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halorocks1214 · 1 year ago

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okay so i just steamrolled thru detective pikachu returns over the past 2 days because i was sick and had nothing else better to do and right after finishing it i went into the tags and WOWIE the negative reception is very large!! i do understand and even agree with some of it but i just felt the need to get my own thoughts down (again. sick with nothing better to do) so take a peek under readmore for very typical elongated halo ramblings about his fave video game series

for the record i never played the first game (only watched a few clips of it on youtube even) but i did go see the movie in theaters. just figured i'd mention this ahead of time so my favoritism is known and to prevent myself from coming off as a perfectly unbiased reviewer

BEWARE THE SPOILERS BTW

(post-editing note: it be long under here, you have been warned)

to start off YEAG this game is not worth 50 bucks! the story's pacing is all over the place and is very basic, the graphics are not particularly well refined, the characters' expressions do not fluctuate as much as they should (professor gordon in particular ;-; i felt so bad for him), and the voice acting outside of merloch and detective pikachu himself are kinda phoned in! it felt like an early 2000s 4kids dub for real. even the gameplay aspects themselves were rather meh in presentation; the button hitboxes were annoying to deal with and as cool as i thought the "main" mechanics were they were incredibly clunky and the tension they tried to build up in the "solving the case" climaxes was just Not It. there was absolutely no reason for the loading/pauses to take that long

(the pokemon gimmicks were okay tho. i would die for growlithe)

however, this isn't a problem specific to this game. while i enjoyed scarlet it was definitely not 60 bucks material (and when i went back to it for the teal mask i even went "good lord, did it always run this badly?"). i gotta give credit to detective pikachu, at least this game ran properly for the most part and never crashed on me lmao

while that doesn't negate the criticisms i previously mentioned i simply wanted to say that this is going to be a problem for as long as pokemon keeps making money. this isn't me finger-wagging at anyone in particular (i certainly have no room to talk, i did say i liked scarlet), i just wanted to say: yeah, pokemon has been A Mess

"but halo!" you cry. "you talked like the negative reception was overblown! what gives the giant negative paragraph??"

because much like scarlet, i still really enjoyed this game sdfjnsdk. how can i say that with confidence, though, when i largely agree that there were many, many issues to be had with its performance?

the word of the day: expectations

and perhaps this is where my bias comes into it. whenever i play a spinoff game (like snap or pokepark for instance), i don't really go into it for mindblowing gameplay and stories, i do it for the same reason this series has kept me enraptured for over a decade of my life:

the pokemon themselves!!

there are SO MANY little things that the regular games don't go into, and while i have my own headcanons and OCs i can play off of, it is so much fun to see actual canon material acknowledge certain things you've only ever theorized about!!

the whimsicott were so fun to watch float around, the article asking where a furret's tail began and ended made me laugh out loud, the fact that they went hard into the "slowpoke tails are eaten as food" thing, and the "let's not get into that right now" jokes about venonat hunting other pokemon and dusknoir eating souls LIKE. i LOVE when pokemon goes into its more "serious" aspects. i know main series games do it too occasionally but outside of offhanded mentions or pokedex entries, do they go this hard into them? if they do and i'm just stupid pls tell me about it i'll eat that shit up

being reminded of less-talked-about pokemon is always a plus and how can you not pop off when you see one of your faves included in the story? (INTELEON AND WOOPER I'LL KICK THEIR ASSES 4 U) it's simply fun immersing yourself into the world of pokemon and getting a glimpse of what it would be like to have pokemon walking down the street and how that affects everyday life! maybe the story is basic, but it served its purpose and i had fun going along with it!

perhaps it's just my mental illness talking, but walking around and seeing all the pokemon and THEN doing the quiz girl's quizzes was actually kinda nice! even if the puzzles weren't that hard, i can't lie and say i didn't pump my fist when i guessed where the mystery was going like with cramorant swallowing the jewel or how the passimian statues needed to hold different berries. overall, i just enjoyed being reminded of how much i know and what i love about this series

also, the ways they incorporated the movie were pretty baller. i liked how they didn't just do a repeat of the mewtwo plot from the movie and let me tell you, even tho i called it early on, i liked that my suspicions about the aurora drop being deoxys were confirmed!! (i suppose it's not that hard to guess bcs what other pokemon comes from space, but i just recently finished playing omega ruby again and i normally don't think about deoxys a lot so LET ME HAVE THIS)

plus "i heard they made a movie about the R case" MADE ME SCREAM. i thought they were just going to ignore the movie and do their own thing but then they DID THAT. incredible. you can call my expectations low (which is valid) but holy fuck

so the TLDR for those who want this: if you want a sweet but cliche game exploring the world of pokemon with a lot of funny moments + worldbuilding, then this game is perfect for you. if you want a game with a groundbreaking story with graphics to boot, then yeah, you're not gonna find it here. i've even seen people say their own nostalgia of the original spinoff wasn't enough to get them to enjoy this game, so take my words with a grain of salt

i would say just watch compilations of the game on youtube, but not every youtuber is gonna go fully exploring the game for all of its little details, so if you care about that kind of stuff, buying the game is your best bet. also if you don't care about that kind of stuff then you should just ignore the game altogether etc etc anYwAY

as for a TLDR for the TLDR: new pokemon snap is goated and i would say a more enjoyable experience than this game esp if you didn't like it so PLEASE buy it the game's only 30 bucks and you can throw treats at pokemon PLEASE it has so many sidequests and interactions you can partake in PLEASE i prommy i won't bite PLEASE stick your fingers in my enclosure PLEASE PLEASE PLE

#pokemon #detective pikachu #detective pikachu returns #video game review #my post

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3d10fire-damage · 1 year ago

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Colors That Run Highlights 54

unda da sea

Along the way through the Water District, Calypso engaged in some Yoda-esque hunting for frogs to feed Flux. It went rather well, because after all, frogs are just slimy weird dogs. She offered frogs to Flux until she refused to eat them anymore, and it was concluded that Calypso was an invasive species to the swamp ecosystem.

Due(??) to an offhand joke that Valor laid the purple dragon egg, Fea popped a squat and tried to lay an egg herself. When Calypso asked her why she was squatting, Valor suggested she was actually trying to poop. Cue the DM’s bafflement and woe:

When the party approached the lake housing Pory, they were approached by a water genasi guy who offered to place an enchantment that would allow them to breathe underwater-- air bubble around the head style. Everyone that needed it paid for two weeks of air, and those poor souls with pets paid for their air as well (sucks to be Valor right now). Kattie would be fully blind underwater, so she and Jericho attached themselves to Avi with some rope.

Avi’s Water Walk spell was discussed as a possible rapid escape route, as it has the effect of rocketing the target(s) to the surface of the water if they’re already submerged. Emergency ejector button.

The group descended to Pory on the sea floor. Avi broke off from the group, with those subject to his whims, to find a shark and pet it. Calypso got a closer look at the funky oceanic plant life, tasting some seaweed, much to Valor’s distaste (it just tasted like salt. Fea, meanwhile, marveled at all the lifelight down in the water and how smoothly it all moves.

After taking in the sights for a bit, the group proceeded to look for their contact Luna referred them to, a woman named Roca. They sought her out at her music (opera) house, the Sailor’s Siren. Once led back outside by the receptionist, the party laid eyes upon Roca-- a giant mermaid with half the body of a whale. Roca put a pause on the singing lesson she was giving to greet the party. She spoke to them in a smooth baritone, and the party was rather... taken with her.

Roca provided some information about Pory-- how its authorities are essentially private guards hired by the nobility, referred to as tycoonheads. Roca also referred the party to Teagan, the owner of a tavern across the way, for help re: infiltrating a brothel. The less horny half of the group engaged in some useful conversation, thankfully, because throughout Roca’s spiel Calypso was full-on ogling Roca’s tits. But at least she was being subtle about it--

--NOT!

There was a bit more banter and fluster before the group then left to find Teagan. Avi admonished Calypso for being a useless lesbian, and Calypso had assumed he’d be more understanding about it, considering he’s apparently dating someone large enough to eat planets or whatever. Fea argued simply that one does not get an opportunity such as this one very often.

Once in the tavern, the group observed a very drunk customer having a one-sided conversation with Teagan... a customer with a familiar cadence. It was... Corrin! Finally! He greeted the group excitedly, ordering a round of drinks for everyone.

Kattie explained to Avi and Jericho who Corrin was while everyone else caught up. Apparently Corrin had been bopping around Pory’s casinos for a while, and was currently separated from Astrid, who would be in the Fire District right now, so they could cover more ground. At the mention of the Breakfast Club’s mission, Corrin said that he had seen people wearing magic collars of some sort in multiple establishments in Pory, including the fight club in the chasm and the brothel called the Oasis. Corrin also apparently had just never encountered anyone with the Rising Tide despite his efforts.

Teagan brought out the specialty drink for his tavern-- a miniature pirate ship that is to be cracked apart to release the shot of liquor within. Hey, when you’re underwater, the drinks have to be creative.

Soon the group went up to Corrin’s room, and the conversation continued. When Corrin learned of Roca he immediately planned to go to her and shoot his shot. The conversation eventually landed on how Corrin’s quest of self-discovery had been going, since that had been his original intention when he left (along with helping Astrid). He explained that he felt a bit more grounded after helping people he encountered here in Harmonce, and that perhaps that sort of thing was his purpose. Avi detached from Kattie and Jericho to vibe at the bar, passing the rope to Fea. He soon had company, however.

(and then they had a talk about it 😔)

The next morning, the party gathered downstairs for breakfast as usual. Avi was surly due to the lack of access to the stars down in Pory, and Calypso was surly for other reasons. Fea sat with her, as she does, and soon the party hit up Teagan for the Lore-- rather, Calypso asked how they could get into the business of being sexy for money. Teagan explained that the Oasis was owned by a woman named Shouscylla, who he does not like. Teagan’s suggestion was for the party to work for him, so that Shouscylla would come to poach them for her own business. If they did work for her, she would almost certainly equip them with the obedience collars or cuffs. Teagan also mentioned that many of the tycoonheads have spies called cuttlekin that have been turning people in for being suspicious.

With this information, the group decided to scope out the Oasis before committing to working there. But they’d have to wait till later in the day for that, so they set about on various errands or distractions until then. Valor offered some of her beauty goo to Avi, as the spell component for True Seeing (to give to Kattie so she could try to Dispel Magic on the cuffs in the Oasis), even though he didn’t need a handout now that he had gold to spend.

Fea and Calypso, naturally, headed over to see Roka perform at the Sailor’s Siren. They even did the thing where they argue over who pays for the tickets. Corrin was also there, closer to the front, but later he would be turned down by Roca. Alas. Avi and Jericho went on an Ocean Animal Adventure, and Valor and Kattie had a girls’ day out.

That night, the group made their way to the Oasis. Upon entering the establishment, the majority of the group fell prey to some sort of spell effect, lowering their inhibitions and enticing them directly toward the gorgeous performers. Avi and (surprisingly) Calypso saved from the effect and remained focused. But the further they moved into the building, the effect grew stronger, and this time only Avi and Jericho were safe. Fea beelined for a stripper and knelt (praying at the altar of ass) to watch her, Calypso following.

Avi, using Detect Magic, noted that about 20 Oasis workers (all of them in the room), as well as all the people downstairs, were wearing the cuffs. The Oasis’s entrances were enchanted to do magic upon all who enter. During his investigating, Shouscylla approached him and Jericho to try and lure them closer to the dancers. She radiated bad vibes. Avi also ordered a drink but made sure to use Purify Food and Drink on it before drinking.

Valor had a seat and was approached by a jellyfish lady who introduced herself as Cora (Teagan had mentioned her). After Cora jolted Valor out of her stupor, the two engaged in conversation, going through the motions of having a more charged encounter. Cora said that the cuffs could be disabled with a little jolt of her electricity, and would be interested in aiding the party in doing their rebellion. Valor suggested she tell others about the party’s presence and their intent to help.

Calypso threw some gold to the stripper she and Fea were watching, and the woman (who sounded like Lina Lamont) bent down to Fea and seductively touched her mask. This broke the spell on Fea (she does not want anyone to touch her mask, with one exception) and prompted her to walk away from the stage.

Soon enough Avi herded the rest of the party toward the exit, and they all discussed what they had learned, if anything. With the information Valor got from Cora, the party began to formulate some possible plans to go from there.

it was... a stupid and sexy episode

#colors that run #dnd

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darthfrodophantom · 3 years ago

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Ectoberhaunt Day 5: Ouija Board

Summary: To get into the spooky season spirit, Tucker and Sam convince Danny to play a video game late at night, and Danny isn’t pleased about the subject of the video game.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34303123

Too Close to Home

“Let me get this straight,” Danny interrupted. “I fight ghosts - real ghosts - on a nightly basis. And now that I actually have a free night you want to take up the time that I should be sleeping to fight fake ghosts?”

He shook his head as he looked at his computer screen, the only light in his entire bedroom aside from the digital clock that showed the hour: 11:45. From the first-person view of the computer game on his screen, he watched the avatars of both of his friends attempt to throw basketballs into a hoop.

“But this is way more fun,” Tucker’s voice said over Danny’s headset. “And it hurts a lot less! Ah! Dang it Sam - you messed up my throw!”

Sam cackled triumphantly. “Better pay more attention to your timing then.”

Tucker groaned as his avatar abandoned the basketball for spray paint cans, which he chucked at Sam. “Besides Danny, we’re not fighting ghosts: we’re hunting them.”

“Fine, fight, hunt, whatever. I still do both of them,” Danny argued.

“Not like this you don’t,” Tucker grinned. “God he’s gonna get creamed.”

“You know Danny, maybe we should let you go to bed. You’re gonna ruin my perfect streak,” Sam teased.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Or maybe you’ll actually do better because you have a true ghost hunting professional on the team,” he defended. He had no idea why he was bragging - he’d just been given an out and given the late hour he should take it, but now it felt like he needed to defend his pride as a ghost hunter. …That thought sounded a little too similar to something his parents would say and he quickly dismissed it. “Besides, I played the tutorial, I know what I’m doing. I’m just trying to figure out why we’re doing this.”

“Because it’s spooky season,” Tucker replied with a hint of sarcasm.

“We are only five days into October, Tucker, and if you’re gonna keep doing this all month I am going to hit you with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick,” Sam threatened.

“I dunno, it might be worth it,” Tucker teased. “What do you think Danny?”

Danny shook his head, even though none of them could see it. “As the only person in this group who has actually been hit by the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick, I would back off,” he advised.

“Listen to Danny Tucker,” Sam chuckled as her avatar walked over to the white board to set up the hunt. “He’s actually speaking wisdom for once. Now come over here and pick out your gear.”

The playful teasing between best friends stopped as they actually got serious and picked out the gear they would need for their mission. Since Danny had no money, he couldn’t really participate in the conversation, but it seemed like Tucker and Sam had played this enough to know what they needed to bring. Sam started the mission, and their avatars found themselves inside the trailer looking at another whiteboard.

“Alright, looks like our ghost is named Thomas Clark and he responds to all of us,” Sam informed the group while Tucker’s avatar walked over to the shelves to equip supplies.

“Well that’s a dumb name for a ghost,” Danny complained as he looked at the bulletin board next to the computer. He had to squint at his screen to read them, but the articles were fairly legible and contained ghost stories he remembered hearing his parents talk about. It also had a recent article that he actually remembered running in USA Today proclaiming Amity Park as the most haunted city in the world - he didn’t know whether to feel proud or annoyed.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sam agreed, though her voice was laced with sarcasm. “He should have gone with Thomas Phantom instead.”

Danny rolled his eyes as Tucker burst out laughing. “Oh yeah, now that sounds like a proper ghost,” Tucker added between laughs.

“I knew I was going to hate this,” Danny groaned under his breath. “Can we just get this over with?”

Sam’s avatar turned to face the new whiteboard. “Alright, fine. Objective one: find out what kind of ghost we’re dealing with - standard. Objective two: witness a ghost event.”

“I am a ghost event,” Danny smirked, causing Tucker to burst out laughing again.

“Objective three,” Sam snapped, “capture a photo of the ghost.”

Tucker’s avatar grabbed a camera and snapped a picture of Danny’s avatar. “Got one!” he proclaimed, which drove both boys into laughter.

“Objective four,” Sam said louder, “get a ghost to walk through salt.”

“What? That’s dumb. Everyone knows that’s an old wive’s tale,” Danny complained as he shook his head. Did the creators of this game actually do any real research before they made this game?

“Are you regretting this yet Sam?” Tucker asked as he finally stopped laughing.

“Let’s just get in the house,” she groaned. Danny smirked in triumph, and he could tell Tucker was sharing a similar smirk on his end.

They divided up equipment between the three of them, but not before Danny could comment on the inaccuracies of each of the pieces of equipment and how useless they’d be in an actual ghost fight. From faulty science to just being plain incorrect, Danny made sure to have pithy comments about all the equipment. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that it had to be accurate - he was not his parents - but as a ghost and a ghost hunter, it just felt a little more personal than he wanted to admit.

Because he was the newest one, Danny got stuck with the Spirit Book (“What? Are they trying to imply all ghosts can’t write? That’s alivist!”) and the EMF Reader (“...Okay that one’s actually accurate”) because they were apparently the easiest to use. Laden down with their gear they walked up to the small house. Sam’s avatar unlocked the door and they headed inside. Danny noticed the tonal shift immediately. Outside he could hear wind and crickets chirping, but once he stepped inside the doorway, an oppressive silence covered his headphones. It reminded him of the sensation on a pressurised airplane and it unnerved and unsettled him...a lot more than he planned to admit to his friends.

“Alright, spread out,” Sam instructed. “See if you can find the ghost room.”

Ghost room, right. He remembered that from the tutorial. It had been the garage in the tutorial, so he figured he should start there. He walked back through the dark house, turning lights on as he went. It wasn’t because he was scared - absolutely not, he was a real ghost hunter! - it was just much easier to see. He pulled out the EMF reader and walked into the garage. It had an eerie quality to it, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he remembered seeing the ghost there last time (a mean looking (and inaccurate) ghost covered in blood and holding an axe) or if it was because he was alone and the room was so large, but he did not like being in here.

“You know, in the tutorial, the ghost was a bloody axe-man,” Danny remarked over the walkie talkie.

“Yeah, I think he’s standard in the tutorial,” Sam remarked offhand. He did not want to admit how good it felt to hear her voice in the oppressive silence of the house. They were clearly focused on their tasks, and that was a good thing, but it felt a lot better hearing their voices.

“Red blood,” he continued, simply to trigger more conversation. He didn’t get any EMF readings, so he gratefully left the garage. “Not ectoplasm. It’s like they didn’t even try.”

“Ugh, Danny, they’re going for a horror aesthetic, not something real,” Sam sighed.

“What? Ectoplasm-stains are horrifying,” he countered as he walked through the rest of the first story. Still no EMF readings.

“Only when it’s yours,” Sam said, and the weight of those words echoed in the silence of the house that made him stop moving for a moment. “No cold spots upstairs,” Sam informed them to break the silence.

“Yeah, no EMF downstairs,” Danny added. “I’m gonna check out the basement.” That’s where they loved to hang out in the real world, so it seemed the next best choice.

“Oh hang on, if you’re going down there I’ll go with you,” Tucker spoke up.

Danny stopped halfway down the stairs. “It’s fine, I’m pretty used to basements,” he joked weaky.

“Yeah, well the last time you went into a basement alone with untested ghost equipment you died.” Tucker said it light-heartedly as a joke, and it was one they’d said a bunch of times before, but somehow it just didn’t feel the same in this tense environment. It felt too...personal.

He waited for Tucker’s avatar to appear before they walked down the stairs together into the basement. Unlike Sam’s basement or his own, this basement had a much creepier feel to it, with the foreboding worn brick walls and discolored cement flooring. Honestly he was glad Tucker went down there with him because it just felt better having another person there.

“Sam, maybe you should get down here with the thermometer,” Tucker mentioned as they both walked through the basement. “Because we’re not--”

Danny whirled around as he heard something thud hard against the ground behind him while he jumped in his chair. The EMF reader in his hand jumped up to three dots and blared at them while he stared at a box of tools now on the ground. The ghost was clearly in the room. Danny half-expected his ghost sense to go off, but he had to remind himself it was just a video game. There wasn’t actually a ghost here.

“What happened?” Sam’s urgent voice said over the walkies.

“Ghost knocked something off the shelf down here,” Tucker said as his avatar walked over to the toolbox. “Ooh! We’ve got fingerprints!” he cheered as his avatar shined a light on a glowing handprint.

“Oh that’s so not how that works,” Danny complained, just to help lighten the mood. Honestly he felt a bit jumpy knowing that the ghost was in the room...and he couldn’t sense him. He’d dealt with invisible ghosts before, but his ghost sense always gave him a vague idea of where they were...except for now. He turned in his chair to check the room behind him. No ghosts, no ghost sense. It’s just in the computer game.

“Figures that the ghost would be in the basement,” Sam remarked as her avatar walked down the stairs and opened her journal. Right! Journal. Danny opened his and placed their one piece of evidence inside. The sooner they got all of those the sooner they could leave, and he really liked that idea.

“I’m not seeing freezing temperatures, but it is a little cooler than the rest of the house,” she continued. “So let’s start setting stuff up in here. Tucker get the DOTS up and I’ll place the camera. Danny place the spirit book.”

Okay, this wasn’t so bad with the three of them in the room. He could hear them moving around and he could see them, so it made him feel a bit better. And there was still no sign of the ghost. He put the spirit book down near the toolbox and looked away from it. Maybe the ghost wouldn’t write in it while he was watching? He didn’t know.

“Ooh!” Tucker cried excitedly.

“Did you see it in the DOTS?” Sam asked.

“No - Ouija board! Oh yeah!” Tucker cheered. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Oh I love these,” Sam agreed. Danny’s brow furrowed as he looked at the screen. Why were they acting so happy - didn’t they forget there was a ghost in this room with them?

“Hang on, let Danny try the Ouija board,” Tucker suggested. “You know, because he’s never seen it before.”

“Ooh good idea,” Sam agreed. Danny walked over to where they were and saw Sam’s avatar set down a light brown board.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sus about your motives right now,” Danny said. He had a bad feeling about this...

“No Danny, it’s fine. These are actually pretty cool in this game,” Sam assured him. She quickly explained how the Ouija boards worked in the game and what questions to ask, and against his better judgment, he walked over and activated the board. The numbers and letters glowed orange against the light color of the wood.

He decided to start with something easy, so he swallowed and forced his voice to come out clear. “How old are you?” He jumped in his chair and his avatar backed up quickly as the planchette moved across the letters.

“Y - O - U - N - G,” Tucker read. “A young ghost.”

“Oh God, I hope that doesn’t mean it’s the crawling baby ghost,” Sam sighed. “I really hate that one.”

“Ask it something else,” Tucker encouraged.

“I don’t know,” Danny hedged. For some reason the Ouija board set him on edge. Something deep in his gut did not like this. Even if it wasn’t real and he kept telling himself it wasn’t real, he didn’t like it.

“No dude, it’s okay,” he assured him. “You can ask two questions before a significant sanity drop. Just ask it one more and you can go back to the truck.”

He very much wanted to go back to the truck. He just needed a chance to regroup. He was a ghost and fought ghosts for a living and he could not understand why this game unnerved him so much. But Danny Phantom wasn’t scared of ghosts, any kind of ghosts, and he wasn’t about to show it on a video game. “Fine,” he groaned as he picked up the board again. “Who died?”

This time he knew what to expect, and didn’t jump as much as the planchette started moving. First to the D, then to the A. Over to the N, then looping back to the N. It ended on a Y.

All three of them stopped moving. The silence became even more deafening around them. Danny dropped the Ouija board and backed up as far as the game would let him. He felt a cold sweat drip down his back. Danny. It spelled Danny. How did it know his name?

“...That has got to be a coincidence,” Sam finally said after the silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

“The ghost’s name must be Danny,” Tucker suggested, voice full of forced bravado.

“...No it’s Thomas,” Sam said slowly. “It must just be reading your username to scare you,” she decided.

“No my...my username is GhostBoy,” Danny reminded them, finally feeling like he could speak.

“Is this game actually haunted? Danny, what did you do?” Tucker accused, voice bordering on hysterics.

“What? I didn’t do anything!” Danny yelled back. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He put a hand up to feel his breath - still normal temperature. He looked around his room. There wasn’t a ghost here. But how did it know his name? And that he did almost die in a basement? “You’re the one that told me to use it!”

“Okay, let’s just calm down,” Sam interrupted. “It’s gotta be a coincidence. Let me try it and see if it says the same thing or gives me my name. It could be a new update that checks the name on the Steam account or something.”

Sam moved closer to the board, but before she could touch it all their flashlights flickered.

“Shit!” Tucker yelled.

“Run!” Sam cried in a panic.

Danny followed them up the stairs to the main level. The idea of running from a ghost, not fighting it, was so foreign to him, but he had no choice. He was powerless here. No ghost powers, no weapons, no thermos. He was completely helpless against this ghost.

He bolted for the garage, the one other room he knew how to get to. Sam’s avatar was running next to him. He could hear footsteps behind him and he swore as he ran towards the garage. Sam diverted into another room, but he continued into the garage. He found a locker he’d opened before and rushed into it. He barely remembered to turn off his flashlight and he waited. Seconds passed and he realized he was holding his breath. No...not holding his breath. Not breathing. He looked down at his hands and saw the glowing white gloves. When...when did he change into his ghost form?

Sam’s voice over the walkie startled him. “What the--? Oh my G--” The walkie feed cut to static and then nothing.

“I...I think it got Sam,” Tucker’s voice said over the walkie. Danny turned on his flashlight and saw that it was no longer blinking. He threw his head back in relief. The hunt was over. He climbed back out of his locker, keeping the door open again just in case.

“Dude, she was running right next to me. It must have followed her instead of me,” Danny told him. “Ugh, well what are we going to do now? She’s the only one who knew what she was doing!”

“Wait, I thought you would be a pro because you’re a ‘professional ghost hunter’ - isn’t that what you kept saying?” Tucker teased.

“Yeah, well I lied! This is nothing like ghost hunting!” he argued as he walked out of the garage. He was going back to the trailer. “Real ghost hunters would bring some kind of weapon and wouldn’t just run around helpless! We should just call it.”

“What? No! We’ve got two more pieces of evidence to collect. And we haven’t done any of the objectives! Tucker retorted.

“Fine!” he snapped as he walked down the main hallway. “if you want to keep looking for clues you can, but I’m going back to the trailer to check--”

The front door slammed shut. His flashlight blinked again.

“Shit!” Tucker cried.

Danny could hear the footsteps behind him. He could feel a heart thumping in his headset. He started running off to a room but stopped. No, he was not running again. He was going to stare this ghost down and prove that Danny Phantom was not scared of some ghost. His image struck fear in the hearts of ghosts and his name carried respect in the Ghost Zone. He was not going to let some video game ghost get the better of him and spook him with some Ouija board trick.

He turned around to face it, camera at the ready. If he was going down, he was getting a picture of it. The ghost blinked in the hallway and Danny saw the cause of his anxiety for the first time. The ghost floated down the hallway, with white hair and a black and white jumpsuit. It...it was him. The ghost was Phantom.

He completely forgot to take a picture as his own image rushed at him. He saw two gloved hands cover over the screen and then everything went dark. He heard the crash of breaking glass, saw a strange underground cavern for a second, and then he was back in a foggy blue version of the house.

The ghost of Sam’s avatar approached him, and he heard her laughing over the headset. It sounded like she’d been laughing for awhile. “Oh my god Danny, did you see the ghost?” she asked between laughs.

“It...that was...oh my God,” he groaned. It all made sense. Spelling Danny was likely an Easter egg, a cute nod to his name of Danny Phantom. The fact that it happened in the basement was just a coincidence, because it’s a creepy spot and a commonly haunted area. He hadn’t summoned anything. He wasn’t being targeted by some ghost in the computer. It was just an Easter egg paying homage to him.

Suddenly all the stress left him and he laughed. God, it felt so good to laugh after all that panic. This game had gotten him so worked up and over what? Over a ghost that looked like himself? Suddenly it all seemed so silly that it scared him that much. He had felt actual dread and fear, enough to trigger an unconscious transformation out of a need to protect himself, but there weren’t actually any real consequences. Now he just got to walk around unhindered in this ghostly version of the house, but nothing else actually happened.

Sam laughed along with Danny. “So you did see it then?”

“It was...oh my god Sam it was me! It looked just like me!”

“I know!” she exclaimed. “As soon as I saw it I forgot to keep running and stared. So of course it killed me. I did get a picture though,” she bragged.

“Oh man. I meant to, but I was just too stunned.” Now that he felt much better, he decided to wander around the house following Tucker who, for some reason, was still trying to finish the level on his own.

Sam suspiciously stopped her laughing. “Wait...Danny, your voice sounds weird. Are you...are you in your ghost form?”

Danny bit his lip as a slight blush graced his cheeks. “I don’t want to hear it.” But the telltale whoosh of the glowing rings turning him back to his human form seemed to be all the confirmation she needed. Except, he didn’t hear her laugh.

“...Danny, I wanted to apologize,” she said, and that made Danny stop moving and look quizzically at the screen.

“What? Apologize for what?” he asked.

“For goading you into playing this game,” she clarified, her voice surprisingly serious. “While I’ve been hanging out here in the spirit world, I realized why this game set you off so much.”

“What do you mean? I never said it set me off,” Danny defended. How could she possibly know that? He thought he was playing it pretty cool.

“Oh please,” she scoffed. “You’re in your ghost form and you were panicking after the Ouija board thing.”

“Hey you would panic too if--”

“Danny I’m trying to say that I get it,” she interrupted. “Being near a ghost without your powers? Without any weapons? Being powerless? It’s one of your biggest nightmares, that your powers will fail when you need them. And this game, it’s too close to home.”

Danny stopped moving and stared at the screen, because she was absolutely right. This was too close to home. How many times did he have to check to make sure his ghost sense wasn’t actually going off? How many times did he keep thinking about how similar everything felt to his own experiences? How unnerved he was about a ghost in the basement? It was too similar to his real life...except he had the tools he needed in his real life. Not a flashlight and some dumb spirit book, but actual real tools and powers and weapons, but here they were all taken away from him. Everything he relied on to fight ghosts had been stripped from him in the game and trapped him helpless in a house with his friends. Of course that bothered him. It was, as Sam said, one of his more recurring nightmares.

“...Yeah I think I’m good never playing this game again,” Danny admitted, the closest he planned to get to acknowledging everything she said was true.

“Honestly? I don’t blame you,” Sam agreed softly. “I think it’s easier for us because we’re used to this role: when there’s a ghost in the area, we help figure out what’s going on and support you. It’s not all that different from this game,” she explained. Her ghostly avatar followed Tucker out of the house and he followed after them. “But when you’re used to doing the fighting and defending and can’t...I guess it’s probably harder to separate yourself from the game.”

He reached behind him and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. It was too similar to his daily life, and as he tried to argue at the beginning, he didn’t need to hunt fake ghosts poorly when he knew how to fight real ghosts well. “You know you sound like Jazz,” he pointed out, trying to lighten the mood and change the subject.

“Wow, you’re going to insult me after I tried to help you?” Sam scoffed. “See if I ever help you again!”

Danny smiled at the screen, glad to be back to the teasing. He definitely felt more relaxed and more like himself. “Oh look, Tucker’s finally calling it quits,” Danny observed as Tucker closed the door to the trailer.

“God, I can’t wait to find out if he saw you.” He could hear her grinning through the headset and honestly he felt the same. Out of all of them, Tucker would be the most excited about this addition.

The screen changed over to the menu screen, showing all their accomplished objectives. It also meant that all three party members could talk to each other again. “I can’t believe you left me!” Tucker complained. “It’s even worse when you’re in there on your own! Do you know how much more evidence we needed to collect? Um, a ton!”

Sam laughed, and Danny had to join in. “Okay so we are sorry about that, but Tucker did you ever see the ghost?”

“No, which is probably why I’m the only one that survived!” he complained.

“Oh my god Sam, he didn’t see it,” Danny groaned.

“Oh my god.”

“No wait, didn’t see what?” Tucker asked. His voice had calmed down a bit and was colored with curiosity.

“Tucker...the ghost was Danny,” Sam told him.

“Uh no, we clarified his name was Thomas,” Tucker corrected.

Sam and Danny both groaned. “No Tucker, the ghost was Danny Phantom. It was skinned to look like Phantom,” she clarified.

Tucker’s line sat silent for a long time before he finally exploded in a shower of shock, excitement, and regret. “NO WAY! No! That is so cool! I mean I knew the developers were fans, but this is so cool! Like literally the best tribute ever. Oh my god I can’t believe I missed it! No!” he cried. He was so loud into the microphone that Danny had a hard time believing Tucker didn’t wake his parents.

“It’s why both of us died,” Danny explained. “We were just too shocked seeing it.”

“We’re going back in. I need to see this,” Tucker demanded.

Danny bit his lip. He was not going back in. He meant it when he said he was done. He almost had his explanation on his lips before Sam spoke up first. “I doubt it’ll show up two times in a row. I Googled it and the skin will be here for the whole month of Halloween as a random draw, so you’ve got time to see it. But if you want to try again tonight, I’ll keep playing if you want. Danny...he needs to get some sleep.”

“What? No, it's so much easier with three people. Come on Danny,” Tucker pleaded.

“Nah, Sam’s right, I should go to bed. Gotta be rested for those real ghosts tomorrow,” Danny chuckled. “Besides, being killed by my own image was a little weird.” And also a little too close to home, considering some of his memories of Dan.

“Yeah, this game isn’t Danny’s jam,” Sam explained simply. He had a feeling Sam would talk to Tucker more about what they discussed while their avatars were dead, and honestly he didn’t mind. He didn’t want to keep secrets from Tucker, he just really didn’t want to talk about it any more tonight.

Tucker sighed. “Alright, fine, you’re off the hook. At least you gave it a try though.”

“I did, and you’re both gonna owe me one for doing it too,” Danny reminded them.

“Dude, pretty sure you’re in the negatives when it comes to IOUs from us,” Tucker pointed out with a good-natured laugh. “Testing out inventions, excuses at school, doing your homework, remembering the thermos when you forget it, distracting your parents…”

“Okay okay, I get it,” Danny groaned as he left the screen and exited out of the game. “Well fine, then I’m less in the negative now. And on that happy subject, I’m going to bed. Good night guys.”

“Good night Danny,” Sam replied. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Danny almost hung up on their private Discord server when he heard Tucker speak up. “Hey Danny, wait.”

“What?” he asked curiously, his mouse still hovering over the disconnect sign.

“The type of ghost...was a Phantom.”

I’ve never cross-posted on tumblr before, so this will be a first! I hope you enjoy!

#ectober month 2021 #ectoberhaunt trick #ouija board #Danny Phantom #phasmophobia #light angst #2k21 prompt ouija board #2k21 day 5

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awhitehead17 · 3 years ago

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Batfam Alphabet: I - Injuries

Summary: When an offhand comment gets made about who receives the most injuries a big debate takes place to discuss this. Unable to agree on anything, the Bats decide to keep score of who gets the most injuries over the next 12 months. The results may surprise you.

Enjoy! :D

The blissful silence within his apartment is rudely interrupted by the shrill of his phone suddenly ringing inside his pocket. Jason groans. Five minutes. Why couldn’t he just get five minutes of peace? Was that so much to ask for?

Cursing every god imaginable, Jason digs through his pocket until he finds and receives the device before scowling upon seeing the caller ID. Answering the call, he brings it up to his ear and doesn’t hesitate to snap a greeting, making it clear he isn’t pleased about being disturbed. “What do you want?”

“So there’s been a situation…” a hesitant voice speaks up on the other side of the phone.

Jason reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose. That sentence alone is enough to start giving him a headache.

“How the fuck is there a situation? I left you guys not even fifteen minutes ago! I thought you were heading back to the cave?”

“Yeah, we were, but on the way back we heard gun shots and we found a gang fight happening. We intervened but while fighting Nightwing unfortunately got stabbed.”

Being told his brother has been stabbed makes Jason pause. There’s a remark on the end of his tongue that desperately wants to slip out but he doesn’t know if this is the right time for it. The tone of voice on the other side of the line makes it difficult to determine how serious the situation is.

“How bad is it?”

“Oh not that bad!” Tim chirps, Jason could now hear the amusement lacing his tone. “It’s just a stab wound on the thigh, more of a scratch than anything. Won’t need stitches or nothing. I figured I’d ring you to let you know because this now changes the board.”

Jason breathes out a long sigh and feels the tension leave his body. At least it’s not life threatening. This fucking family, he swears to God, if he hadn’t already been sent to an early grave he certainly would be now.

“So it’s enough to warrant a mark on the board?” Jason questions eagerly, already knowing what impact the answer will have. Now he knows it’s not serious he can think about other things.

“Oh yeah definitely.” Tim claims and Jason could easily hear the smile in his voice. “Even when it happened he muttered a curse and mentioned how it’s unfair because that now puts you ahead of him.”

At that Jason cackles. He bids his brother a goodbye before hanging up. Still laughing Jason moves through his apartment to his kitchen, digging through one of the draws he pulls out a large whiteboard and makes the needed changes to it.

This is something they all came up with at the start of the year from an offhand comment about who gets the most/least injuries out of their family. The comment triggered off a big debate and the result of it was to keep score of who gets the most injuries in the next 12 months.

They do not count life threatening injuries, because believe it or not they are not assholes and it wouldn’t be fair or even funny. Any minor injury can count (or at least minor for them). Any injuries done outside of the costume also count.

There are only a couple months left of the year but it’s currently pretty tight between most of them. Surprisingly Steph is winning with the least number of injuries so far. Following her, again surprisingly, is Damian. After him is Harper, Duke, Tim and then Jason. With his new injury today that puts Dick in last place, officially making Jason second to last. They hadn’t included Cass because firstly she didn’t want to be involved and secondly anytime she does get injured, which is extremely rare, it’s usually serious, so they collectively decided to not have Cass participate. Babs wasn’t interested and made it very clear on what her opinions of the competition was.

Before the new injury, Jason and Dick were in joint last place. His older brother now sustaining a new non-life-threatening injury changes the board. Jason couldn’t be happier, now he just has to make sure to not get injured at all in the next couple of months.

That in itself will be a challenge, but one not to be beaten easily Jason is up for it. He doesn’t care where he comes on the board, just as long as he beats Dick that’s all that matters.

---------

Like most of the year, the last few months fly by and before Jason knows it, it’s New Year’s Eve and he’s attending a party with all of his friends and family.

While the party is being hosted at Wayne Manor, so somewhere familiar, there’s tension in the air which can be felt no matter where you go. To most it’s probably the anticipation of midnight approaching, that excitement that comes along with the clock striking twelve and the supposedly start of something new.

To Jason, however, it’s a count down until the results are revealed.

Jason has a vague idea of what the final results are going to be, after all he kept track of everything himself. Then again, it’s vague because he’s been away on a mission for the last three weeks only having gotten back two days ago. He hasn’t yet had a chance to catch up with everything that may have happened in those weeks he had been gone. For all he knows the board may have changed significantly and he wouldn’t have a clue.

Not long before midnight, Jason soon finds himself in the library with his siblings and friends. They’re scattered around the room sitting on the sofas and the floor with the news on in the background.

Cass stands front and center with a white board in hand ready to announce the results of who has sustained the least and the greatest number of injuries in the past year. They asked Cass to announce it as she hadn’t taken part, that way it’s fair and not biased.

Looking around the room Jason could see a variety of facial expression on his siblings faces. Some wearing smirks, like they know exactly what the results are, while other’s wear an expression of anticipation, clearly unsure on where they’ve come on the board.

Cass announces the names in ascending order, starting with last place first. To Jason’s absolute delight, Dick is in last place. He’s so happy to hear that he had beaten his brother in getting less injuries than him in a year. Dick simply sends Cass a tight smile and nod, obviously knowing he had lost before anything was declared.

After Dick is Jason. If he’s being honest, Jason is actually happier about that than the principle of being second to last, he beat Dick and that’s all that mattered. He certainly made sure Dick was aware of his delight.

After Jason is Duke, followed by Steph which was a surprise considering she had been in first for a really long time. Apparently she had a bad couple of months, reckless behaviour and stupid mistakes eventually added to her total therefore dropping her down the leader board.

Taking third place is Damian. Jason looks over at where he’s sat and he finds the kid fuming, clearly unhappy with his final position. In second place is Tim, which seems to surprise almost everyone, including Tim himself. The teenager sits on the sofa looking completely baffled but thrilled at the news. That finally leaves Harper taking first place as the person to have the least number of injuries in the past year. She jumps up to her feet yelling with joy and dancing around the room excitedly.

After the scores are announced Cass gives out little awards just as something extra which makes it all the more entertaining.

The most out-of-costume injuries award goes to Tim, who instantly claims that most of his injuries are because his best friends are meta’s and because he skateboards. No one believes the excuses however they don’t call him out on it.

The most ridiculous injury goes to Dick, who then explains how he got said injury. Apparently he miscalculated a jump when chasing someone and ended up scraping his side on a metal bin. Everyone stares at him after that story, wondering how such an experienced vigilante and acrobat even does that.

The most badass injury goes to Steph. She had gotten into a fist fight in the middle of the mall after some guys started shouting out vulgar language. Not taking any of their shit Steph beat them all to a pulp but not without taking some collateral damage herself. That award felt well deserved though it could have gone to someone else.

After wrapping up their competition they all decide to stay in the library and chill. They cheer for the new year when the clock strikes twelve and all exchange “happy new year’s.” They don’t go adventuring out to the party again which inevitably leads to Bruce hunting for them, out of worry or suspicion Jason’s not sure but when his adoptive father eventually walks into the library he’s met with a loud chorus of greetings

Bruce studies the group with narrowed eyes in suspicion. He meets each of their gazes before straightening up and leveling them all a glare.

“What’s going on? I haven’t seen any of you in a few hours only to find you all gathered in here, not fighting may I add. What have you done?”

Dick’s the first to respond. Being the oldest of the group he probably feels inclined to, especially when no one else offers up an explanation. “Wow Bruce, give us a benefit of the doubt would you, we’re simply enjoying being with one another for a change. New year and all that. Who knows, this may the start of something new.”

Bruce’s disbelieving expression conveys perfectly what he thinks of that explanation.

The room falls silent as they all stare at one another. Gestures and nods are shared between them as they try to get someone else to speak up but everyone stays silent, no one saying a peep. They never told Bruce about the competition; they really don’t know how the man would take the news but they’re all certain it wouldn’t be taken well. He definitely wouldn’t see the funny side of the whole thing, even if they explain the rules to it and how they’re not actually assholes and wouldn’t include life threatening wounds to the count.

In the end it doesn’t matter because eventually Bruce puts his hands up and shakes his head. “You know what, I don’t want to know. Whatever it is just keep it to yourselves and if you make a mess, clean it up. The less I know the better.”

With no more words Bruce turns around and leaves the room. For several moments after the man’s sudden departure they each exchange baffled looks, silently questioning what just happened. It stays like that for a while until several members of the family simultaneously shrug. The action causes an eruption of laughter and all of them end up cackling until they couldn’t breathe and had tears running down their faces.

#batfam alphabet #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #dick grayson #Damian Wayne #cassandra cain #Stephanie Brown #bruce wayne #injuries #sibling relationship #batfamily #batfam #injury competition #competitive siblings #sorry for the terrible ending #this turned out to be more crack than anything else #fanfiction

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rabid-heart · 4 years ago

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Good Bones

For @sefikuraweek Day 2 - Prompt: New Beginnings

Sephiroth asks Cloud to move in with him and Cloud says yes. But once the house hunting starts and Cloud rejects every possible suggestion, Sephiroth begins to doubt if Cloud’s heart is really in this relationship.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Notes/Warnings: None really, other than one tiny brief mention of sex.

Inspired by the song "The Bones" by Maren Morris.

AU – Everybody Lives! Shina is no more, Sephiroth and Cloud have been dating for a few years, and now their biggest argument is about finding the right place to start this new chapter of their lives together.

(There is angst, because Sephiroth is just an angsty guy, but really the whole thing is just purely indulgent fluff.)

Read on Ao3 | See Previous Day

---

“No.”

Sephiroth sighs, exasperation, exhaustion, and annoyance evident from the crease in his brow. He moves his hand away from his face and points at the laptop screen, while turning to his very stubborn boyfriend. “What’s wrong with this one now?” he asks.

Cloud simply huffs, as if that sound were enough to explain everything, and then walks away to the kitchen, leaving Sephiroth once again a little more than frustrated. It is not as if the former General himself was perfect at vocalizing his own thoughts and needs, particularly after a lifetime of being forced to suppress them, but Cloud’s pointed lack of clarity around this whole escapade had long begun stressing Sephiroth’s discipline and patience.

He pushes his chair back away from the desk and leans to watch Cloud dig into the refrigerator and pull out one of the soft-drinks that the blond had stocked in Sephiroth’s apartment. Those drinks are one sign, but there are many others – pieces of Cloud everywhere in the two bedroom condominium he had bought with his Shinra savings years ago: a blanket strewn on the black leather couch; junk food on the kitchen island (Sephiroth was never allowed junk food in his former life, but even after obtaining freedom from Shinra and Hojo’s strict meal plan, he had yet to develop a taste for that stuff); a toothbrush in the bathroom; some clothes and underwear in one of his dresser drawers. Even beyond those facts, Cloud himself arguably spent most of his nights with Sephiroth here, instead of in his actual living quarters in the house he shared with Zack, Kunsel, Aerith and Tifa (a place that Genesis not-so-affectionally dubbed the frat house).

They had been dating for over two years, though they had known each other for longer. In the end, Cloud Strife had now become invariably and inextricably woven into the fabric of Sephiroth’s life and space. He would either wake up to the blond in his arms or to a text message from Cloud. Most dinners they shared together, holding hands huddled in a restaurant booth or making a game of distracting each other while cooking. When Genesis and Angeal sent their wedding invitations, Cloud and Sephiroth’s names were on the cards together, as one. So, while Sephiroth had, admittedly, little relationship experience before this, asking Cloud if he would like to start living together seemed like a natural progression of the dance.

He did, on the advice of Aerith and Tifa, try to make the actual asking a romantic affair. He bought Cloud’s favorite whiskey, lit candles in the apartment, asked Aerith for her best roses. Cloud had seemed thrilled at the prospect, the usually scowling face instead blushing brightly throughout the evening. When Cloud had said yes, it started such a swell in Sephiroth’s heart that he was sure there was nothing else he could ever be more grateful for in his life. He had carried Cloud to his bedroom and made sure that the blond knew just how much he loved him, well through the night and into the hazy hours of the morning.

Then, something changed. They had agreed to find a new place, something that would let them have a true fresh start, something that they could turn into forever. But every open house Sephiroth suggested, every listing he found online had gotten summarily shut down. That would not have bothered Sephiroth as much had the blond provided more thorough explanations for his rejections, or at least explanations that were not so contradictory. Too far away from everything. Too close to the city. Too traditional. Too modern. Not enough space. Too much space. I don’t like the carpeting. I don’t like the kitchen. I don’t like the bathrooms.

Sephiroth had studiously jotted down the curt notes that Cloud had offered and then tried to adjust, come up with new possibilities. And yet, nothing seemed to please Cloud, not in the slightest. It became bizarre. Cloud did not act picky about anything other than his motorbike or his hair. And it did not make a difference that Sephiroth offered to finance renovations on an existing property to make it perfect. Cloud would shake his head, say it was too troublesome, and then move on to something else.

Sephiroth had considered himself an intelligent man, but this behavior tore at the boundaries of his understanding. He had begun to think that he had done something wrong, something to cause Cloud to suddenly grow cold on the idea of living together. He wracked his photographic memory for something – an offhand comment or gesture, a sign, even discussed the possibility with Genesis and Angeal over their weekly lunches together (Genesis called him a paranoid shithead, and while Angeal was much nicer about it, he essentially hinted at the same idea) – but could not find anything suspicious.

It had then dawned on Sephiroth that perhaps what Cloud was getting cold to was not the concept of moving in together – that maybe it was him. When that thought arose, he had quickly tried to push it down, bury it with all the other dark parts of his mind that he worked very hard to control. But try as he might to ignore it, it continued to nag away in the corners of his mind.

Even now, as he watches the blond kick close the refrigerator and wander into the living room to sit in front of the television, Sephiroth cannot help but wonder. Did Cloud really love him? Sephiroth had said it first, had felt it really from the moment Zack introduced them, and he was stunned into silence by the brilliance of those sky-blue eyes. Back then, Cloud was shyer and sweeter, but he had a stubborn streak a mile wide that often clashed with Sephiroth’s arrogance and tactlessness. They had fought often in the beginning, stumbling over misunderstandings and insecurities. But after a few honest and true conversations, things began to blossom. Sephiroth found himself being less afraid of being truly known and more willing to be honest and emotionally open. And Cloud in turn became more confident, less doubtful of his worth. They began fitting perfectly into each other’s lives, like pieces of an unusual, but beautiful puzzle.

Or at least, that had been what Sephiroth thought.

He turns to the computer screen, opened on a lovely four bedroom home just at the edge of Midgar proper – close enough to enjoy the central city, but far enough for peace. It has the large master bath, hardwood floors and open concept kitchen that Cloud had requested, and the laundry room, gas-range stove and garage that Sephiroth desired. Sephiroth had thought he struck the right compromise and had been excited at the idea of showing Cloud this new listing. But when they finished dinner and Sephiroth had pulled open his laptop, Cloud was simply as dismissive as he had been before.

Resignation begins to creep on Sephiroth now, like spiders crawling up his back. Dread, too, starts to mount in his chest. The weeks of this, the stress, the wondering, the doubt, the fear – it is too much, like an itch under his skin that he could not scratch for relief. He had pushed this conversation out for so long, under the guise of his own paranoia, but now, enough had become enough.

Sephiroth stands and walks into the living room. He reaches down for the television remote and shuts the program off, turns to face a perplexed Cloud and says, “I believe we need to talk.”

Cloud pauses, soda halfway to his lips, before putting the can down on the coffee table (no coaster, Sephiroth notes with a mild hint of irritation). “I was watching that, you know,” he responds casually.

“Cloud, I am serious.”

“You always are.”

Sephiroth closes his eyes, wills himself to breath, to calm, to still. “Do you still want to do this?” he asks, looking down at the blond sitting cross legged on his couch.

“Do what? Move in together?”

For a moment, Sephiroth considers taking the out – letting Cloud admit that he is not ready to live with him and allowing them to just resume their relationship as if nothing had happened at all. But Sephiroth knows that would not be enough for him now. He loves Cloud, wants to spend the rest of his mornings and nights with this man, but if Cloud does not feel the same, if he wants his freedom, then maybe it is best to let the blond go. Even if it means breaking open his own heart.

Sephiroth decides to push forward. “No. I mean our relationship.”

Cloud’s eyes suddenly widen in shock. “What?”

“Do you wish to continue this relationship?”

"I heard you,” Cloud says, standing up now. His face looks flushed, with anger, with embarrassment. “What I don’t understand is why you are asking this. What happened?”

Sephiroth looks down, for he knows if gazes in those blue eyes, he could never gather the necessary strength. “For the last few weeks, you have shown disinterest in every option for a new home together. I have tried my best to listen to your comments, but nothing seems to be right. I thought perhaps the true issue is that you no longer desire a life with me. I simply— I just…”

The words become trapped now, blocked by the swelling sorrow and fear in his chest. Is this it? Is he going to lose Cloud? Will he never hear that bell-like laughter, watch those blue eyes glaze with love and pleasure, dance in his living room to imaginary music with that lithe body, kiss that beautiful neck and those happy lips ever again?

He does not notice that Cloud has stepped close to him, until he feels a warm hand on his chest. Cloud glances upward, and the eyes Sephiroth loves are tinged with fear. “You don’t want to end this, right? You don’t want—”

“Of course not,” Sephiroth insists suddenly, grasping onto that hand tightly. “I love you. I love you more than anything, more than life itself and I--”

Then, Sephiroth stops, because Cloud, inexplicably, strangely, starts laughing. The blond presses his face against Sephiroth’s chest, and he can feel the vibrations of Cloud’s amusement and relief running through his body. It leaves Sephiroth feeling all the more mystified for it, and in his confusion, he finds himself locked in place and unable to move.

Finally, Cloud pulls back and looks at Sephiroth with slightly misty eyes. “You scared me, for a moment. I thought that you…oh, Gaia, Sephiroth. I’d never leave you, not for anything in this world or the next. I just needed another few weeks, that’s all.”

Sephiroth blinks at him, tilts his head. “I do not understand.”

The blond pauses for a moment, biting his lip in the way that he does whenever he is considering something. Then, he reaches down and tugs on Sephiroth’s hand. “Go get your jacket.”

“I don’t—”

“You won’t regret it, I promise.”

Sephiroth’s mouth opens to protest, to question, but Cloud is already moving, shoving his feet into his boots and slipping into his coat. The blond fishes into the ceramic bowl on the table next to the front entrance of the apartment and takes Sephiroth’s keys in his fingers. “I’m driving,” Cloud explains. “Now, c’mon!”

There appears to be no other option. Though his mind is still reeling from the whiplash of the last few moments, Sephiroth takes his jacket from the coat closet and follows Cloud down the hall, into the elevator and into the parking garage. Cloud is at his car quickly, with a springing nervousness to his step that Sephiroth only sees whenever the blond is excited about something. That recognition only serves amplify Sephiroth’s bafflement.

But he goes along anyway, watches as Cloud hops into the driver’s side of his car and complains again about having to adjust the seat for Sephiroth’s “impossibly long legs.” They drive in relative silence, Cloud with one hand on the steering wheel and the other entangled in Sephiroth’s own. It only takes a few minutes (with Cloud’s borderline reckless speed) for them to reach the edge of the city proper, and another ten or fifteen to reach the outskirts. Sephiroth recognizes their route. Since the deconstruction of the plate, the reactors and the wall, more and more residential districts have cropped up on the land surrounding Midgar, especially now that the Planet had begun to heal, and the ground had begun to repopulate the grass and flowers that used to be so scarce.

Finally, Cloud pulls up in front of a plot of land, with an unfinished two-story house sitting atop it. Some of the roofing had yet to be completed, windows installed, and outside walls painted, but the construction appeared strong and in good progress. Attached to the house is a large garage, and there is an unpaved path winding from the front door to the street. Though it is far from finished, looking at it now, Sephiroth can image the quiet, peaceful beauty of the place – the flowers they could plant along the walkway, the welcoming double-doors of the entrance, the little mailbox they could stand at the end of the path to the street. The house is slightly larger than most of the ones Sephiroth had been considering, but it still seemed comfortable all the same.

Sephiroth turns to Cloud now, bewilderment on his face. It is his turn to ask, “What?”

Cloud glances at him quickly, skittishly, then releases his hand and jumps out of the car. “Now, I know it’s a mess, but you should see the sketches Genesis gave to the contractor.”

“Genesis?” questions Sephiroth, as he steps out of the car. His mind flickers briefly to the lunch he shared with his two oldest friends earlier in the week, to Genesis’s teasing of his suspicion. He almost wants to sigh in mortification.

Cloud takes Sephiroth’s hand again, begins leading him up the path. “Angeal, Tifa and Aerith helped too, with picking out designs of stuff, making sure it would be things you’d like. Zack was useless, though, said we could just use him to help us move in.”

Us? Move in? His mind craters on the verge of shutdown. He stops abruptly, halfway to the front door, and Cloud turns to him with worry on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Sephiroth begins. “I’m sorry.”

Cloud is in front of him now, his hands around Sephiroth’s shoulders. He leans forward on his toes and closes the distance, kissing him gently but insistently, as if trying to push back the doubt and the fear that had been spilling from Sephiroth these past few weeks. He keeps going, tugging on the lapel of the man’s jacket to bring him even closer.

Then Cloud breaks the kiss, almost too soon. “I love you, Sephiroth Crescent. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He then walks backward, and with a guilelessness that seems so at odds with the ferocity and skill of that kiss (but that was Cloud, that special contrast of sweetness and steel that made him so appealing, so seductive, so irresistible), he motions to the house behind him.

“So, I built you a house. Well, technically, it’s still in progress.”

Sephiroth tries to say something, but nothing comes out of his mouth. And yet, when the realization hits him, relief floods through his body like water over fire, and he can’t help but feel his cheeks tug into a wide smile. He pulls Cloud back into him, kisses him again and again, trailing his lips down that delicious jawline, the lobe of that ear, that wonderful neck. In between kisses, Cloud breathes out words in delight.

“It was an old building partially torn down and they said renovations would be done in six weeks, but they kept delaying things and finding issues and I was getting so nervous and I—”

“Mmhm,” Sephiroth hums, just kissing Cloud again. He can feel the blond laugh against his lips, but he merely takes the opening to explore the blond’s mouth, and almost rumbles in pure thrill at the way that Cloud’s laughter melts into a soft moan.

Then, the blond pushes him back, blushing red. “Stop, we’re in the middle of the street!”

The former General finally backs up, but can’t stop himself fully, can’t bring himself not to nip that adorable nose. “Alright.”

Cloud smiles but glances askew, apologetic. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to send you on a wild goose chase for a mystery home. I just wanted to surprise you, and I wanted to build something for us. For our new beginning.”

The two then turn to the building now, still empty and still incomplete. But with a bit of magic and imagination, Sephiroth could see it – the promises of comfort, of love, of peace, of a whole lifetime, held up by the good bones of this house. He could see the garden out front, Yule decorations hanging from the roof, the warm glow of fireplace light within. Most of all, Sephiroth could see himself happy here, for the rest of his life, with the man that he could hardly believe he had the good fortune to love.

Cloud squeezes his hand, softly, gently. “I can show you the sketches, if you’d like?”

“No need,” Sephiroth whispers, as he dips down to kiss him once more. “If it’s from you, I know it will be perfect.”

#sefikuraweek #sefikura #sephiroth x cloud #sephiroth #cloud strife #final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii remake #prompt: new beginnings #sfw

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words-writ-in-starlight · 4 years ago

Note

Untamed TAZ Balance AU? Don't have to write anything, just consider that (is Wen Ning Lucretia in this or is he too nice for that)

NHS IS LUCRETIA, NHS IS ABSOLUTELY LUCRETIA, I HAVE THOUGHTS, my girlfriend yelled at me for these thoughts. Hell this got long, I’ve literally been saving it in my drafts until Tumblr fixed the Read More issue.

WWX is Taako, JC is Magnus, WQ is Merle, JYL is in the umbrella (became a lich to keep her brother from doing it), WN is the Red Robe (became a lich because he thought it seemed reasonable), NHS is Lucretia, XXC is Davenport, LWJ and LXC are mutually Kravitz (LXC sets his bro up with the death criminal wizard), Wen Zhuliu is John Vore, LSZ is Angus but also a baby Reaper

ONE

So Wei Wuxian isn’t really a wizard, is the thing. Like, he does the wizard magic, and apparently he has strong Wizard Vibes because wherever he travels, people ask him if he can solve their magical bullshit problems, but he’s, like, barely a wizard. He’s an inventor, technically, except that a few years back some stuff went explosively awry while he worked with this traveling show and–yeah. So he’s working as a wizard because, hey, he can cast Magic Missile and he needs to eat and he’s an Evocation specialist, anyway, so it’s not like he’s out here making food from rocks. He’s hired on with a couple other random jackasses, a fighter who took a dislike to Wei Wuxian right off the bat and a cleric with a bad temper and an itchy Sacred Flame finger, and they’re doing a job for some dwarf, or whatever. The dwarf has a guy hired on as muscle, but he doesn’t look like much, all wide eyes and baby face. He calls himself Qionglin, no last name, and stares at Wen Qing like he’s never seen a cleric before, and Jiang Cheng spends the entire trip to Phandolin messing with his whip, which is the stupidest weapon Wei Wuxian has ever seen.

Well, then everything immediately goes horribly wrong, though, and turns out that Jiang Cheng is pretty okay with that whip. Qionglin (Wei Wuxian spoke to the man all of one time, but he was sweet, if a little awkward) gets himself kidnapped by a bunch of goblins, and their employer is gods-know-where with whatever a Black Spider is, and suddenly this very boring escort mission is a very not boring rescue mission.

There’s a skeleton in the cave. Wei Wuxian takes an umbrella from it, and it crumbles into dust beneath its red robe. There’s a very annoyed man with a sword who calls himself Song Lan and speaks in static, and he’s somehow not the weirdest part of this whole day.

Phandolin doesn’t survive its brush with the Zidian Gauntlet, and neither does Qionglin. Wen Qing screams when he dies, and Wei Wuxian grabs her under the arms with Jiang Cheng and books it for the empty well in Song Lan’s wake, and they just hide.

And then they go to the goddamn moon, apparently.

TWO

The goddamn moon is run by an older man with hair still a glossy black, toying with a beautifully painted white fan in his hand. He calls himself the Director and–after some testing–hires them more or less on the spot. Something flickers over his face when Wen Qing, bemused by her own upset, makes an offhand mention of a man named Qionglin who died when the Gauntlet brought down so much lightning that it turned Phandolin into black glass. But it’s not Wei Wuxian’s problem, so he doesn’t worry himself over it too much. He takes the payment offered to him by the Director’s aide, a blindfolded, stunningly handsome man in Bureau blue and white who rests his hand on his own chest and says “Xiao Xingchen” and not another word.

The Bureau is–weird. They’ve got a giant jellyfish and a store run by–something Wei Wuxian Does Not Trust and a dorm. Wei Wuxian laughs and kicks Jiang Cheng cheerfully in the ankle and says “Just like college, huh?” and Jiang Cheng gives him a dark look and snaps “I never went to college.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, blinking. “Me neither.”

Whatever. They go on a train adventure and there’s a kid, a kid who blinks and stares at Wei Wuxian like he’s seen a goddamn ghost and immediately walks up to introduce himself as Lan Sizhui, boy detective.

Wei Wuxian fucking loves this kid. He’s not sure why this wide-eyed fifteen-year-old latched onto him so hard, but he’s smart, funny, loyal, and extremely easy to pick on. 13/10 child rating, in Wei Wuxian’s book.

(Sizhui, for his part, more or less kicks down the door to his father’s offices in the Astral Plane the second the Reclaimers are gone and shouts “I HAVE A LEAD ON WHAT HAPPENED TO THE WORLD.”)

(His father, Lan Wangji, the Grim Reaper, is very interested to hear all about it��especially when his son casually name-drops three of the biggest bounties that the Raven King, his adoptive elder brother, has ever sent him after, with the exception of that absolutely insufferably sweet-tempered lich Wen Ning.)

THREE

So…the Crystal Kingdom.

Is it Wei Wuxian’s finest hour, shouting obscure tentacle-related threats at the second crystal construct they’ve seen in the past twenty minutes? No, probably not. But it’s been a stressful day, they’re already down one Regulator and Song Lan is fuck-knows-where with Mianmian and, again, this is the second menacing crystal construct they’ve seen in twenty minutes. Or maybe it’s the same one?

Whatever, doesn’t matter. They’re here to hunt down Meng Yao, a scientist who’s been dicking around with some seriously ill-advised necromancy and also the Philosopher’s Stone, and a crystal construct or two isn’t going to stop them.

Wei Wuxian actually physically cannot help himself, though, when the Reapers appear in the mirror, a matched set of beautiful men, and he grins broadly at the one glaring at him most viciously. They get let go on a technicality, along with a conduit still containing Meng Shi’s memory of a vision beyond the cosmos, and Meng Yao leaves with his life and not much more.

Later, Lan Wangji is absolutely betrayed by the realization that his brother willfully set him up to be the primary go-between for the completely breathtaking deeply irritating wizard-by-way-of-death-criminal. And that’s before the whole lich revelation. (He does get a kiss, though, after he watches his brother pulled under by the Hunger. That’s nice. He hopes Wei Wuxian will mitigate the death crimes now that they’re dating.)

FOUR

The seven Relics are as follows:

The Zidian Gauntlet, which can generate a lightning blast so powerful that it can obliterate an entire city. (Jiang Cheng–he watched the others try to lay in protections, try to make their Relics harmless, and he knew it wouldn’t work. All the Gauntlet does is damage. It can melt a city down to black glass, but it can’t be twisted, it can’t be made into any more of a nightmare than it already is. He’s a fighter. He knows all about damage, knew all about what he was making. That doesn’t mean it didn’t kill him by inches to watch it leave a path of destruction–so much that his beloved jiejie tried to seal it away.)

The Oculus, which can make any construct real. (Xiao Xingchen–Nie Huaisang didn’t take everything. He doesn’t remember the mission, or his own past. Something strange got confused in the process, and he lost most of his speech. But he remembers how to fight, handles his sword as cleanly and effectively as ever, and he remembers that he doesn’t think much of Nie Huaisang’s combat skills. Or maybe it’s just really obvious that Nie Huaisang isn’t much of a fighter. Regardless, Xiao Xingchen insisted on accompanying him, before–before. Then they went into the Felicity Wilds, and…Xue Yang is honestly delighted. He’s never managed to ruin someone so badly on the way into Wonderland before. It’s just a shame that Nie Huaisang sent Xiao Xingchen away before they reached the doors.)

The Healer’s Sash, which can manipulate natural forces like the wind, the tides, and tectonic plates just as easily as it can manipulate a heartbeat or a pair of lungs. (Wen Qing–she prays to Pelor, the Dawnfather, the healer and Lord of Light, but she’s long since lost her faith in him as anything but a contracted boss. It’s a shock to everyone including her when she’s granted a right arm made of glass and magic after losing it. She was so determined to make a Relic that could be used for good, but–well. She supposes she should have known better.)

The Philosopher’s Stone, which can more or less transform anything into anything. (Jiang Yanli–she’s a Transmutation wizard, she’s been feeding the crew of the Starblaster for a hundred years on whatever she can pull together. If the right person found the Stone, it would have ended world hunger. The wrong person found the stone. Jiang Yanli tried her damnedest to hunt it down, but she found the Gauntlet first, and, well–she already became a lich to stop one younger brother from doing it. It’s not a struggle to decide that she’s going to take responsibility for saving Jiang Cheng from his own guilt. Then things go horribly wrong, and she spends the next twelve years in an umbrella.)

The Temporal Chalice, which offers complete control over time. (Wen Ning–he was a strict scholar until his sister was contacted about the IPRE’s creation, but he always did want to travel, and his theories about bonds were too good for Xiao Xingchen to pass up having on his crew. Everything he’s done since they lost their home system has been about trying not to leave his family, about trying for second chances, he became a lich for them, he’s done everything to stay with them, of course his Relic is a second chance generator.)

The Animus Flute, which offers control over the spirits of the dead and, in the hands of a sufficiently competent expert, the living. (Wei Wuxian–he’s watched his brother, his sister, his friends, die so many times. He’s terrified of immortality, but he’s most terrified of being alone. He meant to make something that could keep the dead present, so that they would never have to fear being left behind again. Watching it rip Jiang Cheng’s soul clean out of his body in Xue Yang’s hands is the worst thing Wei Wuxian can remember, even after everything is over.)

The Bulwark, which Nie Huaisang never did explain to anyone, but took the shape of a hand-painted fan. (Nie Huaisang lost the only person who mattered to him when the Hunger ate their home, and then as he slowly, painstakingly, rebuilt something like a family, he had to watch them suffer and die for a hundred years. And then he watched them win, and grieve like dying all over again for the winning. He’s sorry they suffered for his actions. He’s not sorry for what he did.)

FIVE

Wen Zhuliu didn’t mean to make his whole plane give up. But he had spent his whole life being used, and it all just seemed so pointless. It all just seemed so pointless. There was always someone stronger, always something bigger, always a rule he couldn’t break, always something, and he started talking, started telling people as much, and--

Wen Qing is about the farthest thing in the fucking world from a peacemaker by nature, if you ask her, but she’s a healer first, last, and most of all. And, she thinks as she watches the sun sink with a very tired man crumbling away at her side, she might be the only person in the worlds who ever noticed that Wen Zhuliu needed a healer.

(They aren’t from the same plane, but--some of the others have found distant family, on their new home. It’s an unanswerable question, if they might have been family, a few dimensions removed. Wen Ning still thinks about it.)

#the untamed #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #taz balance #taz au #starlight writes stuff #*sprints into the room with this au multiple months late and completely out of breath* H E R E #this has been languishing in my drafts for. mm. ever.#i don't even remotely remember enough of my original thoughts about it to provide a lot of tags #but i do have a case for why wzl is john vore (and it's NOT just that i think he's interesting)#i could've made jgy the hunger BUT the plot of taz requires some...reconciliatory ending structure?#and honestly nhs still being something of a puppet master means that i couldn't justify that with jgy #i needed a villain less close to nhs' heart. so i thought about xue yang but i like him as the wonderland lich TOO MUCH.#so instead i thought about who i should make the parlay person--first instincts were jyl and wn because they're Nice #but then i decided that i didn't actually need Nice nearly so much as i needed Invested #and by god can wen qing Invest #so okay--if she was going to do the parlay then i didn't need someone who could be talked around i needed someone who needed a healer #so: wen zhuliu #i don't have to justify myself to you fools #also jgy is always everyone's biggest bad so he can let someone else have a turn #jyl develops a crush on a completely socially awkward rogue from inside an umbrella by the way!#pour one out for jzx because he is NOT equipped for an ethereal woman of violet fire to blush at him #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #thishazeleyeddemon #asked and answered

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allthelovelywriting · 5 years ago

Text

Champagne Society

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4859

Author’s Note: Look you take Arthur to a bar then fuck him that’s it send tweet. And Arthur has a praise kink don’t @ me. And a breeding kink but we been knew. Trying something new out. 4K words of poorly written smut lets go.

cross-posted to ao3

Summary: Your smile is far more dubious, and you hope he accepts your offer: “Camp is a long way back from here. Maybe we could grab a room?”

The question is out, the intention is clear, the choice is his. Arthur has been respectful the entire time you’ve been together— though hesitantly nervous may be a better description. But you’re ready now; while you may sit among them here, you’re not like the “society gals” that need a ring on their finger to show their love. And that is what you feel. You’ve known it for a while now, even if you haven’t been with him that long.

The streets of Saint Denis weren’t empty, per say, but there was a certain feeling to the town as night rolled in. A sense of freedom, of secrets blanketed with the slight chill of later hours.

It was here you found yourself, pulling Arthur along as you got closer and closer to the saloon. It was one of the few places in the “civilized world” he felt anything close to comfortable, and after all he’d done for you today, you thought it nice to pay him back.

You told him so over a glass of whiskey, to which he smiled and said, “Figured it was ‘bout time to have a proper outing, you an’ me.”

You smiled too, leaning a bit closer to him. “It’s a nice change of pace, all in all.”

Arthur nods and drinks his whiskey. Not too much, just enough to calm down. You place your hand on his arm, just resting there. He tenses— tenses and then hates himself for it, but you move your thumb in calming circles. “It’s okay,” you remind him with the movement. “I understand.”

Casual touch isn’t something he’s used to, not something he’s explored too much. Introduced by you a few months prior, when you had toed the line of friends and something more, then reinforced a little after, when you crossed that line with a day-long fishing trip that ended with a kiss. A soft kiss, hesitant and soft, but caring.

Not unlike the one that you press against his cheek now, though this is less hesitant, more teasing. Flirting.

The richer folk of Saint Denis pay little mind to the two of you and maybe that’s the reason he feels confident enough to take the hand you haven’t moved to his lips, kissing the back of it in an imitation of a scene in the moving picture you saw that day.

You giggle at the gesture and Arthur’s blue eyes seem to shine at the sound. When you pull away and Arthur orders another drink, you look down at your lap.

The dress that adorns you is a pretty one, lace and frills and a large change of pace from your normal camp clothes. When you had mentioned, offhand, to Arthur the marvel of moving pictures being shown in the big cities, where it was far nicer than the theater in Valentine, and how you’d love to see one, you never thought you actually would. You’d almost forgotten you’d mentioned it, it’s been so long ago.

But Arthur hadn’t, and you suspected that journal of his had something to do with it. Early this morning, he had approached you, smiled bashfully, and offered a day away from camp. Before the show that evening, he’d taken you to get a new dress, then a fancy lunch, and finally the event you had waited for.

“Thank you so much for today,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. “I had so much fun. I know how much you dislike the city; it was so considerate of you to do this for me.”

You punctuate the compliment with a kind smile, knowing he’ll deny it, refuse it, but you’ll gladly give him more praise. You figure his self-doubt cannot be a bottomless pit, but it does run as deep as an ocean. Still, you’ll freely offer up as much caring as it takes until he agrees: he’s wonderful.

And it starts now, as he looks away and says something about it not being that big of a deal. You silence him with a kiss— not on the lips, but rather right below his ear, where his jaw meets his neck. The sensitive spot quiets him immediately, a large hand of his coming to rest upon yours, tightening briefly. You smile, teasing tongue there, before pulling back.

Your smile is far more dubious, and you hope he accepts your offer: “Camp is a long way back from here. Maybe we could grab a room?”

Maybe that’s what you see in Arthur’s eyes as he nods, pronounces “Sure” in that way that drags out the u into an o and distances him further from the champagne society around you.

You’re filled with something akin to giddiness— though that seems too immature— a healthy dose of arousal and, when Arthur takes your hand in his— initiates that basic contact he’d been denied so long— a deep feeling of adoration.

The stairs up to the room are cleaner than Valentine, but not as appealing as Strawberry. The room isn’t too large, but, you note with something that may actually be giddiness, the bed is.

When you turn to Arthur, you already know it’s going to be an uphill battle to get him to give himself completely to you. Not for lack of trust, no, but because the deep-rooted doubt (or hate, as you hesitate to call it— how could someone like him despise himself?) that festers in him. You can almost feel it when he reaches for you, wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. Feel it in the way he tries to distract you, get you too worked up to undress him properly and keep himself hidden from you.

But you stop that as soon as it starts. You slow the kiss into something more romantic, more caring. You trace along his jaw to his collarbones— another sensitive spot— and allow yourselves a chance to take comfort in how familiar this is.

When Arthur’s hold is more relaxed, you pull away. He looks down at you, gaze adoring but lust-filled. “You’re so beautiful,” you say. Then, quoting the earlier show, you add, “my darling.” The term of endearment had been spoken to one spouse to another, but you figured it could work well for you both too. Unlike earlier, when Arthur had mimicked the romantic action, your words held a serious kind of weight to them, one he didn’t seem to miss.

“May I?” You ask, fingers poised on the top button of his dress shirt, bought specifically for this day. You move from one course of action from another, not giving him time to deny your compliment, but still slow enough not to scare him.

“Darlin’,” he starts, voice deep in a way that sends pangs of heat downwards. “We don’t— ya don’t wanna see me.”

“Arthur,” you look straight into his eyes, make sure he’s paying attention to you, “there is nothing I’ve thought of more than how you look in these past two months. I’d love to see you, if you let me.”

He mustn’t of been expecting such an honest response. When he nods again, you brush your lips against his in a sort of thanks, then undo the first few buttons. Enough to see part of his union suit. When you’re done with that, you step back, admiring your handiwork. Arthur follows, almost instinctively, then stops.

You move your hands behind you, finding the fastening of your dress. “I’m wearing so much more than you, I’m sure it’d take double the time to get undressed.” It the truth, but only part of it. You didn’t want him becoming too uncomfortable if you undressed him too fast. It’s always been about an equal exchange with Arthur, from chores and hunting to personal lives. It’s what makes him comfortable, and you see no reason to not utilize it now.

“Need some help?” He asks, and you’re surprised but not unaccepting. You turn, moving your hair out of the way. He steps in close, warm hands staring where you left off.

“This really is a beautiful dress. You have excellent taste,” you say as the feeling of him moving down your back sends shivers up your spine. “I can’t wait to wear it again.”

“Those kinda chances don’t come to often. Not in our lives.” He sounds almost sad, apologetic, and you're quick to try and remedy that.

“You think I can’t wear this around camp? I think if I look pretty enough, Ms. Grimshaw will be too taken by my beauty to yell at me.”

He huffs a laugh behind you, and his fingers finish their work. You almost wished he hadn’t; the movement had been so intimate that it had almost let you pretend you weren’t in a temporary room, but rather a house of your own, somewhere free. But the moment’s over, and your much more taken with what is about to happen.

You turn back to Arthur. With your attention back on him, he seems more hesitant. Now that won’t do at all. You guide him to the bed, sit him down. He looks up at you, so trusting and open, that your heart melts. You’re quick to follow, move to his lap and calm him. Something familiar, again.

You’re pleasantly surprised when he reaches for you on his own accord, and you encourage it with a moan, pressed tightly against his lips. Maybe, if he were a less mature man, he would have bucked his hips up at that. Instead, his hands, one on the curve of your back and the other cupping your face, draw you closer. You oblige readily, greedily, willing to give him anything he asks. You push your hips forward, testing, and move against the growing hardness in his pants.

You do it again, then once more, relishing in the sound it pulls from the man under you. A groan, so deep you almost can’t hear it, that starts in the back of his throat and ends in yours and tells you how much this is appreciated. How much he needs this.

Your hands undo more of his shirt, and don’t stop until it’s completely undone. You pull away from him again, stoping your rocking motions. He still holds you as close as he can though. “Is this alright?”

He looks at you, and you still yourself for the denial you’re sure is coming. He says nothing, just stares at you until a big smile breaks across his face. It’s contagious. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough in a way that’s so appealing. “Yeah.”

You push the fabric off his shoulders, throwing it to the same chair your dress was moved to. You ask for permission once more as you grasp onto his belt. He gives his consent with a hushed whisper, face tucked into the right side of your neck, seemingly intent on leaving a mark. Your fumble with his pants until the red of his undergarments peaks through. When that’s done, you test the waters by pushing him back, gently. He complies readily, and you apply a bit more pressure: “Stay.” And he does stay, laying back on the bed and looking like pure sin.

Laying on his back, chest rising and falling heavily to replenish the breath that you’d taken from him. His cheeks are flushed, color high and warm on his face. His eyes, darken by pure want, look back at you when you meet them, intent and longing.

You could admire him forever, and the breath you inhale to tell him of that reminds you that your corset is uncomfortable and you are far too dressed. Still, you speak up: “You’re gorgeous.”

You stand, undoing your underthings as quickly as you can. Arthur watches you, and you let him. Let your fingers trail from your hair to the right fastenings that push up your breasts presenting yourself in a way you know must be alluring to him.

“I’ve thought about this night so much,” you tell him. “I’ve thought of the way you’d look at me, the way you’d look. My imagination could never do it justice.”

It’s true; the way his pants are pushed open just enough that the significant bulge pushes through, taunting and teasing you is better than any image you could of conjured in your head on many a lonely night.

When the ties binding your corset are set free, you breathe in deep. Your ribs thank you and you let the tight fabric fall away. All you’re left in now is a loose undershirt and the skirt that had poofed your skirt. Your hands find the waistband of it and push it down, little by little until it reaches your mid-thigh.

“Darlin’,” Arthur says from the bed. Your teasing has only been half-intentional, unused to the fastenings of the fancy dresses. But you’ve relished in the fact that he hasn’t taken his eyes off you and watches, intently, as you let gravity take the fabric away, the chamise pooling at your feet. The shirt has kept your modesty, but you could be quick to remedy that.

Could be, but choose not to be. Instead, your hands go to the pins in your hair, letting your arms wind up and pull the shirt with it, tantalizing up, up, up until you see Arthur’s hands ball into the sheets of the bed. How far could you push the teasing on this first night together? Not too much longer, you promise yourself. And Arthur too as his Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, so desperate to see all of you.

You promise him too, in a voice that’s earnest, not condescending. “I promise I’ll make you feel so good, handsome.”

Finally, your hair is free, and you take to pulling the shirt over your head. Not slow, but not hurried either. You slow just as it reaches the bottom of your breasts, just to tease that little bit more.

At last, when your last article of clothing is thrown to the floor, you climb upon him again. Kneel over him and meet him for another kiss. One so unlike any others before, more heated and begging. His hands move to where your knees are bent at his sides and, when not told to stop, moves up your thighs and traces up your curves.

You bring your hips against him again, grinding hard and fast. You’re able to brush your clit against his hard cock in a way that almost makes you wonder if you could get off just like this.

“Shit,” he hisses, hands gripping your hips and pulling you against him. This time, his hips do buck up, searching for purchase against you and, yeah, you figure you probably could. “Darl’ I can feel you.”

Your wetness coats the front of his union suit, the fabric a darker shade of maroon. Any embarrassment you would have felt is wiped away by the way Arthur looks at you, desperate out of his mind. “It’s all for you, baby.”

He curses again, some word lost in the way he goes back to the crook of your neck. It’s almost cute, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on it. Instead, you force yourself to stand again, almost tempted not to when he makes an attempt to pull you back.

He seems to mind less when you start to pull down his pants. There’s no hesitation this time, no resistance. He raises his hips to help you, then sits up at your beckoning. Sitting again, he almost seems like he should be taking on the commanding role, and intimidating as he is. And then he looks at you, blue eyes almost drowned in a sea of lust that threatens to spill over and encompass you too, and you’re reminded that he wants to give up control.

You gladly take it and his union suit off of him, throwing the red fabric to the side. You guide him with a steady hand to the headboard, laying propped up by pillows. You know he’ll give as good as he gets, but you wonder what it would be like to just let him relax and take care of him.

You’ve no time to dwell on it as you move to straddle him once more. Before you continue moving upward, you take in the sight of him, just once more.

His cock exposed to you dribbles our precum in steady amounts, trickles down his thick shaft until it pools on his balls, begging to be licked. You want to, but you want him in you more. Feel him stretching you out, a perfect for you know he’ll provide. You look back at his face, still burning red.

“We still good?” You ask. He nods. Doesn’t respond more than that, so you reach forward and cup his face. “Arthur?”

“Been a while, that’s all,” he says it like it’s something to be shameful of. You tell him it’s not. “Just... don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me. Just being with you is enough.” You make sure to put emphasis on the word; it didn’t matter if it was with him here, now, or every day, when he makes you much happier than you’ve been in a long time. “I— I care about you so much.”

He smiled in a way that’s almost too sweet for the situation, then pulls you into a kiss that’s even sweeter. When you pull away you wait till he’s verbally said to continue before doing so.

You cup his face again, letting your thumb run across his lips. You wonder if he’ll get the hint or you should pull away when he opens his mouth, taking the digit between his lips. His warm tongue encompasses it, the flicks the tip slowly, once, twice, until you can imagine the same movements on your clit.

Your watch his mouth move for a second more until you decide you’ve missed his blush and move your other hand down to his cock. It’s thick, and you can’t wrap your hand around it entirely, but you pump him anyways.

Momentarily, his eyes lose focus, and you think you hear something that sounds like your name moaned around your thumb. But it’s not enough, not yet.

“Besides, your cock’s so big, I don’t think you could disappoint even if you tried.”

His eyes widen in shock, cheeks blazing a beautiful red. You smile at that and continue stroking him. A languid place that must be teasing with how hard he is, but you don’t dare go any faster, lest this night end too soon. You’re sure he would return in kind if that did happen, but you know he’d be so upset in himself.

His tongue continues, long strikes you can image elsewhere until you dip your hand a little lower, cupping his balls and feeling him up. He relaxes, eyes fluttering and it’s equal parts alluring and cute. He groans something you can’t quite understand. You free his mouth; “What was that, baby?”

“Please,” he murmurs in a way that makes it seem like the most shameful thing he’s said all night. You keep your hand in the same place, pleasuring him and relishing in the whimper he lets out.

You nod, even though he has his eyes closed. The bed creaks underneath you as you shift your weight, raising yourself over him, swallowing, then gripping him to steady him as you lowered down.

You inhale sharply as he enters you, almost too big, and Arthur holds your hips, preventing you from going any further. “Are you okay? D’ya need to stop?”

You shake your head. No. Maybe if you hadn’t been thinking about this since his first shot of whiskey, watching him swallow it down then sigh heavily, contently, and so easy to imagine in a different situation, or even earlier, when his steady hand met your waist and guided you through town— maybe then you would need more prep. But you don’t. You want to continue.

“I’m fine.” You push in further. He spears you apart in a way that would be painful, should be painful considering, but just makes you feel complete. “You feel so good. So perfect.”

He whines at your praise, fingers gripping harder, sure to leave bruises he’ll apologize for, but you love them. Love the way he loses controls for just a second, pulls you down closer. A second is all it takes for you to be sitting on him, him completely filling you up. You call his name, just to say it, to hear it in your voice that’s broken and wanting and so needy. Arthur responds in kind, calling back to you like some kind of imitation of the film earlier when the same thing had happened. In much a more pure situation, sure, but it’s because calling your lover’s name is the most natural thing there is.

You call for him again when you see his face, brow scrunched in concentration, mouth slightly agape. He looks at you, and you keep his eye and you raise your hips and fall once more. He pushes forward to kiss you as his hands help you find a rhythm.

Fast and hard seems to fulfill both of your desires. His hands drop to your ass like he’s wanted to all night and can’t find the will to resist now. He moans out shortly after you reach a hand down to find your clit.

He watches for a moment, seemingly taken with the way you please yourself, seeking your own pleasure. His chest rises and falls again, and lets out a cry of pleasure as you land particularly rough. His teeth catch his lip, seemingly embarrassed by the way he does.

“Don’t,” you gasp out. He looks up at you, charming eyes seemingly shocked by the reprimand. “I want— I’d love to hear you.”

He doesn’t hold his lip anymore, lets his breathing become audible and ragged. Sweet moans and breathy grunts come together to form something that promises his enjoyment. When he inhales sharply, you think you can make out your name. Arthur repeated it, clearer, a growl at the back of his throat.

“You feel so good,” you find yourself saying. “I always knew you’d feel so good.”

His head falls back, leaving his neck bare for you to make some marks of your own. You do happily, biting and sucking the skin you find. Arthur, maybe emboldened by this, or too gone to care, starts speaking.

“I was thinking ‘bout you too. Whenever you’d go down to the river and pull your skirt up to go in the water. Took everything I had not to take you right there.” He doesn’t stop bringing you up and down with his hands. The fast pace makes your thighs burn, unused the wide position you have to be in, but it’s worth it.

“You shouldn’t of held back,” you find yourself saying. “I did it so you would see.”

He groans at that, raising his hips to fuck further into you. “You tempt me in ways that are dangerous. Make me want things I shouldn’t.”

“Careful now,” you tease. You catch his lips again, a quick nip before you continue. “Keep talking like that and you’ll start sounding like a good man. And we both know how much you’d hate that.”

He doesn’t give you much of a response other than a huff of a laugh and a kiss that makes you think he might just love you too.

“You deserve everything I can give you,” you whisper to him, more serious. You push more of your weight on to him, making him lay back. The change of position takes the strain off your thighs and moves it to your knees, but it’s better. Arthur lays before you, face impassive but eyes begging for you to finish your thought, desperate for that validation. You give it to him tenfold. Pushing his hands flat against the bed near his head, you slide your fingers over his forearms, across his palms. Searching for something to hold onto. Until finally, your fingers are interlaced and you’re staring deeply into his eyes. Your pace has slowed, which makes him pay more attention to your words.

“You are a good man, Arthur Morgan. And so deserving of every kindness. And you’re— you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He surges forward and kisses you. Holds you against him deeply as he nears his end. One hand untangles itself from its spot at your back and moves to your front, fingers finding your clit. You both let out an appreciative sound—you, as your orgasm draws ever closer, and him, at the way your walls contract ever tighter.

His eyes flutter closed, breath ragged and you know he’s close. Right on that precipice and you so desperately want to push him over. “Arthur, my love,” you murmur, sugar-sweet. “Please cum inside me.”

And he does, hips canting upward to bury himself deep inside of you. The warm that seems to spread upwards is enough to push you over the edge too.

Your walls flutter around him, twice in natural response, a few more times intentionally to watch his shoulders cave, coming to bury his face into your neck. “Yer gon’ be the death of me, sweetheart.”

“There are worse ways to go, I suppose,” you breathe out. You allow yourself to lay like that, awkwardly half on the bed, but numb enough not to care, for just a little while longer. Long enough for Arthur to find your mouth, meet it in a kiss that was sloppy, slow, and tired.

“Meant our first time to be a bit nicer,” you said as you removed yourself from atop him. The juices that flowed from you were less attractive in your post-orgasm clarity. You grab the nearest thing you have—the undershirt that had somehow landed near the bed—to clean up. It needed to be washed anyway, and you aren’t planning on wearing it anytime soon. “There’s always next time, I suppose.”

Arthur nods. He looks different, now. More relaxed then you’ve seen him in weeks, months even. Cute enough—dare you say—to warrant you leaning over and kissing him. A soft bite to his lip for good measure.

“Next time might have to wait,” he mumbles against your mouth when you pull away, eyes still closed. “‘M not as young as you used to be, remember.”

You smile, nod. The soft linen of your shirt cleans his thick cock, tracing downwards. Your fingers brush against his skin, pushing the cloth along, gentle to be an accident if he were naive enough to believe it.

“Darlin’,” he warns, voice a low growl.

You pull away. “The morning, then.”

With both of you as clean as you’re going to get without taking a bath, you reach for the next nearest item of clothing to keep you someway decent. Arthur’s shirt. It a bit rough, not meant to be slept in, but it smells like him. You only do up a few of the middle buttons, just to tease him a little. Then you take your spot at the head of the bed, looking to your lover to join you.

“Keep acting like that,” Arthur warns, taking his spot next to you, “and we ain’t gonna make it till morning.”

You smile, welcoming him into your arms. He pulls you against him, shifts the covers around until your both warm and wrapped in each other’s arms.

And yet, you’re not content. Not yet, not with a secret on your lips, and a burden on your chest. “Arthur—“ you start, a bit breathless as you force yourself to talk with any forethought. “I love you.”

He stiffens beside you. You can feel his arms tense, his heartbeat quicken. Stays like that for a moment before he responds; “Couldn’ta been that good.”

He tries to pass it off with humor, self-deprecation, but you know what he really means. Do you mean it?

“If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. But I wanted to tell you. So you know that I really do care. And everything I said before—I meant it. I really do think you’re wonderful. Beautiful, even. And I don’t care what you’ve been through, or how bad you think you are, because I’ll love you all the same.”

Through your ramble, he’s stayed quiet. And stays quiet still as a moment passes, then another. Give and take, that’s what this relationship is built on. You’ve given—

And he tugs you closer to him, pressed you thought against him in a hug that’s so warm you know his answer before he says it. But the way his deep timber, quiet, whispered against you, but still so sincere responds, with a gruff but honest, “I love you too.”

— it lets you know he’s ready to give it back too.

The streets of Saint Denis weren’t empty; per day, but here, content with the man you loved, they might as well be.

#xr: arthur morgan #wr: arthur morgan #arthur morgan #[ tagged: my writing ]#[ mw: arthur morgan ]#nsft: arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #imagine #arthur morgan smut

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divineluce · 4 years ago

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A Fae-ted Encounter || Athena & Luce

Timing: Monday, September 14th

Location: The woods outside White Crest

Tagging: @athenaquinn & @divineluce

Summary: Athena and Luce meet up for a morning run that quickly goes awry.

Athena had not necessarily expected to hang out with Luce outside of the whole getting a tattoo experience, no matter how much she had found their conversation to be enjoyable. So when Luce had mentioned a love for going for runs, Athena jumped at the chance. She found getting out and exercising to provide a certain thrill only matched by an especially good hunt or a particularly engaging textbook. It was early - just before six a.m., and the smell of the forest was calming. She began to stretch while she waited for Luce - and the feeling of her knives against her hips was comforting, as always. It was the easiest place to keep them during a run, since her running shoes didn’t provide a great deal of coverage. Particularly not as far as weaponry was considered. She had always been one to have a desire to be prepared, and this guaranteed that. Finishing up a second round of stretches, she looked up to see Luce approaching. “Hey! How’s it going this morning? Glad we were able to find the time to go for a run.”

No one ever talked about how much stress fucked with your sleep schedule. Luce was no stranger to sleepless nights, but it seemed like more often than not, she was stuck staring up at the ceiling of her room or drawing designs until her wrists ached and the sun had begun to break through the blinds of her window. Which was why she was going for a run now-- coffee could only do so much and fuck, going for a run with one of the kids she tattooed? She’d done weirder. Parking her 4x4 alongside the road, Luce stretched briefly against the side of her car before jogging towards the place they’d agreed on meeting up. It was a familiar trailhead to her, one of the many she frequented. “It’s going, it’s going. Nothing like a run to get things going though.” Luce said with a nod, tying her long hair back up in a ponytail. “Yeah, for sure. I haven’t run with a partner in a while, so it might take me a minute to match pace.” She warned, and tilted her head at the woods. “Let’s hit the trails, huh?” She grinned before setting off at a light jogging pace, just to get the blood pumping.

“I agree completely!” Perhaps her voice held just slightly too much enthusiasm, but Athena found that she didn’t care all too much. Not to mention, that sort of behavior was likely exactly what Luce might have expected, given what she did know about her. “Not a worry, I have a few friends I run with sometimes, but I’m flexible.” She flashed the woman a grin, carefully observing her. This was an entirely different context from the last time that the two of them had hung out, and she was curious if Luce’s behavior would change in any way. She didn’t so much mind whether or not it did, she’d found her to be pleasant to talk to both in person and online, and more people to go for runs with was never a bad thing. “Let’s go!” Athena nodded, matching Luce’s pace. “Do you have a favorite trail or spot to go running? I know that I sometimes will change it up, but I think that’s carryover from sometimes not wanting to ever sit still as a kid. As much as I can deeply concentrate, I also have a need to move and see different things. Despite being small, this town does manage to provide that. On a tangential note, I hope we don’t see any moose today. That’s not a fun time on a hike.”

Raising an eyebrow at the girl’s tone, Luce decided to take it in stride. Literally, she grinned to herself at the idea. As they began to run through the woods, she kept her strides nice and measured, really focusing on just letting her muscles move, the blood to flow. It wasn’t as hot as it had been in the middle of July, thank fuck, but her natural body temperature made running in the summer a bitch. As she ran alongside the girl, Luce was reminded why she didn’t typically run with other people. People liked to talk. people liked to chatter and make small talk and she just… didn’t give a shit about it. She barely gave a shit when she was at work. But, hopefully talking more would help her stay awake. “Eh, mostly just the places around my cabin because it was closest and most convenient to me. But, there are a couple places in the national park that are pretty. There’s a cool trail that leads into a whole field of wildflowers-- it’s best in the spring, but still. Not a bad spot year round.” Luce lengthened her stride a bit, picking up the pace as they wound through the woods. “Oh, fuck no. I’m so not down for a moose run in.” She said with a shake of her head. Her silver knuckledusters were tucked into the discreet pocket in the waistband of her leggings, but those wouldn’t be enough to stop a moose, not at all. She’d just be hightailing it up the nearest tree if they ran into one.

She hadn’t doubted the woman when the two of them had discussed going for a run, but Athena was pleased to see that the woman kept up with her - was arguably a better runner than she was in some ways, though she was not too keen to admit that just yet, if at all. “That makes sense. I run on Harris Island a lot too for much of the same reason - it’s home for me, and though not the woods, it does provide wide and open space to go. Though sometimes I go through town.” Sometimes, and she’d run into banshee screams on more than one occasion. She wasn’t going to focus on that right now, though. “That sounds wonderful! Not sure if I’ve been on that trail before, but it sounds like a good place to go.” The two of them continued to make their way through the forest and Athena had to hold back a small giggle at Luce’s remark about the moose. “Though I’m not always opposed to them, they certainly are not on my ‘must see’ list ever.” There was a bit of an incline as the two of them continued through the forest, the morning air cool and calming - which was one of the number of reasons why she enjoyed this time of day as much as she did.

“Harris Island, huh? Too bougie for me.” Luce said, as they continued along the forest trail. Sure, Harris Island was pretty, but she hadn’t been back there since she’d dealt with… August. And Lydia. Her expression turned dour at the memory. That fucking bitch. She’d sworn her to silence about what they’d done, bound her, like she’d bound August. Fuck. “I’m not a big fan of the mega mansions they’ve got chilling out there. The Common’s not a bad place to run around town, though.” She added. As they made their way through the woods, Luce focused on her breathing, making sure to keep it nice and smooth. This particular trail was just a quick 1.5 mile loop, but she was still feeling the effects of her sleepless night. If she’d been in better shape, if she’d been less tired, she might have noticed the rustling in the bushes, the way the birds seem to quiet around them. But, as it was, she just kept running.

“I mean, I still live with my parents. You are not wrong about it being a bit bougie, though I like being right near the ocean.” Athena shrugged. “I guess I’m used to it too.” She noted Luce’s change in expression and fiddled with the end of her hair for a moment, giving a small murmur of agreement at her words. “Oh yeah, The Common’s great!” When there’s no fae flocking around, but she kept those thoughts to herself. They were making their way steadily around the trail when Athena all of a sudden felt a shiver run up and down her arms as she skidded to a halt. So much for fae not ruining the hike. She turned to look at Luce, before looking back at the bushes, a rustling sound becoming more and more clear before she could spot ears. Shit. “We might have a bit of a problem.” She took in a deep breath, focusing her attention. The iron cold on her hip.

“Nice. Must be lucky living out home.” Luce remarked, the comment sounding offhand. But, a part of her meant it. The recent wound of her mother, turning her back on the three of them, was still raw, still open and painful. She hated her mother for what she’d done to them, hated her father for never standing up for them, but she couldn’t shake the sadness that came with losing them. She shouldn’t feel so fucked up about it. She didn’t regret what she’d done. She’d done what was right. Even if it came at the cost of unclean hands and of losing the people she loved most. Before she could get too in her feelings about it all, Athena came to an abrupt halt. Taken off guard, Luce stumbled to a stop but managed to right herself. “What? What’s up?” She asked, looking at the trees around them.

“I am lucky, but I also love my family, so I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” Athena shrugged. She wouldn’t, would she? Shaking any sort of thought like that out of her mind, she refocused herself on what was actually going on. Namely, the giant gosh darned fae-dog that was just off in the bushes. “Don’t move.” She gave a small nod, the creature standing up now. “It’s a - well. It’s not a normal dog.” Cù-sìth, she thought, her mind whirring as it often did, as she’d been trained to do. “You see that, right? Large dog. Very quiet.” She huffed. It might not be quiet for long.

“That’s more than fair, for sure.” Luce nodded in agreement. After all, family was why she still lived at Bea’s. She could be back at her cabin, she could be staying there right now in fact. But, since they’d been cast out of the coven… there was a part of her-- a part of her that she refused to show to her sisters-- that wanted to keep what remained of her family close. All of those thoughts were pushed out of her mind at the girl’s words. Scanning the woods around them, Luce’s eyes fell on the giant dog that was lurking in the bushes. It wasn’t a wolf, so not a werewolf, but she wasn’t exactly familiar with every beast that ran around the woods. “Yeah, I see it.” She said, her hands resting on the waistband of her leggings, feeling the curve of the metal tucked in her pocket. “What’s the plan? Back away slowly?”

She didn’t know how much Luce knew. Athena remembered that the woman had grown up in this town, but she also knew that none of that guaranteed knowledge of anything. It made her job both easier and more difficult, but right now she wasn’t going to focus on anything but Luce and getting her to safety. “Good.” She nodded. “That’s - backing away is good, but these - they’re real fast when they want to be. Might not look it, but they are. Can be.” The cold iron of her knife was incredibly appealing but she couldn’t bring it out just yet. “You - we don’t want it to howl.” She whispered to Luce, taking another few steps towards the woman. “That’s not good. It’s - their howls aren’t normal.” She looked over at her. Athena knew that she’d be fine, but as fae as she was aware, Luce wasn’t a warden. “They are not the friendliest of dogs.”

As she stared at the creature, Luce was able to see that there the “dog’s” fur was green, with tufts of what looked like grass sticking out in clumps. “Is there any reason why this thing looks like a Husky fucked a hedge?” She hissed, as she tried to back away from the dog while discreetly pulling the knuckleduster from her pocket. But, her leggings were just a bit too tight and the weapon remained stubbornly tucked in her waistband. Christ. A dummy thicc joke went through her mind briefly, but it was quickly pushed out of her mind as the creature began to stalk towards them, hackles raised. “What do you mean their howls aren’t normal?” She asked, but before the girl could answer, the dog was already opening its mouth, a horrific howl coming from its maw. Instantly, Luce went to her knees, clasping her hands over her ears, but that couldn’t keep the bellowing sound that had already pierced her skull.

“Because it’s one of the worst kinds of dogs you could ever see.” Athena admittedly had to smirk just slightly at Luce’s comment. Well, if that was anything to go off of, then perhaps she would have an easier time convincing her that this thing would be better off dead. “I mean that -” before she could respond, the creature had howled and though Athena knew it would have no sort of effect on her, Luce wouldn’t be so lucky. “We’ve got ten minutes max until it might howl again. Sometimes - there’s some ways or cases when people die after three howls.” She knew that she was talking faster than normal but she had to get all of the information to Luce as best as she could. “You - it’s going to make you feel afraid, but that’s okay. It’s - well,” she pulled one of her iron daggers out of its resting place against her hip. “I might have a solution. It is the only way to deal with this. It could do a lot of harm to those in town if we let it get away.”

The howl was the worst thing she’d ever heard-- and Luce had sat through more shitty fucking local bands at Soul than she wanted to admit. Fuck. It was as though her blood had gone cold, while at the same time, her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her goddamn chest. Fear, the overwhelming sensation of dread, of terror, of the urge to run as fast and as far as her feet could take her from that thing filled her chest. “F-Fuck!” Luce managed as her hands fell to the earth, clawing at the dirt. Heart pounding, eyes daring wildly, she stared up at the girl with unseeing eyes, too overwhelmed by sheer terror to do much more than stare. But, she saw a flash of metal, a knife. Was she going to hurt her too? Was she going to attack her like that fucking hedge husky? Fuck. Blue flames ignited in the dirt around her hands, a reflex, a means to protecting herself, even as the fear clung to her.

This wasn’t her fault, but some part of her thought that maybe she should have been more careful. Athena glanced between the cù sìth and Luce. Luce, who now had flames around her fingertips. Spellcaster? Or something else, Athena wasn’t quite sure at first. Holding the knife out toward the dog, she knelt down next to Luce, careful not to touch the other woman. “That thing over there causes fear. It’s doing this to you on purpose.” She wasn’t certain if Luce would even fully understand what was going on, but she needed the woman to know that she wasn’t going to hurt her, but that this creature was going to do a lot of harm if one of them didn’t get rid of it. “Fire might not do much, though it is a good idea,” she said, trying to keep her voice as even as possible.

Luce’s gulped in air, taking it in with rapid, panting breaths. The thing, she couldn’t see it, couldn’t tell where it had disappeared in the brush around them. She wanted to wrap herself in flames, protect herself from that thing. Its howl still rang in her ears as her fingers dug deeper into the earth, as though the gesture would ground her and keep her safe. As she struggled to control herself, Luce was able to catch the snippets of words-- Athena, Luce remembered her name through the oppressive waves of fear. It wasn’t just dread, the lingering howl rattled in her mind and she could hear voices. Screaming, in pain, begging for something to end. Bea. Nell. Ulf. Remmy. Nadia. Morgan. “No. No, no, no, no, no.” She said, curling up in on herself as she tried to ignore it. But, the flames around her grew, blue tongues curling around her arms now.

The woman was having an anxiety attack of some sort. Or at least that was what it seemed like to Athena. “Look. I’m not going to hurt you.” She didn’t know how much of what she was saying was getting through to Luce, so she kept repeating it, in different ways. They didn’t have much time to act. “Will that keep you safe?” She queried, looking down at the fire. For a brief flash of a moment, she found herself wishing that she could give the other woman some immunity to the creature just like she had. But if that wasn’t possible, ridding the world of it was the next best thing. “I can make this stop, if you’d like. I can - your fire might be able to help too.” Her voice held a certain sort of gentleness that surprised even her, but if that was what it took, she would gladly comply. “One blow to a major organ of that thing using my knife and we’ll be free. It won’t hurt you or anyone else.”

Dimly, Luce could see the way that the girl looked at the fire that was winding up her forearms, coiling like snakes around her biceps. “Y-yeah.” She managed, doing her best to try and calm herself. Her heart was still racing, her breathing still too quick. Her head felt strange, like it was going to fucking… pop off or something. Christ. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck that dog and it’s fucked up howl. Gritting her teeth, Luce staggered to her feet and looked at Athena. “How? And… why aren’t you..?” Her voice trailed off as she gestured to herself. The girl hadn’t even missed a beat when the creature had howled. How?

She wasn’t supposed to tell others what she was. That was practically a cardinal rule back home, but she knew she’d messed that rule up a number of times, be it on purpose or on accident. But she knew what Luce was, or had some sort of idea, and it was only fair for Luce to know what Athena was, too. “I’m a warden. I would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself, but that’s why it is not doing anything to me. It is a form of fae, but it is going to do a lot of harm if we don’t take care of it as soon as possible.” She looked over at Luce. “Your reaction is normal for anyone who isn’t fae and isn’t a warden. We need to deal with it… soon. It’ll likely howl again soon, and that’s not good for anyone.”

As the girl explained just why she was able to withstand the fucked dog’s howl, Luce’s eyes widened. A Warden? That was some kind of hunter, right? She had no idea that there were specific hunters that went after different shit, but sure, that worked. She could roll with that, as long as Athena could fucking handle it. “Okay. Okay. W-what can I do to help?” She asked, hating the way her voice stammered with fear. She was better than this, she was fucking better than this. Clenching her fists, she did her best to rein in the flames a bit, just to keep them away from the girl. She doubted that wardens were fireproof. “I can… set fire to things. Or blow shit up. But I don’t know where it is.” She said, her eyes darting around the forest around them.

“If you want to keep it trapped, that might do us both a lot of good.” Athena bit her lip. She looked over at Luce carefully. Even if she was one to sometimes rush into things, even she could tell that right now was not the time for that. “We don’t want it escaping, but maybe blocking it so that it’s got no choice but to come towards me. That could help.” She analyzed the scene around them quickly - doing her best to take in as much of it as she could. Doing her best to think a few steps ahead. “Setting fire is good.” She glanced around them. “I think…” she closed her eyes for a moment, letting her skin feel cold. Doing her best to embrace the feeling. “It’s by those trees,” she said, upon opening her eyes. “I can see its tail.”

Swallowing, Luce shook her head in an attempt to get the ringing out of her ears. She could light shit on fire. That was all she was good for and she sure as shit wasn’t going to stop doing it now. Glancing over at the girl, she frowned when she saw that Athena’s eyes were closed. What the fuck..? Some kinda fucking Spidey-Sense bullshit? Hunter stuff? Whatever, as long as it worked, she wasn’t going to argue with it. Flicking her fingers in the direction Athena had told her, the trails of flame flew from her arms and slithered across the ground. The twin snakes of blue ignited the brush around them, sending fire and smoke into the air as Luce directed the magic to create a circle around the beast. “W-what now?” She managed as she brought one of her hands up with a grasping motion, sending the blue flames up into the air. Her fire, it was flickering, not as powerful as it usually was, and it took every effort to keep her grasp on her magic.

“If you can help.” Athena repeated. “If you can help at all, we can corral this thing and we can be rid of it.” She ran her fingertips along the knife, savoring the feeling of the cold iron. Just like always. It was comforting, though she knew well enough not to voice that to anyone. She was good at playing the part of normal, and even though Luce clearly knew something was up now, she didn’t have to act in the same way that she could act at home. In fact, Athena was acutely aware of just how much she shouldn’t act that way. Luce, though she clearly had some powers of her own, was still human, and that meant Athena had to do her best to protect her. To make sure she was safe and well. “It’ll be quick after that. I’m good and I’m fast, and then you won’t be afraid anymore.”

Gritting her teeth, Luce nodded. “I can do that. I can… do that.” She managed, though the words were more to reassure herself than Athena. Sucking in a deep breath, she nodded as the beast began to snap and bite at the flames, as though it was testing the boundary. She urged the magic forward, feeding the flames with power that made them rise higher into the air, their cobalt tongues dancing among the brush. The creature let out a yelp and scampered back into the center of the circle, its tail low and hackles raised as it spun around, searching for a way out. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.” She growled, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to hold this for very long. Her magic was intrinsically tied into her emotions and fear like this, the primal urge to run? It made wielding the flames incredibly draining.

Although Luce was clearly terrified, Athena had to appreciate how willing she was to jump right into action. She made a mental note of that - for the future, at least - one never knew when something like that could come in handy. Right now was not the time to focus on the future - right now she had to focus on getting rid of this thing. Whatever Luce was doing was working, and Athena let a breath out. “On it.” She said, and under any other circumstance she would have flashed a grin towards Luce, but the other woman likely wouldn’t respond to that right now, and so she kept it internal, her face professional. She took off toward the creature, permitting a smirk to cross her face as she came closer. “You can’t hurt me.” She giggled. “You can’t do anything to me.” The creature stood by her. It had been just over eight minutes, which meant it might howl again at any point. She had to stop it before that happened. “I can, however, do a whole lot to you.” She held tightly onto her knife before digging it into the creature’s chest, praying that she hit a vital organ, and grinning when it collapsed onto the ground. Turning around, she rushed back over to Luce. “It’s gone now. It’s not going to hurt you. Or anyone.”

Keeping the circle of fire going without letting it burn the girl was hard, harder than Luce wanted to admit. But, she was going to make sure that fucking terror hound was gone. And if Athena said she could deal with it, she’d believe her. Just send in the blonde kid with a knife, no big deal. She watched as the girl circled the creature, stance just as predatory, before darting forward and plunging the knife into its chest. And then, it was over. Like that. Releasing her hold on the magic that was straining from her grasp, Luce let out a sigh and slumped back down on the ground. The howl, that fucking howl, it still had her messed up. But at least it was dead. “Nice.” She managed, wiping the sweat from her brow with a weary hand. “Fuck.” Luce muttered with a shake of her head. “Thanks for that.” She said not really sure what else she was meant to say. Thanks for shanking a fucked up dog? Thanks for being chill with the whole fire thing? Whatever.

She was hesitant to touch Luce, and so Athena instead settled for kneeling next to the woman, making sure that she was still breathing. The cù-sìth was dealt with, she didn’t have to worry about it surprise-attacking them. “Thank you. I - well, I don’t usually lose if I put my mind to anything. Be it something like this or an exam.” She wasn’t sure that her attempt to lighten the mood would have the intended effect, but so long as the thing was dealt with and Luce was alive, that was all that mattered. She found herself relieved that Luce also didn’t seem opposed to her hobby. “Oh - yeah, of course. It’s what I do.” She pulled her knees up against her chest and looked over to Luce. “We should get you home, probably. It’s - well, the - that cù-sìth is gone now. It’s - you’ll be alright.” She offered her a small smile. “I appreciate all the help you provided too. Nice team up, if a bit unexpected. Certainly not how all of my runs end.”

Not the type to lose, a perfectionist, huh? She sounded like Bea. Luce shook her hands out, dusting some of the dirt from her palms. Or… well, how Bea had used to sound. Her sister hadn’t been the same since everything that had happened. “Well, sounds like I lucked out big time.” She said and sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. She was absolutely wiped and it was only what… fucking 8? Christ. She still had work, still had appointments to keep. “Yeah, thanks. I need a big ass coffee, but I think I’ll be good after that.” Luce nodded. “No problem. Obviously, I’m not a hunter-- witch, duh-- but I’m not a fan of shit like that kicking it in the woods. I’m happy to help.” She said, before letting out a wry laugh. “Definitely not how they tend to go. Either way… thanks, Athena.” She said offering a slight wave of her hand before heading back to her car. Who’d have fucking thought? The semi-neurotic blonde who’d stepped into Ink Inc, a hunter? Whatever. She’d heard of weirder shit. And at the moment, she didn’t really care to question it, not when the girl had saved her from getting turned into dog food. But still… Who’d have thought?

#p: afe #p: athena quinn #wickedswriting #chatzy

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nomnomzombies · 6 years ago

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Gold and Silver--Two Sides of the Same Coin

TW: discussion of mental illness, rape, and suicidal ideations

First and foremost, thank you so much to your overwhelming support of my 8x04 analysis, even though it wasn’t totally finished. As I was working on an outline to finish it up, something.... grew out of it.

The themes I discussed in my previous essay addressed Identity and Accountability—but I’ve long believed that identity is a core principle of the themes explored throughout all of ASoIaF. That assertion may feel a little superficial in a world that’s dictated by ruling houses and are characterized by their sigils; a name is as powerful as a sword in Westeros. But the story we’ve all tuned in for is the characters. We’ve watched them on this transformative journey to understand where they were, where they are, and where they’re going. While we may or may not like what we understood of their journeys so far and what’s happening now, I think it’s important to sometimes take a step back and reevaluate everything we think we know. Because, let’s face it, the ending that we’re barreling towards is 100% Made in by Martin. While I’ve remained adamant that Dark/MQ Dan has been in the making for a long time—I'm passionate about understanding the other perspective. A common complaint that I’ve heard about MQD is that we already have a “Mad Queen” Cersei. Isn’t this redundant? Why are we pitting women against each other? Making Dan Mad Queen devalues Cersei’s arc/Mad Queen Dan is an injustice to Dan’s arc. But the question begins to take root—was there somewhere else we could have been looking for this ending? Were there other parallels we could have made that would have enlightened us to this transformation of Dan’s character? The last few weeks, I’ve been making offhanded comments about how if we were watching the show about Robert’s Rebellion and his early reign, would we be rooting for Cersei as our defensible, ruthless feminist icon? Has it really been there the whole time?

I’m primarily going to be citing the show with reinforcement from the text since I have incredibly poor organizational skills and I don’t know an effective way to look up specific quotes without leafing through a 500+ pg tome for twenty minutes at a crack.

Shall we begin?

The Proud Lion and the Beggar King

Cersei and Jaime’s relationship is a cornerstone of the series. We understand that the romance is forbidden, but we’re also coerced into justifying its legitimacy on the precedent that the Targaryens set throughout their entire reign. The characters themselves have had conversations where they verbalize these facts to not only one another but also in their defense to the other characters. Similarly, when we begin the narrative, Daenerys is accompanied by Viserys in Pentos and we’re confronted with this abusive and incestuous dynamic. Vis is very quick to bring up that they lived their lives with the understanding that they’d most likely be married to one another. Immediately, this parallel has become perpendicular. While Jaime and Cersei’s relationship is equally as abusive and manipulative under the surface, for different reasons we’re unsettled by Viserys’ outward physical, mental, emotional, and sexual abuse of his sister (seriously, what a piece of trash). While Jaime and Cersei have willingly engaged with one another, the dynamic is monumentally less consensual between the silver siblings. Continuing with this inverted parallel, we follow the four siblings throughout the first half of season/book one and see the power dynamic at play. Cersei is Robert’s queen, and we know that Jaime took the position with the King’s Guard to be closer to Cersei because otherwise Tywin would have forced Jaime to wed just as he brokered Cersei’s engagement (and subsequent coronation). Conversely, we see Viserys brokering the marriage between Daenerys and Khal (King) Drogo (and Dan’s subsequent ‘coronation’) for similar political means. Viserys refuses to leave Daenerys’ side, not out of love, but out of insecurity and the need for Drogo to make good on his end of the agreement. Daenerys, throughout the entire wedding is lamenting, “I want to go home,” which us book readers know that she’s referring to the house in Braavos. Every time she expresses this, Viserys quickly snaps that “Home is Westeros.” “There is no home until I take back my crown.” “That which was stolen from us—the Iron Throne.” The first half of book/season 1, Dan doesn’t give two shits about the Iron Throne. She wants family, love, connection. And she eventually finds this with the Dothraki. Love and community is not something that Cersei found in her marriage with Robert, but rather power. She became The Queen, as Dan became The Khaleesi. It’s important to note that the episodes in which the Twins and the Targs are separated from their counterparts are subsequent. The separation of the siblings are nearly simultaneous events. “The Wolf and the Lion” is the episode in which Jaime attacks Ned Stark in the streets of King’s Landing, then leaves the city to join Tywin’s host. The twins are separated for the next 3 seasons. The next episode, “A Golden Crown,” is the episode in which Daenerys has Viserys killed. Though their separation is permanent, we’re constantly assaulted with parallels between Dan and Vis from season 7 onward. Viserys is not with her in mind nor body, but rather in essence. As much as we understand Cersei to be the new Aerys II Targaryen, we’re being shown now that Dan is the new Viserys.

A Bride for an Army; A Marriage for a Crown.

Although Dan’s wedding night is very different from the show to the books, Cersei’s is incredibly consistent. From Dan’s point of view in the show, we see her raped by Khal Drogo for the first time—in the books, however, we’re met with a less brutal version of events. Although she was incredibly anxious throughout the course of the wedding, Daenerys II closes off with a back and forth of “No.” (Dan) “No?” (Drogo) “Yes.” (Dan). It’s interesting to note that Dan knew nothing about Drogo before their “greeting” ceremony in Daenerys I, whereas Cersei describes “worshipping” Robert in the lead up to their wedding. Interestingly enough, Cersei’s exact quote describes Robert as “lean and black-bearded,” though this is probably little more than a coincidence.... it’s not like the two blonde queens share any other physical traits in common..... It’s not like we’re talking about The Golden Lioness and The Silver Queen, or anything...

Anywho.... So we go from this idyllic state and crash back down to earth. In the time following their weddings, both women experience periods of severe depression and suicidal ideations. As Dan is acclimating to her time in the Dothraki sea, she describes her legs and hands as blistered and raw, and Drogo proceeds to engage in intercourse in the face of her obvious agony. She does not refuse, and neither does Cersei, though her tactics are a bit more refined as she describes using “other ways to finish [Robert] off.” We also see Dan reaching out to Doreah, a bedslave, in order to make her consorts with Drogo more enjoyable. Both women found solutions to the same problem, to make the nightmare more livable. But in the period following the marriage, both found themselves in situations where they’d rather it end than face another day (Dan) or throw themselves off of the red keep (Cersei). What kept them both going? For Dan, it was the beginning of the dragon dreams. For Cersei, it was her children.... (It’s almost like dragons and children have a parallel for these two women?)

Regardless, they both have an “in” to political power through this marriage. They are both the queens to the strongest king in the land.

Fast forward to the end of season one, and another two significant events take place for these women. S1e7, “You Win or You Die” marks the episode when Robert returns from his boar hunt, on his deathbed. We understand, later, that Cersei was the catalyst of the events that lead to his injury. S1e8, “The Pointy End” is the episode when Dan implores Mirri Maz Durr to treat Drogo’s bicep injury. It’s noteworthy that the two womens’ motivations were entirely opposite; nevertheless, the actions taken and the sequence of events that followed are directly paralleled, particularly when you analyze the outcomes of both scenarios.

With Robert dead, and Drogo a husk, both of them ascend to a level of pseudo-power through their children. The last two episodes of season 1 mark the execution of Ned Stark and Joffrey’s rise to King, and Dan’s mercy-killing of Drogo and the blood sacrifice to birth the dragons. Both women spent the entirety of season 1 coming into a sense of agency and working to hone real power with lasting effects. The end of the season marks both of them moving into this new chapter of an elevated status (“Queen Mother” and “Mother of Dragons”). They’re far from achieving true power, but their game has now changed.

The Mother

As far as I’m aware, only the show mentioned that Cersei and Robert had a trueborn son together. In the scene where Cersei visits Catelyn over Bran’s sickbed in 1x02, she talks about losing the Baratheon heir to a fever. This parallels the death of Rhaegal in that both of them would be the only “legitimate” children that they would have. The other three children would either be illegitimate in lineage or..... species.

That’s really not where the parallels end between the six children, however, because as I talked about in my last essay (Identity and Accountability), the dragon and the throne have become direct symbols of the queens’ identity and power. We see this more fully-realized in later seasons, once Daenerys is able to ride Drogon into battle, and Cersei actually sits the throne, but the theory in its infancy still holds water because the children and the dragons are routes to power rather than power directly. People are still able to scoff at Cersei for being “Mother to the King” as they’re able to scoff at Dan’s dragons for being fledglings. The children and the dragons, themselves, hold power although they are not in positions to leverage it (even Joffrey, who fought so hard to be his own person and make his own decisions, was little more than a pawn, a vessel for Tywin, in the end).

Cersei receives a prophecy pertaining to her three children. By Maggy the Frog, “...you will have three. Gold their crowns, and gold their shrouds.” While the obvious answer is that they’ll have golden crowns because they’re monarchs (and in the books, the Dorne plot to make Myrcella queen) but at the same time, we need to recognize that their hair is also the staple Lannister Gold--“golden crown.” While we understand that the Baratheon heirs are 100% Lannister (much like Drogon is still 100% a dragon), they’re cloaked in the guise of the Baratheon name. Moreover, Joffrey understands Robert to be his true father, and commits atrocities throughout his lifetime hoping that he can win Robert’s approval. We see the Lannister identity, but particularly Cersei’s symbolic identity, cloaked under “Baratheon,” and as I’ve established, the children are Cersei’s link to her power--the throne.

Prior to hatching her dragons, Dan receives the Mirri Maz Durr prophecy that reveals she is now barren. Like Magy’s prophecy limited the number of children Cersei would bear, now Mirri’s would limit Dan’s. In spite of that, though, she uses blood magic--”only death can pay for life”--to attempt to hatch the dragons (It’s not explicitly stated in the books or show that she actually used blood magic, but it’s the best theory that explains why Dan was fireproof through the pyre scene, so I roll with it). Once the dragons hatch, they are Gold (Viserion, for Viserys), Green (Rhaegal, for Rhaegar), and Black/red (Drogon, for Drogo). Instantly, Dan is more connected to Drogon than the other two. Not only do they connect more quickly and more deeply than she does to the other two, but Drogon is described as growing more quickly and into a far stronger dragon. Before she knew any of this, though, she named him after her deceased first husband. What was meant to be a touching tribute, became the biggest clue to Dan’s source of power and identity, as Drogon is not only named after Khal Drogo, but he presents with the Targaryen house colours—red and black. So her most deeply rooted sense of identity is immediately linked to her fastest growing avenue to power, notoriety, and ambition.

Fast Forward to The Sons of the High Sparrow

I had an epiphany when I was analyzing the two characters’ arc, and I looked into the two major arcs that culminating in the two queens clashing in Westeros. In season 5, Dan is coping with the repercussions of the sacking of Slaver’s Bay and the Crucifixion of the Masters. Cersei is trying to manage the aftermath of Joffrey’s death, Tyrion’s trial, and Tywin’s murder. As I established in the last passage, the two of them are still using avenues to power, as their authority is under major scrutiny. With Tywin gone, Cersei has completely infiltrated the Small Council and is ruling in everything but title. Tommen is still king, and is married to Margaery this season. Dan is separated from Drogon. While she’s in Mereen, he’s awol eating children and burning shit (the usual). And, once again, because if indirect (yet painfully direct) action, the repercussions of their actions come to haunt them in the form of cultist insurgencies. Cersei takes the opportunity to elevate the High Sparrow in the wake of an embarrassing incident with the High Septon at a brothel. Dan’s impulsivity and reckless brutality in conquering Slaver’s Bay allowed the wounds of her arrogance to fester into the Sons of the Harpy (seriously—if she would have put the former masters to trial instead of crucifying them, she would have rooted out the SotH pretty damn quickly. But noooooooo Miss Injustice-with-”Justice”).

I’m going to take a second to note that A Feast for Crows (Cersei) and A Dance with Dragons (Daenerys) are parallel books. The narratives of the two are meant to be simultaneously occurring. So, even though seasons 4 and 5 turned out to be a jumble in terms of timeline and sequencing, these two storylines still ran side-by-side.

So s5e9, “The Dance of Dragons” culminates in Dan being forced out of Mereen by the SotH, rescued by Drogon, and is apprehended by the Dothraki. S5e10, “Mother’s Mercy,” shows Cersei’s High Sparrow arc climaxing with her Walk of Atonement. Parallel events could be seen as Dan’s apprehension at the hands of the Dothraki to Cersei being taken prisoner by the High Sparrow. Cersei’s walk of atonement would parallel Dan’s walk to Vaes Dothrak. Although Cersei is permitted to return to the Red Keep, she’s still awaiting trial. Although Dan is no longer in Mereen, she too is a prisoner awaiting trial. Cersei was stripped of her finery by the hands of the High Sparrow; Dan was stripped of hers by the Dosh Khaleen—both are regarded as the paramount of their religious institution. They’re both in a holding pattern for a time, but both eventually greet their trials with similar approaches. Dan actually attended her trial—though she had far less physical agency at the time. Long story short—they both avoided the consequences of their actions by burning down the religious center and simultaneously murdering EVERYBODY in seats of power. A one-and-done complete political overhaul and power acquisition. This isn’t the pseudo-power that we’ve seen up until now, either. Cersei’s actions lead to her taking the throne at the end of that episode. Following the burning of Vaes Dothrak, Dan is permanently reunited with Drogon—her symbol of power and identity—and she leads the charge of the Great Khalasar to Mereen. By the end of the season, both Dan and Cersei have successfully acquired unbridled power and are on a high-speed bullet train towards confrontation.

Conclusion

For some people, Dan’s behaviour throughout the conquest of Slaver’s Bay and the Great Grass Sea was enough of a tip towards her tyrannical nature. To everybody, the burning of the Sept of Baelor was Cersei’s branding of “Mad Queen.” But let’s also see her ascension for what it was: a power play in the face of grief. Even though Dan will face similar losses to Cersei throughout the course of s7 and s8, the losses that Cersei endured throughout s4-6 are what paved her way to the throne. Cersei would never have taken the throne from her children. She would have preferred Tommen to rule and remain the silent authority, maneuvering in the shadows. So much like the loss of Dan’s two dragons and Mis, and her mounting paranoia and insecurity following RLJ and the Northern plotline, Cersei’s rise to power is less about going mad and more about ambition in the face of tragedy and loss. Every decision she’s made has been slow, cold, and calculating. Cersei is weighing every decision heavily. This isn’t impulsive and reckless brutality. The paranoia is a common denominator between Aerys, Cersei, and Dan, but it is not the dominating factor. So is “Mad Queen” appropriate for either of them? Considering the parallels that I’ve outlined above, having Dan sack King’s Landing following the death of two of her children and her last remaining friend and advisor (The death of Cersei’s children and Tywin prior to taking the throne) only serves to compare the two even more.

#game of thrones #got #meta #my meta #mad queen #dark dany #khal drogo #viserys targaryen #cersei lannister #daenerys targaryen #mad queen dany #anti dany #anti daenerys #idk why I have to use the anti tag #Dan should feel lucky to be paralleled to Cersei #Cers is such an amazingly complex and multidimensional character

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thetygre · 6 years ago

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30 Day Monster Challenge 2 - Day #15: Favorite Great Old One/Monster God

1. Nurgle the Great Unclean One (Warhammer)

I think you can tell a lot about a person by knowing which of the Chaos Gods is there favorite. I’m not saying there’s a right answer, but I’ve always been a Nurgle man myself. Nurgle is more than just the daemon god of disease and entropy; he’s the god of the value of life. Nurgle loves all of his children equally, down to the smallest virus. It can be hard for people to accept that, to realize that they have as much cosmic significance as a single-cell organism, but that’s just because they don’t realize how much love the Urfather has for that little cell. In Nurgle’s phlegmatic embrace, all of us are equal, regardless of race, gender, or cell count.

Nurgle asks only that you spread the love he has so willingly given, so that all may be his children. Death and disease are natural parts of life; we struggle to fight them so, but they always come back to us. Through Nurgle, we may exalt in the power of pus and the greatness gangrene. We grow stronger with each infection, and every tumor is a sign of endurance. We do not die when the Plague Bearer calls us; we merely transform for the vermin and bacteria that consumes us, to be reborn in the eternal cycle. Truly, Grandfather Nurgle moves in wondrous ways.

2. Ithaqua the Wind Walker (August Derleth)

It should come as no surprise that the god of all wendigos is one of my favorite Great Old Ones. The Ithaqua Cycle is probably the best thing August Derleth wrote, for what ever that’s worth. Ithaqua is just such a chilling god; the image of some skull-faced giant thing turning around a mountain is the stuff of nightmares. Ithaqua is the primal urge inside life, the need to do anything to survive in an unrelenting environment. He walks in the cold places of the world, but also in that cold space between worlds, spreading his cannibalistic madness from world to world. Ithaqua himself seems hardly necessary, or the countless wendigos that follow him. It’s the chaos and horror he causes between people in a desperate situation, pitting one man against the other and breaking taboos until only the strongest is left. Ithaqua is the cold and brutality of the North personified.

3. Lolth the Queen of the Demonweb Pits (Dungeons and Dragons)

Lilith is so pastiche these days. You know where the real rebellious queen of evil action is at? Spiders, man, and Lolth is the Spider Queen. Lolth has been in Dungeons and Dragons since the beginning. Wherever the dark elves go, Lolth goes too, like any deity, and her absence from a setting is noticeable. She’s one of D&D’s greatest villains, and countless adventurers have lost their lives in the Demonweb Pits. Her entire realm is an arachnid hell crawling with spiders as small a mite to as big as her spider-golem palace. Lolth is an entity of contrasts; her priesthood is a strict matriarchy, but Lolth herself is absolutely insane. It’s hard to tell if there’s anything left of the elf goddess she used to be. Beneath the layers of scheming, beauty, racially motivated hatred, and plans to conquer the known multiverse lies a beating heart of blind hunger, an overwhelming instinct to survive by strength alone.

4. Saaitii the Hog (William Hope Hodgson)

Saaitii is actually what got this particular entry in the challenge. See, I wanted to do just ‘Top 10 Great Old Ones’, but then I was worried that not everybody would know what the Great Old Ones are and it’s kind of an arbitrary category that Lovecraft wanted people to change from story-to-story for fun, so then I just broadened the category to ‘monster gods’ and now here we are. Anyway, Saaitii is a monster that William Hope Hodgson’s occult detective Thomas Carnacki encountered in his monster-hunting stories. The locals tell Carnacki that Saaitii is the ghost of a boar wrongfully killed long ago, but Carnacki suspects that it’s an extradimensional something using the spirits of dead hogs to try and come through.

First off, I just want to know what William Hope Hodgson’s deal with pigs was. This is explicitly his second pig monster story, following the pig men from The House on the Borderlands. But the usage of that aesthetic is definitely refreshing a little unsettling. In an age of meme-tentacles, we need new and different cosmic horrors. Pigs can be disturbing; we think of them as cute at best and filthy at worst, but rarely evil or malevolent. Even the meanest boar has a kind of nobility to it. But the Hog brings up images of mindless, vicious cruelty, dark things in the forest and filth. The concept of a higher life form like some extradimensional whatsit coming into our world through ‘lower’ lifeforms strikes a little close to the karmic bullseye for some, turning the tables on humanity and reminding us that in the eyes of the cosmos, we’re just so much more food.

5. Ogdru Jahad the Seven Who Are One (Hellboy)

You’d think there’d be more dragons on the list, but so far it’s just the one. Seven. 369. Whatever. The Ogdru Jahad are the Hellboy/BPRD universes Great Old Ones, and the source of… a sizable amount of trouble there. Not all of it, but most of it. At the dawn of time, the Sons of God formed the mud of creation into seven great dragons that were filled with the shadow of the moon, for whatever reason. Things would have been fine and dandy there, but one little angel named Satan, for reasons that are still unclear, took the fire of God and filled the dragon with it, giving the Ogdru Jahad life. The Ogdru Jahad birthed their 369 offspring, and the angels had to fight them off before the whole Creation thing could get rolling. From that day on, every human culture has been warned about the Ogdru Jahad, and they have been ingrained in the human consciousness as the Dragon, from Tiamat to the Beast of Revelations.

It’s a nice fusion of Judeo-Christian Biblical lore and cosmic horror. I honestly don’t think it would work if it wasn’t for the fact that Satan is notably absent from the Hellboy series and, as of BPRD: Hell on Earth, the Ogdru Jahad are winning, where even their smallest children can cause natural disasters. I love conflating the image of dragons with cosmic monsters. Cthulhu as Leviathan, flying polyps as oriental dragons, hunting horrors as wyverns; it’s a direct play to the archetype that both types of creatures fill. The Ogdru Jahad illustrate that perfectly, simultaneously something the most modern of cosmic horror and the most ancient of monsters.

6. Flowey the Flower (Undertale)

Flowey’s final form gets in on design alone. There aren’t a lot of monster designs that actually freak me out, but Flowey is just horrible. Of course that’s also because it’s a genius bit of sprite animation, with the usage of textures contrasting so hard with the rest of Undertale. It looks like something that ate its way inside out from at least three Madoka witches. The claws, the eyes, the mouths; it all makes something perfectly awful and abhorrent. And, of course, the music. I actually think Flowey’s boss theme rates pretty low compared to other Undertale boss themes, but the title is just something else. How are you supposed to do better than “Your Best Nightmare”?

7. Rom the Vacuous Spider (Bloodborne)

It’s Rom. C’mon. Look, I know she’s not actually a Great One; she’s Kin, like Mergo’s Wet Nurse. But look at her. When I think, “What’s my favorite eldritch monstrosity boss from Bloodborne?” I keep coming back to Rom. Just look at her dumb, stupid face. One of her attacks is just falling over. That’s the most relatable a video game has been for me since I was an undergrad. Rom doesn’t want to hurt anybody; she’s just a giant, stupid bug/fungus thing. You could just walk away, man. You could just leave poor Rom alone. She’s doing her best trying to grant people eyes and you’re over here hassling her. In front of her kids, man. Just leave her alone.

8. Moder the Bastard of Loki (The Ritual)

Y’know, as a jotun, this guy could have been on the giant list, but I feel like its design and concept are too unique for that. This is a special monster, a kind of revelatory creature. Its design is just out of this world, blending human and stag and those creepy little eyes. But there’s so much more to it than just a great design. Its ability to create illusions essentially gives it access to shapeshifting, tying it to the actual mythology of Loki and Norse giants. The actual ritual to appease Moder, where it picks a person up and impales them on a tree, is reminiscent of the story in Norse mythology where Odin impales himself on the World Tree Yggdrasil to gain the knowledge of the runes. Before a person is killed, Moder shows them something precious to them, or a defining moment in their life; it is, in its own way, giving the person a revelation about what is vital in their own universe. Moder, like any good monster, delivers a message about the meaning of reality to the people it encounters.

9. Set the Slithering God (Conan the Barbarian/Marvel Comics)

I like this comic book version of a god. The actual Egyptian deity Set is fairly complex, and actually examining his character and divine portfolio gives insight into how Egypt’s culture changes over time. Comic book Set, on the other hand, is the god of snake villains. He is the snake villain to end all snake villains. Marvel cooked him up for their old Conan comics based off an offhand mention in one of Robert E. Howard’s stories because they needed Conan to have a nemesis. So Conan’s nemesis, the arch-wizard/priest Thoth Amon, worships the dark god Set, regardless of the fact that Thoth Amon appeared exactly once in the very first Conan story. Now, it’s fifty years later and Set is apparently one of Marvel’s Primordial Ultra-Deities.

It’s that mixture of traditional myth and the cosmic I like again, though this time it’s less H.P. Lovecraft ‘cosmic horror’ and more Jack Kirby ‘cosmic action’; new gods and a new mythology for a new medium, but still the same old story. Set is the Serpent, like the Ogdru Jahad, manifesting in human lore as everything from the serpent in Eden to Leviathan. He was the first murderer, able to absorb the power of any other god he ate, and even today he seeks reptile supremacy. Wherever there is Set there are snakes, enacting the cosmic cycle of death and rebirth while lounging in decadence.

10. Haos the Ultimate Bio-Weapon (Resident Evil 6)

… We’re going to do this now, and then we’re never going to do it again. Because we’re going to talk about something good that was in Resident Evil 6. One of the most infuriating things about RE6 is that it had some of the most incredible monster designs in the Resident Evil series. Great designs. The kind of monster designs that other games only wish they could achieve. And they were wasted on one of the worst games the series has produced. One of those designs was Haos, the apparent ultimate bio-weapon engineered by (ugh) Neo-Umbrella in a secret facility at the bottom of the ocean good lord I’m putting this on a list with William Hope Hodgson.

Haos deserves a better game; its design is unnecessarily fantastic. It looks like a ningen crossed with a jellyfish. It’s some far future stage of human evolution driven to its most extreme and bizarre form. There’s something forlorn and sad about it, but also beautiful and powerful. Its concept is purely apocalyptic; Haos will rise from the bottom of the ocean before it finally dies and dissolves into a gas that will spread across the world, turning humanity into zombies and monsters. Herald of a world of gods and monsters and all that. Even its name is kind of cool; ‘Haos’ is literally Siberian for ‘chaos’. And every day I have to wake up with the knowledge that this wonderful, horrible monster was stuck at the end of a Resident Evil 6 campaign. It’s depressing. So here’s to good old Haos; at least here you’ll get some respect.

#30 Day Monster Challenge 2 #30 Day Monster Challenge #Great Old Ones #Warhammer #Nurgle #Dungeons and Dragons #Lolth #Hellboy #Undertale #long post

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sunnyupsidedown · 6 years ago

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Thoughts On: The Raven Cycle

(Or more appropriately named, Me screaming about my feelings into the void known as the Internet.)

Note: I never actually finished writing this out and editing it so it would be readable. It’s been in my drafts for years and I’m spring cleaning. Here’s me uncensored and with no direction.

Let’s get this out of the way. So if you haven’t read The Raven Cycle Series by Maggie Stiefvater, this is the part where I tell you to put aside all your misgivings and just read it. That is, if you’re like me and the summary didn’t do it for you. If you’re like me and thought that it’s going to be four books about Blue and her harem of boys crying about the fact that she can’t kiss any of them. Let me tell you, you’re wrong. You’re so far from right, you’re in a different galaxy. The summary does the books zero justice. I tried to summarize it better to my roommate and I couldn’t. These books are books you just have to read.

That aside, the rest is below the cut because it’s basically me ranting about anything and everything from the series because I have a lot of feelings.

Spoilers Below

Individual Books - Romance - Characters - Miscellaneous

The Raven Boys

This book here was basically me asking myself why I didn't read the series sooner. Like the prologue was eh, but the moment Blue implied that she was an amp, I was in. I love shit like that. And then there was chapter two with Gansey being Gansey and then finding out Adam and Ronan do dumb shit together. Yeah. Well. I was doomed. Yes yes the usual, plot was a little slow paced. I kept wondering "man, when are Gansey and Blue gonna meet?" Or "when are they gonna go King hunting?" When they finally did stuff it was great! But I think it was great because the characters are so well established. But I'll rant on that later.

Anyway, actually yeah, getting to know the characters in this book was wow. God damn it's not a fucking competition on who has the worst backstory. My heart cannot take it. I really want to read a prequel about how they all came together. I need details. Everything is so vague (like mentioned in offhand lines) (i.e. Ronan hating Adam at first or how Adam helped Gansey's car (which is pretty solid but give me more conversation)).

Speaking of vague...NOAH! God. Let me be smug for a bit. I figured out the mystery as soon as Barry mentioned being in his mid-20s.

Hints:

"I've been dead for 7 years."

Noah having a first name when everyone calls each other by their last.

Barry's friend only having a last name.

Boom yeah. Anyway. Noah, my boy. The true mvp, but that rant will come later. "Don't throw this away.” Gosh. End me.

Again speaking of vague. I love and hate Ms. Maggie's style. I love how pretty it is.

Favorite character in this book kept switching between Gansey, Blue, and Adam. Me while reading was basically, Who’s Ronan?

The Dream Thieves

I love that Ronan’s POV was included in this. I stereotype book characters all the time. It’s natural since it helps establish a certain character without having to spell out every single detail. So yeah. I stereotyped Ronan as a punk (true) that was crude (true), rough (half true), and didn’t care about anything (not true). Getting to know Ronan more in this book killed me.

Kavinski was meh. He was a cool kid. Idk why ppl love him so much? Like he was def a cool character. Maybe I read the books too fast to really appreciate him.

Bragging again, I figured out Ronan’s mom was a dream thing from the prologue (though it wasn’t that hard? idk. Matthew was a surprise).

Adam was winning the favorite character battle but now Ronan’s a strong contestant.

Blue Lily, Lily Blue

RONAN HAS WON. HE IS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER. Why? The EpiPens! That sealed it. Nothing will be able to trump that. I seriously had to stop reading at that part. It was too much.

I really don’t know what happened in this book. That’s one of the things about the writing (or maybe it was just me reading things too fast) but it was kinda hard to keep track of time. Things that I though happened weeks apart happened on the same day, or things that I thought happened on the same day actually happened weeks away. So it was kinda hard to keep track of events.

TRC & Romance

Before we get to the last book, I just want to put this rant that I started about two chapters into the 4th book because I just love this series so much and I was wondering why.

So typically I’m like “Fuck Romance! Get out of my books and tv shows!” (well, unless I’m specifically looking for it…) but the romance (or relationships in general) in the raven cycle is SO. GOOD.

And here I was wondering why and why and why and I figured it out.

The thing about Romance in YA novels (I say YA because I mainly read YA), is that it feel like it’s a prize for the Main Character to achieve at the end of the book. Like, you battled a bunch of crazy zombies alongside this hot babe you met maybe a week ago, now make out and live happily ever after! Like the Love Interest is only there for the MC to end up dating in the end. Sure they can be important to the plot too but there’s always a focus on “These two will be together in the end. Period.” And I hate it. I guess it’s because I love slow burns and I find it so unrealistic because Love typically doesn’t happen like that.

Like typically, a guy or girl will not walk up to someone and say “You’re hot go out with me.” Well, not unless they want maybe a drink dumped on them. I don’t like how when the MC meets their LI, they stop knowing how to communicate with other human beings. Like haven’t they ever had a normal conversation with another human? Don’t they have friends.

And that’s where I figured it out. Gansey & Blue and Ronan & Adam, they were FRIENDS first.

Well, Adam did ask Blue out kinda…. I’ll get to that later.

But they became friends! It wasn’t all about mantic pixie dream girls/boys. Or the most popular girl/boy in school. Or some rival from an enemy territory. It was a just a bunch of kids looking for a king together.

(Adam and Blue something about including her with the boys, how when the began to know each other it doesn’t work out. and that’s normal. But they still end up friends because they do like each other. And it’s not all suddenly, we’re dating so we now have no other friends/I can no longer think rationally [cough Graceling cough]) Gansey eyeing their hand holding less because “Omg im in love with this chick” and more like “who is this girl invading our group.”

The way the small love triangle between Blue, Adam, and Gansey was so well handled. Like the friendship between Gansey and Adam didn’t suffer (too much…) because they weren’t gonna let something like that ruin it because it was strong.

And then Gansey’s all like “I gotta think of something clever to tell Blue later” and it’s so fucking dumb and sweet and that’s kinda what I do to my friends and they don’t really like like each other but it slowly grows with the night calls and the driving to nowhere and they still fight with each other and it’s all so normal and real that it hurts and I actually look forward to their interactions, not necessarily romantically, but just hanging out. Like I could read chapters of all of them just playing cards or something, doing mundane shit.

Ronan and Adam. Idk because I haven’t gotten that far but apparently in the beginning god sai- in the beginning Ronan hated Adam because Ronan loved Gansey and not really in the romantic way but in the we are friends and I will now DIE FOR YOU, type of love and he was fucking jealous. But now they’re cool and they go do random shit together (like framing a crazy dude). And it’s not all, I like you and now you will magically start liking me back. There was build up to this, like Ronan going back for Adam from his dad, and Ronan paying for Adam’s rent secretly, like Adam actually saying thank you.

Even Blue and Ronan. Like how he doesn’t even think about saving her from falling down a hole. How he cries on here shoulder because he can do it and not be judged. Because they are friends. Even if they do not interact often.

And then there’s Maura and the Gray Man. idk where this one is going.

tl;dr: The complex relationships and romance between the characters in the Raven Cycle are hella good.

The Raven King

Oh my god. I am dead. My soul has been carved from my body. Gansey. My boy. Fucking Noah. God damn.

Let me just say that Adam’s analogy(? metaphor?) of the summer storm and the kiss was so fucking good. I will remember that forever. Like that is probs my favorite passage from the book.

Ronan is so sweet and pure and needs lots of love.

Writing in General

Weird how it skips around. Like there’s a little view in the scene and then suddenly it jumps to a vague conclusion. I like knowing what happens between. I like the clean up shit. But then again if it happened the pacing of the book would have been very weird.

Characters

Gansey: it’s like watching someone slowly learn negative emotions. He started out all innocent and full of ideals and happiness, he just wanted to find his King, and then he learns fear and anger and worry and death. Real life. He’s definitely very grounding. How he steps back occasionally and thinks “God this is so fucked up. This is not okay. I want everybody to be safe.”

Ronan: God. Ronan. This boy. I like how you don’t really think of him as I guess nice. But he’s probably the most human of all. Like his outward appearance is some tough boy who’ll fuck you up, but he’s actually really soft? His words are crude but his actions are caring.

Adam: 😫

Blue: I love her. She’s so fierce and strong and human. How she just rolls with it. Kinda.

#the raven cycle #trc #thoughts on #m #this is literally me crying into a puddle about how much i love trc

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mrsspidermanmaryjanewatsonparker · 6 years ago

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Amazing Spider-Man: Renew Your Vows Vol 2 #10-12 Thoughts

Previous thoughts here.

Even though issue #10 is a done-in-one and issues #11-12 two-parter, to all intents and purposes the three issues form a three parter, issue #10 acting as a kind of precursor to the latter issues.

First things first the elephant in the room to address is Ryan Stegman as the writer and by extension the artists filling in for him.

Whilst neither Stockman nor Level are the measure of Stegman, they both do respectable jobs, with Level’s art in particular being a better compliment to Stegman’s. This isn’t to say Stockman’s art is ill suited because like in issue #5 his style excels at expressive almost Rugrat looking child characters and issue #10 features one such character as the lead.

Stegman for his part, whilst he may be working off of ideas leftover from Conway, does a surprisingly good job. There are some problems with issue #11-12 I will talk about later, but issue #10 is great and over all his dialogue, pacing and handling of the characters is solid, shockingly solid for someone who I do not believe has much (if any) writing experience. This applies to his writing contributions to issues #8-9 too.

His work is not as layered or as nuanced as Conway’s but it’s still good, still cuts to the heart of this series (family) and still delivers on the emotion when needed.*

This arc as a whole provides a decent enough wrap up to the over all subplots across the series and the 12 issues as a whole did a good job in the pacing department.

I despise decompressed storytelling but RYV up to this point has handled it really well. The first 4 issues were the guiltiest in this department but their style of pacing was justified. Beyond that it’s been done-in-one stories or else two parters or in this case a pseudo three parter. This keeps things nice and breezy and makes you feel like things have actually advanced quite a bit since issue #1.

Of the three issues though it must be said issue #10 was the strongest and most interesting.

I said back when I covered issues #8-9 how I appreciated that each story across the series was mixing up which characters get the focus (last arc being Peter and more noticeably MJ) and that continues here. Whilst technically Normie is the lead character of issue #10 it’s Peter and Annie who’re the Parkers getting all the focus here, and it’s adorable.

This is something we haven’t seen before outside of that back up from issue #1 and it’s nice to call back to that (along with the fact that Peter pumps Annie full of sugar when MJ’s away). The clever part of the story is how the focus upon Peter and Annie is complimented by the Lizard and Billy’s opposition to them. This recalls Mr. And Mrs. Spider-Man #1 from 2009 but also emphasises the key point of this story: Normie’s loneliness.

The whole issue is an exploration of Normie, his attempts to live up to his father and grandfather’s toxic legacy and how that quest and their absence in his life has left him alone and unprepared. He thinks he’s grown up to cope with the challenges facing him but he is still ultimately a sad little boy who misses his family.**

In particular in this issue and the next two Normie’s problems are highlighted when contrasted to Annie. Annie expresses gratitude for having a loving family like Normie lacks, calls out Normie on the depressing state of his young life and behaves (comparatively) more like a real child of around their age.

But it is also Peter’s treatment of him with small sympathy that highlight’s Normie’s childishness and pitiful emotional state. We see his anger is born less from a desire to honour his legacy, or even plain old revenge but more a childish anger about just not having his parents (specifically his Dad around). And Stegman and Stockman just sell it!

You see the shades of Norman and Harry’s vendetta cropping up in him but just from a different angle. This permeates through the arc actually and both directly and more subtly recalls DeMatteis and Buscema’s Harry Osborn arc from the early 1990s.

It’s not just fun or coincidental references either it taps into the idea of how family legacies can be toxic which is contrasted nicely with the family dynamic of the Parkers.

This comparison and contrast between the Osborns and Parkers deepens in issues #11-12.

The most obvious example to bust out is the one already drawn (but done better here imo) from the Venom arc. That of MJ and Liz Allan both being mothers who will go to extremes for the sake of their children, with their confrontation in this arc being pretty juicy.

But we also see it in Peter’s protectiveness over Annie too. In another potentially genius call back to Spec #190 by DeMatteis and Buscema (and possibly RYV vol 1 #2), a rage fuelled Peter beats the crap out of the Rhino due to him threatening his family. This is both a realistic reaction for a parent to have and also very true to Peter’s established character in both RYV and the 616 universe, and something not displayed much in RYV vol 2.

In a way this arc marries (if you pardon the pun) the kind of extremes Peter was shown to have regarding Annie from vol 1 with those MJ had been given in vol 2 as the story shows both becoming aggressive in pursuit of rescuing Annie.

In having Peter hunt down Annie, Annie confront and attempt to redeem Normie and MJ get to the bottom of her Venom situation with Liz, issue #11 does a great job of closing out the over arching story of volume 2 by having the Parkers all equally be the focus. Issue #12 kinda does the same thing by involving the X-Men and similarly the use of a Regent power draining mech helps tie-back into the original RYV.

Issue #12 in regards to balancing out the family has a few more mixed results, but it depends what you want out the conclusion.

The story again provides us with a nice change up in the dynamics as it’s more Annie and Normie’s story than it is Peter and/or MJ’s. So it’s something different, but for a wrap up arc maybe having the Parkers fight all together was more thematically appropriate.

It certainly isn’t poorly done though. Annie comes into her own, Normie is believably redeemed and the story has a great message about how words can sometimes win out over fists.

There is also a great twist (kind of) in having the background character Ms. January wind up as the main villain, allowing for Normie to be redeemed and allowing him to break the Osborn Curse of which the arc is named after. It also ties back into the theme of family as Ms. January’s actions stem from a kind of motherly instinct towards Normie.

The action is pretty decent as are the stakes.

Giant robot = Bad.

Giant robot vs a powerless Spider-Man and Mary Jane = Very bad

Giant robot vs a powerless Spidey and MJ whilst it also has the powers of four of the X-Men = How ARE they gonna get out of this one?

Speaking of the X-Men, the arc handles them in a way I appreciated. Not only does their presence recall RYV #1 but it also ups the stakes whilst not allowing them to take away any of the spotlight from the Parkers.

Specifically Annie who comes into her own as I said and this then leads into a pretty organic transition into the new 8 years later status quo.

So...all great right?

Well...not exactly.

Let’s put aside how the Goblin mech having the X-Men’s powers was somewhat underutilized. Let’s put aside even how as I said it maybe should’ve been better if all three of the Parkers were involved in bringing down the threat.

Let’s instead talk about the three big elephants in the room.

Elephant #1: Venom

When I finished RYV #9 even though MJ was still wearing the symbiote I presumed that she’d beaten it and was going to get rid of it. Seemed like the obvious and natural ending to that arc right?

Right...except that didn’t happen.

I was truly surprised when I saw MJ in the suit during this arc. It got me thinking her absence and trip to the hospital in the prior issue made more sense.

But narratively it served little purpose here. It gave MJ something to do in issue #11 I guess but equally MJ could’ve gone to confront Liz without the symbiote simply to learn why Liz had done what she did.***

So why did MJ keep the costume? My suspicion it was purely to justify her still wearing it in Venom-Verse and thus milk MJ in the suit more given how the marketing department (or whoever) were the people who pushed that onto the series in the first place.

It wouldn’t be much of a problem if not for the fact that it’s disposed of so cheaply and easily in issue #12 and you have to No. Prize why she couldn’t have gotten rid of the suit earlier.

The Fantastic Four were mentioned in issue #10 and since they were the guys who got Peter and the symbiote separated in the first place you’d think this wouldn’t be a problem. The ONLY explanation I can dream up (and this isn’t present in the story mind you) is that the symbiote was altered somehow by Liz to be resistant to fire and sonics, hence why in issue #9 MJ punches a flamethrower or something with no problem.

Elephant #2: Ms. January.

Conceptually a background character turning out to be a villain in a twist is great. Problem is we never learn why.

At first it seems like Ms. January just cares for Normie that much but not only is this an offhand motivation in the first place but more poignantly Harry (not Normie) is brought up more than once by Ms. January in issues #11-12.

So it has something to do with him but we never learn what exactly.

She just switches on everyone, goes nuts and it’s because of Harry.

????????

I think this is an example of Stegman being an artist more than a writer tripping up, it may well have been Conway’s original plan for Ms. January to be the final boss but he hadn’t fleshed that part out and Stegman just plugged it in.

Elephant #3: This arc takes waaaaaay too much stuff from Spider-Girl.

I love Spider-Girl. She is my second favourite Spider character behind Peter himself. Her series was a triumph and an underrated all time classic.

And one of the key parts of that series was Normie Osborn being a sad lonely young man self-destructively trying to live up to his father and grandfather’s legacy as a Goblin, and avenge what he perceived as his father’s death due to Spider-Man. The subplot wraps up in Spider-Girl #27, my favourite issue of the series, in which Spider-Man’s daughter is captured and at the mercy of Normie, calls him out on his BS, expresses sympathy for him and with kindness talks him into changing his ways, finding redemption and becoming an ally to her.

Sound familiar?

Here is the thing, putting aside how Spider-Girl did it better, there is nothing wrong with repeating the same ideas to an extent.

But it is the fact that they repeat the redemption part and the manner in which it happens that is the problem. No Normie isn’t borderline suicidal in this story but he’s still on a path to destruction and still has Annie at his mercy and she still is the one who redeems him.

It would’ve been a better take had it actually been Peter who talked him down.

The comparisons to Spider-Girl are not helped by many fans feeling RYV and Annie supplanted Mayday in certain respects and more poignantly that from here on in the series would be borrowing waaaaaaay too many elements from Spider-Girl, starting with the epilogue to this issue where Annie becomes a teenager.

So...in a lot of ways this arc had the weakest writing of RYV up to this point, but I think it’s strengths in spite of it’s weaknesses combine to render it stronger than the X-Men arc and thus only the second weakest arc of the series thus far. In particular I have to commend them for making so much of it work as they did in spite of Conway leaving.

I doubt I’d be complaining this much had I read these at the time of their release though simply because back then these would’ve still been infinitely better Spider-Man than Slott’s clownshow.

Were I to give issue #10 it’s own grade it’d be an A-.

But the 3 issues collectively get a B-.

Good, worth a read but very flawed nevertheless.

*Which is very damning when you consider Stegman, an artist, was a better Spider-Man writer in 3-5 issues than Slott was across 10 years.

**Also the story explains why Normie seems more intelligent than he should be, it’s because of the Goblin formula which helps resolve what otherwise would’ve been something of a contrivence.

***Speaking of which how did Liz know Spinneret would’ve taken her bait about the symbiote? Not saying there is NO explanation but we don’t really get one ever.

P.S. How the Hell can this random orb contain Peter’s powers? His powers stem from being altered on a genetic level!

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gregellner · 6 years ago

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Cover by Jenny Frison.

Today I’ll be reviewing the complete four-issue limited series “Year One” style story for Cassandra “Cassie” Hack, the protagonist of “Hack/Slash,” titled “Hack/Slash: My First Maniac.” It is written by Tim Seeley, with artwork by Daniel Leister, colors by Mark Englert, and letters by Crank!, all published by Image Comics (@imagecomics) as the first of the “Hack/Slash” properties to be published there before they took up the second ongoing series.

As a warning, this review is also an analysis, and so will include spoilers regarding this arc and major developments therein.

Throughout “My First Maniac,” Tim Seeley’s word choice rules the day, showcasing changing scenarios through repetition of common lines that have small, significant variations. Particularly in the first issue, there are intense parallels during the last two days that Cassie spent in her Wisconsin hometown, with her survivor’s guilt and vulnerability contrasting against her utter viciousness on her last day, figuring out how to use her “otherness” to make others afraid of her. On a similar note, the repeated use of certain phrases such as “come home” and similar words helps to add on to how alone Ms. Hack really feels and how she does, deep down, wish she could be at home again, but can’t seem to allow that for herself, a recurring struggle for her throughout her slasher slayer career.

Repetition also continues through events, such as the aforementioned last two days and her feelings about firearms. While Hack was at first upset and in shock over shooting her mother after she had become a slasher, noting that the gun felt heavy in her hands, her almost casual execution of the slasher she set out to hunt in this arc and intentional use of the gun she had actually demanded from someone else gives a look at how far she has delved into her killer lifestyle.

Religion, in particular Christianity, gets some mention, and acts as a contrast to the slashers themselves. Seeing as Cassie doesn’t know much about them (and won’t know much at all beyond the basics for years), she equates their ability to rise from the dead by sheer hatred as a kind of opposite number to Jesus of Nazareth, albeit not an actual antichrist. “The Bible says Jesus Christ died for our sins and returned to show his love. What about those who died for their own sins and returned to show their hate?” While this connection isn’t really all that important, it helps to tie readers in to the story, given a common perspective that many are at least familiar with on a cursory level.

Tim Seeley has long proposed that all of the famous slasher film franchises (and a few horror comic series) take place within the same world and share that world with “Hack/Slash,” with crossovers including “Hack/Slash vs. Chucky” (Child’s Play after Seed of Chucky), “Cassie and Vlad meet the Re-Animator” (Re-Animator), and “Hatchet/Slash” (Hatchet) alongside other more subdued connections or offhand references. In this limited series, Cassie’s original research into slashers includes direct mentions of the actions of Freddy Kreuger of A Nightmare on Elm Street (“a man who kills in dreams in Ohio”), Michael Myers of Halloween (“a masked maniac who terrorizes a small town on Halloween”), and Jason Voorhees of Friday the 13th (“a camp plagued for thirty years by a psycho who won’t die”) who, though already mentioned to exist within the world by Charles Lee “Chucky” Ray in his one-shot story, are still a nice treat for readers.

As a fun little note, Delilah Hack’s year of death is mentioned on her tombstone as 2004, the same year that the original “Hack/Slash” story, “Euthanized,” was published, and therefore probably the same year that this story takes place.

“My First Maniac” is, at its core, a tragedy. Cassie Hack wants a normal life, and by right, probably would have had one, albeit one filled with bullying, in most other circumstances. But with her life’s path and her survivor’s guilt, any hope for a happy life is mercilessly, repeatedly dashed, and she isn’t the only one to whom this genre applies.

First, let’s look to the case of Cassie herself. From the outset, re-killing her undead mother has irrevocably changed her life, leading her down a dark path that results in running away from the loving foster care of Shannon and Karen Moore. As she starts to develop a new, real life for herself in Buffalo Center, Iowa, over the course of her first intentional slasher hunt, she actually seems to be happy, or at least give the idea of possibly becoming happier with time. She develops friends, and seems on the road to becoming better again after her violent turn in Wisconsin. Then, of course, things go horribly wrong, as becomes a pattern for her life from then on.

On the other hand, we have the supporting cast and even the villains. The Moores just wanted to help Cassie, but her self-given mission had consumed her to such a degree that any happiness would be impossible. Sarah Bunn and her boyfriend Kelsey each have a tragic tale, each a victim of the slasher of the story in their own way. Cassie even identifies them as a “free-spirited girl with a dark secret” and a “genuine good guy” respectively, acknowledging that they also were suffering from tragedy much as she was in their own ways. Even the slasher was in his own way a victim, though not as sympathetic. He was murdered in a rage, but his actions in life were not kind either, so there is less sympathy afforded to him.

A major part of “My First Maniac” is not just the case itself, but how Cassie Hack evolves from a relatively innocent girl into… well, kind of a sociopathic girl with intense post-traumatic stress disorder. By the end of the arc, she even claims that “Cassie Hack, teenage girl” is dead.

The majority of the symptoms of her disorder do not come into play during the limited series (having apparently been developed gradually in the months since), but her increased aggression is definitely important. Over the course of a single day, perhaps two, Cassie Hack goes from reluctantly shooting her mother to death in order to save someone’s life, to experiencing such severe survivor’s guilt that she feels she deserves the beating that a trio of bullies led by group alpha Rhianna Stegman are giving her, to beating Stegman to within an inch of her life with her bare hands the next day and threatening to murder her if she ever tried again. Even more, that very night she threatened her foster father’s life with a knife in his bed to keep him from following her as she ran away, further showing that she is seriously unwell. The speed with which she shifts from a shy, bullied girl to making death threats and physical assault demonstrate a thoroughly fractured mind, one that will only get worse as years of hunting take their toll.

On another note, it is important to be aware that while Cassie is a huntress of monsters, she is not a good person on her own. When she witnesses Jay and Ludo beating up a homosexual student outside of Club Fuzz after work, she almost doesn’t help at all on account of them not being her prey and her not being a hero, only actually getting involved when the odds are obviously in her favor once Kelsey and Sarah jumped in. Part of this relates to how she feels she can’t have anyone to care about, seeing any attachments as collateral in her hunt that she cannot afford (something that takes years for her to grasp is not necessarily the case, and never really leaves her mindset altogether), but another is the fact that she is so obsessed with her mission that she has faith in nothing else at all and makes attempts to refuse any other ways to help.

Even with her increasingly hardened exterior, there is still a sheltered, hidden part of Cassie Hack that is still that flustered, shy, teenage girl who ran away from home. Being the center of attention and attracting compliments leaves her very shy, with her new goth wardrobe breaking her out of her intense focus when people bring up how good she looks. Furthermore, when someone actually tells her she is a cool girl, she is overjoyed, actually writing it down in her diary with her feet up and crossed like a guy she likes noticed her.

Daniel Leister’s artwork is amazingly done, and in two different, but similar styles. On the one hand, we have the present day storyline, with realistic, well-detailed faces and scenes, the emotion clear on everyone’s faces (especially important for this particular slasher). Blood and guts are in horrific, terrifying detail through which Leister considers the amount of time that has passed since the blood has spilled, ranging from a general stain to caked on gore or bruises to a smear to a bloody, oozing wound. Water is shown in detail as well, with sweat and splashes helping to showcase effort in a way that many other artists might overlook.

On the other hand, the tellings of the tale of the slasher threat are somewhat more simplistic in nature, with flatter artwork that somehow works very well regardless, playing off in a way that is not unlike the works of Jack Kirby. In fact, the artwork even utilizes his famous “Kirby dot” technique!

On the whole, it is very well put together in some of the best art on “Hack/Slash” in general (not to put down any of the other phenomenal artists either).

The issue would be incomplete without Mark Englert’s coloring. Darkness and light, across different times of day, different ages of bruising, or even different styles of artwork help to make the entire story feel like a classic slasher movie, even as it is clearly something different.

The coloring of blood and gore is particularly well handled, as each of these elements has a weight to them, with light and shadow playing across them to showcase the amount of blood spilled or the fact that a blood stain may just be a single layer, whether a minor smear on clothing or skin. By using that kind of detail, readers are made aware of how fresh, how wet, a wound really is at any particular moment.

Together, this four-issue series is put together wonderfully, with the masterful writing, excellent illustrations, and disturbingly realistic coloring working together to make yet another piece of the amazing “Hack/Slash” epic.

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pomrania · 6 years ago

Text

Mandarin journal, week 3b

(week 3) (week 3c)

I’m putting this stuff here so I won’t have to write it after next class, mostly.

One thing I’ve been forgetting to mention, but that I really like about our prof, is that she keeps bringing it back to how she’d learned things. Now, that isn’t directly helpful with spoken Mandarin -- learning your L1 as a child is way different than learning an L2 as an adult, as all our previous SLA (subsequent-language acquisition) lectures have been very clear on -- but when it comes to WRITTEN language, that’s something she had to explicitly be taught, just like us.

We haven’t done much with the Chinese characters yet, although she has stated that learning them is frustrating for Chinese (as in, born and raised in China) students too. She had to struggle through it, as does everyone who’s learning written Chinese. Being a native speaker will NOT help you there; you’d only reap the benefits of the increased exposure to Chinese characters (by living in China).

Mostly though, I’m thinking of the pinyin spelling rules. She mentioned that when she was in grade school, and her teacher was talking about how U-umlaut loses the umlaut when it comes behind J, X, and Q, the teacher described it as those three letters being three bad brothers, who remove the eyes (the dots of the umlaut) from a fish. For context: U-umlaut, when spoken with a particular tone (that I can’t remember offhand, and I also don’t know how to do tone markings on this keyboard), means “fish”. Now like, if something’s phrased in such a way that little kids can understand it, tired university students are likely to also understand and remember it.

Speaking of “tired”, this morning I figured out the problem. I’m naturally waking up at like 7 in the morning. My sleep schedule has shifted, so I wake up earlier and get tired earlier. It’s rather weird, because it’s never just happened in that direction for me before. I don’t know what to do about this, I have no experience with shifting my schedule so I go to bed later than when I want to.

I just now registered for the next Mandarin course next semester. Monday afternoon-evening is going to be a busy time for me; I’ll have to make certain I pack enough food to get me through all of it. At least I won’t have to worry about buying another textbook for that class (unless the prof lied and we totally do need to get something new).

Speaking of “textbooks”. Only yesterday (because I procrastinate, this is a known issue with my behaviour) I looked up what all stuff there is listed online that we have to do, and apparently there’s homework due Monday at the beginning of class. The thing online lists a bunch of stuff from the workbooks. I do not currently own either of the workbooks, because I hadn’t had the cash on me to afford them, and I’d thought I could get away without buying them for a bit. Apparently, such is not the case. I’ll have to go to the bank today, get out some money, and buy the damn workbooks. I should also have it written down, what all I’ll need to do in them for the homework, so I won’t have to go back online before doing homework (again, a known issue with me).

There’s another “assignment” due Monday. It’s some type of spoken exercise in front of the class. Intended to be with a partner, but a bunch of people (including me) signed up by themselves. I’ve looked over what it’s supposed to be about, and it doesn’t seem too difficult; that is, so long as I put in the time to study and truly understand what I’m saying. It’s easier to remember “meaning” than “sounds”, after all.

A few days ago, I found a site with a bunch of anime dubbed into Mandarin. It was... interesting going over what all shows they had on there, since I cannot actually READ the language. However, arabic numerals are generally an online constant, as are the arrows for going forwards or backwards in page; and each show was given with an image, whatever the equivalent of “cover page” is for things, I can’t remember the word offhand. I found some that I recognized, and I watched a few episodes. I know from prior experience with other languages that this is an enjoyable method of “studying” for me. I don’t learn as much as I would with ACTUALLY studying, but I’m more likely to do it.

In that semi-naturalistic setting, of listening to dubbed anime, I was able to recognize maybe five words (other than the characters’ names, which don’t count as Mandarin words). It was a combination of feeling victorious and frustrated; because on the one hand, I recognized some words, and on the other hand, it was only five words. I think that’s a common sensation when you’re learning something: the high of victory, then the drop of that your “victory” isn’t actually that much. The trick is to realize that “not much” is still better than “nothing”, which is what you had before, and to let yourself celebrate the small victories. Because every large achievement is made up of lots of small achievements, after all.

Before our linguistics seminar two days ago (read: once everyone was more or less in the room, but before the prof told me to stop talking and let the other people do their presentation), I shared that method I’ve found, of watching cartoons dubbed in your target language. I made sure to share that it’s best if you’ve already seen those cartoons previously, in a language you can understand; that way you know what’s going on, so there’s way less of a cognitive load. You only need to worry about what words are being said, and not the plotline.

Someone added that Disney movies would work too. I think that in respects, that might actually work BETTER. For one, those things are bloody popular, and have been dubbed into most languages that exist; you’re way more likely to find Snow White in your target language than an episode of The Clone Wars. For another thing, if it was your favourite Disney movie as a kid, then you can probably recite half the movie in English given minimal prompting. Now there’s not always a direct correspondence in dialogue when something’s translated, but it happens often enough that you can generally make a reliable guess.

There’s another type of videos I’ve discovered. They’re some that are actually intended for people learning Mandarin. The tab I have currently open, it’s a playlist about pinyin (which dammit I need to work on some more because this kind of thing is easy if I just put a bit of time into it), by a channel called Yoyo Chinese. (Not giving the link here, because I am lazy.) I know that this will really help me, if I actually watch and pay attention to it. Not necessarily that the videos are of exceptional quality -- they might be, I can’t rightly judge that -- but because it’s another “direction” of looking at things.

I can’t remember when this was or where I found it, but I read a piece of advice somewhere, about learning a language. It said to not stick to one language-learning book. Read a bunch of different ones, with different methods and goals, starting at different places. I think that type of advice works with learning pretty much anything. The goal is to “understand”, after all; and so long as nobody got hurt, it doesn’t matter how you got there. If there’s something in one method or book or video or class that doesn’t work for you, there’s likely another one that can make up for it. Don’t waste time hunting for the “perfect” source or order, it likely doesn’t exist. Use everything useful that you can get your paws onto, and don’t feel guilty about it.

Well, unless the goal isn’t to “understand”, but rather to test the effectiveness of a certain method of instruction. In which case you should feel guilty, because you screwed up the parameters of the experiment, which you knew going in. But in most cases, yeah.

#no fandom #not a reblog #personal #linguistics

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