoot upward into his hairline as Alador regards his youngest daughter from across his desk. He can't remember the last time Amity argued with them, and he doesn't think she's ever raised her voice at them, much less the look directed at her mother now, whole body rigid. He's intrigued by this, by this human girl that elicits such a strong reaction in his youngest, and usually, most well behaved child.

He speaks before his wife gets the chance to open her mouth, and he can tell she's about to harshly scold Amity but cuts her off at the pass.

"Tell me, Amity," he finally speaks since this conversation started, steepling his fingers in front of him."...Tell me about this, Luz Noceda," he says, leaning back in his chair. Odalia's head whips to look at him, but his gold eyes are trained on Amity, who is looking back at him with the same eyes.

That catches her off guard, and she blinks back in surprise. She never expected that from her dad, who is looking at her curiously, waiting.

Normally, on any other day of the week she could confidently sing her girlfriend's praises to anyone, but at the moment, put on the spot in front of both of her parents, she struggles to speak for a minute.

"She's kind…," she finally starts. "She's always kind to everyone, but especially to me…," she says, unsure. Tons of things come to mind, but she knows well enough that some of them are things that most people would not find as endearing as she does, especially not her parents.

Her father doesn't say anything, only continues to look at her expectantly, she does her best to ignore her mother, looking at her with narrowed eyes. She knows the kinds of things her mother wants to hear.

"She's very intelligent, and studies all nine tracks at school..."

"Yes, we saw her… interesting uniform, in the photo," her mother says distastefully. Whether that distaste is aimed at Luz's education choices or the content of the photo, Amity is unsure, and her cheeks pink a little, the fact that her parents saw that photo… but she doesn't have time for that right now, she can sense that this is her make or break moment by the simple virtue that they're having this conversation at all.

"She's one of the top students in beast keeping, and is the top student in potions," she says, standing straighter, shoulders pushed back proudly at Luz's achievements. Her mother blinks surprised at that. Being the top student in any of the tracks is nothing to sneeze at. "Humans don't have bile sacs, so she can't do magic the same way we do, but she works hard to work around that, harder than anyone, we spend a lot of time studying for abominations," she tells them.

"Interesting, how does she perform magic?" Her father tilts his head.

All three Blight children know exactly how best to appeal to their parents. Anything that makes them look good is the quickest way to get their mother to agree to something.

Her father, however, has a natural, insatiable curiosity, anything that grabs his interest is the best way to garner his attention. Amity inherited her curious and studious nature from the man, after all.

"With glyphs, usually on paper, but anything she can draw on. She's taught me some."

"Show me," he commands, sliding his desk notepad and pen across to her.

Amity steps forward and takes the pen, she hesitates a moment before deciding on which glyph she wants to use, and carefully drawing it out on the paper and tapping it gently. The paper crumpled up, forming a floating orb of light, it's gentle glow casts shadows across both father and daughter's faces.

"Fascinating…" Alador pulls at his beard thoughtfully as he observes the light spell floating above his desk. He's done his share of research about ancient magics and this reminds him of what he's read, to see it, is another matter entirely, even if it is only a simple light spell.

"Wild magic…" his wife frowns.

"She's the Owl Lady's apprentice," Amity says, and her mother's olive gaze turns to her.

"Edalyn Clawthorne…," her mother sneers. "A brazen criminal…"

"A former criminal," Alador says, drawing both their attention. "The Emperor himself pardoned her and her sister by the will of the Titan," he reminds. "It is thus, not our place to question that… even if her character remains… questionable," he says. "There is no denying that the Clawthorne sisters' are both formidably powerful."

Odalia frowns but doesn't argue either point.

He hums and glances at the poster still sitting on his desk, and the photo of his daughter wrapped in a rather passionate embrace with the human he had heard rumors off. He doesn't like this obvious power play by his colleague's daughter, trying to discredit Amity, but that is a concern for later.

"I'm intrigued, Amity," he finally addresses his daughter, and stands from his desk, cupping the light spell in his hand as he walks around to stand in front of her.

He towers over her, but he towers over everyone in the family, Edric aspires to be as tall as their father someday.

"Clearly this, Luz, is of importance to you, so I wish to meet her," he says and Amity balks.

"You do?" Is all she can say. Her mother looks just as shocked.

"Yes, I've heard the rumors of the human attending Hexside, and her magic is interesting. I'd like to separate the facts from the myths myself," he says and hums thoughtfully. "I believe we have no prior engagements Sunday? "he turns to his wife questioningly, who nods. "Invite your girlfriend to dinner Sunday night, Amity. I will gauge her character for myself," he says with finality.

Amity's tongue works soundlessly in her throat before she nods.

"Yes, father," she finally managed to say.

"Good, that will be all, Amity." He dismisses and she nods before quickly leaving the room.

When she's far enough away from her father's study, she books it back to her room.

Edric and Emira are standing inside, waiting for her.

"Mittens!" They practically jump on her.

"What did they say?!"

"Dad… wants to meet Luz," she says, still shocked by this.

"Really?" Emira blinks.

"Yeah… he wants me to invite her to dinner Sunday night." She looks between them.

"Well, that will be an interesting dinner…" Edric cocks a brow and Emira elbows him.

"I have to tell Luz!" Amity runs over to her desk and pulls open a drawer, sitting next to the little maroon box that her brooch rests in is a large, folded up piece of paper. She pulls it out and unfolds it on the floor. it's poster size, and has a large, intricate glyph is drawn on it.

She taps her hand to it and a portal blazed to life.

"Fold this up and put it back in my drawer, I'll be back soon." With that she hops into the portal and is gone, leaving the twins alone.

"Okay, we have got to get her to draw one of those for us," Emira says. Edric nods.

Amity appears, dropping onto the floor of Luz's bedroom.

Luz screams, falling out of her desk chair, where she'd been bent over some homework.

"Amity?! Don't do that!" She gasps, pressing a hand over her chest where her heart is beating rapidly against her ribs. "I coulda been changing or something…"

"Sorry!" Amity says, helping her stand. Carefully choosing not to mention that her changing is a moot point after her drugged dunking in the river and she had to help her change clothes. "I had to come to tell you right away." Luz's face turns concerned at that.

"What, what happened?" she asks quickly, grabbing hold of Amity's hands.

Before she can say anything the bedroom door slams open and Eda, Lilith, and King burst in, staves at the ready.

They take one look around the room and see the two teenagers standing there holding hands. Eda scowls, lowering her staff.

"What part of 'door open' do you two not get?" Eda frowns as she stands in the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Eda, I just got here, my parents found out today," she says and Eda's annoyed look quickly melts into surprise as she steps into the room, the other two following.

"What happened, kid?"

"They want Luz to come to dinner Sunday. My dad wants to meet you," she says, turning back to Luz.

"Well, that's a good thing right?" she asks, looking confused. Amity looks very worried about a dinner invitation.

"I… don't know," she admits. "My mom certainly didn't seem happy about it…," she says.

"Okay, but this is our chance, they didn't outright forbid you from seeing me. We can do this!" Luz smiles and Amity can't help but return it. Luz always has that effect on her.

"You at a fancy-schmancy Blight dinner? I'm not sure you have the right breeding for that kid." Eda plants a hand on her hip.

"Hey, you don't know what kind of breeding I have!" Luz huffs.

"Eda's right… your usual table manners are fine… most of the time…" Amity gives her a sideways look, and Luz knows she's referring to the eating contest she and Gus had, where she shoved her whole face into her lunch tray a couple of weeks ago. "...but dinner at my house is a little more formal," Amity continues.

"Couldn't you teach me?" Luz asks.

"I don't have time tomorrow and I snuck out just now to tell you…" Amity bites her lip.

"I think I could be of assistance." Lilith steps forward.

"Hey, yeah, Lily is the queen of all that prissy, pompous stuff." Eda slaps her sister's back, making her jerk and she rolls her eyes.

"I often had to attend dinners and ceremonies during my time in the coven. I am quite up to date on the necessary etiquette that the Blights would employ at formal dinner." She agrees.

"Yeah, Lilith's a great teacher!" Luz says.

"So?" Lilith looks between the two teens. Luz turns back to Amity who nods.

"Perfect, we're about to have dinner, Luz, I can assess what you know and what areas we need to work on."

"You stayin' for dinner, Kid?" Eda asks Amity, who frowns.

"No, thank you. I need to get back before my parents realize I'm gone," she says. Eda nods and the sisters make their way back downstairs with King.

Luz squeezes Amity's hands and tugs her in for a quick kiss.

"Don't worry, mi amor, I will learn everything!" Luz promises with a determined nod that makes her smile.

"I know you will." She says before she steps away to the permanent portal glyph drawn on Luz's bedroom wall and taps it before disappearing inside.

[clareguilty]

Sharing a Stolen Name

Read it here on AO3! Arthur Morgan/Reader Rating: Explicit | No Warnings Word Count: ~5500 Thank you to @verai-marcel for looking over this for me <3

You stroll into Rhodes head high and eyes wary. You've never been this far south before, but you need to speak with Hosea, and his letter said Lemoyne was the place to find him.

Fear races down your spine as the door to the sheriff’s office bursts open. You've been here for less than five minutes, and you really can’t afford any trouble.

A greasy sonovabitch comes racing down the street towards you, chased by a few harried lawmen. Just as the fugitive gets closer, you swipe a kick at his ankles and he goes flying into the red dirt.

An outlaw for sure. Not that you’re any better. The man curses you and tries to scramble to his feet, but you knock him back to the dirt.

"Thank you for that, miss," the sheriff pants when he catches up, ordering for his deputies to round up the man. "And who might you be?"

"Callahan," you give him the first fake name you've got. This sheriff looks like a fool but you have no doubt he can read a wanted poster.

"Callahan? You got siblings?" The sheriff asks, a wave of recognition crossing his features.

"No, sir," you answer quickly.

"Huh. We got another Callahan back in the office right this moment. He's working with some fine gentlemen around here. Figured y'all might be kin."

Another Callahan? Might be no one. You had borrowed the name, and this Callahan may very well be authentic, but you can't keep from asking.

"Arthur?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Arthur's here? In the sheriff's office?" Is he in trouble? It didn't sound like it. Why would Arthur be hanging around lawmen?

You follow the sheriff, fear and worry stirring in your chest. Every worst case scenario plays out all at once in your head.

The sheriff pushes open the door and you're surprised to see Arthur leaning back in a chair, lazily smoking a cigarette. Even stranger is the silver badge on his chest.

"Arthur!" You run to his side, unable to contain your relief. He’s safe. He’s… deputized?

"Well, would you look at that. Mr. and Missus Callahan," the sheriff teases.

Arthur hesitates a moment, surprise and confusion crossing his face. He hasn’t seen you in months, yet here you are, sharing his stolen name. You throw your arms around his neck, whispering to him. “Looks like we’re married this time, Mr. Callahan.”

He plays along, rubbing circles into your back and leaning into the embrace. “Darling,” he says loud enough for the other men to hear. “I’m glad you made it.”

“I missed you,” you place a hand on his cheek. You mean the words, and you hope Arthur can see that even through the act.

“How touching,” one of the other deputies drawls. “Didn’t know you was married,” he raises his eyebrows at Arthur.

“She’s been working in the city these past months,” Arthur lies easily. “I ain’t seen her since she left last winter.” His hand wraps around your middle, settling on your hips. “Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to give my wife a proper welcome.” He begins to usher you to the door, and you flush bright red as the sheriff and the deputy whistle and howl their congratulations.

Arthur helps you onto his horse and slips into the saddle behind you, riding quickly out of town. You whistle for your own horse to follow behind you. A peal of laughter escapes you, ringing out across the meadows. “Thanks for being so quick back there, cowboy. Saved our skins.”

“You weren’t bad yourself, Mrs. Callahan.” He chuckles. “May need to find yourself a new name, though, unless you wanna stay tied to me?”

You roll your eyes. “Did you see that sheriff? He was eating the whole thing up. Everyone’s a sucker for love.”

“If I see them again, I just know I’m gonna hear more about my lovely little wife.”

You’re glad Arthur can’t see your face. You’re positively pink. Lovely. Arthur called you lovely. Even if he was just teasing.

This was your problem. When you had first joined the gang, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from falling for Arthur. He’s kind, handsome, strong. You had tumbled head over heels before you had even realized, and by then it was too late. Arthur was in love with Mary. He was going to propose.

No matter what you did, your feelings hadn’t subsided, but you knew there was no use in torturing yourself. With Hosea’s blessing, you had gone off on your own, only returning to the gang every few weeks. It was easier that way. You could ignore your feelings and throw yourself into your work, whatever that may look like. But you knew you always had a home to go back to.

So you lived that way for years. Staying away from the gang longer and longer each time. It hurt, every time you returned and every time you left. Arthur was still your friend, but things had to be this way.

Yet now Arthur was calling you lovely. Arthur had held you. The danger had passed and you could only think about how you wished the embrace was real.

“What brings you around?” he asks.

“Needed to talk with Hosea. I was doing some honest work for a family near strawberry, but there’s a lot of money in that town, and I think he could work his magic on the rich folk.” The town attracted wealthy northerners like flies to honey. Hosea loved nothing more than stupid rich people who wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Honest work? What sort?”

“There was a widowed gentleman who needed help. He has two young kids and no one to care for them. He paid well, and the house was nice. I grew rather fond of the children. I may go back for a few months if he’ll take me. I could see myself having some kind of life there.”

Arthur makes an indignant sound. “You were some kind of nursemaid?”

“More of a governess,” you correct him quickly. “I’m smart. And I know my way around polite society. I’m more than just an outlaw or a farmhand.” Arthur’s comment had gotten under your skin. You were respected in that house. Mr. Rochester was kind, and he treated you as an equal.

“You are,” Arthur says. “But is that really what you want? To live in another man’s house and care for kids that ain’t even yours?”

“What choice do I have, Arthur?” you snap. “I don’t have a house of my own. I don’t have kids of my own. I was married today for all of ten minutes and the whole thing was a lie. People like us don’t get a happy ending. You said so yourself.”

He’s silent the rest of the ride to camp, and you’re thankful for it.

Your return is joyful, despite your argument with Arthur. Mary-Beth is enamoured with your life at Mr. Rochester’s home, and she keeps you up well into the night with questions.

“He paid for your clothes?” she asks, eyes wide.

“Anything I wanted,” you grin. “I just marked it in the catalogue and gave him my measurements.”

“And you had your own room?”

“And I could use the washroom whenever I wanted.”

“What about the children? Were they terrible?”

“Oh at first, yes.” You laugh and shake your head. “But they weren’t expecting me to fight them back. They were much more interested in their lessons when I promised them stories of the great van der Linde gang.”

Mary-Beth’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t?”

“I sure did. All about Arthur Callahan and company.”

Mary-Beth watches you carefully. You can tell she knows. You’ve never been able to get over your feelings for Arthur. No matter how long you spend away from the gang.

“What about the man of the house? Was he kind?” she asks.

“Oh very,” you nod. “He’s a gentle soul. He wants to do right by his children, but he knows he can’t care for them by himself. He misses his wife every day. He’s very interesting. Funny, charming. He didn't ask too many questions about where I came from although I’m sure he knew it was nothing but trouble.”

Mary-Beth thinks for a long moment. “Do you think he could fall in love with you?”

The question makes you start in your seat. “Why would he do a thing like that?”

“You’re living in his house. Caring for his children. It seems like the perfect ending.” She wears a wistful expression.

“I- I couldn’t, Mary-Beth. You know that.”

She nods. You love Arthur. As much as you wish you didn’t. There is no one else for you. 

“Pardon the interruption-” Both of you jump and turn. Hosea has snuck up on you. “Dear, you know we care for you, but I worry about you. All this time and you still can’t let go of something that’s clearly hurting you. I think Miss Gaskill is right. You deserve a happy ending, one that doesn’t involve lawmen hot on your heels.”

You know where Hosea is going with this. The thought makes your heart twinge.

“You understand, don’t you? If you have a chance to make a life for yourself, one that is better than this, you should take it.”

“But Hosea-” you start.

“Don’t ‘but Hosea’ me,” he shakes his head. “It’s time for you to make the hard choice. You’ve lived far too long without doing anything, and it’s time to brace yourself for the pain.”

Tears well in your eyes. Mary-Beth takes your hand. You can tell she’s glaring at Hosea. “She’ll make her own choice in her own time.”

Hosea’s hand squeezes your shoulder. “I hate to see you suffer.” And he’s gone.

-

The next day, you can’t forget Hosea’s words. You find him in the afternoon, reading a book in the shade. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you sit next to him; he’s waiting for you to speak.

“You’re right.” You hate to say it, as if Hosea needs to be reminded. He doesn’t say anything, so you continue.

“I’ve been holding on to Arthur for too long. All these years I’ve been stuck waiting for something to change. I need to move on and do what’s best for myself.”

Hosea is watching you. “And what does that look like right now?”

You focus on a knot in the wood of the table. “I’m going to tell him how I feel — not right now, but when I’m ready to leave again. I need that closure at least. He needs to know why I’m leaving, and I need to know once and for all that he doesn’t love me. Then I’ll return to Mr. Rochester and ask if I can continue working for him.”

Hosea places his hand over yours. “You’re very brave and very strong.”

You shake your head. “I’m a coward, always have been and always will be.”

A few moments pass. “If I leave, I’m not coming back.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Hosea doesn’t even blink.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s not time for goodbyes yet.”

-

Knowing that this will be your last time with the gang fills your days with a strange melancholy. Every conversation feels more important. Every night feels more like a dream. It’s not hard for those close to you to realize something is wrong.

“Is everything okay?” Arthur asks. The last person you can bear to see. But he’s still one of your closest friends.

“Everything’s fine Arthur.” You’re still upset with him from a few days before.

“I’m here if you need me,” is all he says.

-

Dutch, either oblivious or uncaring of your strife, asks for your help on a burglary.

“I’m so glad you’ve come back to us. There’s a small plantation that is in need of your skills.” He claps you on the shoulder and leads you to a map. “Arthur can ride out with you, keep a lookout while you’re inside.”

Your stomach drops. Of course.

“I don’t need a lookout, Dutch. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Nonsense,” he waves his hand, “You’ll leave at sunset.”

Sunset comes far too quickly. You’re brushing down your horse when you hear Arthur approach. “You ready?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you saddle up and start riding before Arthur even has a chance to catch up.

He catches up to you easily, falling in beside you and riding silently for a few minutes. You try to convince yourself that everything would be fine. It was just one job.

Arthur looks on the verge of saying something for several minutes before he actually speaks. “I never, uh, apologized -- for what I said a few days ago. I spoke out of line and I shouldn’t have. You’re doing right by yourself, and if you’re happy, then I can’t say nothing against it.”

His apology floors you. You had known Arthur to own up to his mistakes -- one of the many reasons you loved him -- but you had never seen him lay himself so bare before you. It was more of an apology than you deserved.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you finally manage. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you anyways. I just need to do what is best for myself. I’ll be on my way again soon.”

Arthur looks about ready to ask you something, but thinks the better of it. The question must have eaten away at him though, because he caves eventually. “Why do you spend so much time away from the gang?” He shakes his head as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Stupid question. I just -- you always seem half in half out. Not like Trelawny is either, it’s like there’s something keeping you.”

He was right. He saw right through you but somehow missed the mark. Did he not know that he was the reason you never truly left? That he was the reason you couldn’t bear to stay?

“It’s something I need to get over myself,” you answer. It was cryptic and vague, but you couldn’t tell him now. You weren’t ready yet. After the job, maybe? You could leave first thing tomorrow and ride back to Strawberry.

Arthur pulls up close and reaches for you. “I’m here, you know. If you need me. I can help. Lord knows you’ve been there for me all these years.”

You pull away, unable to even respond. His words are like a douse of ice cold water, like desert sand rubbing you raw.

The plantation is a moderate size, wealthy enough but not so much as to be crawling with guards. You and Arthur ditch the horses at the fence line, creeping up to the big house without any trouble.

One of the windows at the back of the house pushes open, and you tug your boots off and hand them to Arthur. “Hold on to these, I don’t want to be too loud in the house.”

He takes the boots and dutifully lifts you so you can climb through the window.

As unassuming as the property was, the inside speaks of wealth. Gilded, polished, velvet. You’ll make out of this with plenty of cash.

Watches, jewelry, pins, and pens. You fill your satchel and your pockets before you even make it to the stairs. There are some stacks of bills in the downstairs office that you shove into your shirt, but no safe or strongbox. There has to be one somewhere.

At the top of the stairs you’re faced with several closed doors. Low light flickers from beneath one, and you hear snoring from behind another. At the end of the hall, you find a room that looks to be cold and quiet. Picking the lock, you slip inside, lighting a match to see around the room.

It’s dark, a study of some sort with shelves along the walls and a heavy wooden desk. Your match burns down and you move over to the window, sliding the curtains aside and lifting the pane. Once you’re sure no one was about, you let out a long low whistle, easily mistaken for a dove.

But doves weren’t out this time of night.

Arthur hears the signal and rounds the house a moment later with your boots in tow. You wave to him before gesturing back inside. You just need to check this last room.

The strongbox is in the bottom of a wardrobe under some thick winter coats. You shove as many valuables as you can into your pockets and even your trousers. Arthur can take some of it off your hands when you get outside. Even with the window open, it’s very dark in the study, and you fumble blindly through the desk drawers for anything else.

You’re on your way to the door, ready to creep back down the stairs, when your socked foot catches on an end table. You’re able to suppress your cry of pain, but you can’t stop the loud crash as the table topples over and everything on it scatters to the floor.

“Shit,” you hiss, hopping back to the window.

Arthur must have heard the commotion as well because he’s looking up at you with an exasperated expression.

You hear a door down the hall slam followed by the sound of footsteps. Good thing you relocked the door behind you at least, buying you another half second hopefully.

Redrawing the curtains, you climb through the open window, hanging from the sill as your feet dangle uselessly an entire story off the ground.

The door to the study opens.

“Push off and jump,” Arthur hisses. “I’ll catch you.”

“What?” you ask, but do as he says anyways. It’s a half second drop before you land against something broad and grouchy. Definitely Arthur.

You’re both sprawled on the ground, but he drags you to your feet, shoving your boots at you. “We gotta run.”

“No shit,” you take off towards the fields, hoping the sugar cane will give you enough cover. Arthur, surprisingly, lets you tug your boots on once you’re shrouded in the tall plants. Both of you listen for sounds from the house.

“Take these,” you start pulling stolen items from your clothes and pushing them into Arthur’s arms.

“I thought you felt lumpier,” he says as he shoves everything into his satchel. You glare at him.

The two of you steal through the sugar cane at a snail’s pace, wary of anyone that may be looking for the burglar.

“What did they do to deserve Dutch’s attention?” you asked. There was definitely money in the house, but Dutch usually had motivations beyond just that.

“Look around you,” Arthur shakes a stalk. “Who do you think works these fields?”

“Ah,” It dawns on you, “Well paid white folk.” There’s no missing the sarcasm in your voice.

“Exactly,” Arthur grabs your hand and pulls you along. “One of the ‘workers’ gave Dutch the tip, in exchange, we’re splitting the take.”

“Sounds fair,” you try to keep pace with Arthur, but your foot catches on the sugar canes and you tumble forward.

Arthur turns to catch you, only to be flattened for a second time that night. You’re sprawled on top of him, cursing up a storm.

He shifts beneath you, and you realize his hands are pinned between your chests. “A lot less lumpy, now.” His grin is crooked, and his eyes shine. You huff and scramble to your feet. “Sorry,” he says as he dusts himself off.

“Let’s just get to the horses.”

Arthur picks through your findings as you ride back towards camp. “Damn,” he whistles, “I hope you make as good a governess as you do a burglar.”

His words hurt. You still aren’t ready to face that yet, but now may be as good a time as any.

“I’m leaving again,” you say. Your throat already feels tight and you know you won’t make it through this without crying.

“So soon? You’ve hardly been back a week!” Arthur looks almost angry with you.

“This time, I’m leaving for good. I talked with Hosea already; he says I should do what’s going to be best for me.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything, but his brows pinch together. You can’t understand what he’s feeling.

“Arthur,” your voice breaks. You can’t speak for several moments as you try to lessen your tears.

“I don’t get it.” He cuts in, “If leaving is going to hurt you like this, then why go at all? You’ve never liked it out there. You always hate leaving — I know you do.”

“Arthur,” you find your voice again, “You’re one of my dearest friends. All these years, you’ve stood by me. I made the foolish mistake of falling in love with you, and I’ve been too much of a coward to let you go. But I can’t lose any more years to loving you. I have to start a new life some time. I’m going back to Mr. Rochester. I’m going to live an honest life and teach two beautiful children, and maybe one day I’ll love someone the same way I love you. I’m sorry for burdening you with this, but I can’t leave until I know I’ve ended things here.”

The silence is suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning and you can only hope the current will wash you ashore.

“You love me?” Arthur looks dumbfounded. “You’ve left all these years because you love me?”

You don’t say anything. You’ve said enough. All that matters now is getting out of camp as fast as possible. You don’t even care about the money you’ve stolen. You’ll be gone by daybreak.

“You’re a fool. A damn fool.” His voice is raw.

It’s the last thing you want from him. Pity, mockery. You know how stupid you are, he doesn’t need to rub it in. Spurring your horse forward, you race back to camp, ignoring Arthur calling after you.

You make it back to camp. It’s late in the evening and only a few people are still awake, one of whom is Dutch, eagerly awaiting your return. He catches your expression and instantly reaches for you. “Is everything alright, dear? Where is Arthur? Is he safe?”

“Arthur is just fine,” you snap. He’s probably not far behind you, which means you only have a few minutes to leave before he gets back. 

You begin dumping your spoils on the ground before Dutch, who is desperately trying to determine the source of your anguish.

“I’m leaving,” you tell him firmly. “I’ll pen a letter to Hosea as soon as I can.”

Dutch follows after you as you head to gather your things.

“Come, now,” he says. “You’ve only been back for a few days. At least rest some. You can leave once you’ve slept and eaten.”

You shake him off. “I’m going, Dutch.”

He doesn’t say anything more, just stands by as you pack your things and grab supplies from Pearson’s wagon. You approach him just before you mount up, unsure. “Thank you, Dutch. For being there for me.”

He looks at you, eyes seeing something you couldn’t even find in yourself. “You’ll be back.”

It’s not threatening, not angry or even sad. It’s something he knows.

Well, he’s wrong.

“Goodbye,” you squeeze his hand and turn back to your horse.

The poor beast is tired, but you push as hard as you can towards the heartlands. You’ve got to get as far away as you can before sunrise.

Except the crack of a pistol makes you and your horse start, and you search wildly for the source of the shot.

Three men on horseback appear from the brush. You were so caught up in your frustration you didn’t even see them. 

“Stop,” the leader of the three demands.

You reign your horse in, already reaching for your pistol.

A lantern is raised. “Hey, aren’t you Missus Callahan?”

You squint in the low light and recognize the Rhodes Sheriff. “Yessir,” your voice is still shaky. You pray this isn’t your end.

“What are you doing out? Don’t you know there’s outlaws about ma’am?”

You shake your head. “I… I didn’t know.”

“Ma’am, are you feeling alright? You certainly don’t look too well.” It’s the deputy. The sheriff shoots him a harsh look. 

“I’m fine, just needed some air is all,” you need to make your lie believable. “Arthur and I, we got into a fight.”

The lawmen have never looked more useless. They’re clearly out of their element trying to console an upset wife.

“Well,” the Sheriff smoothes his mustache, “what do you say we ride back into town. You can have a drink and a few hours to yourself, and we’ll see where we go from there.”

“Oh, no I-” You need to be gone. You can’t go back. “You must have important business. I couldn’t trouble y’all.”

“Nonsense,” the sheriff waves his hand. “It’s too late and too dangerous for a pretty young thing like you to be riding by yourself.”

If you protested any more, you would only rouse suspicion, so you give in and follow the three men back to town.

A long drink of whiskey later and you find yourself slumped asleep in the comfiest chair in the Sheriff’s office.

“Mr. Callahan,” a voice greets, “Just who we’re looking for!”

You blink awake, pushing up the brim of your hat up. Arthur looked terrible. You wondered if he had slept at all.

“Heard you had a bit of a lover’s quarrel last night, found your other half out in Scarlett Meadows near moonset.”

Arthur sees you and staggers forward. You’re surprised when he throws his arms around you, crushing you in close to him. “I thought you’d gone,” his voice was shot. 

“I tried,” you tentatively return Arthur’s embrace.

“C’mon,” he tugs you towards the door, “Don’t worry. We’ll get everything sorted out.”

You didn’t trust him.

“Thank you,” Arthur extends a hand to the sheriff. “I appreciate you looking out for her.”

Against your better judgement, you follow Arthur. He leads you to a pasture by the lake, sliding out of the saddle and rolling out his bedroll. “If I sleep, will you still be here when I wake up?”

You eye him, but don’t say anything.

“Look, neither of us has slept in far too long. Get a few hours of rest and I promise we can sort everything out. I’m tired.”

You were tired too, so you rolled out your own bedroll. A few hours of sleep. 

-

“You’re still here?” Arthur looks surprised.

You shrug. “Thought about leaving.” But Arthur had looked so peaceful in his sleep. Your weakness had kept you from abandoning him. 

“I’m glad you didn’t. I can’t stop you if you want to go, but I can’t let you leave just yet.” He stretches, watching you as though you were startled prey. 

“Don’t make me regret staying.”

Arthur chuckles. “I can’t promise that. But I need to get something off my chest.”

You glance at him, curious. What could Arthur have to say to you?

“Last night, you said you’re always leaving because you love me. That for some reason you can’t stay because of that. But you never told me. Why?”

It hurts. You fight down the pain in your chest and set your jaw. “I cared too much for you -- for everyone -- to ever truly leave. But I couldn’t bear to stay when I spent every day dreaming of something I couldn’t have. That’s why Hosea let me leave. I wanted things to work out for you. I wanted you to be happy with Mary. But the gang is my family.”

Arthur takes a slow breath. “All these years? You’ve been running away from me all these years because…” His brows pinch together as he struggles to find the words. 

“I just…” you hold back tears. “I couldn’t bear to lose you. I have to let go sometime. I can have a life out in West Elizabeth. But I’ll miss you, Arthur.”

“You can’t leave.” He says the words and immediately grimaces. “I mean — you can, I just — I want you to do what is best for you… because I love you.” 

Everything stops. The words nearly don’t register.

“How long?” 

“What?” He looks bewildered.

“How long have you loved me?”

“A while,” he sighs. “Year or so? Since Vegas at least.”

You can’t believe it. “That long? And you never said anything?”

“Neither did you,” he counters.

“You were going to propose!” you hiss.

“She turned me down,” he looks to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” you place a hand on his shoulder. “You have to understand why I couldn’t stay.”

“I do.” Arthur looks up at you with sorrow in his eyes. “I think you can make a life for yourself with this… Manchester?”

“You think I’m going back to Mr. Rochester?” You blink, incredulous.

Arthur rubs his jaw. His eyes shine. “Seemed pretty set on it.”

His foolishness makes your heart hurt. “Arthur, I’d stay here — if you’d have me.”

He pulls you into his arms, crushing you to his chest. “I think we can take some time to figure it out. What do you say?”

“I say we’ve taken enough time, wouldn’t you?”

-

Dutch smirks when you ride back into camp with Arthur and collapse together in his tent. The whole day is spent whispering to each other, refusing to be apart for more than a few minutes. Arthur shows you pages in his journal when he had written about his feelings for you, and you talk about the many times you fell in love with him again and again.

Night falls, and Arthur pulls you into his arms before you can even think about leaving to sleep somewhere else. “I’ve got a lot of years to make up for. You’d best be ready for me to never let you go again.”

You rest against his chest, finally able to have the closeness you have dreamed of for years. The life you had wanted, together with Arthur.

-

You wake long before the sun rises, still nestled against Arthur. He’s awake as well, tracing shapes into your skin absentmindedly.

“You alright?” you ask.

“I’m perfect.”

You giggle -- actually giggle -- and press your lips to the exposed skin of Arthur’s chest. His breath hitches. You glance up in surprise.

“Darling,” he turns you to face him, gaze intense, “Can I make love to you?”

Your heart is going to beat out of your chest, and you’re sure you feel like hot coals the way your blood heats up. A shaky nod.

Arthur kisses you with so much heat and passion, gripping you tightly, trying desperately to memorize the feel of you against him. His lips trail over your jaw, down your neck. He rips open the front of your blouse and muffles your squeal of surprise with his palm. “Just let me take care of you,” his voice is low, breathy.

You’re heaving and shaking at his ferocity. It’s overwhelming, but you want this as much as he does. He drags your trousers down, lifting you easily and moving your hips to where he wants them. You’re surprised when he continues his trail of kisses from the crook of your knee up your thigh. “Arthur,” you gasp, “what are you-”

His tongue touches your heat and you gasp. He’s determined, a kind of fire and will that makes men cower before him. Instead, you’re crying and shaking as he drags his tongue over your clit and slips a finger inside of you. His other hand holds you so tightly, you may very well have bruises.

You come over his lips, quicker than ever in your life. And while you’re still dazed and reeling, his hand is on your cheek. You meet his eyes and see that the fire hasn’t subsided. “Can I take you, Darling? Please?”

You lean up to kiss him, one arm wrapped around his neck and the other reaching for his hard cock.

He slams into you to the hilt, muffling your screams with his lips. “Thank you,” he whispers against your skin. “I love you.”

You try to respond in kind, but he’s fucking you hard and fast. The roughness would scare you coming from anyone else, but this is Arthur. He’s holding you so closely, eyes fluttering and lips parted. You cling to him as well, years of pain and longing washing away as your fingers skim across his bare skin.

His cock fills you like nothing ever before. His hands are rough but gentle against your skin. You could stay like this forever. 

You come again, vision going white as you drag your nails down Arthur’s back and feel only a little remorse. He follows shortly after, spilling over your stomach before collapsing on top of you, knocking the wind out of you.

“Arthur,” you wheeze. “I love you, but I can’t breathe.”

He rolls to the side, dragging you in close and nuzzling into your hair. “We can wash up in a few minutes. I just need to hold you.”

You press a kiss to his lips, soft and gentle, one of thousands more to come.

[ephyla]

Warmth

HI guys! I’ve been in this fandom for ages, but never published anything, because I never thought my writing skills were the best. And I don’t really like writing either. However, this pandemic is a bitch and I felt bored and had an idea. So here it is! Hopefully you’ll enjoy it! 

Summary: (Set right after Buffalord Soldier.)  Astrid is still feeling the effects after barely surviving the Scourge of Odin and the only thing that's keeping her warm are her two favorite people. Well, one person and one dragon. 

Astrid/Stormfly friendship with a side of Hiccstrid.

The flight back to the Edge felt long for Astrid. Sure, she didn’t feel like she was being stabbed by thousands of needles all over her body; but after being so sick for the last two and a half moons, she barely had any energy to remain upright on Stormfly’s saddle. Her friends’ stares didn’t help either. She couldn’t fault them; they were probably just as scared as she was. Even the twins were quietly flying in formation behind Astrid, keeping a worried eye on her. 

As the gang lands in front of the clubhouse, everyone dismounts. Snotlout, being the closest, rushed to help Astrid down. Usually, she would have kicked his hand away before dismounting on her own, but this time, she appreciated his help. He hasn’t been his obnoxious self when he came to get her while the other were waiting with the Buffalord. She knew he meant well. Astrid, however, remains seated on Stormfly. She didn’t trust her legs to carry her weight just yet. She felt lightheaded and her grip turned almost white as it tightened on the saddle. 

“I-I’m fine. I think I’m just going to retire to my hut and get an early night sleep.” Concern was clearly shown in their eyes. 

“Alright, just please take it easy in the next few days. You really had us all worried.” Said Fishlegs. 

“I will.” Stormfly started turning around spreading her wings. “And guys? Thank you. I mean it.” The gang all smiled softly at her. 

“We’re just glad you’re safe.” 

Stormfly flies off towards her hut. 

_______________________________________________________________________

After landing, she walks through the open front door. While they were leaving for Buffalord island, Snotlout was too much in a rush to close behind him, since Astrid was clearly not going to hold on for much longer. 

Stormfly gently lies down on her front. She knew that her owner wasn’t in her best shape. She could hear her still struggling to breathe since they left that damned island. Astrid slowly swings her leg off of her dragon, but once her feet touched the ground, her knees buckled under the pressure. 

“Shit.” 

Stormfly croaks worriedly at her best friend. She brought her head closer to her, rubbing her snout against Astrid’s arm as reassurance.

 “I’m ok. I just need some rest.” Astrid weakly smiles, stroking her dragon’s beak. “I’m so sorry girl. You have been worried sick for so long. I just want you to know how much I am thankful for never leaving my side. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. Thank you Stormfly.” Her dragon purred and wrapped a protective wing around Astrid, providing her with comfort and warmth as a response to her confession. 

Familiar footsteps were heard behind the duo. 

“Astrid! Are you ok? I heard something fall.” Hiccup asks as he steps into the hut. He didn’t hide the worried expression etched on his face. “Astrid?”

 “In here.” Astrid call out from behind Stormfly’s wing. 

Hiccup walks towards the dragon and crouches in front of her. Stormfly retreats her wing a little, revealing her rider. She still looked paler than usual. There were bags under her eyes. Despite being bedridden for the last few moons; as well as drifting out into unconsciousness a lot, she was exhausted.

 “I just wanted to check up on you. You looked like you were going to fall off Stormfly earlier, and then I heard the crashing noise while I was walking here.” Said Hiccup.

“I’m fine, just tired. A deadly disease will do that to you.” Replied Astrid. Hiccup frowned at her response. They remained on the floor in silence. A couple of minutes passed and Astrid was starting to feel uncomfortable. Hiccup was avoiding her gaze. His fingers twitched. He looked unsure of himself. 

“Hiccup, I- “Astrid didn’t get to finish her sentence as his arms wrapped around her, leaving her stunned. Stormfly observed the couple, not making any sound. She knew the boy did everything in his power to help her rider. She trusted him to take care of her and find her the cure before it was too late. He fed her and reassured her when Astrid wasn’t able to take care of her. However, she didn’t let anyone ride her. Her wings ached so much, but she refused to leave her best friend’s side as she was fighting for her life. She could only offer her body heat to the shivering Viking, and Gods be damned if her wings remained numb forever. It was the least she could do to help. They may have gotten off the wrong foot due to misunderstandings and stubbornness. But Astrid offered her love and comfort. And lots of chicken. She put aside their differences and the moment she recognised her wrongs and trusted her to fly her into battle against the Red Death. Stormfly grew fond of the feisty girl, and knew she didn’t want anything to happen to her. Not if she can help it. She watched over her as she would a hatchling. 

“You scared us. You really scared me! I’ve never seen you so vulnerable before. Normally when you get hurt you just walk it off like nothing happened. So, when you didn’t get back up this time, I-I just thought for the worst.” Astrid swore she heard his voice crack as if he was trying not to break down in front of her. Astrid wrapped her trembling arms around him. Her weak grip made him tighten his. “You- You’re my rock Astrid. You were always by my side since that day with Toothless. You had everything to lose and yet you stayed by my side and trusted me. And just thinking that I was so so close to losing you today I- “He paused. “I’m sorry, I know it sounds really selfish. But I really meant what I said back then. I can’t imagine a world without you in it. I really can’t.”

 Astrid smiled. “I meant what I said too.” 

Hiccup releases her from his hug, his hands remaining on her shoulders. He examined her.

 “I’m sorry for keeping you up, I know you need some rest. Let me help you up the stairs.”

 “No.” 

“What?” Hiccup was confused.

“I think I’m going to stay down here with my girl tonight.” Knowing they were talking about her, Stormfly’s head peaked up. “I spent way too much time in that bed lately. I’d feel much safer sleeping in her wings. I know she was worried about me this whole time. I’m not going to lie; this is the closest feeling of a motherly comfort I can get. So, I want to stay her tonight.” 

Hiccup looked surprised, but then remembered Astrid telling him that she had lost her mother at age five in a dragon raid. Her father harshly trained her to be the strongest, and was forced to push her emotions back as they were seen as a weakness. That meant that she was never really given any physical or emotional affection.

Hiccup and Stormfly taught her that even the toughest warriors were allowed to feel and need the comfort of being loved. Her Nadder showed her what acceptance and patience was. She would protect her with her life, like a mother would a child. She didn’t want the others to know, but Astrid enjoyed being coddled by Stormfly; giving her what her parents never could. She felt the safest tucked under her large wings. More often than not, the dragon would poke her head in and preen her rider. It was her way of giving affection. 

Hiccup fondly looks at Astrid and Stormfly. They've come a long way together since training in the killing arena. While he and Toothless treated each other as brothers, the two girls had more of a mother-daughter relationship. A relationship that he found endearing as he never felt the love and warmth a mother would give to their child. He enjoyed watching how Astrid's expression would softens considerably when she was looking at her dragon. And that soft look was reciprocated by said dragon. He was observing Stormfly rearranging the girl’s braid while she gently stroked her beak.

 A small breeze found its way into the hut. Still not feeling at the top of her shape, Astrid shivered. Stormfly croaked in concern and wraps her tail around them, to provide more warmth. 

“You sure you want to stay down here?” Hiccup asks, as he rubs his hands across her arms, trying to provide his own warmth. The Nadder observes the boy, still protective of her best friend.

“Y-yeah, I’m sure.” Astrid leans her head against his chest. All shyness was thrown out of the window. “Actually, do you mind getting me a blanket from upstairs? Usually, Stormfly’s body heat is enough to make me sweat buckets, but I still don’t trust my body to function properly just yet.” Hiccup smiled. He felt happy that she was asking him for help instead of acting strong. He quickly climbed the stairs to grab the thickest blanket and stormed back down, nearly missing a step. He wrapped the blanket around his friend.

 “Thank you Hiccup, for everything.”  Understanding the meaning behind these words, the dragon rider’s smile widened. “It’s no big deal, you know I’ll always have your back right?”

 “And I’ll always have yours.” Astrid grins at him before she lets out a yawn. “I guess, that’s my body telling me I should go to sleep.” Hiccup chuckles. 

“I should also go, Toothless will take all the space on my bed if I leave him alone for too long. Just promise me that you’ll send Stormfly if you need anything or if you feel sick again.”

“I promise.”

He fidgets for a few seconds before leaning towards the sleepy warrior and kisses her cheek, whispering a ‘goodnight’ to which she mumbles a reply, too tired to register what just happened. She’ll have time to delve on it when she gets her strength back. 

Hiccup leaves the protective circle made by Stormfly and walks towards the exit. He shares one last glance and sees the Nadder fully wrapping her wings around Astrid, hiding her from his view. The boy smiles as the dragon looks at him. 

‘Take care of her’ 

She snorts.

 ‘Of course, I will.’ Stormfly’s head disappears behind her large wings and nuzzles her rider who smiles in her sleep. 

_______________________________________________________________________

I always loved the relationship that Astrid has with Stormfly, so I wanted to focus on it more. Because I’m still having a hard time understanding why in RTTE, Astrid is always falling off and her dragon suddenly goes MIA so often. I can write a whole essay about how RTTE did Astrid dirty, but I’m going to stop here. 

This was supposed to be mostly about the duo and a side of Hiccstrid, but I’m a sucker for those two dorks, so Hiccup had a slightly bigger role than expected hehe.

Please tell me your thoughts. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Hopefully I didn’t make too many mistakes. English isn’t my mother tongue.

[auroras-blend]

What Matters

Summary: POV from Patience. Starring baby Marilyn, Emilie Marks, and a fishwife.

Patience let out a frustrated huff as she struggled to strap Marilyn into her stroller, who was determined to wail throughout the entire process. “You do this every time,” she snapped, not that her daughter could understand her.

Marilyn always acted as if this was a brand new terrifying experience. “Stop being so damn dramatic,” she huffed as she finally clasped the buckles together.

Her daughter still continued to wail until Patience not so softly popped a pacifier in her mouth, which silenced her quite quickly. She pulled a white lamb plush from the car and gave it to her daughter who clasped onto it with a desperate fervor. It was Marilyn’s very favorite toy, courtesy of the pastor’s wife. She seemed content to just stare at it rather than play with it, which was strange to Patience but it kept the infant distracted, and really, that was all that mattered. She brushed the strands of hair out of her face that had fallen out of her harried bun before sighing and moving to push the stroller towards the store.

Everyone knew everyone and their business in Summerfield, which was why trips to the grocery store always bothered Patience. Marilyn received soft looks and bright smiles whereas she received critical eyes and grimaces, but Patience couldn’t really bring herself to care. She entered the store, the temperature of her body already dropping as cool air blew in her face, a refreshing change from the scorching summer heat. The store already held a myriad of familiar faces, which completely defeated the purpose of coming in so early in the day and hoping to avoid the crowds. “Hello Miss Winslow,” the greeter smiled, “I hope you’re having a nice day today!”

“Just fine, thank you,” she said to be polite though no genuineness could be found in her tone.

She pushed past and immediately set her sights for the produce section, hoping to cool down further. Her green-eyed gaze remained focused on her task dead ahead because if she only looked forward, she could ignore the judgmental looks that several housewives were giving her. It had been about a year since she gave birth to Marilyn but the scandalous event of her birth and Patience’s status as a single mother and social pariah hadn’t faded. Summerfield residents, as friendly as they seemed, were dull people with dull lives who pretended otherwise and sought amusement from gossip. At the moment, Patience and Marilyn were their favorite topics. It seemed Patience was the only woman in town who didn’t hide her dissatisfaction with the fact that she had a repetitive, restricting, and overall mundane life that’s primary stressor came from motherhood. At least I’m honest.

She was unlikable to everyone except her daughter who looked at her with reverence and the occasional hurt when her affection for her mother wasn’t returned. Part of her felt bad because she did know deep down that Marilyn was not at fault, that she was unluckily and violently brought into this world to suffer a miserable existence with a miserable woman.

Marilyn had been nothing but pleasant if Patience were being honest, or as pleasant as a baby could be. Her birth had been quick and much easier than the first, and she had been a courteous five pounds that hadn’t torn apart her mother’s insides. She was easy to love, to everyone except the woman who mattered to her the most. Perhaps Marilyn had some instinct deep down to behave and be agreeable unless her mother decided that she finally had enough of her and do something terrible.

Patience rummaged through the fresh produce, something she hadn’t done in a long time. Without a vengeance to pursue, bridges to burn, and misery to face, she had more time to at least try and take care of herself. Or at least the illusion of caring for herself, as if she actually used the produce to cook instead of having it sit in her fridge for an eternity in favor of eating frozen meals and drinking a few too many glasses of wine or whiskey. She wasn't quite so picky these days.

It didn’t take long to cross most of the tasks off her list and lead herself to the most aggravating part of the store: the baby aisle. There was nothing wrong with the aisle in particular with the exception of her forced motherhood being thrown in her face and the condescending stares from the other mothers shopping for their brood. Nothing wrong at all, she thought bitterly. Thankfully when she arrived, no one was around which settled her nerves about picking out the necessary items for her daughter, specifically formula. It had been a swift decision for Patience to put Marilyn on a formula diet. Just the thought of her child pawing and nursing from her breast physically repulsed her; she had tried the first few days and then vowed to never do it again.

It would be, of course, an unacceptable decision to the other mothers of Summerfield and unfortunately for her, they were about to be privy to that information. Her luck at being the sole presence in the aisle didn’t last long and it just so happened to be when she was picking up the formula that Mrs. Coombs decided to make an appearance and let out a fake laugh, “Patience! How funny to run into you here!”

Funny? I have a damn baby. She pressed her lips into a tight smile, forcing herself to at least look polite. “Look at little Mary-,”

“Marilyn,” Patience corrected as she held the box tightly.

“Marilyn! An even better name. She’s gotten so big, the time just flies doesn’t it?”

Not fast enough. “Sure does,” she lied as she dumped several boxes into her shopping bag.

“She’s really turning into a beauty. She has your eyes, doesn’t she?” she smiled before it became tighter with malice, “Not your hair though…”

Patience could usually brush off the snide comments, but the reminder of the man who put that child inside her made her sick. “Did she get it from her father?”

Patience’s body tensed, her stomach began to roll. “Yes.”

Her reply was short and curt, and by God’s grace, Mrs. Coombs dropped the topic in favor of sending Patience a new criticism. “Oh, formula?” she asked as she stressed the word as if it were the vilest thing in existence, “Are you having trouble? Some women do. It came pretty easily to me, but my sister had to have a lactation consultant.”

The insinuation was there. Bitch. She refused to be ashamed for not letting her daughter nurse from her breasts. It wasn't as if Marilyn was suffering or lacking nourishment in any way, and it's no one's damn business. Patience’s smile turned smug. “Actually, I can but I’m choosing not to breastfeed.”

The disapproving and aghast frown on Mrs. Coombs face made it worth it. She knew she’d be the talk of the woman’s circle of friends, but just the sight of making the woman uncomfortable and being shamelessly confident with her decision made it worth it. Marilyn giggled behind her pacifier, amused by the face of the critical fishwife. “Oh really?” the woman gasped, “Well, there are more benefits if-.”

“How lovely to see you, ladies, here!”

Jesus Christ. Patience sighed and turned around to see Mrs. Marks. “Emilie!” cooed Mrs. Coombs who brushed past Patience and slightly knocked Marilyn’s stroller to the side.

Patience grabbed the stroller to prevent it from hitting the shelves, causing Marilyn to whine as she was jostled in her seat. The two women embraced as Patience ignored the pair, or at least tried to. “Fancy to see you in this aisle! Oh, does that mean there's happy news?” gasped Mrs. Coombs.

“Um...not yet,” she could hear Mrs. Marks say, pain and discomfort in her voice.

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll happen someday!”

“Yes, well, we’re praying that it does,” Mrs. Marks said tensely.

Why does she have so much trouble getting pregnant? I'd switch with her if I could. It seemed cosmically unfair that she was saddled with an unwanted child while the Marks failed in their desperate attempts to have one. There were many times where Patience entertained leaving Marilyn with them one day and never return. She'd be better off with anyone but me. However, whenever she was ready to put Marilyn in the car and drop her off, a pang of religious guilt consumed her. She's your atonement. “Why are you here then if-,”

“That’s not really your business, is it?” hissed Patience who had tired of hearing of her pester the woman.

Mrs. Coombs was a busy body who aggravated her to no end. Patience never truly made an effort to convince the woman of her politeness or that she liked her, but as the pastor's wife, it was Mrs. Marks job to do so. Politeness for Emilie Marks was mandatory, so if she couldn't tell Mrs. Coombs to fuck off then Patience would.

Grey eyes narrowed towards Patience. “Your tone isn’t appreciated.”

“Your questions aren’t appreciated,” Patience snapped, throwing a box of diapers into her bag.

“Now ladies-” Emilie tried to interject.

“Are you capable of being anything other than unpleasant?”

Mrs. Coombs volume wasn’t much louder but it upset Marilyn and sent her into a fit of tears. Great. “See what you did?” Patience huffed as she walked around to grab the pacifier from the floor.

“Are you really going to put that back in her mouth? You know, most mothers comfort their babies when they cry.”

Of course, at that moment, Marilyn began to wail louder. “Mrs. Coombs,” snapped Mrs. Marks, “You’re upsetting the child.”

Patience brushed the pacifier off and although she was tempted to push it back in between her daughter’s lips, she put it in a side compartment and unstrapped her baby. Shame had crept back into her body with the woman’s comment so she reluctantly took Marilyn out and settled her against her chest, patting her back and shushing her. Snot and tears began to stain her dress, and the loud wails pierced her ears until they were ringing. I hate this. I hate it. Stop fucking crying. Just stop. Just stop...Patience herself was starting to feel as miserable as her daughter who upon receiving physical comfort from her mother started to quiet down. It was always such a special treat for the baby that it immediately put her in a good mood.

By the time Marilyn’s cries turned into hiccups, Mrs. Coombs was gone. I don’t want to do this anymore. When Patience turned around, Mrs. Marks was still there helping put her items back into her basket. “You don’t have to-”

“No, it’s alright. I’m happy to,” Mrs. Marks said as she packed the items tightly.

“Thank you,” Patience said in relief.

Mrs. Marks attached the basket on the rack beneath Marilyn’s stroller. She didn’t hate Mrs. Marks. If she were honest with herself, she didn’t really know her or care to know her, but the woman had always been polite and gave her a genuine smile that was free of judgment. She leaves that to God. “Thank you for what you said,” the woman said quietly.

Patience resettled Marilyn on her hip. “Well it wasn’t any of her business,” she said frankly, “She’s too nosy for her own good.”

She found that description quite generous given that there were other adjectives she wanted to use that was inappropriate to say in front of a pastor’s wife. “Poor little girl,” she cooed.

Marilyn blinked tiredly. She was always tired after a big cry and would fall asleep quickly. A redeeming feature. “I see she still has the little lamb,” Emilie smiled and picked it up.

Marilyn made a grabbing motion and clutched it tightly in her chubby little hands. “She really likes it,” Patience noted.

Conversations about baby toys were never really what she pictured herself talking about in this stage of her life, or in any stage really. Motherhood may have been her reality but it was never a topic she wanted to discuss. “Thank you,” Patience added, “But we-,”

“Oh, I’ll leave you to your shopping, but it was lovely to see both of you. You and Marilyn, obviously,” she smiled, sending a veiled insult towards Mrs. Coombs but paused before she pushed her cart forward, “The church has a free nursery if you’d ever like to drop her off. We’re open from eight in the morning to five in the afternoon on weekdays. I run it and would be happy to look after her during the week.”

The news almost made Patience sob with relief. She had to return to work soon and had taken on a second job to get by, but neither made her stay past three. That meant she could have two hours, two blissful hours to myself on her workdays and a day off when she wasn't working. “Oh thank you,” she said with a watery voice.

“Of course. Like I said, I’d be happy to. She seems like such a sweet baby,” she smiled at Marilyn, “You can drop her off next Monday.”

“Next Monday,” Patience nodded as she plopped Marilyn back into her stroller, who thankfully was too tired to protest being buckled in.

With a last smile and farewell, Mrs. Marks disappeared down the next aisle. Patience took a shaky breath and finished her shopping as giddiness rose into her body at the thought of a break from her daughter. She’d have two hours to herself every day, and then an entire day off on Wednesday. She knew Marilyn wouldn’t like it at first but it’d be for the best. As she put Marilyn in the car, she said with a smile in her voice, “It’ll all work out.”

Whether it was to Marilyn or herself, she didn’t know. But that hardly mattered.

[shythesheep]

The silvertounged fool and his golden hearted king

 Content warning: descriptive violence and angst, lots of it. Whump.

Summeary: Merlin has known that everything has prize in life, and only the people in power has the means to pay it. He isn't one those people. Gifted with magic and a destiny unknown to him, he is ripped from his mother by a warlord and sold to Cenred to be trained as a sorcerer for his war against the other kingdoms of Albion. There is always a prize to pay, and in a time of war Merlin is the means to tip the scale of power. Too bad no one is fighting for him.

Chapter 1

Humble beginnings

Every life has a humble beginning. Be it the willful seeds that will grow to a proud harvest or the humble acorn that with the caring hand of time will grow into a wise oak, that gives shelter to all the creatures of the forest. Even legends as the one that is about to unfold, started out humble. It started out with a woman. A woman from the village Ealdor in the young King Cenred’s kingdom. In this little hut of hers, she sat with the bundle of joy that she called son. This was a time in which the only pain she foresaw for her child, was the burden of being a bastard, but the universe has its ways, and this bastards of hers was going to bear a burden heavier than most. The child’s name was Merlin.

v•v•v

“Merlin!” his mother grabs his shoulder and hides him in her embrace as she pulls him into the backyard. She signals him to be quiet and with shaking hands she makes him hide in the wood stack that leans up against their hut. There is a small crack that he is precisely tiny enough to squeeze into quietly. From his hiding spot he can see nothing, but non from the outside can see him either, so only his mum and himself knows where he resides. He can hear the clip clop of hooves against the dirt roads in the villages, and from their heavy breathing Merlin can imagine their frantic eyes, waiting for their rider to guide them through the unfamiliar terrain.

Horses are always a bad omen, even at the mere age of seven winters, Merlin knows this. Only knights and Kanen’s men have horses. Horses only bring bad men that makes his mum cry and takes their rations. Merlin would love nothing more than to make Kanen fly away, with all his evil minions, and the knights too. But magic is not something to use, not when curious eyes and running mouths are present. His mum says that even the walls and trees have ears, which is silly and scary. There are always eyes on him, not just his mother’s loving gaze, but eyes that belongs to greedy souls of men that would love nothing more than to exploit his powers or sell him to highest bidder. Even at this age Merlin understood the concept of danger that the magic inside him brought with it.

Magic cannot exist in this world where it only brings his mother worries and missing fathers, he knows that that is what he should think. But when he is alone, sitting under the oak in the early spring, the magic inside of him only creates friends for the beautiful butterflies that flies around him in a playful dance of the seasons. In the moments of bliss, he feels the earth and moss under him vibrate with life. It’s not tangible, but it is there, in the roots that run from the trees and the air that lays heavy with the smell of bark and moist grass.

The forest and butterflies seem so far away now, with him squished in between wood pieces and the cold air of late autumn filling his lungs. His hands are red from the cold, but he dares not move, hence he should make a sound. The horse’s hooves are quiet, but their riders are not, and neither are the villagers of Ealdor. He can hear the arguing, but not the words. He knows one of the voices, Matthew, he is always nice to Merlin and Will, even when old Tom accuses them of stealing eggs from his chicken coop. They never actually took any eggs, but when an adult accuses you, you rarely get out of the situation without a scolding, but not when it is Matthew, he just reassures old Tom that nothing has been taken and smiles to them. He is a nice man. Not like Kanen.

Merlin has only seen his face once in passing, and it’s a face that can only belong to a man like him, with a rotten soul and violent temper. It’s a face that only suits the likes of a child’s nightmare. But Kanen was as real as any and not just a nightmare but a menace to the villages that lays in the outskirts of Cenred’s kingdom, and the young have never cared for the poor folks, as long as he still owns the land and it isn’t outside kingdoms’ men that attack, then he won’t do anything.

Merlin strains his ears and Matthews voice pierces through.

“We don’t have anything left Kanen, the profit from the harvest this year was meager, we will starve as it is.”

“Then you will starve, but I know you have more to give than this.”

“We have nothing, you’ve- “

“Huni- “

“No, Matthew quiet. We have nothing, you’ve taken everything Kanen.”

Merlin gasps. It is his mother speaking. Curious as any child, he crawls out of his hiding, to get a better look at the confrontation. He is still hidden partially, and he is certain non can see him if he just stays quiet.

His mother his standing with her chin up, her face dirty with sod and mud from working all day, her hands are tightly fisted at her side, and they aren’t shaking. Merlin looks with his mouth slightly agape, admiring his mother that he thinks resembles an angry dragon.

He puts too much weight on his front leg and his foot slips on the muddy ground. He grunts and pushes himself up to meet the eyes of his mother, that in an instant change from being filled with bravery to big and round with a look of terror painting her face. It’s not just the eyes of his mother that is weighen down on him.

Kanen gets down from his horse and sounders towards merlin with his sword drawn, Hunith chokes out a tearful scream, but a few of Kanen’s men are holding her and Matthew back.

Merlin doesn’t move as Kanen lifts his chin with the tip of the sword, pressing it dangerously rough against Merlin’s soft skin. A tickle of blood runs from where the blade meets skin.

“Hunith’s boy I assume.” Kanen smirks and turns to Hunith with a laughter. “Not so brave when your little boy is under the blade huh?”

“Leave him be! He is just a boy!” Hunith is crying. Her body hunched over as she fights against the heaves, her eyes never leave Merlin.

“Don’t worry I won’t hurt him.” Kanen crouches down, removes the sword from Merlin’s chin and clutches it with his strong hands instead. He turns Merlin’s head slowly back and forth, inspecting him as if he was a mouse and Kanen the cat toying with him before the deadly pounce. “After all, I can’t sell damaged merchandises.” This makes his men chuckle and laugh. Hunith on the other hand, tenses up and gets quiet. Her face grows cold and her eyes fills with storm clouds. As quick as any mother would be with their child in danger, she hits one of the men with a fist to the nose and dives for his sword. She manages to get a hold of it and charges at Kanen.

Kanen draws his sword and easily manages to block Hunith’s barbaric swing, he pushes her back when their blades clash and Merlin sits frozen as the scene unfolds. His mother screams so hard that the strain on her voice is clear. But Kanen smiles non the less before the angry mother. The fight is over just like that, with Hunith clutching her bleeding arm, and the sword laying discarded at the side. Kanen points the sword at her, but the finishing blow never comes. The sword’s shaft heats up until it glows, a sizzling of burning flesh can be heard as Kanen yells in pain and drops the sword. He looks angrily towards Hunith, then he follows her gaze to Merlin. He just barely sees the glowing of the boy’s eyes as he turns. A crooked smile mix with his painfilled grimace.

“You got magic boy. No wonder your mother hid you.”

“Please! I’m begging you, let him be! He is just a child Kanen!”

“A child with magic, which is something that would fetch a high prize from any interested party, but a prize too big for you to pay I am afraid.”

“Kane-“

“We’ll take the boy as compensation for the damage and missing payment.” He smiles and turns towards Merlin. Merlin looks to his mother and feels himself starting to heave and tears form in his eyes.

“RUN!” Her mother screeches.

And run he does. He dashes towards the forest with the yells of men not far behind him. Then he hears the horses. Horses are always a bad omen.

“ahhh!” he screams loudly as someone pulls him up by his shoulders, the sound of hooves and yelling floods his senses and everything is thrown into a chaotic jumble of his beating heart and fast flowing blood.

“Sit still or I’ll drop you and the horse will trample you to death.” It isn’t Kanen but one of his men that has pulled Merlin up onto his horse. He is holding Merlin close to his chest as he rides towards the others who are roaring in victory as if Merlin was their hunting prize.

It goes quickly after that. Merlin’s hands and legs are tied with rope, and a cloth bag is loosly tied over his head as to obscure his sight. He screams for his mother, for matthew, anyone to help him. His movements are frantic as he fights against the hands holding him stomach down on the saddle. He can’t hear his mother, only the turmoil of screams and roars, who is yelling what he doesn’t know.

“Let’s get going, I want to set up camp before we look for a buyer.” Says Kanen in an indifferent tone and a low rumble of agreement is heard from the man holding Merlin.

“And make his weeping stop, it is giving me a headache.”

[space-blue]

Angel Plague

Theme: image prompt.

The old bird says they came on a ship. And she's that: old. Her wings huddle featherless behind her warped shoulders, twitching as we pull the story out of her. She claims to be old enough to remember the messenger who passed through her village to tell of a ship like a city, come to Dieb in splendour, and that was before rumours of coastal Gamar and Drasel falling to a plague, before the plague itself came to dispel the rumours.

'So many places burned along the coast that month, people forgot where it started. It wasn't like knowing who died first would save your life.'

I nod in agreement. To this day there is no deciding which city had burned first, which village turned into a charnel before its neighbours.

'I remember suckling my mam till I was twice over the age of weaning, because corpses were the only crop around. People always jabber about Dulik since that's where the first angel came from. Before that poor girl it was just plague, and then it was angel plague. But it was them strangers on their death ship that came to Dieb with it.'

Nobody likes the idea of riding to Dieb, even if it is our most solid lead. Some grumble the word of old harpies isn't proof enough.

I flap my wings angrily, rounding on my men.

'What other rumours would you have us checking first? Whether the dead princess Mia lost her virginity to the Devil? Whether Carusians were sinning with their chickens?'

'No, Alessar, we only mean–'

'You mean you're terrified of going cross-country. Your nannies told you it's full of ghosts and entire villages dead and unburied, with bones scattered by animals and the wind.'

God knows it's the truth, for the bones at least, if plague-country is half as bad as what we've seen so far in the borderlands. I pitch my voice to sound reasonable, encouraging.

'Yes it's plague-country, and nobody knows what goes on further down the road, but finding this ship, its people, are our orders. It's the rumour our King believes in. We will go and be safe, because the plague won't touch us. And if men try...'

I raise my spear up and look sternly at each of my men: four angel-born like I, and three plague survivors of middling age, Damian the only one among them changing, the bony stumps growing out of his back hidden under leather wrappings. All soldiers, handpicked.

'Don't lose heart now.'

I mount my horse, a deep-chested stallion very willing to take me in any direction so long as he can gallop there.

'We ride to Dieb,' I say, and my men follow, putting up a show of enthusiasm that is more for their own sake than mine.

The map says that the road–really a trail we barely make out through the encroaching wilderness–passes through several villages on its way to Dieb. In the first, everyone is winged. The children look up in wonder and the adults flock to us, eager to trade for news, but they can't tell us what lays further down the road. There are open-air ossuaries, but we expected them. The real blow to morale comes from the hamlets where, more and more often, half naked farmers turn the tools in their hands into weapons and give chase without a word, without a shout of warning. When the scouts spy a village without an angel in sight, I send Lud and Mallory through, human as they look, with instructions to make themselves perfectly agreeable while the rest of us give it a wide berth. They rejoin us with provisions strapped to their saddles and a grim set to their mouths. We avoid all the villages after that. Finally there is salt in the air, and the murmur of the sea beyond the swishing of palm tree leaves. There are more ruins of old farms too, as we near whatever is left of Dieb. So when Damian is taken by plague-fever, I'd consider calling it a day, but the men are having none of it, reeling with impatience, several of them going ahead to scout the shore. He lays on his belly, to accommodate the bony slabs that one day will form useable limbs. Maybe. His eyes, bloodshot, the irises slowly splitting three-ways, are starring into whatever inward hell the plague crafts for him.

Bruno squats by me, giving me a hand unwrapping the wing stumps.

'Alessar, let's strap him to his horse.'

'I don't know,' I whisper, waving at the spasming muscles, the snarling lips revealing bleeding gums. Soon his teeth would need filing again.

'Well, he'll hurt either way. Plus, look,' Bruno says, waving his hand in front of Damian's face. 'There's nobody home.'

I scowl at the feeling of burning flesh and sickly sweat under my fingers, an unwanted reminder that we are the product of disease, but we saddle him up like a bag of potatoes and move on. We're too close now.

We come upon it not in the main harbour, but beached in the cove south of it. The masts, which guided us from afar, should have prepared us for the sight of it, but even presented with all its broken splendour, I struggle with the size of the thing. It is a monster beyond my wildest dream. As if I had gone out to the beach with a stick to poke at jellyfishes, only to stumble on the carcass of a whale.

It's gutted, split in half, its seven great masts lolling haphazardly, connected by the last remnants of rotting rope and shreds of sails long lost to the wind. People made a staircase out of driftwood, going up and up, into the great wound itself. Still, several thousand people could hide in this wreck without crowding its crumbling decks. And yet, most noticeable is the figurehead: a gigantic woman, winged like the angels of lore, holding forth objects whose meaning I cannot guess. Her beautiful form bitter irony.

'Alessar...'

I look to where Lud points at a lone fisherman pulling traps out of shallow waters, not far from the much smaller wreck of what must have once been a dinghy. We ride down to him, holding hands in signs of peace, but the man welcomes us with a bout of spitting.

'You gulls lost or something?'

I laugh.

'Quite the opposite, fisherman. We come from the new Altan court, in search for the ship that brought strangers to our shore. This boat,' I say, pointing up over my wing at the behemoth eating half the sky.

'Is that so?' the man says, looking vaguely amused. 'The ol' king's still kicking?'

'His son,' I correct, 'Altar the second. He believes the people came to our shores carrying angel-plague with them, and so maybe they know of a cure. We were sent to investigate, seek their healers–'

The fisherman laughs then, in disbelief or mockery, I can't tell, but it shakes his whole body, sends crabs rattling in the trap he's clinging to.

Bruno flaps his wings in irritation, making the horses dance nervously.

'Are the ship people still alive? Tell us man! This is no joke.'

'Oh, aye,' the man whizzes, 'they don't really like birds like you though, so good luck talking to them. They first settled on top of Akram,' he says, pointing at the tall cliffs that cut the northern horizon, 'and resettled a lot of Gamar. But they come here often enough, especially the young ones. Kind of a pilgrimage, maybe? Not like they'd tell old Beko here.'

The men cry out, calling out to each other about our good luck, and I feel a hand slapping my shoulder, but I only have eyes for the little man whose own eyes have gone up, past my wings and into the sky.

'Well, aren't you gulls lucky!' He exclaims, pointing. 'Here's one of them now, and no kid either!'

So I look up too, just as a shadow passes over us.

It is an angel, and it isn't. It is more, like the ship is more than a ship. Maybe three times my size, with a far larger wingspan, its arms are human enough, holding a bag to its broad chest, but the legs are disjointed, ending in terrible talons. It flies over us without slowing or looking down, uncaring for the humans floundering in the shadow of a ship whose size suddenly makes more sense. Whose figurehead is nothing more than a herald of her species, and no angel at all.

'Still want to go ask the cure for bird-plague?' The old fisherman asks, smiling sadly. 'They call themselves something chirpy. Sounds like 'Titwak'. Usually they kill people like you, so we do the same. When a little gull is born, we offer it up to the sea.'

He shrugs, turns around to empty his trap.

'Go home. No point in you dying for a cure that doesn't exist.'

~~ November 2018

[catie-does-things]

Zutara Week Day 6 - Found

@zutaraweek

“That’s something we have in common.” And that’s when it starts. Soulmate AU.

AO3 / FF.N

“I’m sorry,” Zuko says. “That’s something we have in common.” And that’s when it starts, just a tingling sensation at first where those very words are written on her skin. Not the first words he’s ever said to her, it’s very rare that anyone finds their soulmate that easily, but the first words that really matter.

Katara ignores it at first, tells herself she misheard, he didn’t say exactly those words - though he did, she knows he did, she’s only waited her whole life to hear them. But as he tells her the story of what happened to his mother, the tingling becomes a prickling, then a burning feeling on the inside of her right wrist. She clasps that arm protectively to her chest, but if Zuko suspects what the gesture betrays, he doesn’t show it.

Not until the conversation turns to his scar, and what it means, and with her soulmark pressed against the vial of spirit water under her dress she says, “Maybe you could be free of it.” That’s when he suddenly gasps, and clutches at his own wrist - the right side, just like hers - and their eyes meet, and they both know. They’ve found each other.

But neither of them says anything to acknowledge it, not yet. She offers to heal his scar, but when she lays her hand on his face, they keep their wrists well away from each other. Now that they’ve both spoken their words, their bond will be sealed when their soulmarks touch. Katara isn’t ready for that. Neither, it seems, is Zuko.

That’s when Aang and Iroh find them, and everything after that happens so fast, and she never gets the chance to try healing him, or to do anything else. And then Zuko makes his choice, and they are enemies again, no matter what happened between them in that crystal cave, and she knows there never will be another chance, and she doesn’t want one.

But as they flee the fallen Earth Kingdom capital, her wrist is still burning.

-----

Aang nearly died. The eclipse is coming. There’s an invasion to prepare for, a war to be won. Katara has plenty of other things to worry about besides the words on her wrist, and she focuses on those things with all her might. Most of the time, it works. Most of the time.

There are people in the world without soulmarks, and there are stories of people who never find their soulmates, whose words eventually fade away. But Katara has never heard of soulmates who found each other, who spoke their words, but didn’t seal the bond. She has no idea what’s supposed to happen in this scenario.

The burning feeling sometimes flares up, and sometimes ebbs, but it never goes away. On the days when it feels like a hot brand being pressed to her skin, Katara retreats to her tent in the evening and curl up, alone, with her wrist held to her chest just like she had done in the cave, and she wonders, angrily, desperately, if it will ever stop. She’s tried ignoring it, and she’s tried healing it, but when it’s this bad nothing helps. This is a hurt beyond the powers of her will or her bending to fix.

Once, she removes the gloves she wears, and traces the burning words on her skin with her index finger. “That’s something we have in common,” she whispers. She wonders if Zuko’s mark burns like this, too, or if his feels frozen, the cold bite of ice under his skin that will never thaw.

-----

“You’ve found him, haven’t you?” Aang says to her on the day of the invasion. “Your soulmate.”

They’ve never talked about it, but Aang has no soulmark. This can mean many things. It’s never seemed like a priority to Katara, and it certainly isn’t now.

She clenches her right hand into a fist, and draws her arm to her chest again, self-consciously, the very gesture she has caught herself in unwittingly several times over the last few weeks, which has probably given away her secret. “It doesn’t matter,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, it does,” Aang replies sadly. Then, unexpectedly, he kisses her, a good-bye kiss full of regret, and just as suddenly he flies away to fulfill his destiny.

Katara watches him disappear into the darkening skies as the moon moves fully in front of the sun. The words on her wrist throb painfully.

-----

When Zuko finds them at the air temple, it only gets worse. 

He doesn’t say anything about their marks, not in front of the others, and neither does she. Sokka pulls her aside, later, when the group has accepted his help, and asks her why she is so much more hostile towards him than anyone else. After all, Aang and Toph were the ones who got hurt. The observation is pointed and Katara thinks her brother might suspect what Aang has already figured out, at least in part. She denies having any particular animosity towards Zuko, and insists she’s only worried about keeping Aang safe.

She’s repeating the same lie to herself when she corners Zuko in his room.

He has the temerity, the sheer nerve to look happy to see her, but the hint of a smile falls from his face fast enough. “We both know you’ve struggled with doing the right thing before,” she reminds him. Her wrist is burning hot as ever, and while she has her gloves on, securly covering her mark, his forearms are bare. She can see her own words on his skin, Maybe you could be free of it, and part of her aches to bare her own mark, to let them touch and put an end to this agony.

“If you make one wrong move,” she tells him instead. “I’ll make sure your destiny ends. Permanently.” And maybe, if it comes to that, then her mark will fade, and all of this will really be over.

Zuko doesn’t say anything in response to her threats. He just looks at her remorsefully, and flexes his right hand, and she knows his mark must be hurting him as much as hers does. Katara storms out of the room, unsatisfied.

-----

“What are you doing,” she snaps at him when he saves her life.

“Stopping rocks from crushing you,” he bites back. He’s still wrapped protectively around her, hovering, and she knows he’s trying to touch her as little as possible now, but it had been unavoidable, when he snatched her out of the way of the collapsing ceiling and broke her fall with his own body. Her back to his chest, his arm around her waist, every point of contact sets off a new stab of pain in her wrist, because it’s not the one contact that will set things right, the one she wants to avoid more than anything.

“Well, I’m not crushed,” she says, pushing him away, more grateful than ever for her gloves covering her wrists. “So you can get off me now.”

She returns the favor not long after, catching him out of the air and pulling him to safety on Appa’s saddle. She lets go hastily, but not before her fingertips have accidentally brushed against his mark. A cold pit settles in her stomach at the touch, and the way he shivers from the brief contact, just as the heat in her own mark flares, confirms what she had suspected, that he is freezing while she burns.

-----

“Your mother was a brave woman,” Zuko tells her, and there’s an echo of his fateful words from the crystal caves in it. Somehow, against all odds, Zuko understands this part of her better than anyone.

He’s very careful, on their whole journey together, to give her space. Not once does he so much as touch her hand. But it’s too late for such precautions. His mere proximity is inflaming her mark. Her skin feels unusually sweaty under her glove, the first outward manifestation of her pain, and she thinks the tips of Zuko’s fingers might be turning a bit blue. She doesn’t dwell on it, letting her anger at her mother’s killer consume her instead.

After the confrontation, when they make camp that night, just the two of them, Katara lies on her back staring up at the full moon and thinking about all the ways she struggles to do the right thing, too. Something else they have in common, maybe.

She turns her head towards where Zuko is lying several feet away, curled around his right arm. In the light of the dying campfire, she can see how he is shivering. “Are you cold?” she asks softly. There’s barely a chill in the summer night air.

“It’s the mark,” Zuko replies in a whisper, the first time either of them has said anything about it out loud. “Ever since Ba Sing Se, it’s like there’s a huge block of ice pressed on my arm, and I can’t get properly warm.” He rolls onto his back, tucking his right arm protectively under his left. “It’s crushing me,” he adds, so softly Katara almost doesn’t hear it.

Katara looks back up at the moon hanging over them. “It’s burning me up,” she whispers back, voice choked with tears. Neither of them moves, or says anything else after that, and neither of them sleeps well that night.

She forgives him. She even hugs him. But she still wears her gloves.

-----

“Pretty stupid play, isn’t it?” Zuko says when she finds him on the balcony outside the theater.

“Yeah,” she agrees, thinking about the cheesy embrace between their actor counterparts, grateful the playwright has no idea what really happened in the caves under Ba Sing Se - or what might have happened, if she had been less hesitant. The words under her glove burn hotter when she leans against the railing next to him, the way they always do when the two of them get closer. She unsuccessfully tries to suppress a grimace, and Zuko fails to hide a shudder. “Can I ask you something?” she says quietly.

“Sure,” he replies, looking up at the full moon. His arms are folded on the railing, and he leans forward slightly so his right arm is tucked against his chest. Katara knows it won’t help him any.

“In Ba Sing Se,” she begins tentatively. “If we’d...if there had been more time…” She watches his face carefully, his profile bathed in moonlight, to gauge his reaction. “Do you think things would have gone differently?”

Zuko closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know, Katara,” he replies sadly.

There’s another throb of pain under her glove, and Zuko presses his arms tighter to his chest. “You don’t know?” Katara echoes. If they had been bonded soulmates, he might have still betrayed her? “You don’t think it would have made any difference?”

Zuko looks down at her as if her question has hurt him as much as his answer did her. “Of course it would have made a difference,” he says, uncrossing his arms. Katara catches another glimpse of his words, her eyes landing on the character for “free”, before he places his right hand over his heart. “What I mean is, my bad choice wasn’t your fault.”

It’s not a comforting answer. It doesn’t undo the past or reassure her about the future. But she knows it’s the truthful answer, and that’s the best she can hope for. Like Zuko said himself on that fateful day, he is free to choose his own destiny. And so is she.

And they will both have to live with the consequences of their choices.

-----

The lightning seems to hit him in slow motion. Katara realizes several things at once.

By taking that lightning, Zuko has gambled everything - his own life, the future of his nation and even the world - and he’s done it to save her. If he dies, she can still defeat Azula, maybe. If he dies, Iroh could be Fire Lord after all, maybe. If he dies, her soulmark will fade, and she will be free of the pain that has been tormenting her since Ba Sing Se.

She would rather live with that pain for the rest of her life than let him die.

Time resumes its normal pace. She fights Azula. She wins. She runs to Zuko, praying she’s not too late. Her mark is radiating shooting pains all up her arm, darts of fire that reach her shoulder and even deeper, as she presses healing water to his chest.

“Thank you, Katara,” he says, voice raspy and weak, only just back from the brink of death.

“I think I should be the one thanking you,” she replies. She helps him sit up, then stand. Their eyes meet, and they both know. They can go the rest of their lives bound to each other by pain, or they can look to each other for solace. With trembling hands, she removes her right glove.

Their palms meet first, then their fingers interlace. He pulls her into a close embrace, she rests her head on his shoulder, and their arms twist, wrist to wrist pressed between them, soulmarks touching at last, her hand clutched to his chest and his hand over her heart. Her fire and his ice flow one into the other, mingle, and at last know relief in the balance.

They’ve found each other.

[davidmann95]

Velvet's battle is a great choice, though I'll always have a special place in my heart for the fight against the Grimm Deathstalker and the Nevermore in Episode 8. That said, what do you think of the individual members of Team RWBY?

I decided to wait on this until I caught up on the series thus far, which I just finished doing the night before last in pretty much the only time in my life I’ve ever really properly binged anything other than comics, and…wow. I knew RWBY was a thing just as a matter of course from being on this site and Youtube, and from watching Death Battle, so I picked up some major beats by osmosis. But my main impression was that it was a charming pseudo-anime online thing of decent quality that unsurprisingly got heavier as it went along as such things tend to do, with extremely rad fights and music along the way; figured it’d be more than serviceable to watch while I was on the treadmill as a disposable distraction from the agony of propelling my wheezing, sweating, loathsome meat-scaffolding forward.

I did *not* expect it to eventually end up after growing pains a - while far from flawless - intensely engrossing story of all-consuming personal and generational pain and people who choose to love and do the right thing in defiance of that trauma and loss and hopelessness, where also occasionally a corgi gets fastball specialed at mechas. Though once it became clear that’s what it is, it pretty clearly sat at an intersection of a hell of a lot of my favorite things, especially when characters copped in-universe in both the main series and spinoff material that this is basically a superhero thing. My initial impressions re: the fights and music were on-point though.

I actually have quite a few thoughts on pretty much all the protagonists of note at this point (other than I suppose Oscar and Maria. Like them both though, and I do hope that nice boy’s brain somehow doesn’t dissolve into the blender of Ozpin’s subconscious), but I’ll just stick with the core four here as requested for now unless someone asks otherwise. Weiss is the simplest to get at the core of, I’d say: her arc is learning that fuck rich people, actually. She’s a seriously difficult character to get onboard for at first - especially if you’re watching those first episodes for the first time in 2019 - as the mean unconsciously racist rich girl who learns to be less mean and racist but still kinda mean. But after you’ve extensively seen the hideously toxic environment she grew up in, and fully understand her efforts to grow past the empty values it inculcated in her in favor of everything she was raised to think of herself as above, she becomes a hell of a figure to root for. Assuming RWBY is gonna go, say, a respectable 10 seasons given it was just renewed through 9, I could easily see the upcoming 7th be the climax of her arc with her return to Atlas and likely further reckoning with the consequences of her families’ actions beyond how they’ve hurt her personally.

Yang is also, in a certain abstract narrative sense, simple, in that she’s built around the very oldest trick in the book for characters whose main deal is ‘can punch better than absolutely anyone’: give them problems that cannot be solved by punching. Except in her case it’s less a material “well, this person is invulnerable to punching!” or “well, actually this other person can punch most best of all” issue blocking her path than “punching cannot solve depression, abandonment issues, questioning whether what she considers her purpose in life is one she’s truly pursuing for noble reasons or if she even has the resolve for it anymore after what’s happened to her, or PTSD”. Yet, while it may not be the kind that manifests in the form of punching people with a smirk and a bad pun anymore (much as she still definitely does that all the time) what ultimately drives her and defines her is still her strength: to move forward, to forgive, to let go, to do the right thing in spite of the risks. Which could easily come off as some unpleasant “you just have to get over your moping!” dismissal - there’s a bit with her dad that means it saddles riiiiight up to the edge of that - but there’s a weight to how her traumas remain a consistent factor in her life and have shaped her outlook even as her circumstances and day-to-day disposition improve that makes it feel thematically like it’s coming from a place of acknowledgment and endurance rather than denial, even if it’s not handled perfectly. Great to see her apparently recapturing some more of her joie de vivre based on the trailer for Volume 7, and how that’ll interact with how she’s grown should be interesting.

Blake is…tough, because you fundamentally cannot talk about Blake without getting into the Faunus, which is maybe the biggest aspect of RWBY that leaves it in the realm of Problematic Fave. It really, really wants to have something substantial to say about the proper response to racism, and every now and then it pumps out a “capitalism greases the wheels of systemic oppression and vice-versa” or “it’s perfectly reasonable for the oppressed to seek to fight back directly against their oppressors, and even the pacifist in the room can recognize that’s a defensible approach that deserves its place”. But then Abusive Boyfriend Magneto literally murders nuance in Vol. 5 episode 2, and it descends into some borderline “but what about black on black violence” respectability politics shit. It’s the classic X-Men setup - this persecuted race of often superpowered folks torn between pacifism and efforts to prove themselves to their oppressors, and those who think they should rise up and annihilate the flatscans - with most of the same pitfalls, but also we haven’t had over 50 years to get used to that just being how it works here, and it doesn’t have the excuse of having to expand as best it can on a metaphor that was originally devised before most of the people currently handling it were born. All of which would be rough enough, but given I watched this right as Jonathan Hickman’s been completely refining the entire X-Men paradigm outside that outdated binary, it especially grates. I’d love to be directed to any solid counterarguments - I’ve heard it might actually be an analogue, and a well-done one, for The Troubles, which I am one million percent unqualified to evaluate - especially since apparently one of the writers grew up in a mixed-race household, and at the end of the day I’m a white guy who may well be talking completely out his ass. But it sure comes off at a glance as some well-intentioned dudes stumbling through stuff that’s not their business, and that’s inextricable from Blake’s character when so much of her story is her navigating through that metaphor. Hopefully with new writers coming onboard this is something that can be navigated more insightfully in the future.

On a purely personal basis however, Blake’s a standout in terms of relatability when her story comes down to a pretty universal shared horror: how to climb back from having fucked up. She tried really hard to do the right thing, was taken advantage of and led into doing things she eventually realized were wrong, was so shaken that she couldn’t tell who to trust, and then the situation spiraled out of control on every possible front just as things finally seemed to be stabilizing. The way a single mistake - enabled and exacerbated by an abusive past relationship in her case - expands into a self-loathing far beyond the bounds of anything she could possibly be responsible for is brutal and completely understandable, and seeing her start put her self-esteem back together with the help of those closest to her and the power of her original convictions is arguably the single strongest, most clearly conveyed individual character arc in the series. I’m very curious where it goes from here: Adam’s finish represents a logical climax and the setup for a happily-ever-after with Yang (or Sun if they end up going that way after all) for her to coast through the remainder of the series on, but the way emotional consequences have played out in the series thus far I doubt her demons are going to be put to bed that simply.

Finally there’s Ruby, and I am contractually obligated to note up front: she is clearly not a Superman analogue. There is precisely zero percent chance that she was conceived as such or was ever deliberately executed in such a way that mirroring him was kept in mind. Though she IS a super-powered idealist raised in the middle of nowhere with a significant deceased parent who wears a red cape, flies, gives inspiring rallying speeches, has black-ish but primary color-tinted hair, and has a mysterious birthright that involves being able to shoot lasers from her eyes, plus she has a dog who also essentially has superpowers, plus she tells someone they’re stronger than they think they are, plus Yang basically quotes a bit from Kingdom Come regarding her in Rest and Resolutions. But it probably goes a ways in explaining why she works so well for me.

There’s more to it than that of course, though it does bring up the closest way in which she relates to the superhero paradigm: she doesn’t go through an arc in quite the same way as the others, instead being an already solidly-defined character who is simply illustrated by how she interacts with the people and situations around her. She learns and grows and matures, but her most basic motivations and goals and outlook haven’t really changed since the day she enrolled at Beacon. She’s a good, caring person, a leader archetype who still has more than enough personality to spare to keep from falling into the genericism that can often plague that role. A big part of the key I believe is that she’s the audience surrogate in a profound way beyond the obvious touchstones of her frequent awkwardness and self-doubt: the reason she does this is because she was inspired by stories. She’s a fan, ultimately, but one who learned all the right lessons, whether recognizing from day one the way reality falls short of the tales she was raised on but still believing in the ideals they represent, or openly holding up Qrow as a role model while being willing to call him on his shit when push comes to shove. It’s a romantic, hopeful perspective that stands out sharply from even our other heroes even as it mirrors their struggles, but as of yet there’s little to suggest it comes from a place of naivete so much as a belief that it’s the only way to bear the pain of the world and continue to believe in it. Bit by bit it’s clear she’s heading for a breaking point, but all signs point to that being a matter of her ability to withstand what she’s been through, rather than any doubt that it’s necessary, and should that time come she’s inspired plenty who’ll be able to help her back onto her feet the way she has for so many others. So while I understand her speeches apparently grate on some, as far as I’m concerned keep them coming, they’re the beating caring heart of the series and often the sole respite in the eye in the storm.

[fleurie3am15inspo]

Work was slow so I started brainstorming and came up with this

Hey there, whoever happens to read this. I am a writer too. I just don’t normally post anything and whatever I do write is usually between me and a friend with whom I am partnering up for a project of sorts. I sometimes have story ideas and get started on creating characters, plots, backstories, etc. and just go off writing little snipets. Well, this is an excerpt from my most recent one. A bit of background. This excerpt is a “how they met” type of deal. It is between two of my characters, Ardmont and Rietta. Ardmont is a blind elf and Rietta is a pixie in a fantasy world that has elves, humans, orcs, pixies, you name it. Pixies are usually captured for a variety of reasons. They can be pets, assistants, informants, etc. There is a way to distinguish between a “tamed” or “wild” pixie, but more on that later..maybe. Who knows?  Anyway, I’ll stop talking now. Here is a bit showcasing their current relationship followed by how they met. @the-lupine-sojourner , this is what I had mentioned to you a while back. Sorry it took me so long. Midterms have devoured me and left me for dead. But thank goodness, I have a few days to relax and post this. Thanks for your patience.I’ll give more on the plot later. Here we go!

Thorne and Ardmont are riding out to the next town via horseback at the request of Ardmont’s father. Thorne is the son of one of the groundskeepers so he and Ardmont don’t speak very much. So, he uses the ride to get to know the son of his father’s employer. .........

“So, it’s true? You really are can’t see?”

“That’s right. At home is where I use my cane. That way, I don’t have to bother anyone with escorting me. It’s much easier to use than you think.”

“If it's easier for you to get around with your cane, why don't you use it more often?”

“Father doesn't think it's appropriate for me to use it in public. He thinks that I'm just announcing to the world that I'm disabled. An embarrassment, even.” “Well, I can see how it looks. A disability does tend to garner unwanted attention..” “...” “Sorry.” “It's fine. It doesn't matter to me anyhow. I've got Rietta.” “Who?” A flurry of light pops up in front of him and settles on his horse’s mane. A winged creature in a flower dress places her hands on her hips, smiling proudly up at the newcomer. “I believe he means me.” “Whoa! Ardmont, you have a pet pixie?” Her attitude changes immediately as her glow turns orange in annoyance.“Who are you calling a pet? Hold me back Monty! I'm about to shove some pollen up his nose!” She flies off in a huff. “Rietta, I told you not to call me that.” He sighs, “She's not a pet; she's my best friend. And she helps me get around.” Rietta flies back next to his face with an arm full of pollen.“In other words, I'm his eyes!” Ardmont sneezes, “Did you actually get it?” Rietta freezes and lets it fall in a small golden cloud, “Maybe.” His friend shakes his head in amazement, “Incredible. I’ve never seen a pixie who willingly listens to an elf. All the little creatures I’ve seen have been tamed and marketed as pets.” Rietta begins to glow red as she fumes in anger. Ardmont feels the heat and gently raises his hand to nudge her with his finger. “Actually, I find the whole idea of it detestable,” he began, “Pixies are not wild animals. They think and feel just like any human, elf, or orc. And still, they’re hunted, caged, and stripped of their free will. It’s not right.” Rietta’s glow dims back down to a pale yellow and she settles on his shoulder. “Rietta is with me because she chose to. I didn’t ask her to follow me everywhere I went to make my life easier. I met her in the forest and she offered to help me. And for that, I am forever grateful.” “Aww!” Rietta turns pink and hugs his neck, “I love you too, big guy!” “My apologies then,” his friend said, “I hadn’t meant to offend you in any way, miss. The idea is new, but, from now on, I will keep an open mind to it.” Rietta flips her braid over her shoulder and dusts the yellow powder off, “It’s okay. Not everyone can see like Monty. He might not be able to see people, but he can see you as a person.” Thorne chuckles a bit, “You’re a bit passive-aggressive, aren’t you?” “Am I really, good sir? I had no idea.” Admont laughs as well, “Be nice, Rietta. Not everyone is used to your little mood swings.” “I must admit, though, I am rather curious as to how you two came to meet,” Thorne began, “I understand that you found him first, Rietta?” She twirls up in the air, “You got it! I was just minding my business on a pretty little patch of lilies when all the birds started screaming...

Flashback

Rietta is sitting on a mushroom amidst a small patch of lilies. She is humming quietly to herself as she sews lily petals together to make a skirt. It is a delicate garment and she is almost done. Suddenly, the ground rumbles and all the birds in the tree scatter, screeching a discord of noise. She looks around in confusion and sees a horse stampeding her way. She gasps and shoots up into the safety of the branches, dropping her skirt on accident. “No…!” She makes a grab for it, but the horse speeds ahead beneath her, and tramples the lily patch she was sitting in as well as her pretty skirt. She flits down and, with drooping wings, gently picks up the remains. She hugs the ruined garment and cries for a little when she is distracted by the horse once more. The horse has reared on its hind legs and thrown off it’s rider. An elf goes flying off his saddle and cries out in pain as he lands harshly on his right side. The horse neighs and takes off without the elf. Rietta burns bright red and flies up angrily, “What do you think you’re doing?!” Ardmont swivels his head around, trying to locate the source of the voice. “Who’s there? Please, can you help me? I don’t know where I am.” He tries to get up, but trips on a root and lands on his injured arm. “Aah..! They’re after me.” Rietta maintains her distance and looks in the direction he came, “Who is after you?” “Bandits,” he falls again and feels around for the tree trunk, “They attacked my caravan and my horse-” “Are you crazy! Why the heck would you lead bandits this way? You’ll lead them straight to the pixie meadows!” “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, miss. But please, I need help!” “Unbelievable… Ugh! Alright! Follow me, we’re gonna lead them away from here.” She flies off in a huff. “Miss, wait!” “Now what?” She flies back, getting up in his face, but he continues to look around frantically, feeling for another tree. “What the heck is wrong with you?” Ardmont is breathing quickly in a panic, “I’m blind, miss. I need you to guide me!” “Oh, for the love of-” Rietta springs down and grabs a stick, “Grab this and try to keep up.” He grabs hold with his left hand and they take off in a direction adjacent to where he had come from. Occasionally, he stumbles, but he never falls. Soon, the sound of crashing water is heard and the air turns salty. They have reached the ocean. Ardmont’s breathing has worsened and he collapses on his knees. ‘A-are they...are they g-gone…?” Rietta is panting as well. She drops the stick and settles down on a seashell, her wings drooping. “Yeah. We lost them.” Ardmont winces slightly as he puts both hands on the floor and leans forward in a deep bow. “T-thank you, m-miss,” he gasped between breaths, “I am...forever in debt to you.” “You’re facing the wrong way, you big oaf,” Rietta said dryly, “But, you’re welcome. Even if it was your fault to begin with.” She mutters the last part under her breath. Ardmont turns in the direction of her voice and bows again. “My most sincerest apologies, miss. I had not meant to lead them to your home. My horse was frightened and I let him take me.” He tries to sit up and take a deep breath, “I will burden you no more. I can find my way back from here.” Rietta raises an eyebrow, “Do you even know where we are?” “The Northern Shore. My mother brings me often so I know the way home from here. I just need a moment to recollect myself.” Cautiously, Rietta flies closer to his face noticing his skin was pale and tinged green. Hey, are you okay?” she asked, “You look like you’re going to be sick.” He shakes his head vigorously, “I-I’m fine. I j-just need-” he coughs harshly then empties the contents of his stomach on the sand. Rietta recoils but hesitantly moves closer. She tugs at a handkerchief stuffed in his shirt pocket. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She leaves him resting in the sand and returns to the forest from which they came. There is a stream nearby, in which she dunks the handkerchief. Then she rises up to the branches of a nearby fruit tree, plucking a circular blue one. With both items in tow, she flies back to the beach to look for Ardmont. He is lying down with his arms resting on his torso. Rietta places the damp handkerchief on his forehead and he flinches from the sudden coolness. “What-?” “Relax, oaf,” Rietta says, surprisingly soothingly, “It’s just me. Can you sit up now?” “Yes.” He manages to sit up on his own, though still a little shaky. “Keep that on your head and eat this.” She plumps the blue fruit in his lap. “It’s an aquarine. Plenty of water pockets and it’s good for you.” “Thank you, miss. I will remember your kindness forever.” Tilting his head back slightly to balance the cloth, he uses his left hand to awkwardly eat his fruit. They sit in a small silence for a few minutes. The color is returning to his face and he is breathing easier now. Rietta notices that he is taking special care to not move his right side and how his arm is resting on his lap. “So...how’s your arm?” She asks, breaking the silence. Ardmont pauses from his fruit, “I don’t know. I am hoping it is only a sprain, but it pains me to move.” “Well, I’m already playing caretaker. Might as well finish the job.” She flies up to his neck and tugs at his scarf. “What are you doing?” “I’m going to make a sling. You shouldn’t be moving it if it hurts.” “You’ve done enough, miss. I will have it examined when I return home.” “That could take hours. Just shut up and let me fix it.” Ardmont concedes and removes his scarf for her. She flits about him and ties it securely around his neck. “There. You should be fine.” “Tha-” “And stop thanking me. Once was enough.” She rests on a seashell in front of him again, “Why are you so formal, anyway?” Ardmont bows his head slightly, “Apologies, miss. I just-” “Rietta.” “Pardon?” “That’s my name, I’m getting tired of hearing you call me ‘miss’.” Ardmont smiles, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Rietta. My name is Ardmont. My mannerism is so because my father raised me to treat all living creatures with respect.” Rietta sits cross-legged on the seashell and looks up at him skeptically. “...You do know I’m a pixie, right?” “Yes.” “So why are you being nice to me? Aren’t you going to try to capture me like everyone else?” A shocked look comes across his face, “Never! Do you not live, breathe, and think? You are a creature of free will, no different than I! Who am I to harm the lady who has saved my life?” Her glow fades back to yellow, “You mean you really don’t want to take me away?” “Never on my life.” “Wow...you’re...you’re different then…” Without realizing it, tears are falling down her face. She sniffs and tries to wipe them away quickly. “Are you crying, miss?” “No, I got sand in my eyes-Yes I’m crying!” She keeps trying to wipe them away to no avail. “And I said don’t call me that!” There is a slight pause, “Y-You’re the first elf I’ve met who hasn’t tried to hunt me down. I’m sorry! I didn’t help you because you asked me too…I didn’t want your kind to find us. And I thought that if I left you, you might have accidentally led the bandits to the meadows. I’m so selfish!” Ardmont smiles softly, “Rietta, you have nothing to apologize for. You are not selfish. In fact, you’re very brave. You acted in the best interests of your people and still found a way to help me. And even when you saw me as the enemy, you cared for me. I am forever in your debt.” He stands and stretches his side gently. “You are very kind, Rietta. I live in Ravenport, just off the coast. Should you ever need me, I will be more than happy to return the favor tenfold. I will make my way from here. It was an honor to meet you.” He bows once more and begins his trek down the beach. Rietta stays on her shell, still dumbfounded. Suddenly, she starts and flies to catch up to him. “Ardmont, wait!” He turns towards the sound of her voice, “Yes?” She takes a quick breath, “I want to go with you!” “What?” “Well, my life could use a little adventure in it. And you could use a guide. That way, we both get something out of this. Just make sure no one tries to steal me. I can take care of myself, but it’s nice to have a little more protection. That’s how you can repay me. Come on. I’ll even take you back.” “Are you sure? I can make the trip back on my own.” “I’m positive. I don’t have anything better to do anyway.” “In that case, I would be honored to have you accompany me.” There is a slight note of joy in his voice and a hint of excitement, “I will have a room set up for you right away!” “Eh, just give me a flowerbed and leave a window open at night. I’m not picky.” She settles on his shoulder, “Can I sit here?” “By all means.” “Great, thanks. And by the way, you’re going the wrong way.” Rietta gives a little well meaning ‘humph’ and nudges his chin so that he is facing the opposite direction. “Ravenport is that way.” Ardmont chuckles and makes a half rotation to walk in the correct direction, “It seems you are helping me already. Perhaps you and I could be friends, Rietta.” “As long as you don’t betray me, then maybe.” “I would never dream of it.” “Can I call you Monty?” “No.” “You wanted to be friends, so you’re stuck with it.” “Oh, dear…” The snippets of conversation and laughter fade away into the afternoon as the two embark on the journey back to town together: an unusual alliance between elf and pixie forming strong.

Sorry about the format. I just copy pasted from a google doc and I don’t know how to fix it. So yeah, this is just a little drabble from a random idea I had at the outlets a while back. I just liked the idea of a tiny pixie friend helping out her blind goliath. I found the description(?) I texted to my friend:

“He dreams of what it is like to see and she wonders what it is like to be big until BAM! They do too much exploring and stumble upon some magical cave (or some other cliche life changing accident/exchange) The magic is unleashed! The next morning they’ve switched bodies *insert shocked face* It is really disorienting because they both got what they wanted but with the disadvantages. Rietta is now big, but she’s always bumping into things or tripping over an animal. And now he can see, but he’s so small he knows he’s not getting an actual picture of what how things are. It’s amazing at first, but the world is kind of scary. Especially since he is now so small. Still, he offers to be his friend’s seeing eye friend just as he was for him. He’s kind of bad at it because he can’t describe what she’s going to walk into. But they have fun anyway. It is a new experience and they don’t know how long it’ll last, so might as well have fun with it. And maybe learn something new about each other in the meantime.”

If you made it to the end of this essay, thanks for sticking around. I don’t do this much so it’s a new experience for me. I had fun with it, though. Any criticism is welcome! 

[pass-the-bechdel]

Marvel Cinematic Universe: The Avengers (2012)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

No.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Three (23.07% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Ten.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Episode Quality:

It’s solid. Unpopular opinion? I don’t think it’s half as good as people made it out to be, back when it first hit cinemas and everyone was swooning. It’s solid, but that’s the best I’ve got for it.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

...

Female characters:

Maria Hill.

Natasha Romanov.

Pepper Potts.

Male characters:

Nick Fury.

Phil Coulson.

Erik Selvig.

Clint Barton.

Loki.

Bruce Banner.

Steve Rogers.

Tony Stark.

JARVIS.

Thor.

OTHER NOTES:

‘free from freedom’ is such a wanky piece of writing, man. It’s absolute nonsense, but it sounds vaguely profound if you don’t think about it at all. I thought about it. It’s idiotic. 

The very first thing we see of Black Widow in this movie is her being hit in the face, wearing a slinky little dress, tied to a chair being interrogated by a bunch of men. We’re supposed to indulge this excuse for hurting and objectifying a woman and then write it off as ‘empowering’ because she beats the Hell outta the dudes a couple of minutes later. That’s not a game I’m interested in playing. This is garbage.

The classical music over the beginnings of the Stuttgart attack is great.

All those German folks so confused by this Loki dude speaking English at them. What a tool.

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard ‘not today’ used as an effective badass declaration. It’s ALWAYS cheesy. Make it stop.

“There’s only one God, ma’am, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.” I don’t really like this line for Steve; he just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would play the ‘one true God’ card, and there was nothing in his origin story which implied that he’s particularly attached to religion at all; plus, he already read the brief on Thor, he knows this is literally the old Norse deity, there’s no question of whether or not they’re dealing with a God here. To argue the point (because he’s not MY God!) is meaningless in context, and feels like a weak attempt to correlate (Christian) faith with being ‘old-fashioned’, like OF COURSE Steve would defend the idea of the ‘one true God’, he’s from the past, not a cool enlightened atheist/agnostic modern man like the rest of us, right?

Thor and Loki are using such archaic phrasing, when Tony makes his ‘Shakespeare in the Park’ joke, it’s...more an observation than a quip. The Asgardians were not half as stuffy in Thor. It makes it seem like someone didn’t bother to see that movie first before writing their version of the characters.

Thor has to fight with the others when he shows up. He’s just gotta.

Gotta give a nod to Mark Ruffalo’s work here; I feel like I can see the clear comparison between his version of the character and Edward Norton’s in The Incredible Hulk, but at the same time there’s no sense of this being a Norton’s-Banner impression. Ruffalo is doing a sweet job of making the character his own without totally overhauling the template Norton laid down, and I dig it.

Oh, here we are. Loki calls Black Widow a ‘mewling quim’, which is just a fancy way of calling her a whiny cunt. Your gendered slur is still a gendered slur, movie.

I know they’re playing the idea that the sceptre is causing the antagonism between the characters, but fuck, it’s tedious. It just feels like they’re all contrived petty versions of themselves, being shitty because it’s ~dramatic~ for them to not get along.

I didn’t see this movie until months after it was released, and people were raving about how crushed they were by the major character death in the film but they were doing a pretty good job of not spoiling it; good enough that for a moment, I really thought I’d get to enjoy the surprise/horror for myself. You know who spoiled it for me? In a tweet, no less? It was the 44th President of the United States. Thanks, Obama.

This guy is the MVP of this film:

You can chalk “Son, just don’t,” up on the list of Things Steve Rogers Would Not Say. Just because he’s technically in his nineties doesn’t mean he isn’t still in his twenties in his mind: I don’t buy that he’d go for a blithely patriarchal term like ‘son’, it seems like another poorly-considered attempt to make him sound old-fashioned. Juxtapose that with ‘just don’t’, which is very modern vernacular. It might seem clever to combine the two as a meta-expression of Steve belonging to two different times now, but in practical application it just sounds out-of-character, and there’s nothing clever about that.

I know I said after the last movie that I love it when someone gets hit and flies off-screen in an exaggerated fashion, but Hulk punching Thor off-screen after they finish working together to take down the big beastie is an exception, because there’s no reason for Hulk to decide to hit Thor in the first place, it’s just a gag for the sake of a gag. I can’t believe they messed up such a simple pleasure. 

I will forgive it, in return for Hulk smashing Loki all over the place. That was funny.

Back when this movie came out, before I saw it, I had people tell me - straight-faced, totally sincere - that it was one of the best movies they had ever seen. The internet was on fire with Avengers love. The film was rated in the IMDb Top 20. Admittedly, that all sets a pretty impossible standard for a movie to meet, and being at least a little disappointed in the result is probably a given. I was not particularly invested either way (I didn’t fall down the Marvel rabbit hole until later), so I didn’t allow myself to go in to my first viewing with such lofty expectations to be crushed, just the general assumption that this was gonna be good, it had to be good, at minimum. And it was that; it’s a good film. It’s entertaining. The plot makes basic essential sense. It’s easy to follow. There are some nice visuals, and most of the special effects are relatively clean, which can be a significant difficulty for big-budget extravaganzas that sometimes/often try to get way too much spectacle bang for their buck, so, a nice win. All in all, The Avengers is not a bad film. Sure is a bland one, though.

I know, I know, getting all these big-name characters from previous films together in one movie was a serious task and it’s hard to write a well-balanced script for so many leads, blah blah. Let’s put that whole equivocation to bed right now, because I honestly don’t think that balancing the big-name cast was the problem. All of the characters had something to do, no one felt like a random extra, I could quibble about certain places where I really wish things had been plumped up a bit (pretty much everywhere - the film is extremely low on meaningful character beats), but ultimately the characters are fairly evenly presented. What makes this movie bland to me is 1) the way that the personalities of the characters deviate from that established in their previous films, and 2) the simplicity of the story they inhabit. 

We’ll cover the Avengers themselves first: the good news is, Tony Stark is still Tony Stark. His personality is intact. Bruce Banner is, as noted, not exactly the Bruce Banner we met back in The Incredible Hulk, but that’s both a given and a good thing - the casting change is an improvement. Hawkeye was barely in the MCU previously, so we don’t really have enough to compare him against in order to make a judgment. Black Widow, however, is a bit of a mess; Joss Whedon’s special brand of misogyny is on display from moment one, as noted above (he LOVES writing women being brutalised because ‘how would we know/believe that they’re strong if we don’t get to see them overcoming mistreatment?’ - he tends not to feel the need to ‘prove’ his male characters’ strengths in this way), and Natasha’s personal story for the movie continues in a distinctly gendered vein: as is common for female characters being written by shitty dudes, her arc revolves predominantly around a man (Hawkeye), and she is ‘emotionally compromised’ by her attachment to him. She also zones out in the middle of an action scene and winds up in a corner shaking and traumatised (very out-of-character for a super spysassin), and particular emphasis is placed on all the bad things she’s done in the past and how she should feel bad about it, though no one does more than shrug their shoulders about Clint or Fury or any of the other SHIELD agents who are acknowledged as having dark and dirty pasts. Why is Natasha the one who is singled out to have her morality judged while her ‘arc’ focuses on her inconvenient emotional engagement? You know why. There’s no reason why this particular tack had to be taken in bringing her backstory into the film, and as a result of it we spend little time with Black Widow displaying the kind of cool professionalism and self-assurance she had in Iron Man 2. The inclusion of that vulnerability and backstory doesn’t make her feel more rounded or complicated because it is deconstructing the power and mastery of the character; rather than building upon the foundation set in her previous film visit, we’re questioning the stability of that foundation and seeing if we can get a few pieces of the structure to rattle loose. 

A big part of the trouble for Thor is that he gets saddled with that poxy Ye Olde Cliche dialogue, and there are few things worse for achieving character consistency than changing the way that they talk: no matter how hard the actor tries to play the character the same, they can’t compensate for the fact that the very structure of their sentences has been remodeled. They can improvise rephrasing the lines and/or argue the point if they want, but it’s hard to challenge every line, and if the director (who, oh look, is also the writer) insists you follow the script verbatim, there’s not a lot you can do with that. Poor Captain America suffers the same fate with the overt attempts to make him sound ‘old-fashioned’ by having him utter words and phrases that he never used in his origin movie. What’s worse is, this stilted dialogue is pretty much the sum total of the film’s acknowledgment of the fact that, oh yeah, Steve just recently woke up from the ice to find that seventy years has passed and nearly everyone and everything he used to know is gone. He has an exchange with Fury in his first scene, about ‘getting back in the world’, but there’s zero follow-up on how he’s handling it, what difficulties there might be, or even just how Steve is feeling about all of this on a basic emotional level. And yes, I am aware that there’s a deleted montage of Steve going about his day being isolated and out-of-touch, and it’s a travesty that they cut it because that’s essential character content, but it’s also a total bare minimum which has zero follow-up. Steve Rogers spends the whole film just being...there, speaking lines that don’t suit him or reflect the personality we just saw in The First Avenger, and not even in an understandable character-development ‘throwing myself into my work to hide from the pain’ kind of way. He’s kinda blandly self-righteous and all-business no-pleasure in exactly the way he was NOT in his origin movie; my impression is that Whedon doesn’t care for the character and wrote him off as the traditional patriotic cliche one might have expected him to be instead of the nuanced character that he actually is. As with Thor and Loki, it feels as if Whedon didn’t bother to watch the previous movies first in order to get a sense of the established characters.

Speaking of Loki: if there’s one character who really, REALLY suffered a personality change in this script, it’s him. None of what made Loki the highlight of Thor is in evidence here; where that character was a cunning plotter full to overflowing with complex and contradictory feelings for his family and driven to action by that same emotional cascade, this Loki...wants to rule the Earth. Because. He’s, like, crazy, the other characters all say so, even Thor - the only one who actually knows Loki and is fit to assess his mental state - says that his ‘mind is far astray’ (what Thor thinks of that, whether he’s surprised or concerned, whether he feels like he understands why this has happened to Loki or not, is unclear, because, I dunno, Thor having feelings is as inconvenient to the story as Steve having feelings - as Loki snarls derisively about ‘sentiment’, we must remember that being emotionally compromised is dumb and only for women? Hmm). Loki is just a placeholder villain in this film, driven to action by nothing in particular, it’s just a business arrangement with a mysterious third party that coincidentally happens to involve Earth. Loki prattles and hollers a lot about how ruling is his right and people want to be ruled and blah despot blah, and it’s both supremely uninspired, and not true to the character we met in Thor at all - the Loki we know was not obsessed with ruling, his motivations were all about his family standing and the things he was denied within those relationships and their implications. I remember fandom, back when this movie came out, scrambling with various headcanons about Loki losing his mind in the void or being brainwashed, ad nauseum, because no one really seemed to feel like they were watching a logical progression of the same character at all. 

Now, one of the main ways that the lack of character consistency contributes to narrative blandness is that it disrupts narrative immersion - we’re re-negotiating the way that we engage with the characters, and that distracts from engaging with the story itself. At worst, we may even find ourselves cynical about every decision that a character makes (whether it’s in-character or not), because we’re too aware of the man behind the curtain to buy the act. There are definite shades of that in this film, but the worst of it comes from the whole team-antagonism schtick that is vaguely blamed on ‘Loki’s manipulations’ and the sceptre. The thing is, this all requires the characters to behave out-of-character, and since they mostly already are out-of-character due to bad writing, the exacerbation of that by creating artificial conflict feels like more bad writing, not actual plot. Having the characters initially get along poorly before triumphantly uniting to win the day is such an overused device, it’s easy to construe the conflict as arbitrary, and as it turns out...it is. Loki/the sceptre causing the Avengers to argue doesn’t actually impact the narrative in any meaningful way, since they don’t start a fight or fracture over it, it doesn’t slow down Tony’s efforts to learn what Fury is really up to, nor does it prevent Steve from investigating the same thing in person. Them conflicting with Fury and questioning their decision to work with SHIELD, etc, is a normal thing to have an argument about, no magic-mind-stick required; the only mileage the movie really gets out of the forced-conflict ploy is that Steve and Tony keep pissing on each other, which is extremely OOC for nice-guy Steve and WOULD throw up a big red flag for mental manipulations if the movie weren’t already misrepresenting him as an insufferable stick in the mud anyway, and even for Tony it feels off - he’s generally a jerk as a rule, but he doesn’t pick unprovoked fights - but again, when the movie is already so left-of-centre on so many characters everyone feels off, so it’s easy to assume the characters are just falling victim to contrived drama, and not something in the actual story. As noted, it doesn’t end up mattering where the conflict comes from anyway; the bad news is, it takes until the halfway point of the Goddamn movie before the characters get their prescribed ‘rough patch’ out of the way. The fact that they were just being really annoying for no real reason and without narrative consequence kinda steps on the idea of it being ‘triumphant’ when they all come together at the end to fight Loki, because there was zero reason for the audience to ever legitimately doubt that it would happen, not even in a begrudging-putting-this-genuine-disagreement-aside-so-that-we-can-save-the-world kind of way. It’s just dead air with no weight behind it, and with characters reduced to such cliche versions of themselves that it’s hard to muster the will to care.

AND SO, we have a movie which, as previously noted, is awfully damn simplistic. That’s not a terrible thing, in and of itself - it’s all about what you do with an idea, and I would posit that a more complicated plot wouldn’t be a great idea here since there are so many primary moving parts in the form of characters to justify. But, the aforementioned griping about the skewy characterisation makes this film a bad candidate for character-over-plot, and if the shenanigans are falling flat, that’s when simplistic plotting becomes a problem. It goes like this: Loki shows up and steals the magic cube (action ensues). The avengers assemble to catch Loki (action ensues). The characters argue on a helicarrier until Loki’s goons show up to wreck shit (action ensues). Loki escapes and goes to New York to use the magic cube to portal an alien army to Earth. Action ensues until the portal is closed and Loki is defeated. The end. I’m not complaining about the action - it’s a standard facet of the genre, and most of it is entertaining enough (though the unnecessary Thor/Iron Man fight I coulda done without, and the battle of New York runs a bit long) - but the plot itself is pretty point-A-to-B-to-C without much in the way of surprises, and like I said, that’s fine so long as you’re delivering in another arena, i.e. STRONG CHARACTER NARRATIVES. And character is sooo far from being this film’s strong suit. The result? Is not very compelling.

It tends to wind up that, by the time I get to the end of explaining why I think a thing didn’t work (and this is...the abridged version), it maybe seems ridiculous that I’m also saying ‘this thing isn’t that bad’. The truth is, there’s nothing that I think this movie does impressively well, and there are a lot of pretty major things that I think were poorly handled. BUT, I still meant what I said: it’s entertaining. It makes at least basic sense, and flows easily enough. And while I have serious issues with a lot of the characterisation and feel that - though balanced(ish) in handling - the plot failed to take real advantage of any of the character resources at its disposal (except maybe Tony), the actors still brought the goods to the table, and those whom I enjoyed in their previous films (I mean you, Chris Evans) didn’t disappoint, even though the material they were handling did. It’s a solid film, it’s good fun, I don’t regret watching it, and while I am irritated by various aspects, I don’t feel the need to keep ranting about them. And hey; Mark Ruffalo is really very wonderful. They’ve got that going for them.

[stagmanparty]

So I finished watching MLP Season 8 and...

….it´s actually not bad.

Yeah, I´m the first to admit I have to eat my words and agree the show hasn´t really gone down as much as I thought after the movie. I still hate it but the show itself remains good. Yes, there are more than a few mediocre or outright horrible episodes there but the good ones more than compensate.

I do believe that Dubuc is kinda out of her element on ponies, which may explain her use for an entire new cast aside from hasbro´s orders. The friendship school thing is done better than I though tough I still think is kinda stupid at moments.

Overall the balance is...fine.

I was expecting worse but it was an okay season.

I do hate that they explicitly mention the events of the movie but they´re STILL refusing to acknowledge the Equestria Girls ones. Come on Mccarty, stop being embarrassed ot the BETTER story!

Below the cut is my personal opinions of each episode with a dose of sarcasm if u want to read them but for the season as a whole I´ll give a 7/10 it was regular to me.

701-702:  “Girls, I want you all to work on my new school!”

“We have lives, Twilight”

ROLL CREDITS

So this wasn´t bad. I though Twilight was gonna be more selfish but she actually makes some fair points and owns to her mistakes here. What´s funny is that she doesn't act this way the rest of the season…

I still think the students are kinda lame but I like how they interact with each other and the episode itself was well handled.

Still, Twilight isn't perfect either since she refuses to have zebras or buffaloes or talking cats on her school. Hell, there aren´t even crystal ponies so she´s almost as bad the racist snape guy.

Kinda standard but good episodes.

7/10

703: “So sis, when are you gonna leave?”

“The town?”

“The show…”

I said it once, I´ll said it again, Maud overstayed her welcome. She´s no longer funny and feels like a creator pet by now.

That said the episode itself is actually really good.

Confalone GETS pinkie and gives he an actual character and this was honestly better handled that with Twilight.

Hell for a second I thought Pinkie was gonna have to deal with her own since her meeting with the guy has all the elements of a meet cute scene =P

I could live without the stupid opening scene but it seems even Pinkie realized Maud was being offensive to her audience there…

A really fun Pinkie episode to add to the pile

8/10

804 “thank you for calling me, Rarity. I can surely help you with all my sewing knowledge”

“Oh for this episode I´ll need you to forget about all that, darling and be completely useless”

So yeah, this was a waste of time.

So the mane six can´t help Rarity with her store but have plenty of time to go yell at Fluttershy?

And if Rarity hates the ponies of Saddle Row so much why does she enve sells them clothes?

I actually hate how they´re all portrayed cause they´re feeding the stereotype that people into fashion are shallow and petty and the whole point of Rarity´s character was to subvert that!

I only laughed at one joke in the whole episode.

So yeah another terrible fluttershy episode to add to the pile

2/10

805 The real reason Rainbow flies so fast...to escape her gay for applejack thoughts.

So a perfectly okay episode.

In other seasons it would have gone unnoticed but in this one it stands out for having solid writing.

It was fun and rainbow was very likeable here since she honestly seemed more concern about the grannies than anything.

It feels a bit stretched out but this is normal for a pony episode.

I do hope she kicks Applejack's behind the second she came back to town though…

A fun Rainbow episode.

7/10

806 “Girls, while you wasted time trying to help that kid with divorced parents I acciBURPddentally destroyed a scared statue so we better run, you bastards!” then Twilight pulls a rick an actually leaves them behind =P

SO yeah a complete waste of time.

I understand the point but it doesn't work for me since it seems like they made the problem way too simple.

I also dislike the hippogriffs on principle since i find I them really lame characters so…

Oh and this episode has the WORST song in the entire show. Hell is not even a song, is just words with music behind it.

So yeah, pretty lame episode.

2/10

807 “See Twilight, Sunset would have just told me things straight to my face! Then try to stab me in the back but the point remains…”

I already talked about this back when it aired and yeah, my opinion hasn't changed.

This isn´t a Celestia episode, is another of Twilight´s poorly made panic attacks ones.

We learned absolutely nothing about Celestia, she learns nothing at all and we wasted twenty minutes of our lives.

For a fan of the character, waiting nine years for this is nothing but an insult.

The saddest thing is knowing that the show will end without having a proper celestia episode.

So yeah, a total waste of time with only the adorable sunbutt to save some face

4/10

808 “You noticed all the wanted posters for you on the way here, Starlight?”

“No, actually not”

“yeah me neither, good thing you´re friends with a princess…”

Really, how come Starlight is NOT a wanted criminal? The episode could have dealt with her hometown disowning her but nope, is just a kinda lame sitcom situation.

Hell, it would have been better if we´re told the parents hooked up and now Starlight and Sunburst feel all kind of awkard but nope.

i suppose there´s like a moral lesson in here but the episode was so dull I don't even remember it.

It could have been a better story but it amounts to nothing.

3/10

809 “And to think this all started over a parking lot…”

“you don´t even need the parking lot, Rainbow!”

THAT would have been a better premise…

So yeah, remember season 1? Cool ,cause this is the exact same episode. Nothing new added and nothing interesting happens.

Go watch the leaf episode instead, is way better.

3/10

810 “Wait, Big Mac has a what now? How come nopony told me? Do I look like a jealous sister or something?”

“the shotgun isn't helping, AJ…”

Have they really interacted these two? I mean, don´t want a repeat of the same storyline. Infact, showing that Applejack and Sugar whatever get along well will be an interesting episode.

Far more interesting than this for sure.

I was bored the entire time and shut up, sweetie Belle. You'll be lucky to have Snips…

Another time waster.

2/10

811 “Spike, can´t you just masturbate like a regular teenager? I mean you have your own room now so it won´t be weird for me anymore…”

Again, remember season 2? Go watch that instead.

It even made more sense back then but now spike not knowing “how to dragon” has become a huge plot hole cause there´s absolutely no reason for him not to know these things so this entire conflict is pointless.

Oh and him having wings is something I don't really like.

Explain how he didn't have those during season 2 when he grew, hasbro! ANother lame Spike episode to the bad spike episodes pile.

2/10

812 “Girls, you rather go to a school where you dont´do any homework, play games all day, het to eat delicious food..actually I´m leaving too, school closed!”

So yeah do they do anything at Twilight school other than waste time? No wonder the CMC want to go there! Wasting time is their entire MO nowadays since they have their marks!

Prety standard episode, is honestly just to introduce the villain.

The only really fun thing is the “your mom” bit, I would have approved her out of that alone.

It´s okay, sadly can´t say more.

6/10

813 “Evil clones, what was I thinking? Dinosaurs, that´s a proper supervillain plan!”

MEH I mean it´s an okay episode but when you get to it is just repeating stuff from the first discord episode, nothing new. nothing gained.

That should be the motto of this season.

MEH

6/10

814 “Discord, what part of go to hell don´t you get?”

“The part where you forgot to tell me to stay there”

This episode is horrible!

What´s the moral lesson, be an asshole and get away with everything?

WHy the hell does Starlight apologizes? Why is HER problem that Discord feels bad? The idiot should take it on Twilight and she ahs a perfect reason not to let him in the school..Discord is an asshole! As this episode demonstrated!

Can he just...leave, please?

Worst episode of the season.

1/10

815 “Twilight, shouldn't we invite Zecora one of these days?”

“You wanna explain Kwanzaa to the viewers, Rainbow?”

ZZZZZZZZZ

Oh what? Oh yeah this episode.

Look I get the point and being objective there's nothing wrong with this episode but my god, tiw as boring!

Just the same bit repeated over and over and over and over…

Whatever, technically there's nothing wrong with it but I didn't like it.

6/10

816 “So mono means one and rail menas...no wait, wrong scam. Calls dismissed!”

“Slow down bro, so who´s the princess of friendship then?”

“The one with the eyepatch!”

“BLAST!”

So...a perfectly normal episode.

Again, this show always suffers from not having a b plot going on so the conflict get  a bit stretched but as an episode, it was well done.

Hey snape is right that Friendship IS a weapon in this universe, glad someone finally mentioned it.

There´s actually a good moral lesson about how no matter if the lessons are good if the methods are fraudulent which coming from Hasbro is the ultimate irony.

Flim Flam are kinda overdone at this point but it still works.

7/10

817 “Remember that time you left me in the desert with pinkie?”

“Oh sure, everything looks bad when you remember it…”

Actually a pretty good episode.

I mean the premise relies on twilight´s students being borderline sociopaths (guys, is not that complex of an idea, friends can disagree on things) but the episode itself it was really fun and the Raridash wa adorable.

I honestly liked it.

8/10

818 “I mean we could have get you a teacher and encouraged to get better through a montage but insulting you and hurting your feelings seemed like a better idea, pinkie”

Way to handle a problem, girls!

What part of this is supportive” pinkie? Your friends were assholes to you that made you feel bad so you stop bothering them and then come looking for you because is a problem for THEM?

There´s a better lesson about admitting you may not have the talent for something, which is a lesson that kids DO need to learn but since the problem is solved with a “who cares?” the moral lesson doesnt´work and nobody really learns anything here.

Who approved of this crap?

2/10

819 “I say someone must have  said a funny because your mother is in stitches hahaha! I´ll leave you to your grief, Starlight.”

Finally a good episode!

Actually an excellent one. Coupled with a catchy song and really good dialogue, my man Haber can make a really good episode when he wants.

I have zero complains this was the best episode of the season.

10/10

820 “That´s it I´m taking you to your parents or in its defect your lesbian aunts that cannot be seen in the show due to television censorship policies!”

I´m sorry but cootalo was a brat the entire episode in need of a good spanking.

Rainbow did absolutely nothing wrong and that gid set gogin around here is full of lies.

If anything she was a bit rash over the fact that yeah, the little girl she sees a sister suddenly is throwing her away...again, cause she did it with the maredowell thing also. Funny they didn´t mention it, probably to appease the fandom.

As an episode is nothing bad, Rainbow actually comes out great here so yeah, Scootaloo, you're grounded..as in put in a hole in the ground.

Good episode

8/10

821 “All me friend are long dead…”

“Yeah yeah, lovely. Fill this form here, big guy…”

What's wrong with Twilight this episode? Why is she such an insensitive idiot?

It was pretty clear the obvious solution was just giving him a classroom with no walls and guess what, that´s what she does alter on so what gives?

And why are SPike and SMoulder allowed to burns the school every day?

An dhow come Rockhoof has no job in “modern equestria”? there used to be plenty of things wanting to eat the ponies every week, did they disappear in between seasons or what?

Really stupid episode that only works by everybody bieng assholes to an actually nice guy.

2/10

822 “Look at the bright side Rainbow. We got replaced by a new cast but at least we didn't die horrible on the movie like the transformers did…”

grumble grumble this is actually a really good episode.

I mean I could argue they have already dome similar stuff but it make sense here. The tree of harmony finally gets some light on it and this actually helps make the students look less lame by giving them character so...yeah, it´s actually really good.

Damnit.

9/10

823 “Oh shoot we forgot to invite them to the school!”

“It's okay, Twilight forgot to invite like half of the country as well…”

grumble grumble another really good episode!

I honestly though this episode was gonna suck but it turns out to be one of the best.

It´s obviously a previously unaired episode that they managed to shove into here but is actually a really good so I have zero complains about it.

The kirin is actually really cute and I liked the song so…

9/10

824 “So kid have you seen stuart little?”

“No.”

“Then this whole thing is gonna be new for you…”

So yeah...as an episode is okay but I´l argue that even the target audience could saw this coming a mile away.

My only real problem is that Spike barely apologizes to TWilight despite hurting her so much. Why is he such a brat? Twilight is nothing but a loving and supportive sister to him, look at that opening scene, si so lovely an touching!

Why does the show keep treating Twilight caring for her sibling and treating him like an equal as a bad thing? She even offers to let him go and learn more about his culture, she is supporting and loving why do they keep treating her like she´s doing a bad thing? and again kind of a big plothole nowdays  with dragons going around Equestria with no problems.

Other than that is a fine episode.

7/10

825-826 “Since we´re stuck here where the little filly´s room?”

“There is no little filly´s room in tartarus…”

“NOOOOOOO!”

Really, who built this prison Barry allen? Give them a bucket at least .

Again...actually really good episodes.

The action was good,the stakes were high, while that poor manticore shouldn't be there I still like the good detail than monsters have been kept her since past seasons and than the mane six honestly don´t hold a grudge against them, hope there´s an actual redemption arc down the line and they don't just forget about them like with the other villains,

Speaking of that, Cozy is probably the best vilian on the entire show.Hell, she´s better than Thanos cause she doesn't have an stupid justification, she just want s POWAAAAA! And she´s damn adorable and effective, she almost won.

Still They missed a chance to say that the missing magic was going to the human world to tie things up with Equestria girls for once and who the hell delivers letters to tartarus anyways?

The finally more than makes up and gives almost everyone a chance to shine so I like it. The mane six were treated with a LOT more respect than in the damn movie that's for sure.

Good solid episodes.

8/10

So that´s season 8, is not that bad honestly.. Had they had a better focus it would be better. Continuity is still a bit of a mess and just saying past stuff doesn't count but hey they´re trying.

Now I have like 40 Equestria Girls episodes to catch up though…

[beatricethecat2]

out of place, out of mind - 2

REMINDER: This story is meant to replace “Instinct,” so the timeline starts after 4.14 and moves forward with it’s own trajectory. It does cull hints of plots from episodes afterwards (for instance, Claudia becomes caretaker, you’ll glean the rest) but then spins off in it’s own direction. It's a fix-it on many levels and requires some knowledge of the show (as well as “part 1,” linked above). There will be typos but I’ll fix them later!

(Read first) one step forward, two steps back (v.2.0):part 1+ part 2 (Previously) out of place, out of mind: part 1

///////////////////

A ruckus erupts outside, and Myka wavers on cue, wilting with no acting required. Men rush to prop her up then ferry her behind closed doors, her maids following to assist. When the men leave to join the scuffle, Myka instantly perks up and hugs both maids goodbye. She slips out a back hallway and exits near the stables, meeting a masked, uniformed, now armed Helena by a horse.

"Are you hurt, Miss Mary," Helena says, darting forward to collect her.

Helena hugs Myka with equal intensity then holds her at arm's length, eyes beaming at her swollen belly.

Myka guides Helena's hand so it rests over her bump, smiling proudly at the child they've made together. She lifts Helena’s other hand up to her face and nuzzles her cheek into its palm.

The spell is broken by shouting in the distance, and Helena says, "We must go." She guides Myka to the horse, and helps her mount, then hops on in front of her. Myka leans into Helena and wraps her arms around her torso, burying her face in the crook of her neck. Helena shakes the reins and kicks her heels into the horse, taking off at top speed into the dark.

Their furious gallop jostles Myka into the present, and she sees how overpowered she's become by her character. Better pull herself together before it's too late or the kool-aid will take over.

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

When a glow appears in the distance, Myka tightens her hold, hoping they've finally reached their destination. As a farmhouse comes into view, Helena yanks on the reins, slowing the horse then dismounting.

Helena extends a hand to Myka, but Myka struggles to keep hold, her leg swinging awkwardly over the saddle. Hands swarm around her, and as her feet hit the ground, she doubles over, her nausea returning.

"Get her inside," Helena instructs, and she's ushered up wooden stairs then lowered, gently, onto a bed. Her chaperones dart about the room, drawing the curtains, closing the door, and one of them offers her a glass of water. Still nauseous, Myka declines, but breathes in deep, measured breaths, hoping to calm both her own and Mary's frayed nerves.

The low light flickers, but is bright enough to discern her aide's masculine clothes but distinctly feminine features. Guns hang from their belts and hats adorn their heads, but braids spill freely down their backs.

Helena bursts into the room and strides over to the window, parting the curtains and peering out into the abyss. A sudden distress overcomes Myka and she shimmies off the bed, worried over what happens next.

“Why did we stop here?” she asks, crossing the room to stand by Helena. "Shouldn't we should keep going?”

“In your condition, it's best Mrs. Freeman shelters us for the night.” Helena points with her eyes to Myka’s belly then returns to scrutinizing the yard.

Hooves thunder ever closer then feet pound up the stairs. Helena draws her pistol and maneuvers Myka behind her.

“Mary Louise Branson, you come out this second!” Myka's father's voice booms from the hall.

“Father, I’ll not obey you any longer,” Myka replies.

The door flies open, and Mayor Branson enters, his men streaming in behind him.

“You’ll do as I say."

“She’ll do nothing of the sort.” Helena points her pistol at Mayor Branson.

“Out of my way, you scrub!” Mayor Branson's men grab Helena, and he steps towards Myka.

“Stop right there, Mayor,” a woman’s voice, cold and authoritative, sounds from the door.

“You dare challenge me?" Mayor Branson grunts as he turns to face the woman.

“This is my territory. You’re out of your jurisdiction. You’ve no authority here."

“I’m only collecting whats mine, Mrs. Freeman."

“On my land, she’s her own property. She has free will."

“The hell she does!” Mayor Branson lunges at Myka, but Mrs. Freeman’s women surge in and surround her.

“Brazen hussies!"

“No need for obscenities, Mayor."

“Tell you what, let’s settle this once and for all, like men,” Mayor Branson looks directly at Helena. "A shootout, at dawn, winner takes all, between Jamison and that…that criminal.” Mayor Branson pats Jamison on the back and narrows his eyes at Helena.

“No one needs to die,” Myka pleads, wavering as if she might faint. The women beside her catch her before she falls.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Mary by my side,” Helena says, jerking free from the men's hold and stomping in front of Jamison.

“Only a coward would hide among women. We’ll see who’s the better marksman,” Jamison says.

“I am,” Helena sneers, shoving Jamison back. The men raise their guns, and the women target the men.

“You need to leave," Mrs. Freeman says aiming her pistol at Mayor Branson. The two stare each other down until Mayor Branson huffs, dismissively.

“Gentleman, let’s go. We’ll settle this in the morning."

Guns drawn, the women follow the men as they file out of the room.

“You two rest. We’ll keep guard,” Mrs. Freeman says, warmly, then exits and closes the door.

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

“Are you injured?” Helena asks, searching Myka for bruising.

“I’m fine,’ Myka says, swatting Helena away. She paces across the room and throws a hand in the air. “Whatever are we going to do?”

“We’ve a few options. Don’t stress yourself with worry.”

“Do we have food, money, shelter? Where’s this baby going to be born? And if you die--”

“I won't. Please don’t fret, or you’ll harm the child.”

“This corset’s doing more harm than I am. Help me get out of this crazy thing.” Myka flinches at her outburst, but her dress is unbearable, so she reaches behind her back to undo its laces.

“Are you feeling odd, my love?” Helena asks, scrambling to help.  

“Everything's odd right now,” Myka mumbles, stepping out of her dress. Helena loosens her corset ties, and she shimmies free from her bindings.

“Oh, thank god,” Myka mutters, breathing in and puffing out her belly. “I felt like a sausage in that thing.”

Helena arches a brow and cocks her head at the quip, and Myka kicks herself for messing up the scene. She closes her eyes and tries to “feel” her character, but whatever she’s done has killed the vibe.

Helena lays a hand on Myka’s stomach, then looks up, meeting her questioning eyes.

“I remember it well.”

“Helena?”

“Myka.”

They embrace.

"Why on earth are you here?”

“To bring you back. I can’t lose you, lose anyone else.” Myka blinks back a tear, suddenly overcome with genuine emotion.

“I’m so very sorry about Leena. Such a senseless, tragic event. Her light shone so brightly; the Warehouse must seem dim without her.”

“It hurts so much. I can’t talk about it yet. And Artie…"

Myka leans into Helena and Helena circles her arms around, steering her toward the bed. She lowers her down then lays next to her, maneuvering Myka's head onto her shoulder.

“If it helps at all, Artie’s beside himself. I’ve helped counsel him through his grief."

“You counseled him? When? No one would tell me where you were. Then you show up out of nowhere on this ping." Myka pushes Helena away. "Why didn't you come back after the astrolabe, after Leena?"

“You must understand, I have little agency. I was told if I followed orders, I'd be given a chance to return. And my faux pas involving you and the orb cost me."

"But you were…I mean…Emily was a security risk. You couldn’t have stayed like that."

“There are those that wouldn’t agree."

“They’re stupid."

Helena sniggers, and shifts closer to Myka.

"You died, Helena. Died to save me. You shouldn't have to follow their rules.” Myka's eyes well up. “God, these hormones!”

Helena wipes a tear from Myka’s cheek. "One act of kindness does not negate a lifetime of missteps."

“Sacrificing yourself goes beyond kindness. What good would it do to keep you locked up?"

"I’m not their prisoner. I’m free to leave at any time."

“But you said you have no agency. Why don’t you leave?"

"If I do, I’m to have no contact with the Warehouse. I’d never see nor speak to you again."

“That’s not right. That’s totally not right. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

Helena inches closer and cradles Myka's jaw, kissing her softly in answer. "You had asked once, what 'this thing between us' might become and I’ve realized, life’s too short to leave such questions unanswered.”

Thoroughly charmed by Helena’s words, Myka initiates the next kiss, leaning forward, pressing their lips together. Her need to touch becomes desperate, but as she presses closer to Helena, her protruding belly gets in the way.

“I want...I need..." Myka says, slowly coming to her senses, holding a finger up to Helena's lips as Helena dips in for another kiss. "We need an exit plan."

Helena kisses Myka's finger and takes hold of her hand and presses her lips into its palm.

"H-how did you get shot instead of me? I only remember the end, and it's fuzzy.”

Heena sighs and lowers Myka hand. “I acted out of turn; hunted Jamison too aggressively. I didn’t allow the plot to guide me. I’m assuming that was in error as you’re here now.”

“Claudia told me the overall plot, the way it was supposed to happen and what went wrong. "

“I’ve deduced it's a western. A "genre" film in your times."

“No kidding," Myka says, chuckling, sliding a finger under Helena's uniform collar. “It followed a formula but had a dark ending. Claudia said it's from the 60's."

“The 1960’s? That means little to me."

"No TV in limbo?"

"Nor the bronze.”

“Books are better, anyway."

"I'm meant to shoot Jamison, aren't I, but the scene went awry."

“Yeah,” Myka says, scooting back on the bed. Helena helps her lean against the headboard then settles in beside her.

“Mary and your character were a couple in real life. By the time the film was shot she was pregnant, so they wrote it into the script."

"A romance on screen and in real-life. How charming."

"I guess.” Myka shifts to get more comfortable and Helena props her up with some pillows. "How did you deal with this? It's super uncomfortable."

"This was thrust upon you. I had time to acclimate. And it was my child growing inside of me."

"True,” Myka says, thankful it’s only temporary.

“So Jamison, and the gun?"

“Jamison and Mary dated, briefly, before Mary met 'the cowboy' but he never got over their breakup. He bought into his character, hard, and brought a real gun to the set, intending to shoot 'the cowboy' to show Mary how much he loved her.”

“Not so charming.”

“No. The gun was antique, and the kickback threw off his aim off, so he shot Mary, accidentally. The gun became an artifact when the actress died.”

“And the child?” Helena asks, laying a hand on Myka’s belly.

Myka shakes her head.

"What a shame."

“How are we going to get the gun? If we keep it from going off, we should be zapped back, right?"

"My thoughts exactly."

"We could avoid the gunfight."

"We'll be transported to the scene no matter how hard we fight it. Veering off script is difficult when the camera’s upon you."

“Then we'll have to move out of the way. We can fight it, together."

Helena's lips curl up at the ends in agreement, and Myka's heart beats a little faster.

“What’s happening now? Are we on camera?"

"It's implied that we’re…intimate."

“Intimate? When I'm like this?" Myka points at her stomach.

“Oh, yes." Helena lays a hand on Myka's shoulder and leans forward, kissing her until both parties gasp for air.

“The feeling's so strong."

"We needn't do anything you’re uncomfortable with."

"We're not ourselves, so maybe you should sleep in the chair."

"Perhaps I should."

"But I don't want you to go."

"Nor do I desire to."

"It's not bad, right, if something happens. Because we’ve already…"

"I'd like to think so."

“Then maybe we should, to stay on script."

"Perhaps, yes." Helena brushes a thumb over Myka’s cheek then kisses her, in a way that says "let’s start here and see where the night takes us.”

Myka wraps her arms around Helena and follows Helena's lead, allowing the night to guide them to places unknown.

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

“Father no!” Myka cries, lunging forward, nearly tripping over her dress as she swerves to avoid her maids. She skids to a stop in front Helena, holding her arms out to her sides, barricading her from further harm.

“I will not let my daughter run off with that heathen!,” Mayor Branson fumes, waving his gun at Helena.

Myka stumbles back, smacking into Helena.

“It’s alright,” Helena whispers. “We know what happens. Let the scene play out.”

Myka glances back and nods.

Helena clears her throat. “This is Jamison's fight, yet you hold me at gunpoint. You’d murder me in cold blood, as your daughter stands witness?” Helena steps in front of Myka, taking hold of her hand, staring directly into Myka's father's eyes.

“Don’t you tell me what to do, you <i>murderer,</i>.” Mayor Branson's finger tenses on the trigger and Helena smirks cockily, squeezing Myka's hand.

“I’m no murderer, and you’re fooling no one with this sham of an engagement.” Helena glares, hard, at Jamison fumbling for his gun.

“We need to get that gun,” Myka says, in Helena's ear.

“I’m aware, but we must wait. This is where my folly arose previously."

“She’s my fiancee, and that kid's mine!” Jamison snarls, wrapping both hands around the handle as he raises his gun.

“I believe you’re mistaken,” Helena answers, hand poised over her holster.

“You’re going to wish I was.” Jamison cocks the hammer using both thumbs.

Helena threads her fingers around her gun. “I won’t shoot if you put that away.”

“Give me the girl.”

“I’m the better shot.”

“Give her to me!”

“Myka, run!” Helena yelps.

“But—”

“Go!"

Helena shoves Myka aside and rushes towards Jamison, tackling him to the ground. They tumble over twice, gun waving in the air until Helena pins Jamison down. Helena glances at Myka and Myka snaps into gear, running away as Jamison flips Helena over. Myka trips and as her face hits the ground, her consciousness fades to black.

-TBC-