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shirefantasies · 3 months

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LoTR Characters Finding Out You Were in an Abusive Relationship

Sort of requested/mentioned by @autisticgenderworm and desired by yours truly, here is the other version of this reaction. I hope it brings comfort to anyone who needs it.

Warnings: mentions/implications of past abuse, but nothing graphic

Aragorn

Aragorn's pause sparks no concern. He is a pensive man and that is something you always loved about him, let alone any consideration the gravity of what you just shared. "And you gave your heart so freely, I have no doubt." He shakes his head. "That such a truly corrupt mind would try to take you. But that is just it: I see it in your eyes and I feel it in the way I am so lucky in your love. They can try, but they cannot break you. You are stronger than all the hate, all the avarice, in the world. You know this, do you not?" Eyes watering, you peer at him and blink. "Some days I feel so far from that." Aragorn nods. He reaches out and holds your cheek against his calloused palm and somehow it is the softest touch you've ever felt. "Our true strength is that we are never alone. You have so many who will fight for you. I will fight for you. You will be on no lead, your own person simply making our lives all the richer for it."

Legolas

Brows furrowing lightly, he tilts his head, fixing you with a look of deep sorrow. You see his hand raise, lower again hesitantly, so you reach out to take it. "I don't mean to frighten you," you tell him, "I'm sorry." “You have nothing to apologize for, my love. The burden rests solely on the one who took it upon themselves to hurt you. It was nothing you did. And I am not frightened. Rather I would have you feel safe.” “I do,” you tell him, “That is why I hoped you were not afraid. The last thing I would want is for you to see me differently. To be too much for you.” “Too much for me? No such thing,” Legolas teases with a little smile, “But truly I am just grateful you shared. If there is anything I do, anything I say, allow me to apologize now.” “That alone puts me at ease,” you reply, feeling yourself relax and breathe deeply once more as Legolas takes your hand.

Boromir

“Why?” “I- I don��t think there was a ‘why’,” you stuttered, “I could have done things differently, I suppose, but-” “No,” Boromir cuts you off, a hand reaching to gently caress your cheek, “Not you, my dear. Not you. Why would anyone seek to defile beauty? And kindness. Why indeed.” “I don’t know,” you answer helplessly, gaze falling from his, “I should have left sooner. I-I guess I was truly that lonely that I thought it was worth changing. It wasn’t.” A shaky, sardonic laugh escapes your lips. “Nobody should have to choose between lonely and pain,” Boromir laments, hands sliding down to take yours, “But we are here now, and I will give you everything you deserve.”

Gimli

“Where is the bastard? I have a selection of choice words for such a great blight upon this earth.” Gimli’s hands ball into fists at his sides as he speaks, his voice darkening a bit more with each passing word. You cannot help but smile at that even in spite of his tone. “I would be happy to introduce you if I knew,” you replied, “But I know not and care not.” “That’s my fire!” Gimli exclaims, pride coloring his tone and his very gaze upon you. “You don’t need me- my approval or my axe! But of course you have them both with equal enthusiasm. To look upon you is to see a flame most bright and most beautiful that nobody’s rain can extinguish.” It is you who steps forward first, pulling the dwarf into your arms, but it is Gimli who asks if he might kiss your beautiful lips. Just the asking is such a difference; of course you acquiesce.

Frodo

He says nothing at first, expression just softening and crumpling in pain. One fair hand extends and finds purchase upon your shoulder; Frodo’s touch melts you and he feels your relaxation beneath him. “Oh,” he speaks your name so softly, all but reverently, “For so long you have been my strength and yet you carried this.” “I didn’t know how to tell you,” you answer, “Didn’t want you to think badly of me.” “How could I? You asked for none of that. So often do these things happen against our will.” “Sometimes I wish I had never said yes when I did. So I would have never had to say no,” you tell him, crumpling into his arms. Frodo presses a kiss to the crown of your head. I often remember what Gandalf told me: ‘All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us’. They may have chosen to use their time to hurt and to wrestle control, but no longer. Time can only do so much healing, I know, but I will be here for you. Here for it all.”

Sam

"You can't mean... They didn't!" Anger flashes in Sam's typically docile green eyes. "I know," you reply, "I shouldn't have-" "You shouldn't have? The only person who shouldn't have was that monster! Don't you dare apologize for something you didn't do, alright? I don't want that sort of thing running through your head." Sam's last sentence emerged quietly. Trembled with an uncertain sadness. It broke you and made you whole all over again. You gave a small nod. "You're right." Sam looked up and met your eyes once more, returning the gesture with a bit more vigor. "I see that now, and that is all thanks to you. You love me like I deserve. Fight for me in all you do. When I am with you, Sam, I have the love I always thought was just a dream.” Tears rose in his eyes then even as his lips smiled. “And when I met you I thought the same: this has to be a dream.”

Merry

“They didn’t.” “Unfortunately,” you nod, gaze locked upon your feet, “They did. Sometimes I wonder what might have been different if I had-” “Don’t do that to yourself!” Merry cut you off, pausing for a moment as a look of remorseful surprise came over him. “That is to say we can’t change the past. Just like we can’t see the future. I may not have been there for your past, but I do know nothing that happened came of what you did. People like that, they have no shame. You are far too kind for someone like that. They took advantage of you. Made you feel bad and that’s all them. All right?” It was still difficult to believe sometimes, but Merry’s voice was nothing but convicted, and you trusted him. Swallowing, you nodded. “All right.” The hobbit opened his arms. “Come here.” You fell right in.

Pippin

"No." Eyes wide, he shakes his head and reaches for your hands. "No. How could- How could anybody..." "I don't know," you sigh, relaxing slightly as his thumbs ran over the backs of your hands, "Perhaps I should never have-" Pippin cut you off there. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was. There isn't a thing you could do to make any of that alright. And I swear to you that I will never do anything of the like. After all, who could even think of putting a precious gem like yourself down, hm?" At those last words, the soothing touch of his hands, your tearful expression broke into a shaky smile. "What did I do to deserve you?" You asked. "Don't worry," he replied, "I ask myself the same thing every day. I love you, you know. And I want to treat you like it. If I ever don't, please help me." The longer he spoke, his words faded closer and closer to a whisper, those lovely green eyes focused solely, searchingly, upon your gaze. Tears returning alongside your smile, you nodded. "You already do, Pippin. You already do."

Faramir

Brows furrowed, Faramir takes your hands at once, blue eyes gazing deeply into yours. "There are no words to lift the weight of it all. Nothing I can say but that your pain is mine and that I know how difficult it is to speak of such things. Thank you, truly, for sharing this with me. I want to be worthy of this. Of you." Worthy of you? Him? "You are more than worthy, Faramir." "And I wish to continue to live up to that for the sake of your beautiful heart. I wish for you to never feel unworthy again." His voice breaks and your heart does the same, knowing how similar your experiences were- Faramir was made to feel lesser for years. "I want the same for you," you run your hands over his gently with a tentative smile, "And I think deep down I knew you would understand. That no one else would understand like you. We can love each other more every day." "I like the sound of that," Faramir replies, his eyes shining nothing but love into yours.

Eomer

Even as your words fade, you catch the way his hands tighten into fists, tense slightly at the sight. "Coward. That worm had no honor whatsoever. And you...here you stand triumphant." "It does not always feel so," you admit, gaze falling. Eomer places a hand upon your shoulder. "We all have our scars. To escape, to be free... Why, that is the greatest show of strength. Is it not what we all fight for? And fight you did! Believe me when I tell you I am nothing but proud of you." Eomer's normally stoic expression rises into a smile, his hand sliding from your shoulder gently down your arm and finally to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips. "Nobody has the right to treat you like property. They should feel ashamed trying to tame a heart like yours. I would have it tempered. Let me act as your bellows, then, to stoke your fire of resiliency." His words do indeed fuel the embers in your heart, coax fire to them as they bring a small smile to your lips. "I would like that." "And let that scoundrel hope to never come within a league of this place while I draw breath."

Eowyn

“So cruel this world can be!” Eowyn cries out. “How can they not see all you have to offer? This will hardly erase the hurt, but I will say this: the loss is theirs.” Leaning in, her voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper at that last phrase, her lips raising in a tentative smile. “For your heart is strong and steadfast and your laugh is music to me. To have you by my side is naught but joy. So help me, I will never treat you as a belonging, put you in a cage. And if that is how you feel I would have you tell me." "Never," you answer her, "Nor would I do the same to you. I told you because I trust you to understand. Because I love you." She leans forward at this, connecting your foreheads; golden strands of hair tickle your cheek, but you mind not. "And I you," Eowyn breathes.

Haldir

Never have you seen Haldir's eyes darken such as they are now. A part of you wants to back away, but you know that his ire is not for you. Not when he shakes his head, looking at you with...not quite pity. Rather all that swims in his eyes as he turns back to you is a new understanding, something deep in the blue. His hands hover over you as if you are spun-glass, and with your eyelids fluttering shut you take them and rest them upon your hips. "I do not mean to trouble you with this news, I just..." "Trouble me? The only trouble I have is how badly I wish to punish anybody who hurts you." At that, he smirks a bit and you feel his hands grip you a bit tighter. A shiver runs down your spine at his words. "You know, I would hardly mind that at this point. Not exactly unearned. So this is no change to you?" "Only any changes you want me to make," Haldir answers.

Galadriel

Her face falls, but something in its look leads you to suspect she knew already. Galadriel's gifts lie far beyond your understanding. "Do not discount the light you bring to this world," her voice cuts through your thoughts, "For you remind me of its joys every day. There will always be those who seek to rob us of our light, but that is only to fill the darkness that is in their hearts. You are more than enough despite what they say. You need not trouble yourself with the words of lesser folk." Tears flood your eyes at her words and all you can do is nod, shakily smiling. You feel Galadriel's lips against one cheek, then the other, then upon the top of your head, and finally warmly and softly upon your lips. "I'm so lucky to have you," you tell her, and at that she shakes her head. "It is I who is the lucky one," she refutes with a mischievous but loving smile.

Elrond

For just a moment, his expression steels and you flinch back, but only for a moment before it’s softened like never before and falling. Pain. That is the only word to describe what crosses Elrond’s face. He feels your pain. Stepping closer, the Lord of Rivendell opens his arms, and with a tearful smile you fall into them, into the silken softness of his robe and the gentle warmth of his hold. “Healing takes time. I have time. And here I shall be to grant you peace as best I can. Please do not hesitate to ask it of me. If you ask it and it is within my power, I shall grant it.” “I’d like to stay like this,” you reply, words muffled by the cushion of your cheek to his chest, the sound of Elrond’s soothing heartbeat in your ear. “As would I,” he agrees softly.

Arwen

“Meleth nîn,” she addresses you softly, brows furrowed in concern, “You endured all that?” At her words, you just nod, gripping her hands a bit tighter. She gives yours a gentle squeeze in response. “Your strength knows no bounds. Fear not, for by my side you can take all the time you need. I can wait, you know.” At that, she giggles and you smile. You are, after all, in love with not only the fairest of beings but one immortal by nearly all accounts. Her smile alone brings you so much comfort. “You are the one I have chosen and I will not take that for granted. You are a gift and that anyone would cast that aside is folly.”

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drabblesandimagines · 3 months

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Lemon Tarts

Clive Rosfield x female (Branded) reader Fluff, 5,828 words

“Come on, out of there, eh? I know I have a scarred mug but I’m a nice fella under all that.” Gav �� he’s introduced himself several times now – jokes with a half-hearted laugh.

He’s crouched down in front of the alcove where you’ve sequestered yourself, your body pressed right up in the corner, your head tucked in-between your knees to try and make yourself as small as possible.

Gav’s broad shoulders won’t permit him entry, his reach coming up short when he’d got down on his knees and put an arm in to catch your wrist to guide you back out – cursing himself under his breath when you’d flinched at his attempt.

Your master was harsh both in what he demanded in labour and how he treated you. However long ago, you’d decided it was better to not talk back and, eventually, not worth talking at all. It wasn’t like he’d bought you for your conversation skills - for what worth is there in anything a Branded has to say?

The days in his service were repetitive – just the faces around you would change as the curse wore away at their supposed worth. Two new Bearers had been acquired over a tenday ago, apparently tracked by a group of people calling themselves Cursebreakers when they broke into the barn where you all slept. They explained they were here to take all of you somewhere safe, to free you from your master, all whilst weapons hung from their hips.

They’d escorted you into a covered wagon in the early hours of the morning with a firm grip, before the three of you were transferred onto a skiff roped up at a small dock, tucked away off a beaten path. The boat set sail across the blighted waters of a lake, heading towards some sort of Fallen structure in the middle. From there, you were led up onto a dock and then into a goods lift, ascending up to a new fate. You had tried to keep your panic at bay on the wagon and skiff ride, swallowing down the anxiety that had churned in your stomach and threatened to come up your throat but the moment the lift reached the main deck, the fear of the unknown won and you ran without further thought.

You ran with an energy you didn’t know you still possessed, ducking around outstretched arms. You didn’t make it very far before your mind caught up with your legs - where could you even go now? You’re in the middle of a lake, you don’t know how to swim, you’re trapped.

Now that you’d ran from them, disobeyed their commands to stop, only punishment could follow. At least with your old master you knew what to expect for whatever he deemed as ill behaviour, despite your best attempts to fulfill his demands, and what to brace for when you failed.

The alcove had caught your eye – a gap between two wooden walls made of thick planks. You’d slipped in with more than a hope that you wouldn’t be spotted as you did, perhaps they’d think you’d jumped into the waters below and drowned.

Luck was not on your side – when had it ever been? - for as soon as you’d pressed yourself into the very back, a scarred face had appeared in the opening.

“You can’t stay in there forever.” Gav chides, stepping back to put his hands on his hips before his face falls. “Not that that’s a threat, like! I mean, it’s not… practical, is it? Especially when we’ve a lovely, warm bed with your name on it.”

Warm bed…?

It’s a trick.

Don’t be so stupid.

“Gav, what’s going on?” An almost amused voice draws the scout’s attention elsewhere and the man steps out of view, entering into a hushed conversation. You risk a look between your knees, seeing the railings and a bit of the sky beyond – dusk beginning to fall.

A few moments later, you hear the voice again – gravelly, but cautious and gentle. “Hello, my lady.”

The lack of sarcasm in their address of you – for who would call a Branded my lady –prompts you to peer between your knees. Another rather broad-shouldered man is knelt down on one knee - shaggy dark hair framing stormy blue eyes, clad in red and black leathers, the hilt of a great sword showing over his shoulder.

“My name’s Clive. Mayhaps I could have the pleasure of yours?”

“She doesn’t talk much.” Gav’s voice comes from over his shoulder, but Clive keeps his gaze on you. “Or ever - that’s what the others said anyway. They’re all pretty new to the bastard’s service, like. Said they didn’t know her name, and not sure how long she’d been with him.”

“That’s all right. You don’t have to talk right now if you don’t want to, my lady. We just want to help, but we can’t help much whilst you’ve tucked yourself away here, can we?”

He waits for a few moments, testing the waters.

“We have a healer who can treat whatever ails you,” Clive presses on, tone still gentle and genuine. “And a very cosy bunk for you to rest in, where you won’t be disturbed. And food of course - I’ve heard there’s a delicious stew on the menu tonight. Molly - she’s our cook - has made some exquisite lemon tarts for afters. You can have mine, if you like.”

Your mouth salivates at the prospect of hot food. It had been a while since your stomach felt content - yesterday’s meal had consisted of vegetable peelings after a poor day of harvest, shared with the chocobos…

It’s all too good to be true.

“I know you must be frightened – to be taken from everything you’ve known for so long, but you have my word that we wish only to help you.” He places his fist over his heart, hoping it would prove his sincerity. “Though I understand we cannot be helping by hovering over you like this, so I will leave you be to think on it a while, my lady.”

Clive gets to his feet with a soft grunt and takes a few steps away back over to where Gav was stood, shaking his head in defeat.

Gav sighs, wearily. “S’pose I could ask Bartram to knock the planks out at the side so we can get her out that way?”

“No.” Clive’s tone is firm. “Definitely not. I could see her body trembling – she’s terrified.”

“We can hardly leave her in there.”

“She just needs time – we can give her that. It’s not ideal, but she’s at least safe. If her health turns, I’ll consider more drastic action but patience is best for now.”

“Maybe she’d be more comfortable speaking with someone who’s Branded?” Gav muses, scratching the back of his head.

“Good idea, Gav.” Clive claps his on the shoulder with a heavy arm. “I’ll ask Molly if she can pop by with some stew – food and a friendly, familiar face might work wonders."

You don’t emerge later though, despite Molly’s best efforts. She gives you a bright smile and soft, encouraging words – a tale of how she was rescued, proudly demonstrating the brand on her cheek, what she does now at the Hideaway, and then offering the bowl of stew in her hand.

The aroma makes your mouth water and stomach ache. Molly carefully places it at the threshold, not wanting to encroach on your personal space. Says she’ll leave it there, alongside a waterskin, before she bids you well and disappears from view.

If you shuffled forward a little, perhaps stretched out your arm as far as it would go, the bowl would be in reach to drag back to eat.

You don’t, though.

You won’t.

It’s a trick.

Clive had made himself scarce, hoping Molly's presence would be more calming than his own, and left her with instructions that if you were to emerge, or engage in conversation, perhaps she could coax you into going to the infirmary next.

He busied himself in search of the seamstress, eventually finding her in the bunks, sorting through piles of material stored away in a cupboard.

“Hortense, do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” She nods, turning to face him. “What can I do for you, Clive?” “I wondered if you had any spare blankets?”

“Oh, yes – I’m always working away on more as we grow our ranks!” Hortense beams, turning back to the cupboard. “I'm not surprised you asked – there must be quite the draft in those chambers of yours.”

“Ah, no - not for me. One of the rescued Bearers from today is a little shy, sequestered herself in an alcove in fright. I'm hoping she'll emerge before nightfall for food and to go to the infirmary, but I do not wish for her to catch a chill off the lake if she does not...”

“Oh, the poor mite!” Hortense frowns at the idea, but sets to thumbing through a pile of blankets in search of one in particular – a fleecy grey one in the end - and bundling it up in her arms before she hands it over to him. “Well, this one should keep her nice and cosy, it’s plenty thick enough. Tell me she is at least properly dressed, Clive.”

“The usual attire.” A polite way of saying the threadbare cloth shirts, trousers or dresses that Bearers were permitted by their masters, sans shoes as always. “I doubt she’ll accept any changes of clothing currently, but I am sure she’ll come round. We just need to be patient.”

“How could she not? Please, do let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

“This is plenty, I assure you.” He smiles, holding the blanket aloft in demonstration and leaves her to her work, heading the long way down to the Ale Hall to avoid the main deck. He spots Molly back in the kitchen behind the counter, looking forlorn.

“I’m sorry – I tried, I really did.” She scoops a generous portion of stew into a bowl and hands it off to an awaiting Bearer as she talks. “I told her my story and everything, but it’s almost like she’s frozen in place. I half-worried the curse had took her in front of my eyes. I left the stew - I hoped with some privacy she might eat without me there watching her.”

He places a large palm on her arm and give hers a sincere smile. “Thank you, Molly. I really appreciate you trying.”

“It’s nothing. Here”, she hands him the bowl of stew she’d just prepared. “Can’t forget yourself. And before you ask, yes, everyone else has been fed.”

Clive smiles, wryly, and takes the bowl with a grateful nod.

After he has had his fill, he heads out at the top of the steps, planning to keep his distance for a while longer up in the mess before an attempt to coax you out or gifting you the blanket. As his eyes cast over the alcove, he finds an unwelcome guest with their head and shoulders wedged firmly into the entrance.

“Torgal - away from there!” Clive snaps with a growl in his throat and the wolf hound instantly retreats to his master’s side with a whine and a tilt of his head, unsure as to what he's done.

He sighs, giving the beast a pat on the head. “I am sorry, boy, just... that bowl wasn’t for you – that was for our guest. I am afraid you may have scared her.”

Clive walks over and drops to a knee to peer within. His heart sinks to find your head tucked further between your knees than it had been previously, in addition to your body now trembling almost violently.

By the Founder, you must’ve thought he’d sent his beast to devour you.

“My lady, I am so very sorry that Torgal frightened you. He must’ve picked up the scent of the stew and followed it, mistaking it for his dinner. His sense of smell is unparalleled.”

Torgal barks as if in agreement, and you jump in place at the noise. Clive hushes the wolf with another pat on his head. “Sorry – he still acts like a puppy sometimes, but he is a very loyal friend of mine and he means you no harm. Allow me to fetch you something else to eat.”

He lays the bundled blanket down and pushes it forward, until it’s less than an arm’s length away from you.

“It gets a little cold on the deck in the evenings, my lady, but this should keep you warm until you feel comfortable enough to come inside. I’ll be back in a moment with some more food, and Torgal will keep away – I promise.”

He gets to his feet, picking up the bowl as he does and Torgal quickly follows behind at his heels as he heads back to the Ale Hall. Molly’s eyes widen in delight as he places the empty vessel on the counter, but Clive shakes his head.

“I’m afraid Torgal got to it first – licked it clean. Do we have any left?”

“Ah.” The cook’s face falls. “No, I’m afraid not – some of the Cursebreakers were feeling particularly hungry after their mission. But I do have bread, some cheese, apples and a lemon tart, though I had held that one back for you…”

“That all sounds wonderful. Please.”

Molly pulls out a cloth napkin from below the counter, placing the assortment of food together with a delicate hand. She ties the napkin in a knot to keep the bundle protected and hands it over.

“Thank you.” He looks down at the hound sat by his heels. “Torgal, why don’t you go and sit with Lady Charon?”

Torgal’s tail thumps against the wooden floorboards happily – Charon often has a bone waiting for him behind her counter in the evening.

“Good boy.”

Clive heads back towards the alcove with deliberate footsteps, wishing to announce his arrival. The blanket has not moved, still in the place where he left it. From what he can see in the evening light, your trembling has appeared to ease up from Torgal’s visit at least.

“I am afraid we have run out of stew, but Molly’s put together a selection of other things for you – including the lemon tart I mentioned earlier.” Clive places the bundle down carefully upon the blanket, before moving the waterskin besides it.

He waits a moment or two to see if you might lift your head before continuing, but it remains fixed in place.

“I think you might feel more at ease if you eat something, my lady, even if it’s just a little. I will leave you be and bid you a good night, with a sincere hope that you emerge anon.”

He gets back to his feet again, swallowing back down a sigh and, reluctantly, heads back into the warmth of the Ale Hall.

Clive finds himself restless later that night, tossing and turning before settling to stare up at the ceiling of his chambers. His mind is whirling with thoughts of what he needs to accomplish tomorrow, the missives he has yet to reply to, the Mothercrystals that still reside – though an opportune moment was still to present itself – the next lot of Cursebreakers who would be undertaking the removal of their Brands…

..and you, the scared Bearer, hiding in an alcove off the main deck.

He sits up with a huff and looks towards the balcony.

Fresh air – despite how drafty his chambers already are - will help, he thinks.

He gets out of bed, pulling on his earlier discarded trousers and boots to go with his night shirt and heads over to the balcony, stepping out into the cool night air.

The blighted lake waters are still and the moon casts a warm, white glow over the quiet deck. Clive takes a deep breath and then another, when something catches his eye down below - a lone figure heading across the boards on unsteady legs, towards the end of the dock.

You.

He turns on his heel and hurries out of his chambers, his footsteps echoing around the Ale Hall as he descends both sets of stairs two at a time. He pulls the lever back to call the lift back up and waits, impatiently, when he sees the blanket and bundle of food he’d left earlier, pushed aside in front of the alcove.

He grabs the bundle as the lift reaches the dock and hurries inside, slamming down the lever and descending below, praying that he’s not too late.

You were sure you hadn’t heard anyone for hours since the sun had dipped below the horizon and stars had slowly started to emerge in the cloudless sky. Cautiously, you’d pushed the blanket forward, only enough so that if someone was lying in wait for you to emerge they would pounce.

Nothing.

You wait another while before you inch it forward again, a pause, then a little more until the entire blanket is now out of the alcove. Your hands are shaking as you pop your head out, just slightly, but the deck appears empty. After waiting another few moments, you crawl over to the railings to peer below. The skiff you’d arrived on is docked up at the end of the pier – an escape route. Without much further thought, you pull yourself up on unsteady legs and walk into the goods lift, pulling down the lever to descend.

You find yourself at the end of the dock, frozen in fear. What were you thinking? You don’t know how to sail. You don’t know how to swim either, so that’s also out of the question. Even if you could, you surely wouldn’t have the strength to swim across an entire lake.

You flex stiff fingers experimentally. Maybe you could muster up enough aether to conjure some wind – would that be enough to sail the skiff? You wished you’d paid more attention on the journey over…

You’re getting ahead of yourself. Where would you even go? The brand inked on your cheek made it so you’d never have a normal life, you stand out immediately in any crowd. If an imperial soldier caught you on your own, you’d be thrown into the cells…

..or even worse.

Maybe… Maybe you could go back to your master? Your stomach swirls again with anxiety at the thought. There would be a punishment, surely, but if you came back that would count for something, wouldn’t it?

Your thoughts are interrupted by pounding footsteps, your heartbeat soon matching their pace as you turn to see your pursuer. It’s the broad-shouldered man from earlier – Clive – hurrying up the dock with a look you can’t identify on his face and a bundle of cloth in his hand.

You take a step back as he gets closer, hurriedly followed by another, then another. There’s an apology on your tongue but the world suddenly jerks when there is no longer anything to stand on. You’ve stepped too far, ran out of dock-

There is a gust of warm wind and an arm wraps around your waist, pressing you close into an even warmer chest. Underfoot, you feel the boards of the dock again - Clive has stopped you from falling into the depths. He guides you forward another half a dozen strides before dropping his arm once he’s sure you’re a safe distance away from the edge and then takes further steps back himself.

“I apologise for touching you without your consent, my lady, but I could not let you fall into the water. Are you all right?”

You don’t take in his words at all - your legs giving up as you drop down on the deck with a thump.

“I’m s-sorry.” Your words are soft, but Clive hears them in the stillness of the night. “Please – I’ll…” You swallow back a sob – crying never helped, would only make punishments worse. “I’m sorry. Please… don’t hurt me. I’ll obey. I will.”

“I will never hurt you, my lady, nor will I ever command your obedience. This is my vow.” Clive responds, equally as soft, as he kneels down to match your eye-level. “I just wish to see you safe and well.”

He sounds sincere, which is unsettling. You realise he doesn’t have his sword, nor the hound at his heels. He’s not even properly dressed - leather trousers and an unlaced white shirt, overall softening his appearance.

Clive takes advantage of your silence to press on.

“Will you join me in a midnight feast?” He places the bundle of cloth down before him, swiftly undoing the knot all whilst you stare, trying to guess the trick.

“I used to sneak into my younger brother’s chambers with things I’d swiped from the kitchen. He was often ill and prescribed a rather bland diet, so I hoped a midnight feast of more appetizing fare might cheer him up.”

He busies himself laying out the food on the patterned cloth, a little further away from him than could be comfortable having to stretch out so far. There’s a few bread rolls, apples, biscuits and something that smells tantalizingly sweet.

“This,” Clive points out a round pastry in the middle, some sort of glazed curd on the top, “is Molly’s fabled lemon tart. The best in Valisthea, I assure you. Please – help yourself.”

He leans back, propping himself up with his elbows, again trying to give you space, and forces his gaze to the sky. The moon illuminates the side of his face as you keep your eyes fixed on him, revealing a mark you hadn’t noticed earlier that day - an almost familiar one.

It’s torture having the food laid out in front of you, the second time that day. You don’t know if you feel sick from hunger or from nerves, but your resolve finally cracks.

You reach out with a shaking hand, waiting for Clive to strike.

He keeps focused on the skies above, his hands firmly planted behind him.

You pick up the roll.

Still, he does not move.

You take a tentative bite and chew, whilst Clive stares up at the stars.

Slowly, but surely, you finish the entire roll. Be grateful – your master’s voice rings around your head.

“T-thank you.”

Clive moves his gaze from the skies to yours, a warm smile on his face. “No, thank you, my lady. This is all I want for you – all we want for you – to be safe and well-fed.”

You dig your nails into your palms. “Why?”

“Because Bearers do not deserve to be treated how they are – we should be able to live and die on our own terms.”

“We?”

He nods, sitting up and turning his head to the side, pushing back his hair a little to reveal the scar on his cheek.

“I was Branded once. Tarja – she’s our healer – removed it, only so I could travel Storm safely and help others escape their fate. The Cursebreakers have all had their Brands removed as well for the same reason.”

“No, they said it can’t be removed – the ink contains poison.” You don’t know where this tone of defiance has emerged from, but there is no flash of anger across Clive’s brow.

“It is risky to remove, yes, but not impossible. And we will not ask you to undertake such a risk – that would be your choice.” He adds, quickly, worried you may take it the wrong way.

“You remember Molly, who brought you the stew?” You nod. “There are many others like her who have chosen to keep their Brand, but it does not dictate their lives in the Hideaway. And until you can live the life you deserve to, one where that mark on your cheek will not make it unsafe for you to do so, I sincerely hope you will find a home here.”

“A home?”

“Mm. Safe, fed, and never need to use aether again, my…” He pauses in realization. “My apologies - may I request the pleasure of your name?”

You shake your head, feeling foolish. “It’s silly, but I… I don’t remember it. Such a simple thing to have forgotten, but master didn’t use it.”

Of course the bastard didn’t - Clive feels a frown forming, but restrains himself. “I am sure it will come back to you with time.”

His eyes fall upon the pastry in the following silence, wishing to change the subject and he picks it up, placing it on the flat on his palm and offering it out to you. “Please – have some more to eat.”

Clive has a shy smile on his lips, a genuine and sincere look in his eye. It is the kindest look someone has given you in all the time you can remember and with that, your fingers brush across his open palm as you take the offered treat.

It is small – only two bites – but it is the most wonderful thing you have ever tasted. The pastry is crisp, thin and sweet, whilst the lemon curd is tart, the flavours dancing over your tongue.

It makes you want to cry at such a simple pleasure that has been denied to you for so very long.

The moment of euphoria is interrupted as a particularly cold wind gusts across the lake and causes you to shiver, unconsciously pulling your limbs closer to your body to try and preserve heat.

“Thank you for trusting me, my lady. I cannot imagine how frightening and worrying it must be – I truly admire your bravery. May I be as bold to request you trust me once more this night?”

You nod – the tiniest jerk of your head down – but it’s a nod all the same.

“Would you allow me to escort you to the infirmary? It has warm and comfortable beds where you can rest - properly.”

The question makes your stomach squirm with anxiety – the food sitting too heavy now in your stomach, but one look into Clive’s eyes almost settles it entirely once more.

“And in the morning, if you feel up to it,” he clarifies, “our healer would like to give you a check-up, but you do not have to make a decision on that right now.”

“A-all right.”

“Wonderful.” He keeps his tone measured, quickly wrapping up the food in the cloth and securing the top with a knot before he gets to his feet and steps back as you get to yours. He gestures forward a moment, quickly second-guessing his actions with a frown.

“Mayhaps you would be more comfortable following me?”

A small nod again.

You can’t be backstabbed if you’re facing his back, after all.

“Of course. Follow me, please, my lady.” He bows ever so slightly, before turning and heading back up and along the dock.

Clive’s heart is pounding as he walks away, worried that you may take his retreat as a chance to take the skiff and sail away or plunge yourself into the lake, but he dare not look over his shoulder in fear of frightening you.

Instead, he strains to hear any footsteps bar his own.

It is only when he reaches the goods lift that he catches sight of you in his peripheral vision that he releases a breath. He’s sure to stand in the furthest corner besides the lever, only taking one look over his shoulder to confirm you were safely within the confines of the lift before he pulls down on the mechanism.

He walks along the main deck, up the stairs to the mess, past the long tables and the hunt board before he pauses at the bottom of the next set of stairs. “It’s just up here and to the left.”

He opens the door to the infirmary with measured strength – aware the other Bearers will be resting within. The first two beds are occupied by faces you recognize – the two you’d been rescued with – and there is a man sat by a desk. Clive nods to him in acknowledgement and heads towards the other side of the room, sectioned off by a large bit of fabric. Both cots back there are empty, so he walks over to the one closest to the window and pulls the blanket down, then stepping back to the other side of the room and gesturing you forward.

“Here.”

You hesitate. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. The stranger the other side of the curtain has unsettled you. It had been easy to forget about everyone else for a moment when it had just been Clive and you on the dock, but now you are inside… Who else would come when dawn broke?

Clive picks up on your hesitation, noting the way your eyes flit between the window and beyond the curtain, annoyed with himself he did not warn you of Rodiguez being on duty that night.

“If it would be all right with you, my lady, I would like to stay in order to make introductions in the morning with Tarja. But I will only do so if you are comfortable with me – I will set up a chair over there.” He points back the way you came, to the gap between the fabric and the wall.

“P-please.”

“Of course.” He nods, picking up a chair immediately from the side and moving it to where he had said. It is only then that you sit cautiously on the edge of the bed, slowly lifting your legs up and tugging the blanket up to your chin.

Clive settles himself on the chair – he has slept in far worse places, after all – and it is not long at all until sleep claims you.

Months pass. At first, your circle remains small – Clive and Molly at first, followed by Jill before you slowly begin to open up to those among the Hideaway. You will never forget the smile on Clive’s face when he introduced you to Torgal properly – the hound immediately rolling on his back, titling his head at you inquisitively as his master explained he wished for you to rub his fluffy belly.

You are still easily startled by loud noises, unexpected movement or when Gav swears out of excitement, never the loudest in conversation, but everyone is so very welcoming.

There is plenty to do, but there is no expectation of you to contribute unless you want to, especially as some among the ranks are too stiff from the curse. Jill and Hortense teach you how to sew, you spend a few days in the Backyard learning about the plants, Charon teaches you how to take a stock inventory, Gav tries to teach you how to drink a pint in record speed and, of course, Molly teaches you how to bake.

You are always first to greet new Bearers with a soft word and kind smile, telling them how scared you were, how you hid in the alcove on the deck…

Clive is often busy whilst in or out the Hideaway, but he always makes time for you, seeking out your company immediately after he has given Otto the latest, wanting to know what you’ve been up to before he’ll even speak of himself. He even picks up little trinkets that he thinks will make you smile – lined up on your windowsill in your bunk.

You knock gently on Clive’s chambers – his call for you to enter soon following. You hold the basket behind your back, a piece of cloth tucked over delicately over the contents within as you slide open the door. He is sat behind the writing desk, looking over a pile of missives, dressed in his usual leathers.

He raises his head and offers you the warmest smile, getting to his feet immediately in polite greeting. Seeing you always seemed to brighten his day – there was something about your smile that revitalized his spirits, a reminder of how far you’d come since that first day.

“My lady.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your work.” You say, softly, sliding the door closed behind you.

“You are never an interruption. Please, sit.” He gestures towards the bench opposite his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Before I sit, I have some gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“Mm. For you.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t have.”

You place the basket gently down on his desk, ignoring his comment. He pulls back the cloth to reveal a pile of six lemon tarts nestled within.

“Did you make these?”

“I did.” You nod, proudly. “Molly supervised, so they should be edible, at least.”

“They’ll be more than edible, I assure you.” He picks one up and bites into it, humming happily as he chews, the pastry melting on his tongue. “They are exquisite – truly.”

“Really?”

He feigns a pout at your question. “Have I ever lied to you?”

You shake your head with a shy smile.

“Then I would hardly start now.” He takes hold of you hand for a moment and squeezes. “Thank you.”

You bite your lip before continuing. “There’s… something else.”

“I am hardly deserving of this gift, my lady, let alone more-”

You interrupt him with a name – your name.

His eyes widen for a moment before he murmurs it back to you – sounding all the more wonderful on his tongue - and you nod, excitedly. You’d been reluctant to choose a new name, despite some suggestions. The inhabitants of the Hideaway had instead picked up on Clive’s term of address instead.

“I remembered, like you said.” You wring your fingers together. “Well, in a way. Tomes was reading a story to the children and there it was, after all this time.”

“It is a beautiful name – I am honoured to learn it.” He takes your hand with a bow, pressing a kiss against your knuckles and saying it once again.

When he releases your hand, you press a quick kiss against his stubbled, scarred cheek. “Thank you.”

Clive’s cheeks redden at your kiss, seemingly speechless for a moment. He smiles, almost bashfully, as he looks down at you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes.

“May I give you something in return?”

“Clive,” you look down as you protest, feeling your own face warm under his gaze, “you’ve already given me plenty. You-” He inadvertently cuts you off as he tilts your chin up with two gentle fingers, determined to meet your gaze.

“You do not understand, my darling. I would love to give you so much more, if only you’d permit me.”

“Oh…”

Clive moves his hand to caress your Branded cheek with calloused fingers – worn from his time of handling his blade – but his touch has never felt so soft.

“May I?”

You nod.

Clive presses a kiss to your lips - gentle, chaste and far sweeter than any lemon tart.

Comments and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield fluff #clive rosfield x you #ffxvi x you #ffxvi x reader

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torchwood-99 · 11 months

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"her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on"

I love you Gandalf. He just gets it.

The sexism that blighted Eowyn's life, that came from the hands not from enemies but loved ones, reduced her and cut her down to fit her into a box, until Eowyn didn't even feel like a person anymore. And Eomer, when it's spelled out to him, goes back and looks at their life together differently, and realises the wrong that's been done to her.

She was a tool, something to be leant on and used, to provide support for the men's desires and the men's ambitions and the men's glory, with no will of her own.

Her family loved her, but they saw her as what they would have her be, viewing her through the lens of what they believe women to be instead of seeing Eowyn (and women as a whole) for herself, instead of recognising her as her own being with own merit and skills.

It's that thing of sexism not only making women less equal, but less human.

They are a tool, a service. They are a monolith, a group assigned to perform certain roles, valued for performing those roles (to an extent) but not actually individuals, with individuals thoughts and hopes and skills and dreams. Not to the same extent as men.

And because these are the roles they're meant to serve, there's no injustice, no tragedy of lost potential and missed opportunities, because as women they don't have that potential and they don't need those opportunities.

It's no wonder Eowyn wanted to die in battle. Going to battle, riding out against the orders of all those who caged her in, that was her regaining control of her life, a life that seemed to be no life, because she was no real living person. Just a staff to be leant on. And in going to battle, when she has been told not to, in making a choice for herself, she reclaims her humanity. But she's been so broken down that she thinks the only way to avoid going back to being an object is to die in battle.

Faramir doesn't treat her like an object. He treats her like a person, one similar to him. He sees her worth and merit and he admires her strength and her deeds while also feeling compassion for her suffering. After Faramir meets her, he seeks out Merry, to try and find out about her, instead of making presumptions about her based on her sex.

Faramir bothers, he takes the effort to find out who Eowyn is, instead of deciding for her.

And Merry, who rode to war with her and also sees her who she is, helps. No wonder he and Eowyn, though parted by distance, remain great friends and Eowyn adores him.

But Eowyn doesn't just get a happy ending from having a man in her life who treats her decently.

Tolkien makes a point to have Eowyn not just declare herself as choosing to live to be Faramir's wife, it's not a case of unhappy feminist who wants to be like a boy but is finally happy when she "accepts femininity" and finds a good man to protect her.

She says she will be a healer. Faramir has spoken nothing of that. It's not a role he has chosen for her or he's taking on and she's going to do to help him. They will be married and support each other and share a life, but she will also be her own seperate person.

It's a role that she's chosen for herself, without orders or pressure from anybody else. A role that will put her strength and her wits and her stomach iron to good use, and means she won't have to wait until battle to feel alive. A role that is seen as a mark of leadership, for the greatest leaders in Middle Earth, men and women, are also healers.

This such an important arc, and it really is incredible of Tolkien to write it.

A woman who has had her own goals and skills overlooked in favour of how she can serve men, who has been kept locked in the home to tend to her family's needs with no relief or chance to go out and live life on her terms.

Who is beloved by her family, who are good people, yet still mistreated because sexism is just part and parcel of her world and even well meaning people take part in it.

A woman whose humanity has been diminished at the hands of her loved ones because of sexism and gender roles.

A woman who proves the naysayers wrong by riding out to battle, bringing along Merry who has also been left behind, and proving herself pivotal to the victory.

A woman who only finds hope for the future when she is ceased to be treated as a useful object, when she forges bonds with Merry and Faramir who don't see her as a staff for the men to walk on, nor a faulty one who keeps trying to run off on its own and needs to be brought back, but as an individual with her own hopes and failings and dreams and skills, not defined by what the patriarchy says a woman's role is.

A when she does find hope for life again, she does so not only in finding love and friendship and camaraderie, but in a vocation that will be her own, in a career that will give her own her role in the world, a role that is associated with leadership, and leadership in her own right, not as an adjunct of her husband's.

And this is how she gets her happy ending. From love (Faramir), friendship (Merry), understanding (Eomer, looking at Eowyn anew in the House of Healing) and through independence (becoming a Healer). This is how she gets a happy ending, because this is how she reclaims her personhood.

#Lord of the Rings #LOTR #Eowyn #Faramir #Farawyn #Faramir x Eowym #Merry Brandybuck #Gandalf #Eomer #meta #Merry & Eowyn

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tkingfisher · 2 years

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I have a question I just thought of. I remember reading that the potato is something that you can discuss at length. I'm curious about the Irish potato famine (as it's called by many people) of 1845 - 52. The potato blight killed a whole load of potatoes, and blight warnings are still a thing today. But... honestly, why? Was just one variety of potato grown? If not, wouldn't different varieties have resisted? The only thing I'm even remotely familiar with is Panama Disease, which is killing off Cavendish bananas because they're all genetically identical - was that the case for the potatoes being grown at the time?

Oh boy. Okay, this is a huge complicated topic and I can only do the Cliff Notes version and even that is absurdly long, but here we go.

The cause of the Irish Potato Famine were, in order:

A) the British

B) the British but moreso

C) still the British but also capitalism

and

D) monoculture

I am not nearly so equipped to talk about A-C as many, many other people, so let’s talk about D.

Now, the humble potato is frankly one of the most glorious products of agricultural science ever created, for which we must thank the indigenous people of Peru, who produced some goddamn geniuses at potato breeding (and also figured out how to freeze-dry potatoes centuries before Idahoan.) The Incas had literally thousands of potato varieties, every size, shape, color, growing condition, right down to sacred potatoes only for consumption by the royal family. They did seriously epic shit with a weird little tuber, a feat perhaps only surpassed by the geniuses who made corn out of teosinte.

Quite a long time later—by which I mean about ten thousand years after the potato was domesticated—the Irish were growing a potato variety called the Lumper. It was a big, coarse, ugly-ass potato which apparently didn’t even taste that great. Irish farmers had other potatoes that they liked a lot better! But the Lumper had three things going for it—it gave huge yields, tolerated nutrient-poor soil, and it didn’t mind wet feet.

(Wet feet is the gardening term for plants with their roots in waterlogged soil. Most potatoes do not actually like wet feet and will rot. But the Lumper was fine with it, which meant that basically you could grow the things in poor soggy soil, which large swaths of Ireland had in generous supply.)

Because of a whole lot of really abusive shit by various landowners, a lot of Irish people ended up dependent on the Lumper for their diet, and I mean dependent. You can live for a really long time on cow’s milk and potatoes if you have to, and a potato that would produce massive yields in crappy wet soil was a godsend. So you had vast areas that were planted with just the Lumper. (There are some reports that other, better-tasting potato varieties were grown for the landlords, but while the workers dug them, they were not allowed to eat them. I can’t speak to the truth of this or not, but it’s definitely worth looking up a full history of the socioeconomics of the famine, if you ever happen to be feeling too good about the world and want to be crushed.)

Unfortunately, the Lumper has one other significant trait—it is extremely vulnerable to potato blight, a disease caused by Phytophtora infestans, which is a weird little thing called an oomycete. It’s more like a fungus than it is anything else, but it’s actually in a separate kingdom called Chromista. (Currently, anyway. Taxonomy is where idealistic young scientists go to become old before their time.) Nevertheless, for our purposes, let’s just call it a fungus. (Also, Chromista is a great name for an alicorn in My Little Pony.)

P. infestans loooooves members of the Solanum clan, which include tomatoes and potatoes. This love is not returned. In a tomato, it’s usually called late blight, in a potato, it’s potato blight, no matter what you call it, it’s bad news. It likes damp, cool conditions, and of course Ireland is basically one big damp cool condition, so once the blight got established, it was in heaven.

Blight on a potato takes about five days from start to finish. This sucker is FAST. One day there’s a blotch on a leaf, next day there’s some whitish stuff under a leaf, then the tubers are suddenly turning black and mushy and stink to high heaven. You may even think you got a good tuber and put it in storage and then you open the door to the root cellar and the whole bin has rotted practically overnight.

The spores can spread by wind, and once it landed on a potato plant, all it needed was like two days above fifty degrees with high humidity, and it was off and running. And it gets in the soil. But worst of all, it lives in the tubers themselves.

Potato cultivars, for those who don’t know, are almost always a clone of the parent. All Yukon Golds are basically the same Yukon Gold. You pop a tuber off a plant, you pop it in the ground, it grows another plant just like the first one, asexual reproduction at its finest.*

Now, potatoes can and do set seed, but there’s some variation even in a seed with two parents of the same variety. Two Yukon Golds might give you Yukon Goldish. Mix up multiple varieties and you don’t always know what you’re gonna get.** (I have grown potatoes from mixed seed and thus made my own cultivars, it’s fun, but the results are wildly variable. Some don’t set tubers at all, some contain high levels of solanine.***)

If you want specific, uniform varieties that all perform the same way, you probably use the tubers. More importantly, tubers start growing right away once you wake them up, whereas potato seedlings can be finicky and often won’t do anything impressive the first year.

To make matters more confusing, the little tuber clones are referred to as seed potatoes.

Anyway, back to the blight. Everybody was growing from little tuber clones, which could be infected with the blight. This means that if your seed potatoes are infected with blight, even if they look fine, if you plant them, your whole crop is infected. The minute you get a cool wet day, the oomcyte wakes up and goes to town. And if you leave an infected potato in the ground, it infects everybody else—and if you’ve ever dug potatoes, you know that you always, always miss one.

Well. The blight came, it hit the Lumper, and it spread like wildfire. The Lumper grew in the wet conditions the blight loved, and was also really susceptible to it, so it was a match made in hell. There were potato varieties even then that were more resistant to the blight, but they were tiny islands and a sea of blight was washing over them daily, so they eventually succumbed. Even if you planted a different potato, if it was in soil that had previously held the Lumper, it was likely doomed.

This is the problem with monocultures. You plant all one variety and it’s susceptible to some particular bug, when that bug hits, you have no fall back position. And potatoes, being more or less clones, are even more vulnerable than most seed-grown crops, and this bug is particularly nasty and the spring of ‘45 was exactly the right weather and the British government was being particularly evil and ultimately a million people starved to death because of a perfect storm.

The Lumper still exists. Somebody turned up some heirloom seeds back in 2008 and grew them out, and what they got is probably pretty close to the original. Being seed grown, it doesn’t carry the blight. It’s an ugly, watery, kinda waxy potato that even its champions think tastes sorta okay, I guess. Cultivariable, one of the few sources I can find, says that in addition to not being resistant to blight, it’s not resistant to anything else either, and there’s not much point in trying to grow it unless you have long dry summers and no local blight.

And that is the saga of the Lumper, the blight, and why I personally always plant at least four varieties of potato.

* There’s some subtleties here, but for layman’s purposes, we’ll go with this.

** It’s actually way complicated, but this is already hella long.

*** Same stuff that makes green potatoes toxic. Super bitter, so you know right away it’s inedible and spit it out. We still refer to taste-tasting the new crop from seed as “the Potato Suicide Pact” but it’s not actually dangerous.

#gardening #potatoes #potato famine #long #agriculture

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iconuk01 · 13 days

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youtube

The heroic Spectral Knights and corrupt Darkling Lords invoking their magic powers... can you guess which one's are the heros and which ones the villains? (The answers are unlikely to surprise you)

Plus a shoutout to the vehicle drivers, who sadly never got to use their spells at all, as the cartoon never made it clear that only a specific person could activate a specific vehicle (Because of plot purposes I guess)

Spectral Knight Feryl's Capture Chariot:

Which could throw fireballs from the two passenger modules it could also launch

Feryl's spell (never heard or used on the show) was "Fire", with the cantrip:

"Draw upon the breath of stars, And scorch the sky with fiery scars"

So the vehicle had the same magic, the cartoon just never used the spell.

Likewise the Darkling Lord's Dagger Assault, piloted by Reekon

Which had a holding cell in the back which could suck out any magic users power

The cantrip for "Magical Extraction" was

"Flay the flesh, lay bare the bone Upon this field, let grief be sown"

(Actually, I think I can see why that one wouldn't have been allowed anyway, I mean "flay the flesh"? Most kids would have to look that up and if it was an illustrated dictionary... ouch!)

We also had the Spectral Knights "Lancer Cycle" which was piloted by Ectar, with the spell Protection, and the cantrip

"Shield this craft from one and all! Reflect, deflect, depose and fall!"

And finally, the Sky Claw, piloted by that most toadying of bootlickers, Mortdredd

Given some of the other vehicles could fly (or at least bits of them could) it seems odd that the spell for this vehicle was simply "Flight" with the cantrip

"Wings of steel shall ride the breeze, Invade the air, the land, the seas!"

But in the cartoon they sort of got round this (even without the spell being used) by having the behicle be able to manifest dragon beasts to attack chosen targets.

And we shouldn't forget the ladies, who didn't have action figures, or spell staffs, or vehicles (Because... boy-targetted toy lines in the 80s, even cool ones, could be staggeringly sexist), but who did show up in the cartoon, and the comics.

We had the Spectral Knight Galadria, with the totem form of a dolphin, and the Darkling Lord Virulina, who took the form of a shark. (Since they had almost no aquatic adventures, it was convenient workaround to not have to animate them using their powers very often)

The comics did try to ameliorate this in it's short lived, and cancellled halfway through the first major story, publication history.

And here they are in action...

"By warmth of heart, your pain I feel, Grant me the power, your wounds to heal"

Which heals pretty much everything within range, from sick people, to damage trees, but at the cost of some of Galadria's own life force, so she can't keep using it.

Galadria she gains the power to spread a blight, which can target a single person or an entire group.

A shame the whole thing was over in a year, this series was serisouly fun and deserved more time to grow, especially when they had already designed and prepared the second years worth of toys (Which STILL didn't include Galadria and Virulina, mind you...).

#Youtube #visionaries #spectral knights #darkling lords #80's cartoons #80's action figures

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avelera · 6 months

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Oh GOD you, too, are an online lectures geek pls consider this your invitation to talk about favs--ones that stuck with you, current obsessions--the more the better! In trade, I'll tell you the two things I'm currently adoring: Yale's Open Course podcast on The Civil War to Reconstruction done by David Blight (man forgot more than ten other civil war historians know even if he mumbles *constantly*) and A History of Christianity by Diarmaid MacCulloch (so! worth the Prime BBC free trial <3)

Hiya! Don't mind if I do!

So 99% of the lectures I've watched lately are on the Great Courses Plus which was recently and stupidly renamed "Wondrium", which I find profoundly stupid because instead of just saying, "Hey, check out the Great Courses, yeah you can kinda guess what the streaming service offers," I have to instead explain what this nonsense term "Wondrium" means, ANYWAY, they've got lectures about basically everything.

Essentially, it's Netflix but for college lectures. YouTube has become so unreliable as far as what's actual information and what's completely made up or even racist conspiracy theory BS that I find it completely untrustworthy. Also, most documentaries are trying to prove something new, or offer a new angle on something, OR they're SO rudimentary and 101 that even for topics I know less about in history I tend to already know everything they're going to say.

So I pivoted to college lectures because 1) it's a whole series so like, dozens of hours I can just throw on in the background while doing something mindless and 2) I know it's going to be trustworthy, reliable, and provide me a baseline on a topic instead of some "new controversial spin" on it. Like, goddammit, sometimes I just want to better understand the history of Ancient Egypt, not your stupid theory about how they were secretly all space aliens or that we've got the carbon dating all wrong or whatever made up nonsense.

So, here's a list of some of my favorites!

Hannibal: The Military Genius Who Almost Conquered Rome - I consider myself about as near an expert as a non-academic can get on Rome and this lecture actually taught me some things, which is rare, so I recommend it as a fantastic deep dive!

How the Crusades Changed History is a pretty good short version that I recommend to anyone who enjoyed The Old Guard's Nicky and Joe BUT, for the best Crusades lecture, I'd recommend this History of the Crusades podcast. Sharyn Eastaugh is not just insanely informative, but her dry wit made me laugh out loud at least once an episode at the sheer hapless ineptitude of the Crusaders.

In the Wake of the Plague is a fantastic new lecture by Wondrium, the lecturer is amazing and it provides a lot of objective insights into how humans react to plagues that is VERY relevant to current events, BUT their lecture on **The Black Death in general is the one that got me obsessed with their lecture series. I watched it in the first week of Covid lockdown and let me tell you, having this super in-depth, objective look into how people behaved during the Black Death was incredibly valuable (and chilling) going into those years because it all played out with astonishing similarity. Also, anything by that lecturer, Dorsey Armstrong, is awesome. She's a Medievalist of the highest order. I also recommend her lecture on King Arthur.

**The Birth of the Modern Mind: The Intellectual History of the 17th and 18th Centuries - this one wins the award for "Lecture I thought most likely to bore me to tears that ended up being the single most fascinating I've heard in YEARS." Seriously, the way it explores the evolution of how we think in the modern era, through the philosophers who first conceived of these ideas, was jaw-droppingly fascinating. I also recommend it to writers of historical fiction and fantasy for a crash course, by proxy, of how to write people who think differently than you.

The Other Side of History: Daily Life in the Ancient World - I once had beef with a post here on Tumblr that claimed that academic Classicists don't care about slaves or normal people during the Roman Empire, which is just profoundly absurd. I pointed out this lecture to them if they actually wanted to learn more about the subject instead of complaining that an art history professor may not have been prepped for a lecture about the lives of enslaved people in Ancient Rome. If that is a subject of interest, this lecture is great.

The Real History of Pirates - a must-listen for OFMD fans who want to get an introduction to historical pirates and the history of pirates in literature, which "Our Flag Means Death" owes as much if not more to than the historical figures.

**Turning Points in Middle Eastern History - One of the first lectures I listened to and still one of my enduring favorites. It's the first one I picked up for writing my Old Guard fic, Lights Out, when I wanted to write Joe from a more informed angle and I learned so much.

Understanding Japan: A Cultural History - One of my favorite lectures based on format, the lecturer picks a literary work or cultural concept as the entry point to explore the timeline of Japanese history. It's a fantastic way to give a wider and more holistic look at each era, pairing it with a cultural touchstone.

Shout-out to "The Mysterious Etruscans" because I just think they're neat. The lecturer is also very good and I highly recommend his lecture on ancient cities as well which taught me a lot that I didn't know.

Also a shout out to, "Warriors, Queens, and Intellectuals: 36 Great Women before 1400" for its subject and the lecturer who is great and she also has a really fascinating talk about the history of Spain.

Ok, I THINK that's some of the top ones! ;D

#history #wondrium #lecture recommendations #long post

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warsamongthestars · 3 months

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( ye gods, a "not just striking TBB again" post )

There is, in fact, a consistent flaw when it comes to Star Wars media outside of the two trilogies ( I will never count the quote "Sequels"--even then only reason Prequels matter is because of The Clone Wars ).

It keeps, consistently, popping up. Its a theme at this point. The only media outside of the trilogies that's reigned it in and played as realistically as possible, was The Clone Wars show.

Even occurs in my favorite bits of Star Wars extended media, like the Dark Forces saga (OG video game series) and KOTOR (Prequel era Video Games).

Its not just a flaw, its actually a story blight. Meaning, if it occurs, and the situation and consequences are not taken into account, and worse, if its glorified in anyway--You have run into False Star Wars.

Because the underlying ideas of Star Wars, which started in the OG and thus are undeniable, goes against this one flaw, this one blight, that keeps popping.

... and that's the idea of repeatedly killing people.

There is a reason why the Prequels go so hard about Anakin slaughtering bandits, when slaughtering bandits is just an every mission thing in video games.

By the very definition of the Force, Everyone Is Important because Everyone is apart of it. Life is Sacred. Does not matter if, by story standards, they're nameless, does not matter what side they're on, you are never just not apart of it. Even the Sith.

Wholesale slaughter, for any reason, goes against the heart of that.

Slaying the Villain, is not and never will be a truth in the heart of what it means to be a Jedi. If a villain has to be slain, it is because no other option exists.

Its why it was so important that Luke goes in peacefully, when he confronts Vader, and by extension Palpatine. Its why he never took a life if he could help it, even in self-defense, after Empire Strikes Back. He was still impulsive, a soldiering life alters think about situations, but that's where his character conflict could've been on-going after the main story.

Its why the concept of Star Wars goes in with the idea of "Life is Sacred and everyone is connected, but what happens when War comes?"

The Prequel trilogy tried, but didn't explain it well.

The Clone Wars series does try harder, and it gets the point across better through interactions with the Clones, but because of the nature of what it is (is a show that is meant for general audiences) and it repeatedly had this bad habit of never questioning the "Good guys" unless it was from an antagonist or villain perspective--it had the grasp of "life is sacred" but never fully leaned into it, asked it questions, and gave it complex thought.

You normally wouldn't give it complex thought. Everyone knows that "Life is Good and Destroying Life is Bad", and that's where the potential genius of Star Wars could happen, even without the fancy space battles and space magic:

Life is Sacred, but What happens when War marches in?

( What happens to the War Hero who used to think Life is Sacred, but has spent so much time killing it in the name of "Greater Good" that nothing is sacred anymore? )

Life is Sacred, but what if you're just saying that because its easy to say it now, when there's no conflict? That, upon confrontation with a a hostile force, you go in guns blazing and swords out? Can't say that life is sacred after you've beheaded someone.

( What happens to the space monks that can sense souls, sense life, even from lightyears away, that, upon being told to go to war, they go to war with the idea that it is the "Greater Good". What kind of people do you have to be, to claim that life is sacred, but then sacrifice countless troops to a nameless unliving enemy. )

Life is Sacred, but what if Politics starts telling you it isn't? What if it tells you that people aren't worth the food in their mouths or the roof over their heads? That life has to be given a driven goal filled purpose, or it is otherwise meaningless and useless?

( What happens when you get told you're special, and that you can be trained, but it comes at the cost of home, family, and connections?That it meant you have to leave your loved ones to horrible fates? Because they're not special, and you're not allowed to connect to them anymore. )

Life is Sacred, but what if it can be mass produced? What if you can have an entire generation do exactly as you want, no matter how dangerous? Who will dehumanize themselves, in order to complete the task at hand?

( What happens to the trooper, raised to be a soldier from birth, who is explicitly trained to go to war, who has been robbed of any choice or option, beyond facing the adversary. What happens when the space monks tell that soldier that he has to die for the greater good? But will preach about how wrong it all is, to that trooper's face, but then do nothing. )

What happens, when you allow circumstance to tell you that life isn't sacred.

Easy. That's the point where you Fall.

... And its the point where a lot of Star Wars Media becomes a hypocritical mess where the only thing special about it, is the flashy effects and the icons.

Don't worry, they've been fucking up their own message since the OG. Star Wars has always been bad at being the Star Wars it wants to be, but, if you're going to blame something for being bad at something--you might as well extrapolate on what that something is.

After all, there's no point in hitting the nail on the head if you miss the nail and lose the hammer.

#star wars #star wars original trilogy #star wars prequels #star wars prequel trilogy #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #analysis #critical analysis #deconstruction

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corvid-gae · 15 days

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I believe i can make a better Minecraft movie than the garbage that is being produced rn. This isn't even "oh i'm totally a better writer than these professionals" this is because they seem to be ignoring the 'themes' of Minecraft in favor of corporate sanitation, and I can do better than a corporation.

So where to start? Well, by analyzing the 'themes' of Minecraft I mentioned. And what are those? Well, 3 major things imo.

Number 1; Creativity; Minecraft itself is a sandbox game, naturally one of the major themes it carries is creativity. You can create anything you want, the worlds your oyster in Minecraft.

Number 2; Community; While Minecraft can be a single-player game, the whole of the game has become about a community of people. SMPs, Minigame servers, even outside the game Minecraft is about community. As much as people may not like the mob vote, we come together as a community to decide things that we want to come to the game!

Number 3; Love; Now you might look at me weird for this one, but Minecraft is full of love. Love by Minecraft content creators who LOVE the game for all its worth, mod makers who love to create new content for the game, even the Minecraft End Poem. "And the universe said I love you, because you are love-" the game is full of love.

Now are these things the end all be all of 'themes' in Minecraft? No, of course not. It's a sandbox game which means themes can be all over the place, but these are the themes I personally would use in a Minecraft movie since without these themes a movie would fall flat. And if we're all honest with ourselves, just from that newest trailer the Minecraft Movie has NONE of these.

There's no creativity (just another jumanji isekai ripoff) no community (aka no one in the community seems to be liking it) and no love (it's a corporate cash-grab through and through)

But how would i fix that? Well, I have a few ideas.

First and foremost; who are the protagonists and antagonists? Well OBVIOUSLY Steve and Alex are our protagonists. Steve has lost his memories and must find out what happened to them, and Alex? Well she is related to his missing memories (also NO, no romance between them. No "oh she's a STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER" in the Hollywood way) And the antagonists? Well, one would first assume Herobrine- but i think that's too easy. What about the Piglins like the actual live action? Also no. So who the hell is the antagonist? Well that depends, an antagonist would be in opposition to all of the themes that I listed- Creativity, Community, and Love. What in Minecraft fits this? A destructive force that acts alone and out of hate (or at least some kind of hate.)

The Wither.

But hasn't Minecraft Story Mode used the Wither for its story? Yes, yes they did. But why fix whats not broken? The Wither is a GREAT antagonist if the themes of Minecraft are as I listed above. Not to mention you can do a LOT with the Wither. It doesn't just have to be a large monster, it can be many things. For this movie the Wither is akin to a blight spreading across the land, killing anything in its path, reducing it to a greyed out violent form of its past self.

Next; What would the general plot be? Well, the general idea is that Steve wakes up without his memories. All he has is a journal with his name on it and a few entries (how to craft, certain creatures and what they drop, etc. The basics of Minecraft) but there's also a map that leads him to a village, which is when the plot truly kicks off when he defends the villagers from some Pillagers (Villagers who have been affected by the Wither blight.) The story follows Steve as he finds Alex (who is related to his unknown history. She admits she also has very little memory. All she knows is that she knows HIM and they need to stick together) and then they travel to find what caused the Wither blight; what happened to their memories; and how the hell are they going to stop the blight/get their memories back. The climatic point of the story reveals that THEY are the reason the Wither blight is spreading, both had accidentally unleashed it while exploring a Stronghold that held the Wither, which also explains their lost memories (somehow, i don't have the specifics its OKAY- this is a concept for a reason)

At the climax itself Steve is dying. There's a reference to the End Poem, he comes back to life (because obviously it's Minecraft. You revive) and him & Alex manage to stop the Wither blight as well as reverse it, obviously saving the day.

Now there's a lot of holes in the idea, but as I said it's a CONCEPT i'm toying around with because I do believe this basic structure would provide a much more fulfilling movie than game isekai with popular actors #12. I'd love to see people add on to this since as I said, COMMUNITY is one of the largest parts of Minecraft, and personally i love building on others ideas.

#Minecraft #minecraft movie #minecraft live action #mineblr #i'm screaming to the void here but PLEASE hear me out #i also know this is rough as fuck half of it was written late at night i'm just NOW posting it

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mdhwrites · 8 months

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what's your opinion on how toh handled the detention track kids (viney, jerbo, barcus) in general

WHY WASN'T VINEY A MAIN SUPPORTING CHARACTER!? JUST WHY!?

I'll get into that point soon for the why but first: Jerbo and Barcus are just nothing to me. Not that I don't like them but they are the supporting cast to a one off character who managed to show up a second time. They're not going to get a lot of time to leave an impression, let alone to have some deep amount of personality. I think Barcus has some good jokes though and Jerbo is a good stooge to go alongside Viney's confidence.

But the trio is really defined by Viney. She is their leader, does the majority of the talking and is the one to make the major choices for them. Is that a bad thing? It could be... If Viney wasn't just so great. She has a shockingly firm personality despite such little time. She has loyalty and treasures it in turn but with a jaded edge that keeps up a barrier between her and others. You have to prove you're worth the effort but once you do, you're in for life. She'd be great as a leader of a band of thieves like that. She backs that up with a great ability to be two faced and use that for dryer, meaner comedy that is genuinely about character interplay and can easily mess with more innocent characters. Meanwhile, she'd probably have a hard time taking it back allowing for interesting back and forths.

In other words, she is a character the main cast was DESPERATELY in need of just personality wise. Everyone is either too nice to make jokes with others or too mean and not in an interplay way. It's just "I'm going to be an asshole right now," not "I'm going to mess with you a little." Some of the best lines I remember of the show come from that sort of teasing, like "Are you going soft on me, Blight?" There is way too little of it though.

But of course there's also just the fact that she provides a counterbalance narratively that also really should have been present in the show. See, the main cast only has two modes: Entirely wild and wanting nothing to do with the regime (Luz and Eda) or propping up that Belos is 100% right because if we even try to use other types of magic than the one we do, we practically can't do magic (Amity, Willow and Gus.) Now, the contrast is good on those two fronts but Viney just highlights a critical weakness of the show.

No one is actually even handed. It's either pure establishment or pure anarchy. Viney meanwhile WANTS to be a part of Belos society but wants the freedom to do more. To at least be allowed to try and expand her horizons. That allows for SO MANY interesting plots that could revolve around differences of opinion, pulling her back and forth, expanding on the world and how its systems work instead of just a black and white question.

But even above that: We'd have someone who ACTUALLY MIXES MAGICS. Now yes, beast keeping and healing are... Awkward to mix, to put it mildly, to the point where Viney doesn't even try. Hell, when she's put on the Flyer Derby team, she's praised for being a great healer... Which is the track people tried to force her to do as her only track. Puddles is purely there for flavor. It kind of discredits her whole choice to have multi-tracked because even other people only want her for one track. BUT if the show had actually tried, they could have genuinely shown how the two make for stronger magic. You know, actually support Eda and Luz's thesis as their only argument in the show is just that knowing a lot of magic is cool. For what purpose? To be cool! What other reason do you need? (That's sarcasm btw.)

She's just bizarrely a character who is almost impossible to ignore as just a good addition to potentially not even the main supporting cast but just MAIN CAST. Hell, if TOH admitted it was a romance, I could easily have seen Luz, Amity and Viney forming a love triangle where Viney is pulling Luz more towards rebellion while Amity, who's parents profit so much off of Belos' world and only uses one type of magic, is more about the establishment and the good it brings them. Just some sort of push and pull that is COMPLETELY absent from the show.

Then again, it would have had to, you know, actually commit to its worldbuilding or ever question if Luz's mindset is actually correct beyond the second episode. It would inherently be more complex and actually have to focus on its story. That's not surprising either because of what Viney inherently is.

She is a wild witch and the show cannot keep wild witches around without actually admitting the Isles is either a complete sham where Belos has no power (not that it doesn't feel that way already) or isn't some idealic, basic bitch fantasy world for Luz to never want to leave. Since neither is an option, Viney shows up for an episode that shoots taking the coven system seriously in the foot, and will be finished off in Reaching Out, while abstractly dissing modern education systems and then exits stage right so she doesn't cause more of a fuss. Yes, technically she comes back later but just as a body for the Grudgby team people might recognize, not to explore her character or issues.

Same could be said for Jerbo and Barcus. A good element that TOH barely uses and wastes all their potential because it's not actually interested in telling its own story.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#the owl house criticism #toh critical #toh #the owl house #toh viney

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rederiswrites · 6 months

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I don't see how trump turning America into a christofacsist state is any different than the norm? like it's been like that for native and black people since it's creation like we inspired the nazis in the first place so like what the point? oh trumps gonna kill everyone who isn't a white cis male! and? that's what america's best quality since day one

Okay I'm actually going to respond to this Edgelord Supreme bullshit, because as absurd as it looks written out like this, I actually do think a lot of people are feeling some half-articulated version of this despair and cynicism. Let's kick that in the ass.

First, let's get one thing straight. History has been terrible awful bad always and forever. There have been a thousand genocides and a million wars and a billion brutal, inhuman war crimes. Back in the days of the earliest civilizations, wiping out entire cities when you defeated them was basically just how things were done for many societies. The fact that we have international laws and international bodies of justice, however obviously toothless they remain, is the result of thousands of years of extremely mixed progress.

So at this point, you pretty much have to say either that a) humans are an incurable blight and don't deserve to live, or b) that we've done amazing, beautiful things and experienced billions of moments of happiness and created art and fallen in love despite all this, so we're still worth working on. Personally, I am very strongly in camp b. I see things worth living for a hundred times a day. There's really no comparison.

Second, the USA is not uniquely bad. It is terribly damaging to people both within its borders and all over the world. It is build on genocide and slavery. Many of its foundational institutions are deeply corrupted by these things. And guess what, that's uh....pretty common. No, really. The US is currently a big fucking problem. It's our turn with the big stick, for sure. But even then, we're not alone.

So how the fuck is this encouraging? It isn't. I'm not encouraging you, I'm telling you to fucking GET GOOD, because when you say shit like the above, what I hear is "Oh I SEE, I'm a TERRIBLE PERSON I guess I should just kill myself to make your life easier." I hear someone who would rather give up and call their country morally bankrupt and irredeemable than to PUT IN SOME FUCKING WORK.

Cynicism is so comfortable. It doesn't ask anything of you. "It's always been like this," it says. "Nothing's going to change."

Except things do change, and things have changed, and your entire premise is in fact absolute dogshit. The two presidential candidates are not remotely the same, and we are not, yet, a Christofascist nation. I could, as many before me already have, enumerate the million concrete ways in which your premise is just not true, but honestly I won't bother, because it's not a premise in good faith. What I mean by that is that even a cursory examination of the actual facts would totally trash your expressed beliefs, so you're not really interested in the facts.

Change for the better can happen. Change for the better has happened. It's just not as EASY as you want it to be. There are more steps. For example, you can't have viable independent candidates until you have campaign finance and voting reform. So you have to push for those things. For years, probably decades. Many people have died without seeing the realization of things they fought for, and yet those things have come to pass. You may die fighting the good fight and not see the victory. I may too. Meanwhile, you make the choices that will hopefully get the fewest people killed.

So stop acting like we're all just too shitty to bother about, and put in some fucking work.

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ckret2 · 6 months

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I didn't quite understand what Bill told Dipper about the true nature of the universe. Did Bill mean that their universe is a cartoon, or did his words about dimensions apply to our world as well? Are we two-dimensional in his eyes?

It's ambiguous on purpose! You're supposed to go "wait, is he talking about the fact that they're a cartoon, or is he really saying reality is 2D?"

You're supposed to not understand, because Bill is a confusing character who says things that don't make sense to the people around him. The characters are never quite sure whether he's just talking nonsense or whether he knows so much more than everyone else that when he shares a tiny fraction of his knowledge it's incomprehensible to the people around him.

And since the characters aren't sure whether he's talking nonsense or sharing incomprehensible wisdom—and, on top of that, aren't even sure what it really means—you as the reader aren't sure either.

The point of the conversation isn't "what is the literal actual origin of the universe?" That doesn't matter at ALL. The point of the conversation is the doubt—the creeping dread—the uncertainty about whether you're real in a way that matters, and the maddening realization that your view of reality is so limited that you may never be able to find out for sure. Welcome to cosmic horror.

That, plus I as the writer think it's funny to leave it ambiguous whether the thing running the "projector" is, like... the amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity named Azathoth, or just Disney.

(Although it's worth noting that there is a real-life physics theory in string theory that posits our observable universe could be holographic; although it's very different from what Bill claims it means. Bill claims that their universe is a hologram projected down from a higher dimension, whereas the IRL theory posits that observable spacetime might be projected up from a lower dimensional quantum system. But that real theory is what Ford's alluding to when he says the universe being a hologram could help explain some things about black holes.)

#anonymous #ask #about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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carrinth · 11 months

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Sometimes I think about how insane it was that they made the Hero of Fereldan the Warden-Commander.

Not questioning their combat prowess and military might -- but their specific knowledge on what it even means to BE a Grey Warden.

Because, if DA timelines are to be believed, HoF ended the Blight in a year. Which means, HoF had only been a Grey Warden for (at most)... a year. Which means. They made. Someone. With barely a year's worth of experience of even BEING a Grey Warden, the Warden-Commander. And most of that experience was alongside an equally inexperience junior warden! I mean, our Warden was SO badly uninformed about Grey Warden lore that Bioware had to literally spawn in random Riordan the Exposition NPC just to progress the plot (and then immediately kill him off because Bioware was determined to make our utter noob ass (affectionate) the Warden-Commander). HoF is so hilariously under-qualified it's like forcibly promoting the intern to middle management to train the new interns.

I just see Marzel absolutely panicking in his new, sudden (unwanted?) role as Warden-Commander. Poor guy is standing in front of Oghren, Anders and Mhairi with Joining Cup clutched in hand, sweating and mumbling though the Joining speech because my magic boi only heard it spoken THAT ONE TIME and now he has to recite the entire thing? In front of an audience?? Was he supposed to have been taking notes!? No one told him he was going to be quizzed on this a year later!!

I'm gonna headcanon that this leads to absolute insanity at Vigil's Keep. One year of relevant work experience Marzel is left in charge. Unsupervised chaos.

#dragon age stuff #marzel amell #marzel just making up Grey Warden trivia on the fly #no one corrects him because nobody knows any better #Fereldan Grey Wardens are Different #I mean he's also a sheltered former Circle mage so... lol...

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daitranscripts · 2 months

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Dorian Conversation: Investigate

Tell Me About the Imperium

Dorian Masterpost

Dorian: Ah. Yes, everyone outside the Imperium always seems quite fascinated by it. Probably why they come up with so many ridiculous tales. Flying cows over Minrathous? Madness! All right, that one’s actually true, but the cows didn’t have wings. I digress. Anything in particular you wanted to know?

If asked before: Dorian: Popular topic. Anything specific?

1 - Dialogue options:

History: Corypheus was a magister. [2]

Investigate: Do mages truly rule there? [3]

Investigate: The Imperium has a Chantry? [4]

Investigate: Could Tevinter be an ally? [5]

Investigate: Is blood magic common? [6]

Investigate: What about slavery? [7]

General: That’s it. [8]

2 - History: Corypheus was a magister. PC: Corypheus is a figure out of Tevinter history. He was a magister. Dorian: Yes, but that was a different time. The Imperium’s power was at its peak then. The civil war had ended. The Magisterium was united, its armies scooping up bits of Thedas like candy. The magisters who entered the Black City… it was a demonstration of how exceptional Tevinter had become. PC: But who were they? Dorian: No one knows. There’s no record of a magister named “Corypheus.” All this happened fourteen hundred years ago, before the Blight nearly wiped us out. There are no records. Today, people half-believe it’s all just a story. That’s what I believed.

Dialogue options:

History: But it’s not a story. [9]

[Back to 1]

9 - History: But it’s not a story. PC: We have evidence the story is very much real. Dorian: But not who Corypheus is, if he even remembers. There used to be families who claimed some of those magisters as their own. That stopped when the Chantry appeared. Then it was shameful, and the families distanced themselves from the tale. All we know is that some men and women entered the Black City, looking for the Old Gods. What did they find? According to Corypheus, nothing, and only he could tell us more. [back to 1]

3 - Investigate: Do mages truly rule there? PC: It seems strange that an entire empire would be ruled by mages.

Dorian (mage PC): Strange? Why are you less qualified to rule than some tart with a fancy crown? Dorian (non-mage PC): I find it strange that your mages don’t rule anything at all.

Dorian: (Chuckles.) Actually, the fiction in the Imperium is that mages don’t rule. The Magisterium rules. That magisters are all mages is considered a… convenient technicality.

10 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: The Magisterium? [11]

Investigate: What about the Archon? [12]

Investigate: But mages do rule. [13]

General: I want to ask something else. [14]

11 - Investigate: The Magisterium? PC: What is the Magisterium, exactly? Dorian: The upper house of the Imperial Senate, and the only part worth having a seat on. Those seats are split among the Circles of Magi, the Chantry, and the major families–all mages now. It’s odd that outside the Imperium, you use “magister” like it applies to every Tevinter mage.

Dialogue options:

Special: What are you, then? [15]

[Back to 10]

15 - Special: What are you, then? PC: If you’re not a magister, then what are you called? No special title? Dorian: I’m an altus, which is almost as good as a magister, depending on who you ask. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Dialogue options:

Special: And an altus is… [16]

[Back to 10]

16 - Special: And an altus is… PC: I’ve never heard of an “altus.” Dorian: Upper class. Those families who trace descent from the Dreamers, the first prophets of the Old Gods. If you’re a mage and you’re not altus, then you’re laetan. Lower class. If you’re not a mage at all, you’re soporati. That’s “everyone else.” We do love our fancy words. [back to 10]

12 - Investigate: What about the Archon? PC: I thought the Archon ruled over the Imperium. Dorian: Well, yes… technically he can overrule laws passed by the Magisterium, but that never happens. Even so, he gets to appoint new magisters, which means all the families vie madly for his favor. Thus the Archon gets invited to all the parties. The truest path to Tevinter influence, let me tell you. [back to 10]

13 - Investigate: But mages do rule. PC: If it’s a fiction, that means mages do rule, then. Dorian: Yes and no. Let me put it this way: mages do rule, but not all mages are equal. If you’re not from the right family, chances are you don’t rule anything. Maybe you’re even a slave. The idea that anyone could be a mage, however, keeps the masses placated.

Dialogue options:

Special: Is that true? [17]

[Back to 10]

17 - Special: Is that true? PC: Can anyone be a mage? Dorian: Technically. The potential runs mostly in bloodlines, but it’s been known to happen. More importantly, commoners believe it can. Tevinter legend is chock-full of mage heroes from humble origins. So they hold out hope. “Someday, my son or my son’s son will be a mage. Someday.” Poor sods don’t realize that means he’ll be a quaestor at the ass end of the Hundred Pillars. At best. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Dialogue options:

Special: Is that bad? [18]

[Back to 10]

18 - Special: Is that bad? PC: Being a quaestor isn’t a good thing? Dorian: I imagine the average non-mage likes to think so. Counting numbers and shuffling papers all day is better than many occupations, after all. If you’re a second-class citizen among a pack of piranha, however, your outlook changes. [back to 10]

14 - General: I want to ask something else. PC: Let me ask you something else. Dorian: Of course. [Back to 1]

4 - PC: There’s an Imperial Chantry, isn’t there? With its own Divine? Dorian: You people aren’t supposed to talk about the Black Divine, are you? If you mention him outside the Imperium, people make that face. Like you’re urinating in public. But, yes, we do have the Chantry. Or a version of it. Night and day, comparing it to yours.

19 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: Is it really that different? [20]

Investigate: The Black Divine? [21]

Investigate: Are you religious? [22]

General: I want to ask something else. [23]

20 - Investigate: Is it really that different? PC: Is the Imperial Chantry so different from ours? Dorian: Not in theory. The main difference is in the whole “magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him” business. Back home, ruling the unwashed masses is serving them. For the good of the Imperium. Perhaps it started with good intentions, but these days it’s academic. The Circles are in command.

Dialogue options:

Special: You have Circles? [24]

[Back to 20]

24 - Special: You have Circles? PC: There are Circles of Magi in the Imperium? Dorian: We don’t have dismal little mage prisons, if that’s what you mean. They’re academies. Prestigious ones. We have templars as well, but they don’t cancel spells—or whatever your templars do. They’re soldiers. ㅤㅤ ㅤ PC (mage PC): They don’t use lyrium? Dorian: Ha! As if there’d be any left for them. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Dorian: They watch for abuse of magic, yes, but only those who are weak or who fall out of favor get dealt with. Mostly they enforce the Magisterium’s edicts. The Chantry smiles and nods from the sidelines. [back to 20]

21 - Investigate: The Black Divine? PC: Do you really call him the “Black Divine”? Dorian: We don’t call him that, oh, no. In the Imperium, he’s the true Divine. The woman sitting on the Sunburst Throne is some backwater pretender. It all stems from a disagreement over Andraste. Marvelous, isn’t it?

25 - Dialogue options:

Special: A disagreement? [26]

Special: Your Divine is male? [27]

[Back to 20]

26 - Special: A disagreement? PC: Why would they disagree over Andraste? Dorian: It’s not my field of expertise, but the Imperium believes Andraste was a mortal woman. A mage. Down south they say, “No, she’s the Bride of the Maker! Ascended to His side, divine provenance, blah, blah, blah.” We feel better believing Andraste was one of us. Makes executing her less damning, you see. So we elected a man as Divine, the South declared war, and we’ve been feuding cousins ever since. [back to 25] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 27 - Special: Your Divine is male? PC: So… the Imperial Divine is always a man? Dorian: All the better to distinguish him from “that other one,” yes. Don’t think there aren’t a number of female magisters who bristle at that. Why can’t they be Divine, after all? Same reason you never see a man on the Sunburst Throne. Because that’s how it’s always been done. Excellent reasoning. [back to 25]

22 - Investigate: Are you religious? PC: Do you consider yourself Andrastian? Dorian: Ah. The big question. It might surprise you that I do consider myself Andrastian. I simply do not believe in the Chantry. It is a relic, whether back home or here in the South. Something from a bygone age desperately clinging to relevance. It’s not an opinion that makes me popular.

Dialogue options:

General: I agree with you. [28] Divine: +1 Leliana, -1 Vivienne

General: The Chantry has its place. [29]

General: Others might object, yes. [30]

28 - General: I agree with you. PC: I share your opinion, actually. Dorian: That’s not surprising, considering what the Inquisition represents. [31] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 29 - General: The Chantry has its place. PC: I disagree. I don’t think the Chantry is irrelevant. Dorian: Not to most, no. Perhaps just to me. [31] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 30 - General: Others might object, yes. PC: I’m not surprised. It’s not an opinion you should share. Dorian: You did ask, if you’ll recall. [31]

31 - Scene continues.

Dorian: I’ll say this: I may not believe in the Chantry, but I believe in you.

PC: In me?

Dorian: That the Maker sent you, whether through Andraste or fate. Cassandra is not wrong.

Dorian (sided mages): You saw in that future: without you, Corypheus prevails. You are our bulwark against evil. Dorian (sided templars): You are what we needed most at the moment we needed it. That’s what they will say in ages to come.

Dialogue options:

General: I’m surprised you think that. [32]

General: I don’t know. [33] +Dorian slightly approves

General: I agree. [34] +Dorian slightly approves

General: You are a fool. [35] -Dorian disapproves

32 - General: I’m surprised you think that. PC: You don’t seem like the religious sort, to be honest. Dorian: If you define “religious” as sitting in a chantry and listening to a blithering hen tell you how to live, then no. If you define it as believing in the possibility that something larger than yourself exists, then yes. By all means. [36] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 33 - General: I don’t know. PC: I’m not sure about that, myself. Dorian: Doubt is good. I like doubt. It will keep you sane. Me, I’ve seen too much to believe I know everything. [36] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 34 - General: I agree. PC: That’s true. I feel the same. Dorian: My. Someone’s full of themselves, aren’t they? PC: I was just agreeing with you. Dorian: Don’t agree on my account. A little doubt wouldn’t harm the Herald of Andraste. Me, I’ve seen too much to believe I know everything. [36] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 35 - General: You are a fool. PC: That’s what you think? That’s ridiculous. Dorian: Oh? I’m glad you’re so certain. Me, I’ve seen too much to believe I know everything. [36]

36 - Scene continues.

Dorian: The world is bigger than I, even bigger than you. It laughs at all the things we think we know. The Maker doesn’t need me to believe, but I do. The thought of no one at all watching out for us is too frightening. [back to 19]

23 - General: I want to ask something else. PC: Let me ask you something else. Dorian: So many questions. [Back to 1]

5 - Investigate: Could Tevinter be an ally? PC: I’m wondering if the Imperium would be a useful ally. Dorian: I’d think you’d be more concerned whether or not they’d support the Venatori. They won’t, of course. At least not officially. They’ll disavow all knowledge of “dangerous cultists.” Secretly many magisters will rejoice at the idea. And if the South falls to chaos in the meantime? All the better.

Dialogue options:

Special: Is that smart of them? [37]

[Back to 1]

37 - Special: Is that smart of them? PC: It would be in the Imperium’s best interest to help. Surely it could use allies. Dorian: I think the Imperium gave up on the idea of allies a long time ago. We’ve been fighting the Qunari for, what? Two hundred years, off and on? It’s a point of pride that we go it alone. They’ll sneer at the South behind their silk handkerchiefs and say you’ve had it easy for far too long. Let’s not forget that the Inquisition seems to be an arm of the Orlesian Chantry. Anathema, so far as they’re concerned. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Dialogue options:

Special: But we’re not! [38]

[Back to 1]

38 - Special: But we’re not! PC: We’re not part of the Chantry. The Chantry opposed the Inquisition’s formation. Dorian: You think that matters? Don’t be silly. The Herald of Andraste? Your very title smacks of the southern Chantry. You may as well be a heathen. I think they’re far more frightened what you’ll do if you succeed. [back to 1]

6 - Investigate: Is blood magic common? PC: Just how often is blood magic used there? Dorian: Oh, not at all. PC: Not at all… Dorian: That’s what any magister would tell you. They’d be convincingly offended by the notion, too. Of course, what people call blood magic here and what we consider blood magic are two different things.

Dialogue options:

Special: What do you call it? [39]

[Back to 1]

39 - Special: What do you call it? PC: What’s considered actual blood magic in Tevinter? Dorian: Blood magic isn’t inherently dangerous. Using your own blood or that of a willing participant? What’s the harm? The problem is that what’s permitted only gets you so much power. And what if you need more? You always need more. That’s where we get into sacrifices and demon-summoning. None of that is done–not officially. Behind closed doors, it’s a different story. Real blood magic can give you an edge, a leg up against your opponents. It’s safe to assume that any mage of rank does it. The rest are quietly shut out of power, to put it bluntly. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Dialogue options:

Special: No templar intervention? [40]

[Back to 1]

40 - Special: No templar intervention? PC: You’d think the templars would object. Dorian: I imagine they did, long ago. Once their investigations might have been sincere. Then their balls were cut off. Too inconvenient. Nowadays, only the friendless are accused… and most of them probably innocent. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Dialogue options:

Special: No one disagrees? [41]

[Back to 1]

41 - Special: No one disagrees? PC: There must be some mages who oppose this. Dorian: Of course. I do, and I’m not entirely alone. Occasionally there’ll be a magister who makes noise, and then the reform talk begins. All very patriotic. Meanwhile, that magister will be quietly shunned. Chances are—surprise!—it’s learned he was a maleficar all along. Most learn to keep quiet. Me? I enjoy the allure of pariah-hood. [back to 1]

7 - Investigate: What about slavery? PC: Anyone who talks about the Imperium mentions slavery. It’s the center of the slave trade. Dorian: Ah. That is true. PC: And? Did you have slaves? Dorian: Not personally, but my family does and treats them well. Honestly, I never thought much about it until I came south. Back home, it’s… how it is? Slaves are everywhere. You don’t question it. I’m not even certain many slaves do.

Dialogue options:

General: You’re saying they like it? [42]

General: It’s not like that here. [43]

General: That’s a terrible attitude. [44] -Dorian slightly disapproves

42 - General: You’re saying they like it? PC: You think slaves like it that way? Don’t be ridiculous. Dorian: I didn’t say they like it. It’s all most of them know. [45] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 43 - General: It’s not like that here. PC: Well, we don’t have slaves in the South. [45] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 44 - General: That’s a terrible attitude. PC: That’s it? You don’t question it? [45]

45 - Scene continues.

Dorian: In the South you have alienages, slums both human and elven. The desperate have no way out. Back home, a poor man can sell himself. As a slave, he could have a position of respect, comfort, and could even support a family. Some slaves are treated poorly, it’s true, but do you honestly think inescapable poverty is better?

Dialogue options:

General: At least they have a choice. [46] -Dorian slightly disapproves

General: I suppose not. [47] +Dorian slightly approves

General: “Treated poorly”? [48]

46 - General: At least they have a choice. PC: At least they’re free. They don’t have slavery forced on them. Dorian: You think people choose to be poor and oppressed? I doubt it. [49] ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ 47 - General: I suppose not. PC: I suppose not, no. [49] ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 48 - General: “Treated poorly”? PC: Is that what you call it? “Treated poorly”? [49]

49 - Scene continues.

Dorian: Abuse heaped upon those without power isn’t limited to Tevinter, my friend. I don’t know what it’s like to be a slave, true. I never thought about it until I saw how different it was here. But I suspect you don’t know, either, nor should you believe that every tale of Tevinter excess is the norm. [back to 1]

8 - General: That’s it. PC: That’s all I wanted to know. Dorian: Fair enough.

#dragon age inquisition #dai transcripts #dragon age #dragon age transcripts #dragon age dialogue #dai #long post #dai dialogue #dorian #dorian pavus #super long #he talks so much asldkjfhlaksjd

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wellstringer · 3 months

Text

Forget the Past, Stay With the Present

Finally, it's done ☠️ This took way longer than I said it would, but I wanted it to be good, so I let it cook more.

This fic is a whopping 2,925 words ☠️, which is most likely too long for this type of thing, but what's done is done.

This is a tickle fic, so if that isn't your jam you probably shouldn't read this. Anyways, enjoy :)

*Sigh*

The low hum of endless small talk could be heard throughout the Owl House as Luz opened the door to her room. It was only a few weeks after the defeat of Belos, and everyone was currently working together to rebuild the Boiling Isles.

It was safe to say that after everything she has been through, Luz was exhausted inside and out. Normally, when she was this tired, Luz would flop face first onto her new bed and pass out.

But today she couldn’t bring herself to.

Luz felt cold. Like she wasn’t fully present in her warm blooded body, and was just watching herself from behind.

Watching herself pretend she was happy.

Like nothing was affecting her.

Like she did everything perfectly.

Everything seemed dark around her, reflecting her feelings of emptiness and regret. Not everything went perfectly after all.

King’s dad died. Eda lost her arm. So many buildings were destroyed all over the place. All Luz could think about was how she could have stopped it. Whether she avoided showing Philip the light spell or didn't try to fight Belos alone; if she did things differently maybe things could have been better.

“I mean, I almost got petrified for crying out loud.”

“Luz!”

“If Belos decided not to spare me, I wouldn’t have been able to save anyone at all.”

“Luz!”

“Maybe if the Titan chose someone else to show the glyphs to, he wouldn’t-”

“LUZ!”

“WEH!?”

Luz looked towards her bed in shock; upon it sat a very concerned Amity Blight.

Ah. Right, she told her to wait for her in her room while she finished helping Eda resort her junk in their newly refurbished home. And now her hermosa just saw her stare at nothing for at least a good two minutes.

“Great job Luzer. Now your girlfriend is going to think you are out of your mind.”

Over on the bed, the last thing Amity cared about was if Luz had a few screws loose(which of course she didn’t, Luz was one of the brightest people she ever met, in more ways than one).

She just was worried that her batata was not okay.

That she was hurting inside just like before, and hiding it despite how much Amity has begged her not to.

“Luz what's wrong? Why are you just standing over there?”

Luz looked into Amity’s eyes. Amity looked just as concerned as she did countless times before when Luz did stupid and/or reckless things. She had the same expression from when Luz told her about her dad being dead.

Luz opened her mouth and tried to morph her own expression to something more palatable, but then Amity’s eyebrows furrowed. Luz deflated and looked away, her resolve to try to fake happiness sliced down to nothing by her carino’s gaze.

Amity was relieved that Luz didn’t attempt to lie straight to her face again, since she would have become very aggravated if she did. Both with Luz for refusing to be vulnerable with her, and for Luz since she just wanted to help her heal.

Amity decided a while back that she would not let anyone hurt the heart she wants to love and protect anymore, not even its owner. She knows Luz has a habit of blaming herself for problems she didn’t cause and oftentimes fixed, and she needed to find a way to show her the truth. She was going to help Luz, even if her batata didn’t think she was worth the care.

“Could you come here please?”

Luz still wouldn’t look at her, but Amity could see that her frown grew at that.

This just made Amity’s heart ache even more for her light. She knew that Luz was probably feeling guilty for worrying her, so she decided to try speaking in a more lighthearted tone and joking around to coax her over.

“*sigh* Oh woe is me! I have no one to cuddle with! If this is not fixed soon, I will end up snuggle deficient and depressed!”

Amity saw Luz’s expression shift a bit to one of curiosity. The abomination master smiled at that, then fell backwards onto the bed and put an arm over her eyes.

“What will become of me now? Am I destined to be lonely forever? Oh, if only someone would come to my aid!”

Luz rolled her eyes, a small smile forcing its way onto her face. Her girlfriend could be so dramatic at times, but she loved that about her, just like she adored every other aspect of her cotton candy haired goddess.

Amity peeked out discreetly from under her arm. Her smile grew when she realized her plan was working. Amity kept her eyes covered and rolled around a bit.

“I’m fading away! I’m doomed!”

Luz started giggling at that, her girlfriend’s goofy antics being too extra to ignore.

Amity beamed beneath her arm. She missed Luz’s laugh so much.

“Wait, was that a giggle I heard?! I’m saved! Please dear hero, come over here and help me. I can’t bear to be alone anymore!”

Luz sighed and giggled a bit more.

After she heard footsteps come her way, Amity moved her arm so that she could get a good look at her girlfriend. Luz was smiling, and though it was definitely not the brightest one she’s worn, it was a start. Amity sat up and grabbed Luz’s hands.

“Thank you for coming over, I feel so much better now.”

Luz frowned again, causing her girlfriend to do the same. No matter what happened, she couldn’t seem to shake the negative thoughts from her mind.

Amity suddenly pulled Luz straight onto her lap, causing her to let out a squeak and put her hands on the bed to keep herself from knocking them both over.

“Sweet potato what-!?”

“Shhh, relax batata.”

Amity hugged her Luz close.

“You know you can tell me anything right? You promised me no more hiding, and I just want you to feel safe.”

Luz bit her lip as her eyes watered slightly. She remembered her promise.

As tears welled up in her eyes, Luz shifted so that her legs were crossed around Amity on the bed and hugged her back. She was only wearing socks, so she didn’t have to worry about getting the bed dirty.

“I know, I didn’t forget mi amor. It’s just hard, ya know?”

Amity grimaced and hugged Luz tighter.

“I know baby, and you can take all the time you need. What’s most important is that you ask for help when you need it ok? You are always worth it to me, no matter what you think.”

Tears came to Luz’s eyes and she sniffled a bit. Amity always knew how to make her feel loved.

“O-Ok, I think I can talk about it now.”

Amity pulled back to look into Luz’s eyes and waited expectantly.

Luz sighed and tightly gripped the edges of her shorts with her hands as she pulled herself together. She needed to be fully honest about this.

“I just can’t seem to stop thinking about how I could have done everything better. I didn’t have to show Philip the light spell, but I did. I didn’t have to fight Belos alone, but I did. And if I was just a little bit faster when I saved the Collector, I wouldn’t have died. Maybe the titan could have been saved.”

Although she let Luz speak without interruption, Amity desperately wanted to cut her off once she brought up the Collector. When Amity first heard that Luz died she was heart broken, and she didn’t want to think about it again.

However, if her batata needed to, she would let her talk about it forever.

“Luz, you did the best you could, and no one could ask for more than that. If you hadn’t fought Belos, everyone would have been dead. When you gave him the light spell, you did thinking you were being kind to someone who was not evil. It is not your fault he took advantage of your kindness. Even if you didn’t give it to him, he would have found it anyway. Nothing could have prevented the Day of Unity from occurring, but you kept it from completion.”

“But-”

“I’m not done yet.”

Amity cupped Luz’s face with one hand, while she used her other arm to keep Luz secure in her lap. She directed Luz’s gaze to her own, driven by a need to have Luz understand just how serious she was about this.

“From what you said when you told us about meeting the Titan, he was already dying before you he talked to you. Luz, I would never want you to die, and I was beyond upset when I found out you did, but there is nothing we could do to change the past. You are alive now, and you are still with us in a peaceful world. No one can ask for more than that, and no one would.”

Amity pecked Luz on the lips and then leaned her forehead against hers.

“We love you Luz. I love you. You did an amazing job, and everyone will always appreciate you for that.”

“*Sniff* You mean that?”

Luz started crying once Amity finished, not able to hold back any longer. This had been bothering her for so long, and hearing Amity say all that took a huge load off of her heart.

Amity gave Luz a soft smile.

“Always and forever, mi dulce batata. Now let it all out, I’m here for you.”

Luz cried for a bit, and Amity kept their foreheads together as she wiped away her tears and ran her hand up and down her back. This was a long time coming, and Amity was happy that Luz was opening up to her and showing her how she felt. Eventually, Luz stopped crying, and they looked into each other's eyes as Amity did her best to comfort her.

Suddenly, Luz had a shaky grin on her face. Amity continued looking into her eyes, expecting Luz to pull out a dumb joke to try to make them both feel better, but it never came.

That means there was a different cause for the goofy grin.

Amity turned her head to see where she placed her hand, and found that it had ended up curled around Luz’s knee. Curiously, she gave it a gentle squeeze, then quickly looked back up to gauge her batata’s reaction.

“EHEHEHE!”

Luz’s expression quickly turned from a sad one to one of shock. She didn’t remember her knees being so sensitive.

Amity smiled in surprise at her girlfriend’s adorable outburst, which quickly turned into smirking as a plan developed in her mind. It had been far too long since she heard her precious light laugh freely, plus she was still pretty upset that she had almost lost her favorite person forever. Amity wanted revenge for her heartache, and to see Luz truly happy again, so what better to do than to kill two birds with one stone by tickling a smile onto her face!

Amity already knew that Luz liked being tickled from the tickle fights they had after becoming girlfriends, so she wasn’t worried about upsetting her. She would definitely stop if asked, but she had a feeling Luz wouldn’t want her to.

“My, my, batata, I knew you were ticklish, but not that ticklish! Maybe humans are more sensitive than I thought~”

Luz blushed a bright red once again as she gripped onto Amity’s wrists.

“Well I didn’t know I was that bad there either! I- EEK! HEHEHEY!”

Amity squeezed Luz’s knees again. She had an insufferable smirk on her face as she began to tickle all over Luz’s legs.

“Ehehe, less talking, more laughing. I haven’t seen you truly laugh in Titan knows how long, so there is no way I’m passing this opportunity up.

Luz blushed as she laughed. She didn’t realize it till now, but Amity was right; it was rare for her to laugh these days. Maybe this would be good for her.

Amity then switched to kneading into Luz’s hips, and Luz couldn’t help but grab onto her and hug her tightly to ground herself. The tingly feeling from it shot all the way down her legs, causing her to squirm uncontrollably as she laughed her head off.

“WAHAIT AHAHAMIHITY! WAHAHAHA IHIT’S SOHOHO BAHAHAD!”

Amity blushed as Luz held onto her and basked in her laughter. She was happy this seemed to be working, but she did think it was a bit strange that Luz seemed so much more sensitive in certain spots than she was before.

“Hey Luz, earlier I was kind of just joking, but were you actually always this ticklish here? You seem way more sensitive than you used to be when I’ve tickled you before.”

Amity stopped tickling Luz so she could answer and wrapped her arms around her, rubbing a hand up and down her back.

It took a while for Luz to properly comprehend the question, as she was out of breath, but once she did she realized she had no clue why this was the case.

“I…. I don’t know, honestly. It certainly seems like my hips are more sensitive than before, and my knees too. I couldn’t imagine why though.”

Both of them sat there and pondered over the question for a moment. If something happened to those areas they may need to be checked out.

After all, Amity refused to let anything happen to her light again.

Luz recalled everything that happened to her between the last time she was tickled and now.

The last time was a few days before they left the human realm, when Gus and Hunter jumped her thinking she ate the last cookie, when it was actually Vee disguised as Luz. This meant it had to have happened after then.

“Hey Amity?”

Amity snapped out of her thoughts and met her batata’s gaze.

“Yes carino?”

“I think I might have found a correlation between the spots, but I am going to need you to test something for me for more evidence.”

Amity tilted her head, confusion evident on her face.

“What do you need me to do batata?”

Luz blushed a deep red, embarrassed due to what she was about to ask.

“C-Can you tickle my ribs?”

Amity squealed internally; her batata was just too cute.

“Of course. It would be my pleasure~”

Before Luz could even react, Amity quickly spidered her fingers up and down her ribs. Luz immediately broke into hysterics once more.

“OHOHOK THAHAT’S GOHOHOOD! STOHOHOP!”

Amity immediately stopped and rubbed the ghost tickles away, her smirk already fully developed.

“Aw, had enough already?”

Luz blushed again and responded once she could breathe normally.

“Now to compare, ……I’m going to need you to tickle me everywhere besides my ribs, hips, and legs. Is that ok?”

Amity was surprised at that.

“Ok, if that’s what you want…”

Amity happily spent the next few minutes tickling Luz everywhere she could reach. She ran her fingers up and down her sides, scribbled over her belly, scritched under her arms, scratched at her neck, glided her nails over her back, caressed her ears, and even gently tickled her on top of her head.

Throughout the attack, Luz reacted the way she always had to the tickles; at least until Amity reached her scalp.

Now Luz had nothing to compare this to, since it was her first time being tickled there, but she was pretty sure it was not supposed to tickle quite that badly. Especially when Amity tickled on both sides of her head, right where her horns were during the titan transformation….

Yeah, Luz was pretty sure her theory was correct.

“OHOHOK OHOHOK AHAHAMIHIHI! YOUHOHO CAHAHAN STOHOHOP NOHOHOW!”

Amity pulled her hands away and smiled at the giggly mess beneath her.

“Ok giggles, I’ll stop. Did that help at all?”

“Ha.. ha.. yeah. It helped more than I thought it would actually.”

Amity smiled at that, happy to help her batata any way she could.

“That’s great! So, what do you think happened?”

“I think I somehow became more sensitive in the bony areas that are more prominent during my titan transformation, like my knees and ribs.”

“Wow, really? You would think that the titan transformation would make you more resistant, not more sensitive.”

“I know right? I guess I should talk to Eda about it later so we can make sure it’s nothing bad. …I don’t really feel like leaving right now though.”

Luz’s childish behavior caused Amity to break down into giggles, and before long they were both laughing together. Once they calmed down, Amity gingerly dragged a finger up and down Luz’s ribs.

“I’m absolutely going to take advantage of this for as long as possible. You better be prepared to laugh more often, batata!”

Luz started giggling again, even though the touch was incredibly light and over her clothes.

“Ahaha ohohok! Juhust behehe gehentle, ahahalrihight?”

“Of course~ At least for most of the time. Right now though…”

Amity rolled up Luz’s shirt to expose her ribs as Luz giggled nervously.

“I feel like having some ribs. That would make for a good afternoon snack, don’t you think?”

Luz’s hysterics could be heard throughout the whole house, and possibly all of Bonesburough, as Amity nibbled all over her ribs. No one was bothered by this however, since it was a sign that their Luz was alive, well, and finally happy again.

#owl house tickles #ler amity #lee luz

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