#people are strange when your a stranger | stranger things verse.

[timerevolt]

❛  right now going to hell seems like a pretty sound bet.  ❜

house of leaves prompts. | accepting

        Thick Russian accent left pretty lips, "Do not be so dramatic, sakharok ( sugar )." Blonde head shook as she let out a hardy laugh. "Come on - you can not be to cool to have a little fun. Everyone loves a circus. Perhaps you'd be more hospitable to a private show?

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // TEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You and Lee spend some time in Ba Sing Se, where you meet a familiar girl. Afterwards, you tell Lee the story of Quynh and how she came to be.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: PLEASE DO NOT SLANDER ME FOR THE FATHER GLOWWORM REPRESENTATION I HAVE NOT READ THE KYOSHI NOVELS ‼️ idek what he’s up to in canon but his powers fit the situation so he got to feature in the fic…pretty sure he’s way more heinous in the atla-verse but oh well!!! glass princess father glowworm is just chill like that ig 😰

“Lee,” you said from where you sat on the kitchen counter, watching him scrub dishes. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he wore his signature scowl on his face, though every time you spoke, it abated in favor of something resembling a smile.

“Y/N,” he said. “Are we introducing one another or something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said. “Now that we are friends, I want to ask you a question.”

“We’re not friends,” he said, as was customary, taking a rag and using it to dry the mug he had just washed. “But go ahead.”

In the days since you had happened upon the refugee gate, you had not seen the Blue Spirit at all. Every night, you waited for him, and every night you returned to the palace disappointed. Eventually, you understood what he was saying by not arriving, and so you turned to the only other source of companionship you had been offered: Lee and Mushi from the tea shop.

Mushi had been delighted, but Lee had been more than a little annoyed at the prospect of having to spend everyday with you. This time, though, you did not relent. You followed him around the tea shop as he worked, chattering to him incessantly, and finally he grew resigned enough to your presence that he stopped complaining about it and began speaking with you somewhat normally.

For the most part, the two of you talked about books and tea and other, safer subjects. You were still trying to understand what you had seen the other day, and you had no idea what Lee’s opinions were on the matter, so until now, you had not even considered broaching any of the more sensitive topics.

“How did you end up in Ba Sing Se? I don’t mean why you came. I mean, how did you get in here?” you said.

The question was still unclear, but Lee did not ask for further explanation. He finished drying the mug and put it with the rest before taking a plate and running it under the water.

“We took a ferry,” he said. “We had to buy tickets and show our passports, of course, but it went relatively seamlessly otherwise. By the way, if you’re just going to sit there, you might as well be useful and sweep or something.”

“What about the entrance fee?” you said, sliding off the counter and taking the broom he handed you, leaning on the handle and batting your eyelashes at him without even trying to sweep. This earned you a scoff as he once again shifted from washing to drying, though his trademark red flush crept up his neck at the same time, which meant he wasn’t really upset.

“It wasn’t a thing when we came,” he said. “Or, at least, it wasn’t that high. I’m pretty sure that it was included in the price of our tickets. They were so expensive that it would only make sense. Possibly not, though. Last I checked, they just raise the prices because they can nowadays.”

“I can’t understand it,” you said. “Why is there such a desperate need for people to come here? Surely you must know. Can you tell me?”

Belatedly, you realized this might give away your identity in some way, because who else would have such little sense for what was happening in the world but the princess who had been locked away for so long? But if Lee was suspicious, he did not show it, only exhaling heavily and shaking his head.

“There’s quite a lot, and none of it is safe to discuss here,” he said. “Sorry, but I don’t want something happening to my uncle or I.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “I don’t blame you. If I had known it was like that, I wouldn’t have asked.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s a strange place we live in.”

“That’s for certain!” you said, pointing the broom at him for emphasis. “Do you know the situation at that one gate?”

“The second southeast gate? Yeah, it’s in a bad shape, but almost all of them are like that,” he said. “It’s common knowledge, but that doesn’t mean anyone’s about to do anything about it.”

All of them were like that. That meant that every day, the entire perimeter of Ba Sing Se was flooded by people trying to get in, people like the ones the you and Blue Spirit had seen. It was human suffering on a scale you could not comprehend, and the broom clattered to the ground as you attempted to envision it. How many hundreds of them were there? What were they seeking refuge from? What reality was worse than the one they were running towards?

“Every gate,” you said. “But Ba Sing Se has so many…”

“Some of them are wealthier entrances,” Lee said, using a towel to wipe his hands off and unrolling his sleeves. Picking up the broom, he began to sweep. “It’s not that bad at those ones. Apparently, things at the second southeast gate are improving now, too.”

“Are they?” you said. It was only a modicum of reassurance, but even the knowledge that one less person might be hurt was enough to cheer you. “Why is that?”

“Apparently, some rich woman came with someone dressed as the Blue Spirit and donated half of her life savings so that no one had to pay the entrance fee there,” he said. “Things haven’t devolved into sheer chaos only because what she did is still a relatively unknown thing, so it’s mostly only had positive consequences so far.”

“Half of her life savings?” you said, thinking back to the amount you had given, which had really been nothing but pocket change. “Um, wow. That was — very generous of her to do. She must be a charitable person.”

“Must be,” Lee said flatly. “And I guess there really is a Blue Spirit in Ba Sing Se. Sorry for doubting it. Even though he’s obviously not the same person as the one from the play, namely because that Blue Spirit would’ve done something instead of just standing around when there’s people in need.”

“He was doing what he could!” you said. Lee raised his eyebrows at you, and this time, it was your turn to cough to disguise your emotions. “That is to say, I’m sure there was more going on than either of us are aware of.”

“Right,” he said. You glared at him.

“Really! The Blue Spirit is a good person!” you said, feeling honor-bound to defend him. Even if you hadn’t seen him in so long, he was still the man who had saved you. You still harbored some feelings you could not quite name for him. “Maybe it only looked like he wasn’t doing anything, but he was. I know he was.”

“Whatever you say. Super-fan,” he said, muttering the last under his breath.

“You’re the one who likes the play so much,” you reminded him. “If anyone’s a super-fan, it’s you.”

Lee was saved from responding by Mushi’s entrance. His uncle was the kind of person that was impossible to be angry around, and he had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly when you and his nephew were arguing. His presence quelled you both, and it was probably the only reason the two of you had not, in the earlier days, read one another to filth.

“Good, you got all of those cups washed!” Mushi said. “I was worried you’d be too distracted, but I’m glad to see that that didn’t happen.”

“What would I be distracted by?” Lee said, putting the broom away. You had picked up very quickly on the fact that Lee had no interest in helping out around the Pao Family Tea House, and that tea was not really something that excited him, but it was the only way that he and his uncle could make money, so he did what he could, albeit without a smile on his face or any passion to his motions.

“If I had a lovely lady to talk with all day, I’d hardly get anything done!” Mushi said.

“Uncle!” Lee hissed.

“It’s okay, Mushi. You can think of me as more of a taskmaster than anything; I make sure Lee gets everything done in a timely fashion,” you said when it became evident that Lee was far too embarrassed to say anything more.

“And she doesn’t even offer to help while she’s at it,” Lee added. “So, ha.”

“It feels like you were trying to get the last word in there, but I don’t think you were successful in that endeavor,” you said. “Just so you know.”

“Shut up,” he said.

“Lee, please be kind to your friend,” Mushi said.

“Yeah, Lee,” you crowed. “Be nice to your friend!”

“Y/N,” Lee said, pointing a threatening finger at you, though it was hard to genuinely be afraid of him when he was so relatively harmless in everything he did. “You’re not even my friend, so you don’t get to pull that card!”

“I’m the only person you talk to, besides your uncle, so doesn’t that make us friends automatically?” you said.

“No, it just means I don’t have any friends at all!” he said haughtily, leaning the broom against the wall and dusting his hands off against his apron.

“Once again, I don’t think that that’s quite the closing statement you were aiming for,” you said. “It has more of an embarrassing effect to it than a victorious one.”

“Now, now, both of you should stop quarreling,” Mushi said. “Lee, your shift is almost over. How about you and Y/N take some time to explore the city together? It’ll only improve your spirits!”

“Believe it or not, I’d actually rather work,” Lee said, though he did untie his apron and hang it up.

“Just be back in time for your evening shift!” Mushi said.

“I’ll make sure he is,” you promised, following after Lee as he all but raced out of the tea shop, waving at Mushi, who waved cheerfully back. “Hey, Lee, wait up!”

Luckily, Lee did slow down a bit, allowing you to catch up with him, the two of you walking side by side down the street in the afternoon sun. It was a different context than you were usually in; he had been forced to take the evening shift more often than not nowadays, so he was normally still working by the time you left for the fountain. Today was the first time you had come early enough to be there for his break, and without the tea shop in the background to smooth your interactions over, there was an awkwardness that filled the air.

Who were you and he outside of the Pao Family Tea House? Who was Lee when he was not working as a server? Who were you when you were not protected by the secrecy of being just another patron of the shop?

“It’s you!” a soft, feminine voice said. Suddenly, you were being accosted by a pair of arms thrown around your shoulders, holding you in the sincerest embrace you had felt in many years.

“Me?” you said, wriggling free from the hug to peer at the girl. She beamed up at you, holding onto your hands, and though you couldn’t quite place it, you knew that you did recognize her from somewhere.

“Yes, you,” she said. “Everyone’s been saying you’re a spirit, since you don’t match the description of anyone living in the Upper Ring, but I’vealways believed in you. I’ve always known that you were a real person.”

Your eyes widened as you realized where you knew her from: she was the girl who had been helping the man with the burnt leg at the second southeast gate. She must’ve seen you when you had given the captain the money, and somehow, despite the days that had elapsed since then, she had recognized you.

You glanced at Lee, but he did not seem surprised nor intrigued by the conversation. He was diligently reading a street sign, which really could not have been all too fascinating, but he was an odd boy with odd habits, and it afforded you some semblance of privacy to converse with the girl, so you did not say anything to him about it.

“You’re the reason my father is still alive, lady,” the girl said, squeezing your hands tightly. “We thought we might have to cut his — cut his leg off or something, but because of you, we were able to get to a doctor in time.”

“That kind of doctor must be expensive,” you said. She nodded.

“Oh, yes, he was one of the Upper Ring ones,” she said. “But he saved my father’s leg, so what does it matter? I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?” you said. “What about your mother? Or your elder siblings, if you have any?”

The girl glanced around nervously before beckoning you closer. You offered her your ear, wondering what kind of terrible secrecy she was sworn to that she had to be so careful.

“I know we’re not supposed to talk about it, so please don’t repeat this to anyone, but the truth is that my mother and my little brother were killed by Firebenders. They set our house on fire while they were taking over our village. It’s how my father got his leg burnt,” she said, her small voice choked. “He went back in to save them, but he couldn’t. The only reason I’m alright is that our cat had run away and I had gone to find her.”

She was barely more than a child, and yet she had had the responsibilities of a woman thrust upon her. How could a little girl be expected to take upon the sole burden of providing for herself, for paying back the doctor that her father had needed? It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair, but if not her, then who else could even do it? By that definition, she was alone now.

You thought that maybe you and she were not entirely dissimilar. In the end, you, too, were alone. Even if you could not relate to anything else, you had that much in common with her.

“Here,” you said, taking her hand, pressing a handful of coins into it. “I’m not sure if this will be enough, but it will be better than nothing. At least, it should tide you over until your father is feeling better and he, too, can find work.”

Her eyes shone, and she dipped into a bow. Cursing under your breath, you caught her by the shoulders, looking around to make sure that nobody had seen. The last thing you needed was to be caught and dragged back to the palace by the Dai Li or some other such authority.

“Lady, I only came to thank you, but you’ve done me such a favor that I don’t know how I can ever repay you for it,” she said. You smiled at her.

“You needn’t repay me. In truth, I should’ve been doing these things long ago; it’s only thanks to, ah, extenuating circumstances that I haven’t been. I hope you stay well, dear girl, and that your father may recover swiftly. I’m sorry that you have had to suffer so greatly already,” you said, ruffling her hair.

“I hope I get to see you again, lady,” she said before gasping. “Not because you’ve given me money every time! It’s because you’re really kind. I want to thank you properly one day.”

“If it is our destiny, then I’m sure we will meet once more,” you said. “And you needn’t thank me. It is only my duty.”

“Destiny?” she said. “But how can I ensure that that destiny comes about?”

“Hm,” you said, tapping your chin in thought. “When you are older, please work very hard. Work so hard that even the royal family cannot ignore your efforts, and then go to the palace and ask for Quynh. Even if I am not allowed to meet you, I will find a way. If you can do that, then I will do my part so that our fates can collide another time.”

“Quynh!” she said, sucking in a breath. “Oh, I didn’t know…! I’ve treated you so flippantly!”

“It’s not a problem,” you said. “Now run along. And — and I know it won’t do anything, but I’m very sorry about what happened to your family. I wish there was something I could’ve done to stop it.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “It was — you know. Them. You’re the one who’s helped me. I’m really grateful to you, so don’t apologize.”

“Maybe that’s how it is,” you said. “Anyways, welcome to Ba Sing Se. The city is improved by your presence.”

“Thank you!” she said, bowing again before you could stop her and then scampering away. You watched her go until she disappeared into the crowd, and then you turned to Lee, who was still steadfastly reading the same sign.

“There must be something fascinating written on that sign, for you to be so intently reading it,” you said, jabbing his arm with your pointer finger as you read over the sign yourself. “Mm, very interesting indeed. Left to the Firelight Fountain. Right to the Pao Family Tea House. Straight to the First Southeast Gate. That’s the kind of content you just can’t pull yourself away from.”

“I was trying to be respectful and not listen in on your conversation!” Lee said.

“Oh, thanks,” you said. “That was surprisingly good of you to do.”

“What was it about, anyways?” he said. “Why’d she recognize you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said. He pursed his lips before turning away, continuing to walk down the street, towards the Firelight Fountain where you spent your evenings waiting for the Blue Spirit.

“Who is Quynh?” he said after a second. You frowned at him.

“How do you not know who Quynh is? She’s the patron spirit of the Earth Kingdom!” you said. “Or at least of Ba Sing Se.”

“Sorry I never had much time to study theology of all things while I was out…there!” he said, vaguely gesturing around.

“Out there,” you said. “Where, like the Fire Nation or something? I thought knowledge of her must be common throughout the Earth Kingdom.”

“No!” he said quickly. “Just — we traveled a lot, you know, and mostly in rural areas, so we, um, never heard the stories.”

You supposed it made sense. What guarantee was there that the legend of Quynh had reached every single corner of the Earth Kingdom? It made sense that someone like Lee, who must’ve spent his formative years in some place closer to the border than Ba Sing Se, wasn’t quite educated on the tale of the great mother bear.

“What business did you have traveling, anyways?” you said.

“It was for, er, work,” he said. “We were in, uh, a circus! Yeah, a circus.”

“A circus,” you said. “I’m sure you attracted all sorts of patrons with your charming and outgoing personality.”

“I wasn’t a performer! My uncle was. I just maintained his equipment,” he said.

“That’s a little more believable,” you said. “What did he do in the circus?”

“He was,” Lee began, his eyebrows low over his eyes in thought, “an acrobat! Mhm. He was an acrobat.”

“It’s not as believable anymore,” you informed him. You couldn’t imagine Mushi doing flips and cartwheels anymore than you could imagine Lee juggling. When he had said that his uncle had been a performer, you had been expecting him to be the ringmaster, perhaps, or even an animal trainer, but not an acrobat.

“Why? Uncle Mushi is plenty flexible!” he said. You made a face.

“I shall take your word for it,” you said. “But I’m sure he’s pleased to be retired by now.”

“Very pleased,” Lee said. “In fact, he’s so pleased to have put that part of his life behind him that he becomes really upset when people bring it up again. So I’d recommend you don’t.”

Upsetting Mushi was the last thing you wanted to do, given how well he always treated you when you visited the Pao Family Tea House, so you nodded at Lee and mimed sealing your lips together.

“I won’t mention it,” you said.

“Thank you,” he said. “But back to the original topic. Who is Quynh?”

“Ah, right,” you said. “Although she’s known as the guardian spirit of Ba Sing Se, and of the Earth Kingdom in general, it’s a little more complex than that. You see, she’s not meant to guard the entire kingdom; her loyalty is to the royal family and them alone.”

“Then how’d it get confused?” he said.

“Once upon a time, when she was the most active, the interests of the royal family and the interests of the kingdom were not so separate,” you said. “Maybe it’s not the case in the recent era, but no one’s even seen Quynh in so long that by now, her name has been solidified in history as the great mother of the Earth Kingdom.”

“Is that all there is to the story?” he said as you reached the Firelight Fountain. Of course, in the daytime, there were no lanterns lit, but in lieu of the eponymous firelight, there was a family of turtleducks floating in the placid waters.

Digging in his pockets, Lee produced a bunch of grapes. Breaking off a few, he dropped them in your palm before taking a couple of his own and tossing them into the fountain for the turtleducks to peck at. You followed his example, secretly pleased that he had known that bread was bad for the turtleducks’ stomachs and had been appropriately prepared with a better alternative.

“No, naturally it’s a long tale,” you said. “Do you really want to hear it?”

“Sure,” he said. “It beats working the afternoon shift.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” you said. “Alright, then. It’s an old story, for Quynh is an old beast, but it’s widely considered to be timeless, so I hope that you do not find it to be at all dated, despite its age.”

Contrary to popular belief, Quynh was not born a spirit. In fact, she was a mortal animal, a bear — a true one, of the same form as King Kuei’s Bosco. Even she was a child once, a mere cub, small enough that a person could heft her in their arms.

In that time, bears were considered to be a great threat to the world. They were thought of as vicious, cruel creatures, with swords for teeth and knives for claws. Larger than any man could ever hope to be, they were frequently hunted, both for sport and for safety, and so it came to be that by the time Quynh was all of two moons old, her and her mother were the only known bears left in the world.

Her mother, who was scarred and gray at the muzzle, knew that it was only a matter of time before she and Quynh, too, followed in the paths of their brethren. She was a canny bear, and so she took Quynh to a river and sank her teeth into the scruff of her daughter’s neck, dipping her into mud to disguise her scent and then dragging the whining cub into a cave that promised to have what she needed.

It was some time before she reached it, but eventually, she made it to the center of the cave, where its inhabitant resided. It was one of the massive, blind badgermoles, though something set this one apart from the others: she was in mourning, hunched over the frail body of her young, which had drawn only a few breaths before passing. 

Quynh’s mother nudged the badgermole before dropping Quynh at her feet. The badgermole, deprived of her sense of smell because of the mud slathered over Quynh’s body, accepted her as her own — or perhaps she did not want to question the stroke of good fortune, that she had just lost her child and then so soon had been given another to care for, even one as tiny as Quynh.

Her mother nuzzled her one last time before leaving the cave. It is unclear what happened to her after that; until recently, it was agreed that she must have been killed like the others, but since the discovery of Bosco, her fate was no longer quite as certain. Perhaps she and a few others managed to survive for all of that time, leading to the birth of the king’s companion…or perhaps Bosco was unrelated to Quynh and the descendant of another strain entirely.

The badgermoles raised Quynh as if she were one of them. She learnt to Earthbend from them, though it was not in the same way; she was not blind, and so did not have the same reliance on the element, and because of her comparatively smaller stature, she never gained the strength needed to command the earth in the way of her family. Still, she did what she could, and though she remembered her mother fondly, she thought of her only on the coldest of nights. The badgermoles were the ones who reared her, and though she could never forget that she was not one of them, that she was a bear, she was never ostracized for it. They loved her, the badgermoles, and as she had spent much of her life with them, she loved them back.

It was when she was four years of age that someone else came to the cave of the badgermoles, though this visitor was neither bear nor badgermole. He was a boy, one with a kind smile and soft hands. His name was Shan, and according to him, he had come to learn from the badgermoles. Earthbending was their art, and if he ever wanted to master it in a meaningful way, then he would have to become their disciple.

Quynh did not trust Shan for many moons after his arrival. She remembered what his kind had done to her own, and though the badgermoles harbored no such misgivings, she would always snarl at him when he visited, gnashing her teeth until he backed away with his hands in the air.

Stubbornness, though, was a family trait. Just like the rest of his line, Shan was not willing to give up. He knew not why Quynh despised him, only that she did, and it was something he could not live with. Every day he tried, and every day, in small increments, she forgave him. The sins of his forefathers were not his own, after all, yet he still endeavored to make up for them. He would bring food for Quynh, tell her stories about the sun and promise to take her there one day — after all, she was a bear, not a badgermole, and bears were not meant to live in the darkness.

That was why, when Shan could no longer learn anything from the badgermoles, he did not leave immediately. Instead, he hesitantly reached out and placed his hand in between Quynh’s eyes, splaying his fingers over her broad forehead and asking her a question: will you come with me?

She hesitated for only a moment, but when she glanced back, the badgermoles had already left, for they, too, knew the truth of her being. They had raised her, and they had loved her, and it was because of those years of affection that they were doing her this last favor and letting her go, letting her rejoin the world that she was born to live in.

It was only once they both stood in the sun that Shan revealed something new to her: the continent which they lived on was in a state of perpetual war. It was composed of many small provinces which were constantly battling one another for as many reasons as there were creatures under the sun. For food. For land. For resources. For perceived insults. For women. For riches. It went on and on, and it was to one such war that Shan had lost his parents. 

This was why he needed Quynh’s help. He wanted to unite the provinces, to turn them into one kingdom, so that the wars might cease for some time, but he could not do it alone. He needed her strength, alongside the strength he had received from the badgermoles. She thought that she might feel angry, but in truth, there was a kind of joy she felt at being needed. So she, in her own way, agreed to his request. She agreed to help him turn the disjointed provinces into one united Earth Kingdom — just as long as she could stay by his side when doing so.

Quynh had come to love Shan. It was like that. Sometimes it was as if she had been born to meet him, to be his companion; if she were a human, then she might’ve called him her greatest friend, but since she was not, since she was but an animal, the only word she had for it was brother. Shan was her brother, though much more delicate than she and without nearly as much fur, so she guarded him with all the ferocity of an elder sibling.

Their combined mastery of Earthbending was too much for the warlords and their paltry armies. It was not long before their dream was realized and they had a proper kingdom. The warlords hailed Shan as their ruler and crowned him the Earth King, but then they ran into a new problem: what was a king without a palace?

Thus began their most ambitious undertaking, even more ambitious than the unification of the Earth Kingdom. They were to build a city, one that an ordinary man could not even conceptualize, one that even the greatest army could not take. It would be named Ba Sing Se: the impenetrable capital of the greatest kingdom the world had ever seen.

Scores upon scores of men were enrolled in academies to learn Earthbending, so that the city could be built in a timely fashion. Things went excellently for a time, and Quynh thought that she might finally be happy. She had her beloved Shan at her side, and now that the wars were over, she could spend most of her days sleeping, allowing the sun to warm her dark fur as she dozed in the gardens behind Shan’s childhood home. 

But things were not meant to be like that. A kingdom in its infancy would always strain against its new rulers; that was the way of things, a way which Quynh had not yet learnt. It was because of this that, during one of his tours of the site where the palace would soon be constructed, an assassin tried to kill Shan.

Quynh was the first to sense his arrival, but he was too fast for her to do anything. She could only roar out a warning to her brother as she ran towards him, her ears flat against her head, her swords for teeth and knives for claws extended, even though it was futile. She would not reach him in time. The man rushing at her Shan would stab the dagger into his back, and she could do nothing about it but push herself faster, faster, in the hopes that she could make it, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, she could at least take the dagger in his stead.

It was not the dagger which killed her. It was her own brother’s student who cried out in alarm and sent a stalagmite shooting up from the ground and into her heart. It was that old fear which all men possessed, the insidious one which said that bears were vicious, cruel creatures, which spelled out her end, as it had spelled out the end of every other bear before her.

Shan had heeded Quynh’s warning and made quick work of the assassin, who was nothing in the face of a master Earthbender such as himself, so he had not understood at first why his faithful companion had stopped roaring. It was only when he turned and saw her bleeding and heard his pupil rambling on about how she had almost killed him that he understood what had happened.

He cast the boy aside, banished him from the Earth Kingdom and told him to never return, and then he fell to his knees in front of Quynh’s lifeless body. For, as she had loved him, he had loved her, too. The skittish bear who had detested him thoroughly…in the process of winning her over, an indescribable fondness had blossomed in him. Quynh was the only reason he had a kingdom. Quynh was the only reason he had anything. Why, then, was Quynh gone? How was he supposed to rule without her at his side? His Quynh. His bear. His greatest friend.

For three days and three nights, he prayed. He prayed to every spirit he could think of: Tui, La, Agni, the Mother of Faces, and even the more unsavory ones, such as Koh the Face-Stealer. He prayed only for one thing: Quynh’s return. He would give up everything, he repeated, as long as she came back to him. That was his promise. That was his vow.

Only one spirit heard him. He was a being who claimed to be a father, though he held such a disdain for everything that it was uncertain whose father he was meant to be, exactly. Shan would never have dared to converse with such a spirit unless he was truly desperate, but he was truly desperate, and it was for this reason that he opened himself to conversation with one of the most malevolent beings in both the spiritual and physical planes: Father Glowworm.

Father Glowworm was the conniving sort, but he was, in his own way, fair. It was not pity that drove his actions, of course, but a hunger, a lust. He told Shan that he could not bring Quynh back, that it was against the laws of the universe to breathe life unto death, but that there was something else he could do — for a price.

Shan agreed. It didn’t matter the price. He had lost his entire family already; he could not lose Quynh, too. Father Glowworm warned him that he would not like it, but Shan swore that there was nothing more important to him than Quynh.

But the price itself was Quynh, Father Glowworm said. He would subsume her body. Shan would have to watch him tear her apart and eat her, and if he could manage that, if he could manage to watch as Father Glowworm ate the body of his greatest friend, then Father Glowworm would give her spirit some of his powers, the ones which allowed him to tunnel between the physical and spiritual worlds. 

There was still another catch. According to Father Glowworm, what he was about to do was the highest form of offense. By offering Quynh’s body to Father Glowworm, Shan was desecrating it thoroughly, and by agreeing to watch, he was essentially forsaking her, declaring that she meant nothing, was nothing to him but rot and garbage. Her spirit would not know the meaning of the ritual, only that it was being done, and so, even if he went through with it, there was a high likelihood that she would not manifest ever again. She would never dare show herself to the man who had allowed her to be devoured by such an evil being, who had stood by and taken in the gory scene without so much as flinching.

She would have to love him so much that she returned in spite of that, Father Glowworm said. Those were the conditions. That was the only way it could be.

Even though it was wrong, even though she would most likely hate him for the rest of time, even though he knew he was ruining everything for the mere chance that he might see her again, Shan agreed to it. Because there was that chance. Because if Quynh loved him as much as he loved her, then she would come back. Because if it had been the opposite way, he would’ve come back. For Quynh, no matter what she did to him, he would’ve come back.

Father Glowworm did nothing to spare Shan’s feelings. His eye remained focused on the man as he did exactly as he had promised, gorging himself on Quynh’s body piece by bloody piece, until there was nothing left of her but a pile of gleaming bones. Those bones, too, were not safe, as he absorbed them, humming as the power and life which had once been Quynh’s filled him instead.

The entire time, Shan stared straight ahead, his gaze never wavering from Father Glowworm’s singular eye. And finally, when the spirit was finished, he began to laugh.

Foolish man, he told him. Everything you have done has been for naught. Do you think that any creature is loyal enough to return after you allowed its body to be destroyed like that? I thank you for the meal, but this is where we must part.

Shan clenched his fists and kept staring into that eye, asking him only one thing. Did you give Quynh the powers you promised? Is she a spirit now?

Of course, Father Glowworm said. Consider it a gratuity for how delicious she was.

Though it seemed hopeless, Shan did not fret the way Father Glowworm was urging him to. As soon as he had the confirmation that Quynh really was a spirit, he allowed himself to relax, nodding at the pulsating mass that was Father Glowworm’s body.

Father Glowworm was naturally confused. In this kind of situation, Shan should’ve been screaming, should’ve been cursing him for the unfair deal — the deal which was by design uneven. He had made it so many times, and it had never mattered. The end result was always the same. The dead ones never came back. They wandered the spirit world in a haze of confusion and anger, hating a person whose only crime had been loving them too much — not that they knew that, of course. Watching their grief and ingesting their mourning was how he amused himself in his eternal existence, but Shan provided no such amusement. It was only a moment later, as the ground began to shake and an enormous form made of shadows emerged from a doorway in the air, that Father Glowworm understood why.

Quynh loved Shan. And so, Quynh came back.

“That’s the tale of her origin, anyways,” you said.

“I didn’t know that Father Glowworm made deals with people,” Lee said. “In all my studies — limited studies, of course, given that I was doing, uh, circus-y things most of the time — he was just a bloodthirsty killer.”

“Even spirits get bored,” you said. “He was also that, but from time to time, he would do this type of thing for no other reason than because he could. Because he wanted to. Are you following?”

“I think so,” Lee said. “Is this a true story?”

“If you believe in Quynh, it is,” you said. You had heard the tale from Quynh herself, so of course you knew that it was real, but it remained that not everyone was aware that Quynh was more than a legendary concept. And surely you could not give away that you had met Quynh personally — many times in fact — so the non-answer was the best way you could hint to Lee just how verifiable the so-called myth was.

“I see,” he said. “It’s really fantastical.”

“Perhaps,” you said.

“But maybe not entirely so,” he said. “Is it known what powers Father Glowworm gave her?”

“It is,” you said. “Though if you didn’t believe that story, you’ll scoff at what they are. They’re very power-of-love based.”

“Sappy,” he said.

“Most assuredly,” you said.

“Just tell me. You’ve gotten me interested now,” he said.

“The palace is built around Quynh’s Den,” you said. “It’s where Quynh resides, so that she may look after the royal family — the descendants of Shan, who she considers to be like her own children — and it’s a place outside of time or space, in a way. It’s said that her den is made in the same place that her body died and her spirit was reborn. In fact, all of Ba Sing Se was built around that central location, with her Den serving as a support to the entire city.

“Because of this, and because of Father Glowworm’s tunneling powers which he gifted to her, she’s also known as the Keeper of Doors. It’s said that every door in Ba Sing Se is a place sacred to Quynh, and that’s why you’ll sometimes see people praying while standing in doorways. From Quynh’s Den, she can open doors to anywhere in the city, though she has trouble with extreme precision or accuracy. Some say that her doors lead you to where you need to go, not where you want to.”

“I don’t see what’s romantic about that,” Lee said. “It’s typical spirit world stuff.”

“Let me finish!” you said, accidentally throwing a grape too hard into the water. It hit the surface with a splash, dousing the nearby turtleduck, who honked at you in irritation. You mouthed an apology at it.

“Look what you’ve done,” Lee observed. “You’ve gone and made the turtleducks upset. Great going, Y/N.”

“Hush!” you said. “Anyways, the romantic part is the best part of the story, I’d say, but it’s the least accepted. You see, Quynh obviously loved Shan.”

“Obviously,” Lee said.

“She loved him so much that it manifested in her powers, too. There’s only one door that she never closes and which always has the same destination, no matter where it’s opened from: Quynh’s Door, which leads to the inside of the palace itself,” you said.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Lee said.

“It would be,” you said. “Think of how many invasions would be successful if the aggressors could find Quynh’s Door! But it’s not one of her normal doors, which can be seen by anybody. Sometimes, it can’t be seen by anyone at all. It’s a door that only appears to those who Quynh deems worthy.”

“And how is one deemed worthy?” Lee said, clearly enthralled as he leaned in towards you slightly, all pretenses of feeding the turtleducks abandoned. You grinned at him.

“It’s the same way Quynh came back as a spirit,” you said. “You have to be loved by Shan, or, in modernity, someone of his line.”

“You don’t say…” Lee trailed off.

“Do you see what I mean? It’s almost out of the realm of probability that it’s the case, that she really loved Shan that much, but it’s the truth,” you said. “The only way that a person can find Quynh’s Door and enter the palace without restriction is if they are loved by someone in the royal family.”

taglist (comment/send an ask/dm to be added): @rinisfruity14 @c4ttheart @blacky-rose @shizko @marsbars09 @happyplaidpersonfestival @catborglar @camilleverreault @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @lovialy @heart4hees @stefnarda

[space-mermaid-writing]

Consort and King [IronStrange]

Summary: Anthony Stark, King of Midgard, needs a spouse. Whether he wants one or not. So he accepts an arranged marriage with the Prince of Kamar-Taj – a man he has never met in his life to the day they are standing in front of each other at the altar, speaking their vows. Is it possible that the feeling of duty grows into something more? Will their future be happy?

Relationship: Tony Stark / Stephen Strange

Tags: arranged marriage au, royal au, strangers to husbands, enemies to lovers, slow burn, idiots in love, fluff, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, all the good stuff

Author's Note: Peter is a cinnamon roll! Beta by @kvjjjjjj <3

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Word count: 2.7k | Previous | Next

Chapter 3: The thing about Peter

Stephen walked through the stables. He had been living in Midgard for some time now, but had not yet chosen a horse of his own. He had been offered one. But to be honest, Stephen was happy if he never ever had to get onto another horseback again. Even though Stark had an excellent collection of horses.

Sorcerers had other means to travel. And Stephen preferred those. Even if Midgard wasn't very well-versed in magic. He had heard that the portals used for trading between Kamar-Taj and Midgard were treated with suspicion by the people of this country.

Stephen heard rumors about a witch who had been meddling with the king some years ago - he still had been a prince then. He asked Wong to do research on that matter.

Stephen wondered why Stark had nevertheless formed a bond with the kingdom best known for its magic.

He left the stables with the same uneasy feeling that came over him every time he thought about getting back in the saddle. There was this saying: When you fall off a horse, get right back on. And after his accident, Stephen had been on horses on a few occasions. But it had never been the same.

Portals were far more convenient anyway.

He spotted Stark at the fence of a nearby riding arena and stopped for a moment. The king was giving instructions to a boy on a horse. Stephen had seen the child several times since his arrival here. He couldn't have been older than twelve. He had short, tousled brown hair and seemed very familiar with Stark. More than was usual for a king and a simple boy. It had Stephen wondering.

At first, he thought that he was the son of one of the Lord's of the court and Stark was perhaps his godfather. But then he had seen the boy at the side of a maid, carrying a broom and wearing servant clothes a few days ago.

And now he was on a royal horse and under the watchful eye of Stephen's husband. Stephen had enough imagination to think of reasons why that was.

He was about to leave when Stark turned his head and spotted him. Their eyes met. Stark looked at him, one eyebrow raised daringly.

Stephen straightened his shoulders – unwilling to back down – and walked over to him.

"More footwork. Watch your posture, Pete," the king called to the boy as Stephen stood next to him. They both watched him for a moment as he tried to make the horse carry out a series of commands.

"You two seem close," Stephen finally broke the silence. Stark tensed but said nothing, waiting for the question that would inevitably follow, his lips tight. Stephen turned towards him and scrutinized him. "Is he yours?"

"Would it bother you?" Stark mirrored his movements, looking back defiantly. Neither of them paid any attention to Peter who was approaching them.

"I'd just like to know if I can expect any more bastard children running around the palace." It was a fair question, Stephen thought. He knew nothing of Stark's personal past. Whether he had had lovers – perhaps still did. Whether his affairs had resulted in children.

Stark did not react well to his words. He drew in his breath sharply, his eyes glaring like daggers. "You do not get to talk about Peter like that," he hissed angrily and took a step towards Stephen. His hands were clenched into fists. “For your interest, Peter is an orphan. His aunt is working in the palace and I’m tutoring him, because he is a good boy and he deserves better!”

Stephen felt bad about his words and took a step back. “I’m sorry, I-…”

“You shouldn’t talk about things you don’t know nothing about!”

Stephen burned with embarrassment. Not only because of Stark’s anger, but also because he now spotted Peter on his horse very close to them. His eyes big and his lip trembling dangerously.

Tony didn't say anything else, but the look on his face told him that Stephen was no longer wanted here.

So he turned around and fled.

Tony was furious. He had been protective of Peter ever since he met him. The boy had this effect on people. Stephen couldn't have known about Peter’s past… well, he could have, if he would talk to Tony. So it was kinda his own fault.

“Sir Stark?” A small voice snapped him out of his thoughts and his anger.

Shit, Tony hadn't realized that the boy had approached them. He turned towards him and instantly knew that he had overheard everything.

“I didn’t say you could stop your training.”

_____________

Stephen didn’t get it. He didn’t know what he should think about Stark. He had often seen Stark and the boy – Peter – together. They were familiar with each other. So it was clear that certain questions would arise. As his husband, Stephen wanted to know about such things. He could do without people talking behind his back about things that everyone knew but him.

By the Vishanti, if only he had stayed at the temples. There he had peace from all the issues that royal life entailed.

There had been a time he had loved this life. Back when he had been the crown prince of Kamar-Taj. Before he had crushed his hands.

Stephen stared out of the window in his study. At least he had his own place within the palace. Here he was mostly undisturbed, apart from a few servants going in and out.

From the window he could see neither the stables nor the riding arena but the front court. Some guards were walking by and a gardener was pushing a wheelbarrow. Nothing unusual.

The door opened and Stephen looked up as Wong entered, placing some papers on his desk.

"Lady Potts asks you to look through these reports."

Stephen nodded absently. "Thanks, Wong." Then an idea came to him and he stopped his friend before he could leave. "Do you know the aunt of a boy named Peter?"

Wong didn't have to think long. In the short time they had been here, he was already well informed about all the people in the palace. It was his secret how he managed to do that. “May Parker. She is working with the healers.”

Of course she was. It was a field of work that was close to Stephen's heart.

He had to talk to someone about Peter; someone from here. Not Stark, because Stephen was sure that the king didn’t want to talk to him right now.

And he certainly didn’t want to talk to Peter. Not after the boy had heard what he said. So his aunt was the next best option.

The healer's area was in the south wing of the palace. Stephen had not been there yet but had no trouble finding it.

It was a bright room, the sun shining in through the windows. A woman in beige clothing of the local healer's attire was winding bandages. She seemed surprised to see the consort of the king enter.

“Your Highness.” She bowed. “Are you alright? What can I do for you?”

“I need to speak to Lady Parker.”

The woman blinked, but didn’t question it. “Of course. I’ll fetch her right away.”

She disappeared into an adjoining room while Stephen took a closer look around, curiously.

There was a row of beds against the wall, but only one of them was occupied. Apparently someone with a fever if the wet cloth on their forehead was any indicator. There were shelves where medicines were stored and a table with pots and pans on which they were probably prepared. Everything was kept clean and tidy.

“Your Highness,” said another voice behind him. It was a slim woman with long, brown hair, braided in Midgardian fashion. “You asked for me?”

Stephen hesitated, not sure how to start the conversation. He was struck by the resemblance between the boy and his aunt. They had the same eyes. A quick glance around the room told him they were alone, but he kept his voice low to avoid eavesdroppers anyway. “This is about Peter.”

May furrowed her brows. “Did he get into trouble?” she asked. It would be a new record, only a week after the wedding. “I am very sorry. I always tell him not to-”

“No,” Stephen quickly interrupted her, wondering how to address his questions. What were even his questions? “I was just curious…”, he trailed off, suddenly feeling foolish for coming here.

“… why the king is using his time to tutor a peasant boy?”

He had to give it to this woman, she had a sharp mind. She didn’t sound upset either, but… understanding? Stephen nodded and she tilted her head. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I believe Peter just has this effect on people.”

“Was he raised in the palace?” the consort asked. It would make sense. It was not uncommon for children of people working for the royal family to receive special favors. That was simply the way it was when you were close to the source of power, influence and wealth. They often received a better education, better food and had better chances of promotion.

May's expression turned sad. “My sister and her husband lived in a village up in the north. They died when Peter was just a baby and we took Peter in since we were the only family he had left. After my husband died, I asked for work at the palace, to be able to feed Peter and myself. Fortunately, Lady Potts had a heart for a widow.” She tucked a loose strand back into her hair. “The first time Peter met the King, he accidentally made him trip. I was afraid Peter would be severely punished for it and we would be thrown out. But instead the King started to look out for Peter.”

That was not what Stephen had expected to hear. But then, he didn’t know what he had actually expected. Definitely not so much loss for a boy this young. His surprise must have been on his face, because she added, “The King is a very generous man. He cares deeply for his people.”

Stephen remembered the people’s reaction at the market and agreed silently.

He had a lot to think about. “Thank you for your honesty.”

May smiled and Stephen decided that he liked her. “Anytime, Your Highness.”

_____________

The next day Peter stood nervously in the study of Sir Stark's consort. He had been summoned and that news – delivered by a servant – had taken the boy by surprise.

While he was close to the king, he had nothing to do with his husband. He hadn’t even met him officially; besides hearing that argument between King Stark and Consort Strange.

In the time since his wedding, Stark had not spoken much about his new husband, which felt wrong. And Peter was observant. Whenever someone mentioned his consort, Stark’s lips became a thin line and his eyes seemed far away.

Peter didn't dare to ask and Stark tried to change the subject to something lighthearted in the boy's presence.

But Peter wasn’t dumb. He knew the risks of an arranged marriage. And it was not hard to guess what an unhappy marriage looked like.

Standing now in front of Strange he bowed, holding his fist over his heart. He wouldn’t give him another reason to dislike him. “Your Highness”, he greeted the consort, playing dumb as to why Strange wanted to see him. Although it wasn’t hard to guess.

He briefly wondered if Strange would question him about his relationship to the king, shout at him, maybe even forbid him to see Stark again. Could he actually do that? Did he hold that much power over him? Surely, Sir Stark as king outweighed him. And he had already reprimanded Strange once for his words.

Nevertheless, his heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he was sure the man in front of him must hear it. He was a sorcerer, right? Peter had heard they had incredible powers. Maybe he could even read his mind.

He was thinking so much that he almost didn’t hear when Strange spoke.

“We didn’t meet in the best way and I apologize for that.”

Peter looked at him, dumbly. He blinked, not sure if he heard correctly.

Strange stepped around his desk and leaned against it. "I didn't mean my words in any insulting way towards you."

A bastard son. Peter hardly remembered his parents. He had been small when they died. But he knew who they were. He remembered uncle Ben and aunt May raising him like their own son. And then there was King Stark, who was more than generous towards him.

Of course, it was all just a replacement for something he had lost; even though he didn’t know it differently.

And because he was the good kid that he was, not wanting to add more concern to Stark’s plate, he said, “It’s fine, your Highness.” And he felt the words were true, there was no grudge towards this foreign man he barely knew. Because Sir Stark had stood up for Peter and that weighed more than any false accusation.

Peter had been more shocked by the loud and harsh words that they had exchanged, and the fact that Sir Stark had fought with his own husband – his consort – about Peter – a simple boy.

It felt wrong. Peter didn’t want to be the reason the king and his consort stood apart.

Stephen watched the boy standing in front of him. He looked so young.

“From what I hear, your education is important to the king. And I understand that you two spend quite some time together. So you and I will run into each other inevitably. It is therefore my wish that there is no bad blood between us."

Peter just nodded. He noticed that Strange spoke very formally. It was a big contrast to Sir Stark, who was more often than not informal and warm with him.

Perhaps his cool manner was due to the harsh climate of the mountains from which Strange came.

Stephen was pleased with the boy's reaction and, above all, that the feared emotional outburst didn’t happen.

“Good.” Everything had been resolved, but he didn’t really dismiss Peter yet. He had said what he wanted to say, he should dismiss him, and he wasn’t sure why he did not. He still doesn't understand why Stark invested his time in the boy.

It felt like a riddle, that – if Stephen solved – would help him to understand Stark better.

Neither of them said anything and the silence became somewhat awkward.

Peter was just glad he hadn't gotten into trouble and wasn't sure what else he could say. He let his gaze wander, looking around curiously. The sorcerer's study was not unlike Sir Stark's. Strange had more books and some ancient looking objects, but mostly he saw regular writing tools: ink, quill, and parchment.

His gaze lingered on a chess set on the round table near them and he eyed the crafted pieces with interest.

“Do you play?” Strange asked, following his gaze.

“I do.” Peter hesitated before admitting. “I have never seen pieces as detailed as these.”

“That’s because this is a magical game of chess. My teacher gifted it to me, before I left Kamar-Taj.”

Peter’s head perked up. “It’s magical?” He leaned towards it and tried to figure out what was so magical about it. The pieces seemed more lifelike, the pawn as little men with spears in their hands, and the king and queen were a beautiful pair, delicately decorated with gold.

There was a smirk on Stephen's lips. “Knight to C3.”

The white horse and its knight moved on their own, riding to their designated square, before freezing again.

Peter’s eyes shone bright in excitement. His former shyness had disappeared. “This is awesome. Do they listen to everyone?”

Stephen pointed encouragingly to the board while stepping to it. “Try it.”

“Pawn to E6.”

The small black figure stepped forward, looking grim at his opponents on the other side of the board. Peter was in awe and Stephen smiled when he saw the childish wonder on his face. With a flick of his hand, two armchairs slid to the board game.

Stephen didn't even have to ask the boy to sit down and continue with the game.

_____________

Taglist: @goopierthenyou (tell me if you want to be added/removed)

[limerental]

ficletvember 2024 - day 16

isengrim/dijsktra

Isengrim receives word of the unfortunate events following Radovid's assassination.

The letter takes some weeks to reach Isengrim as letters sent into the forest always do. It's a rare thing to hold a physical sheaf of parchment in his hand, most couriers choosing to memorize and destroy any implicating messages.

He cracks the seal and endures a waft of perfume, scowling at the tidy scrawl that greets him. The little irritant does prove useful occasionally. Sigi prefers the poet over other informants for whatever baffling reasons, but Isengrim never likes to see that script. At least this time it's not in verse.

He reads and then rereads. The candlelight flickers, burning low. The war's meant fresh wax is harder to come by, candlemakers selling direct to Nilfgaard or Redania to light their late night war room meetings. Funny how light itself has become a dwindling rarity, reserved for powerful men while the rest sink into darkness.

Isengrim reads the letter again. Regret to inform you swims in a loop of Elder script. 

Dandelion's Elder has always been a strange mix of archaic grammar-- the sort learned from old songs-- and informal speech patterns-- the sort that look odd written out. Sometimes his letters require some creative interpretation to parse his meaning. Maybe that's what's happened this time. A simple translation error.

Isengrims notes that his hands are shaking as he pulls out a very different letter he keeps tucked against his breast. This one is well-worn from frequent reading, the creases close to separating. He flattens it on the table over the other and reads the words he has memorized. He knows that written word is fleeting, that the letter will age and decay before long, water-logged and rubbed thin by the heat of his body.

Sigi's Elder script is clumsy, his grasp of grammar highly rudimentary, his vocabulary lacking. The bulk of the letter is matter of fact and unembellished.

Events going ahead, the letter reads. Won't see you before. The house is cold without you. Hurry back, beloved.

There's not much more than that, a handful of coded details and reminders, scraps of news from Novigrad. Isengrim's eyes burn as he reads the letter once more, though his weeping soon steals his vision and he must rely on memory alone.

Hurry back, beloved.

When he masters himself as the candle sputters, he examines Dandelion's letter a last time and can find no flaw of interpretation.

The man known as Sigi Reuven is dead, killed in an altercation with Temerian partisans in the midst of a successful plot to assassinate the king of Redania. 

He's died before, thinks Isengrim. He remembers the looming stranger he sat with talking for hours that night before the fire in the Elskerdeg Pass. He recalls knowing exactly who he shared a log with, the master spy of a hostile nation, and deciding that that life was gone, that man was dead, and this one living one was interesting.

Travel in lands freshly deemed Nilfgaardian proves tedious. It matters little to Isengrim who holds power in the North, trading one tyrant for the next. He knows there will be no real place for him in any empire, even if by some miracle his people rise up and take back what is theirs.

Sigi had discussed his ridiculous plans at length, how the North would be better governed by a council of worldly experts rather than inbred monarchs. Elected by him, of course. He didn't seek to be crowned king, but if need be, he'd rule with an iron fist.

Warm in their bed, Isengrim had laughed, voice dry with mockery as he asked what role he'd be made to serve in Sigi’s future Redanian ministry. 

“Prince Consort?” he'd asked, lips brushing his lover's ear. “A curiosity to sit at your arm? Relic of the last Aen Seidhe.”

“Chancellor's bedwarmer,” Sigi had said and rolled them into a fresh bout of love-making.

The whole debacle had sounded to Isengrim like a foolish venture. Never to come to pass.

As he slips like a shadow past the Nilfgaardian checkpoint into Novigrad, he imagines a parade in arrival of his honor. The crowds parting, trumpets sounding, and Sigi larger than life on a waiting dais, chain of office heavy at his breast, hand reaching down to take his own as they had that first night.

He does not wholly believe it until he scales the balcony, steals through his usual second story window, and finds the townhouse vacant and hushed. 

He stands in the darkened kitchens, cloak dripping muck from the streets onto the bare floor. He has never known the great stone hearth to go wholly cold.

The once well-stocked pantry is barren. The furniture has been hauled away. No books to the ceiling in the office. All personal effects gone.

He does not climb the stairs to see if the oversized mattress on its opulent bed frame remains or if someone has found some way to remove it as well. It was the first luxury Sigi had splurged on in their return North. Had to be hoisted to the top floor by a questionable pulley system, ropes straining, crewmen swearing below.

The thought of seeing the bed wide and barren when the nights spent in it had been the warmest of his life is an ache nearly too sharp to bear.

He flees the townhouse and seeks out Dandelion. 

The poet is no trouble to track, interrupted in the midst of a lively performance that happens nightly at his gaudy inherited establishment. Isengrim remains as a hooded figure in the farthest corner booth long after the performance ends, and eventually, Dandelion staggers to meet the intriguing visitor.

He sobers when Isengrim's scarred face catches the light.

“Faoiltiarna,” he says. “From the bottom of my heart, I am so very–”

“Spare me your courtesies. They're as cliched as your songs.”

The fool presses on anyhow.

“I know how it feels when it's fresh. The emptiness. Wondering if something could have been done to change it, could have been different. I wish things could have been different.”

“Nothing could have changed the bastard's mind,” says Isengrim. He knows his voice would break on his name and avoids it. “I don't need platitudes. I only need to know what happened.”

“Well, it's quite a long story really. May I buy you a drink? Though I own the whole place and the drinks so–”

“You misunderstand,” says Isengrim, voice raw and dangerous. “I need you to tell me who killed him. So that I may kill them.”

“Ah.” Dandelion wilts. “I was afraid you'd say that. I fear my tongue is tethered by the bindings of fraternal loyalty. I cannot tell you.”

Which is answer enough.

“So the Witcher chose to involve himself after all,” isengrim hums thoughtfully. “Foolish of him.”

He doesn't fancy his chances against Geralt of Rivia. He knows Sigi doomed himself, made his own fatal choices. But he wants to make the absence of his beloved feel in the world. He wants the loss to have meant something to someone beyond him.

“Geralt's long gone. You'll never catch up to him,” says Dandelion hurriedly. “Besides, he only acted for the Temerians’ sake. Dijkstra was the fool to think that he would simply stand by as–”

“And where are these Temerians? I'd love to pay them a friendly visit. Don't tell me your fratenal bonds protect them as well.”

Dandelion relents.

Within a week's time, Isengrim finds himself in a Nilfgaardian encampment on the border of the vassal state of Temeria, waiting for Vernon Roche, freshly-installed member of the Temerian Regency Council, to return to his humble quarters for the evening.

Instead, a ghost materializes before him.

Some mirror of his past self, a tall, scarred elf dressed in Nilfgaardian black. Only the missing Vrihedd emblem at his breast and gold-threaded eye patch marks the difference.

“I told him you'd come for him,” says Iorveth, the sound of his familiar nasal voice sending Isengrim's heart rate climbing. “I hardly believed it myself when I found  those letters in his study, but as intolerable as Sigismund Dijkstra was, he didn't seem the sort to forge himself love letters.”

His lover spoken about in past tense by a comrade who should be long dead is fiercely disorienting. Isengrim fears he may be sick on the ornamented rug or worse that he will weep as he has most nights until the hitch of his lungs aches worse than his hollow belly.

“Is the Witcher dead?” asks Iorveth.

“When I track him down, he will be.” Isengrim can't quite muster up the energy to sound convincing.

 Iorveth looks older, which is all that tells Isengrim that he isn't a trick of his worn-thin mind. If anything, he wishes he would conjure Sigi when he finally lost all sense, even if as an illusion he could hear his voice again.

There's nothing to be done but sit together in the Nilfgaardian tent and light up a pipe. 

“I suppose you're going to tell me not to kill him,” he says, voice warped by a pull of smoke.

“Who? Vernon?” Iorveth waves a hand. “Be my guest. Mind you, I've been trying to kill him for the better part of a decade. He bites back.”

He's not certain what happens now. Sigi's briefer lifespan had ever existed as an inevitable but distant hurdle. Something to be grappled with after a good decade or more. Before having to cope with his loss, Isengrim had expected to deal with the drudgery typical of aging humanity. Senility, frailty, a body failing one organ and joint at a time.

He had prepared himself to watch his lover's slow decline, to see him shrink and go pale and eventually stutter out. But he'd always imagined holding Sigi's aged hand to the last breath, skin as thin as paper, breath unsteady, and wry wit still sharp.

Iorveth takes the pipe and inhales so deeply Isengrim imagines smoke trailing from his ears. He thinks what happens next is that he may join Iorveth in whatever venture he sees fit.

In another life, they had settled shoulder to shoulder dressed in black on the eve of a battle that would decide everything. Isengrim hadn't known then the difference between something worth dying and living for. 

He knows now, maybe. A part of him wishes he didn't.

[harbingerofsillies-reblogs]

You know it's bad when you make a playlist about the hyperfixation

Anyway I tried to put songs I didn't see on other playlists cause I feel like everyone defaults to mother mother

Some highlights under the cut, i would put them all if i didn't have a 30 images limit lol

I like to put songs in order based on the chronological order of the story so the mood of the lyrics actually fits the vibe and all

Also so many of these are Toga POV

The Garden is a song about being queer in a religious community and idk I feel like Togachako's whole "weird" thing they had going on was also for being queer and anyway, Ochako repressed her feelings a lot and I like to see this verse as Himiko telling her to stop repressing herself

I can only imagine this as them talking to each other cause some things fit Himiko and some Ochako and this song generally just makes me depressed tbh

They're so Dear Arkansas Daughter coded. The "as my love for you dies" are Himiko after Ochako tells her she deserves whatever's coming to her.

Himiko again, same thing as before.

Still Himiko cause despite it all, despite how mad and angry and "that's strange cause I don't think about you anymore" she's still hung up about it.

This one is both of them tbh

Depending on the verse it fits them both

Himiko during the second war with the sad man's death parade

Their fight in general tbh

This song is about a relationship that's basically over but neither of the people in the relationship actually end it and like,,, Himiko,,,, cause Togachako was doomed and Himiko didn't want anything to do with Ochako but Ochako wouldn't let her quit and kept reaching for her,,,

Himiko.

I'm still replaying my strangers edit in my head 24/7 like it's rotating inside a microwave. (Also this song's actual meaning is definitely not romantic but the theme of cannibalism with these two breaks me cause like,,, yeah Ochako lived in the end but imagine her body reacted badly for a bit to Himiko's blood like,,, "If i'm turning in your stomach and I'm making you feel sick",,, i fucking love this song,,,)

both.

Ochako cause she could literally spot her tears in a sea of clones.

Do I even need to explain myself.

Francesca by Hozier THE love song. Also obvious Ochako pov along with the next few songs.

This song is SO important to me, no one gets "we'll never have sex" like I do ok- that said: Himiko.

Ochako. I'm making myself cry over my own playlist.

I literally plan on tattooing this song on my skin, NO ONE GETS HUNGER LIKE I DO, again Himiko, I'm starting to see a pattern maybe I kin her.

Between two lungs is about sharing a breath during a kiss literally and i feel like it fits their blood transfusion so badly-

Himiko's resolve as she dies happily. I'm in denial sure but it's what happened. But I'm in denial.

Ochako's grief process yay (kill me)

The end. I'm sad. I'm gonna go cry.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Music Monday Tuesday

Thank you @your-catfish-friend for tagging me!

Rules: Choose a few fics you wrote that were inspired by a song - not just with song lyrics in title - and share the tune and the link to the fics. If anyone wants to guess which goes with which go for it in comments or tags!

---

This is hard because most of mine are directly using the titles... So INSTEAD what I am going to do is link some less popular songs that inspired fics to the fic (so NOT my Taylor Swift name fics).

---

Nothing Left But You 

In May of 2021, 25% of Earth's population suddenly disappears. Including Eddie.

In May of 2026, they all come back.

Eddie finds himself suddenly in the middle of a world he doesn't recognize, where the people he loves most have changed significantly.

Any Other Way (ongoing)

In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

Got Weird

Shortly after Buck and Natalia break up, Eddie gets tipsy and makes a rather forward move. Then immediately panics (not that Eddie panics, of course) and backpedals. Eddie spirals, Buck is confused. Lots of spontaneous kissing ensues.

Claim Your Ghost

After a near death experience on a call, Eddie starts having strange hallucinations of people who have died. There’s definitely no way he’s seeing ghosts, right? Because Eddie doesn’t believe in ghosts…

Winter Prayer 

When a work conflict prevents Athena from accompanying Bobby to Minnesota for the ten year anniversary of his family dying, Buck and May offer to go instead. Over the course of the trip, they all learn more about each other, and Bobby faces his grief.

Why Not Take All of Me?

When a small disaster strikes the morning of Maddie and Chimney's wedding, Buck, Hen, and Chim find themselves unwittingly caught up in an emergency across town, while Maddie and Eddie get stuck in an elevator.

Fuck Up the Friendship (my first ever fic)

Eddie and Buck respond to a call where one best friend confesses their love to another - leading to a pretty awkward argument between them, and maybe more?

Me and Lazarus

As Buck lays comatose after being struck by lightning, Maddie reflects on the life of the first brother she lost, how that impacted her life, and the ways grief has shaped them both.

Cowboy With a One Track Mind (ongoing)

Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 7 (Land):

Grieving and tortured, Evan Buckley has been living alone in Montana in a remote cabin for nearly a decade. After an incident that leaves him missing six months of his life, and suddenly in connection with a group of strangers from Los Angeles, Evan must decide whether to remain in his self-imposed exile, or take a chance at life again.

a mouth full of teeth and nothing to sing 

Post 07x03, Hen struggles to process the cruise ship rescue and drunk driver call in the midst of ongoing tension with her friends.

---

Tagging @pantsaretherealheroes @jeeyuns @aroeddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon @theotherbuckley

@diazsdimples @steadfastsaturnsrings @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @mangacat201 @daughterofscotland

@madneywedding @evanbegins @tizniz @wildlife4life @buckleybabyblues

@bidisasterevankinard @adarkermiserablecrow

[willtheweaver]

OC interview tag

TY for the tag @kaylinalexanderbooks

Let’s hear from Captain Hesper from A Feather in the Forest

Are you named after anyone?

I was named after the ancient war hero Hesper the Moon Blade.

When was the last time you cried?

I honestly can’t remember.

Do you have any kids?

No.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

No. I don’t see the point.

What is the first thing you notice about people?

I notice if anyone is a known is a known bird, or a stranger, friend, or foe.

What’s your eye color?

The dark brown of fertile earth.

Scary movies or happy endings?

You’re telling me that you have pictures that both move and talk? Anyways, I’d dare you try and scare me.

Any special talents?

Yes. Surprising as it sounds, I am actually an accomplished poet and have written verses and ballads.

Where were you born?

Windshear outpost, on the edge of Lord Halley’s territory.

Do you have any pets?

Huh? I don’t understand the concept at all.

What sort of sports do you play?

My job means that I do not have much free time. But when I got time, I love doing fencing and archery.

How tall are you?

About 31in. in your measurements.

What was your favorite subject in school?

Everyone in your society gets a formal education? What a strange concept. Outside of combat training, I enjoyed learning about history.

What is your dream job?

I don’t have many ambitions. Serving my liege as guard captain is sufficient for me.

Tagging @elizaellwrites @words-after-midnight @sentfromwolves @late-to-the-fandom @oh-no-another-idea

@poethill @thepeculiarbird @literarynecromancy @rickie-the-storyteller @cowboybrunch

@mk-writes-stuff @finickyfelix and open tag

[dreamsofalife]

((Dare I make a Welcome Home/ADC/stranger in a strange land esque au? Too bad, bc I already have it.

What do you do when you're as lonely as you've ever been and can ever be? Where do you go when your life and your very self feel like a chore?

If you're Cheyanne Wyatt, you make a wish...you wish that you could leave it all behind, all of your trauma and burdens and you wish to be somewhere you'll never have to be lonely again.

And if you're still her, a few fairies with an attachment to you might hear your wish and grant it for you, separating you from your life, your memories, even your old body and launching you into a place you never could have dreamed.

After that, you might wander until you find people, that term being used loosely, who welcome you with such genuine joy that you can't bring yourself to worry about whoever you used to be. You go by Shy, because you're very timid and because it just feels right, and you make all sorts of new friends and experiences!

Of course, sometimes things resurface...you find yourself crying in your sleep some nights. You hate to be alone, or for people to leave, and you know things without really understanding why. But really, that's fine, because you have a feeling some things are better left forgotten.

The verse is named after a lyric from the song Runaway Train by Soul Asylum bc it fits.))

[ruassurvivalkit]

💫❤️‍🔥RUA'S MASTERLIST❤️‍🔥💫

💥Rules💥

1) I don't write ageplay, anything sexual to do with bodily functions e.g. vomit, underage, too graphic, beastality etc. Generally what most people on this app consider iffy

2)I have the right to refuse requests

(especially if it goes against rules or I am uncomfortable by the request)

3) don't reblog my stuff or I will find you! (/j about the last part but don't reblog my stuff /srs)

4) Request thro my ask button and do it respectfully or I won't make the request. If you want it to be specific to your tastes, make it specific. If you want me to have my own artistic interaptation then let me know.

5) I ONLY WRITE ROMANTICALLY FOR WOMEN/NONBINARY AS I AM A LESBIAN. (I will write for men platonically) (or the man is man x other character) and I don't write for male readers

6) I write romantic and platonic but you need to be specific. If you want a character to be written as a parental figure, say "can you write for parent!character" or if you want a character to be written as a crush/crushing say "can you write for crush!character or crushing!character"

7) depending on the fandom, I may write for one I don't have listed but i have the right to refuse

8) I write for character x reader and character x character and I'm chill writing with multiple characters if given specifics

9) I may write for a character not listed in the listed fandom but I have the right to refuse.

WHAT TYPE OF IMAGE/ONE SHOT IS THIS?

❣️ - fluff

💢 - angst

🍋 - smut (I am not well versed in writing smut but I'm willing to give it a try)

🕊 - dead dove do not eat

*trigger warnings will be given on iffy subjects (dead dove do not eat)

WHO/WHAT DO I WRITE FOR?

Arcane

• Jinx

• Vi

• Mel

• Caitlyn

• Vi and Caitlyn

Stranger Things

• Robin buckley

• Nancy wheeler

• younger characters × younger characters only as theyre 13-15 in the series(e.g. Max x Lucas or Mike x Will) but will only be cutesy fluff bc aweee

• Joyce × Jim

• Joyce Byers

• Chrissy Cunningham

• Vickie (cannot find her surname for the life of me)

League of their own (series)

• Jess McCready

• Lupe Garcia

• Max Chapman

• Carson Shaw

• Greta Gill

• Maybelle Fox

• Jo De Luca

• Shirley Cohen (love the girl but platonic only)

• Esti Gonález (platonic only)

Life is Strange

Lis 1

• Chloe Price

• Max Caufield

Lis tc

• Steph Gingrich

• Alex Chen

Feel free to request a character and ill yay or nay them

Yellowjackets

• Shauna Shipman/Sadecki

• Jackie Taylor

• Nat/Natalie Scatorccio

• Tai/Taissa Turner

• Van Palmer

• Lottie/Charlotte Matthews

• Laura-Lee

Hazbin/Helluva Boss

• feel free to request FEMALE characters and I'll yay or nay them asap but male characters can be platonic!!

Bridgerton

• Penelope Featherington(my love my life my wife not Colins 😾)

• Eloise Bridgerton (LOVE HER SM)

• umm idk who else but like requests and stuff! 😼

I also write for

• dc universe

• marvel universe

• 2 broke girls (only Max and depends on Caroline)

• Fallon Carrington the new Dynasty series (havent watched the older one)

• can request a lot of characters from diff fandoms as I always forget what media I watch/read etc until its brought up

• Harry Potter but only when the younger characters are older

• FEAR STREET!!!!

• doric from the dnd movie and Syd from ianowt 👀👀👀

• STRICTLY PLATONIC!!!!paper girls ❤️ I luv them they're such wee cuties but I can do Mac x Kj romantic bc duhhh just not x reader BC DUHHH

• mean girls

‼️DISCLAIMER‼️ This is a stream of consciousness so apologises for the messiness and istg I will actually combust and explode if anyone ik finds this 😔🙏💔

[justkillingthyme]

Tell me about the Noah Kahan Layton animatics 👁👁

Smirks. Oh boy get ready for an infodump.

Here’s the sketch (not all of the planned ones just the ones I had thought up on the spot) and the actual thoughts are under the cut and it’s going to be. Long

Not going to go into detail on the plans themselves unless I get asked to about a particular one it’ll just be my thoughts on why it fits. If I don’t have a song from him it’s either that I have an idea that half fits or don’t have it all fleshed out

Stick Season

Northern Attitude

I think Northern Attitude is a Des song

You build a boat, you build a life.

You lose your kids, you lose your wife

And

If you get too close

And I'm not how you hoped

Forgive my northern attitude

Oh, I was raised out in the cold

If the sun don't shine

'Til the summertime

Forgive my northern attitude

Oh, I was raised on little light

Literally him. Left alone in his house at a young age, built himself up. Got his shit together and settled down and had it all ripped away from him.

Come Over

Randall vibes (Stansbury era)

And my mouth was designed for my foot to fit in it

Oh, the words they went missin' when the stock market crashed

^angelas tears. He doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions, much less other people’s.

Someday I'm gonna be somebody people want

Randall on the expedition. His whole thing is that he wants to prove himself. Randall is very much an insecure needing reassurance but covering it up with reckless confidence kid.

New Perspective

Randall vibes but MG era

If I could fly I doubt I'd even do it

I'd probably get high and crash or something stupid

Ironic here. Talking w descole

Gave me your word and now I can't pronounce it

No thing's so sure that I can't learn to doubt it

And the chorus

Ooh, this town is for the record now

The intersection got a Target

And they're calling it downtown

You and all of your new perspective now

Wish I could shut it in a closet

And drag you back down

This is aimed at Henry and the development of Monte D’or. On how it’s so close to Stansbury and Henry profited from his death.

Orange juice

I actually have a page for this one! So good for you for sticking around till here

It’s old but encapsulates more of my idea for the animatic

Henry @ Randall post MM. in this particular one it’s more of a scenario where Randall has left Monte D’or after everything and is back for visiting occasionally.

Feels like I've been ready for you to come home

For so long

That I didn't think to ask you where you'd gone

Why'd you go?

And the verse

See the graves as you pass through, from our crash back in '02

Not one nick on your finger, you just asked me to hold you

Literally the ending of MM. flooded the city with sand.

But it made you a stranger and filled you with anger

Now I'm third in the lineup to your Lord and your Savior

Not sure if it’s visible in the picture but I have lord as Angela and savior as Hershel. He’s always been third place for Randall.

You said my heart has changed and my soul has changed

And my heart, and my heart

That my life has changed, that this town had changed

And you had not

That the world has changed, don't you find it strange

That you just went ahead and carried on?

And here Randall gets a little angry. Henry remains the same no matter how much time has passed. It’s something of a mixture of anger that Henry had moved on without him before but refuses to move on now that Randall has left of his own accord

And Henry responds

Are we all just crows to you now?

Are we all just pulling you down?

You didn't put those bones in the ground

That Randall was the one leaving them.

Strawberry Wine

Layclaire!!! Hershel about Claire after her death. Getting over it

I said, "Love is fast asleep, " on a dirt road

With your head on my shoulder

It’s about the little things. The things they used to do together. The moments that made love real.

Strawberry wine, and all the time we used to have

Those things I miss, but know are never comin' back

and for when he sees Claire pass him by

No thing defines a man like love that makes him soft

And sentimental like a stranger in the park

For a few moments, I see you

and for the chorus. Right person, wrong time. Wrong place. Maybe in a different world

If I was empty space, and you were a formless

Shape, we'd fit

But love leaves little runway, and every time we run

Straight over it

Growing Sideways

Hershel and his habit of self destruction and riding on tea and late night research so he doesn’t have to process any of his trauma. Also could go for Des here

I'm still angry at my parents for what their parents did to them

But it's a start

hello Leon Bronev

But I ignore things, and I move sideways

Until I forget what I felt in the first place

At the end of the day I know there are worse ways

To stay alive

'Cause everyone's growing and everyone's healthy

I'm terrified that I might never have met me

Oh, if my engine works perfect on empty

I guess I'll drive

Halloween

MM era ranlay, could also work post Stansbury. Could also do layclaire. Hershel pov

I’ll let the lyrics do the explaining. Here’s the chorus

But the wreckage of you, I no longer reside in

And the bridges have long since been burned

The ash of the home that I started the fire in

It starts to return to the Earth

I'm leavin' this town and I'm changin' my address

I know that you'll come if you want

It's not Halloween, but the ghost you're dressed up as

Sure knows how to haunt, yeah, she knows how to haunt

and the verse

It's an ode to the hole that I found myself stuck in

The song for the grave that I dug

There's a murder of crows in the low light off Boston

And I see your face in each one

I'm losin' myself in the tiniest objects

I'm seein' my life on a screen

I'm hearin' your voice in a strange foreign language

If only I learned how to speak

Hershel blaming himself and being unable to move on

Still

Layclaire <3

Last lyric of verse and then the chorus

Stare up at a starless sky and you say

It’s like I’m still here with you

It’s like I’m still here with you

I don't, I don't, I don't wanna say goodbye

Literally the ending cutscene.

The View Between Villages

Hershel post MM. going home after THAT whole experience. Also could work with visiting Stansbury during college/later

Feel the rush of my blood

I'm seventeen again

I am not scared of death

I've got dreams again

and the last verse

Passed Alger Brook Road, I'm over the bridge

A minute from home but I feel so far from it

The death of my dog, the stretch of my skin

It's all washin' over me, I'm angry again

The things that I lost here, the people I knew

They got me surrounded for a mile or two

The car's in reverse, I'm grippin' the wheel

I'm back between villages and everything's still

Paul Revere

MM. just Hershel in MM.

It's typical, I fear

Folks just disappear

And when they ask me who I am

I'll say I'm not from around here

Dude. I could go on and on about this song because I have something planned for each lyric. It fits so well.

No Complaints

Hershel recovering post attack. Could also set it post UF

I saw the end, it looks just like the middle

Got a paper and pen and a page with no space

End is Claire’s death, middle could work for Randall or Claire’s first death. Paper and pen. Man literally journals.

In love with being noticed and afraid of being seen

But I can finally eat and I can fall asleep

It's fine, fine, fine

I think you guys see me vision. Vaguely gestures at Bill Hawks.

You’re Gonna Go Far

Henry and Angela seeing Randall out of Monte D’or.

Making quiet calculations where the fault lies

Heyyy

So, pack up your car, put a hand on your heart

Say whatever you feel, be wherever you are

We ain't angry at you, love

You're the greatest thing we've lost

Alt ending line is we’ll be waiting for you love.

I’m a firm believer that Randall doesn’t stay in Monte D’or post MM

[authortobenamedlater]

Honor Bound

Gave this an ending-for-now to get myself warmed back up after Sabezra DinBo week. At some point I want to give this a whole fic worthy of posting on AO3, but for now it’s just here.

Again, a possible Vital Record road, this one where John surrenders to the Covenant in exchange for his daughter’s release. Thel ‘Vadam doesn’t know what to make of it.

@sarnakhwritesthings @ageless-aislynn @christian-latte-anon @sweethoneyjazzeuphoria

—

Uncertainty was not a familiar feeling to Thel ‘Vadam.

However, as he stood outside the holding cell and observed human inside, Thel could think of no other way to feel.

The human—the Demon—sat in the corner, still armored, head leaning on the wall, eyes closed. Sleeping?

Why has he not tried to escape? The shipmaster wondered. The Demon could easily bend the steel bars and walk out of the cell. He could shoot his way off of High Charity if he wanted to.

The only possible explanation, then, was that the Demon didn’t want to.

But why?

The Demon woke from his doze and Thel instinctively braced for a confrontation. But the prisoner made no move to fight.

Why?

“Your helmet,” Thel managed gracelessly after an awkward moment.

“Oh.” The Demon stood and Thel opened the pass-through in the bars. This cell had been designed for smaller Covenant species, not humans, certainly not Spartans.

“Ah, thank you.” The Demon set the helmet on the floor and sat back down.

Thel almost left, then turned back. “The Prophets will kill you.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to explain this to the Demon. Thel didn’t know why he felt a lot of things today. “When they are done with you. They will kill you.”

“Yeah, probably,” the Demon said.

Thel knew he should say something, but his growing confusion and incomplete understanding of the humans’ language combined to render him mute.

The Demon looked at him in a way Thel couldn’t decipher.

“My apologies,” the Sangheili rushed out. “I am not versed in human social protocols.”

The Demon’s lips quirked upward. “Seems like we have something in common.”

Was that an attempt at bonding? 

Thel knew humans well enough to fight them and kill them, but evidently not well enough to talk to them.

He had never needed to talk to them.

“You did not fight when we took you,” Thel said.

“Defeats the point of a surrender,” the Demon said.

“If you plan to bring your comrades to take High Charity—”

“I don’t,” the Demon said quickly. “I ordered them not to come back for me.”

This situation was becoming stranger by the nanosecond. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why surrender?” Thel closed a clawed hand around one of the bars. “Why give yourself for her?”

“Do you have children, Shipmaster?”

Thel paused. “I do not,” he answered quietly.

“Well, if you ever do, you’ll know the answer to that question.”

The conviction in the Demon’s answer made Thel pause again.

This cannot be his only objective. Turning himself over to us only to save his offspring? He must have another angle. Men like us never do anything without a plan.

Thel stopped short and repeated his last thought.

Men like us?

“I don’t imagine you found my rifle, too?” The Demon asked. He was making that face again.

Is this humor? Irony? 

Human social protocol really was beyond Thel’s grasp.

“I did not,” Thel answered honestly.

The Demon nodded. 

“But I will…I will…” Thel tried to find the right phrase. “Look for it,” the shipmaster finally managed.

That seemed to satisfy the Demon.

Thel left the prison, a strange disturbance pulling at him.

This human gave himself for his child.

My people took the child.

Humans are without honor.

Thel pulled his mandibles together as the feeling in his gut intensified.

Why couldn’t he help thinking the only honor he’d seen today had come from his enemy?

—

No, I don’t know what Thel’s exact position or role is here. One of many things I have to figure out before writing the rest of this.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022)

If all you know about Everything Everywhere All at Once, is that it won a bunch of Oscars and topped many Best of the Year lists, you're not prepared for how strange a film this is. It may seem weird for weirdness' sake at first but stick with it. You’ll see just how emotionally rich and creative a story this is.

Evelyn (Michelle Yeoh) and Waymond (Ke Huy Quan) are being audited by the Internal Revenue Service, preparing for their Chinese New Year party and about to welcome Evelyn’s overbearing father (Gong Gong, played by James Hong) to their home, all while Evelyn struggles to accept her daughter’s lesbian relationship (Joy is played by Stephanie Hsu) - all on the same day. On their way to meet with Deirdre Beaubeirdre (Jamie Lee Curtis) at the IRS, Evelyn gets a strange message from a version of her husband from an alternate universe: the omnicidal Jobu Tupaki is on their way to destroy everything that exists and Evelyn is the key to saving all of reality.

Films like The One and Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse might have made the idea of multiverses a bit more well-known, but it’s still wild stuff. What makes EEAaO even stranger is that Evelyn needs to access the skills and memories of her parallel universe selves to defeat Jobu Tupaki. To access those skills, she has to perform what you could sort of call “rituals”. They're random, ranging from declaring your love for someone to going for a nap, eating something weird, putting your clothes on backward or giving yourself a paper cut. Doing these actions allows Evelyn to see versions of herself that are culinary geniuses or martial artists.

If that wasn’t strange enough, Jobu Tupaki is one of the strangest antagonists you've ever seen. They can do almost anything because they have the abilities and memories of every version of themselves from every parallel universe, and there are infinite universes. Even ones where people can shrug off bullet wounds, manipulate matter with a thought, or have evolved a wildly different anatomy from the one we know. When Jobu Tupaki attacks, they’re generating sex toys out of thin air and whacking people in the face with them so hard they die, moving in impossible ways, or doing all sorts of things no human being could do.

You're wondering “How do you fight against someone who can do almost anything with a thought?” For that, you’ll have to watch the movie. You might also be asking “Is it just pure absurdity?” The answer is “No”. Beneath the weirdness is a lot of substance. As Evelyn explores other versions of herself, she sees paths she didn’t take. If she hadn’t married Waymond, she could’ve gone on to become a world-renowned opera singer, or a rich and successful actress in Hollywood films (kind of like Michelle Yeoh did, in a clever bit that makes you go “Wait, so are we just living in another alternate universe that Evelyn will visit to pull memories and skills from?). Everyone has played that “What if?” game and I’d wager that when you do, it’s almost always because you think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. Jobu Tupaki believes that “because every action and reaction creates an alternate universe where the opposite took place, nothing matters”. There is a lot of anger and depression in this film and although the focus is on a physical confrontation, if Evelyn wins at the end of the day, it’s equally important for her - and others - to deal with their feelings, to see that what they have matters and is worth keeping.

Everything Everywhere All at Once has a plot like none other. It also has poignant emotional moments as its characters consider mature themes like love, suicide, rejection, what could’ve been, and more. The performances are strong. The story calls for a wide range of emotions from the actors, asks them to portray alternate but recognizable versions of the characters they're creating and perform all sorts of wild stunts. Also noteworthy is the script. The film is often quite funny, and in ways that take you completely by surprise. You’ll see a trophy and think it’s just a weird-looking prop. That that’s the joke but later in the film, that same prop will come up again to be used in a way that makes it clear it was designed to look that way specifically, which now makes it twice as funny. So much of the joy you get from this film is not knowing what comes next. While there is something nice and comforting about seeing a “Standard” plot, this is the kind of picture you just can’t predict at all.

I know many people will love Everything Everywhere All at Once. I also suspect some will find it too strange for their tastes. I understand. To those people. I’d ask them to consider just how bold and imaginative a story this is. You’ve never seen anything like it. You'll forget this film. If that’s not enough for you, there are many big laughs and equally big emotional moments packed within its 139-minute running time. That sounds long, but it earns every second. Everything Everywhere All at Once lives up to the hype. (March 28, 2023)

[thedevilsmemes]

ASTARION ANCUNIN QUOTES ~ BALDUR'S GATE 3 SENTENCE MEME!

"Hello, darling. Don't be shy, I promise I not to bite until we've been formally introduced."

"The tadpole's influence broke his dominance over me, and now I can finally pursue the one thing I've hungered for these long dark years."

"I'll be the last thing the bastard ever sees."

"Given that my choices were 'eternal life' or 'bleed to death on the street', I took him up on the offer."

"It was only afterwards I realized just how long 'eternity' could be."

"By the Hells. Sex, my dear. A night of passion."

"I'm out of wine and flowers, so I hope an introduction will suffice."

"And I wish I was drinking out of the skull of everyone who's ever wronged me. Life is tough."

"I've been waiting. Waiting since the moment I laid eyes on you. Waiting... to have you."

"Yes darling, that's what we call a lie."

"All I want is a little fun, is that so much to ask?"

"Why hello. Welcome to my humble party."

"Oh, we're lying to each other now? Excellent."

"But... you're no stranger now. Just strange."

"I hate it. This is awful."

"Wait! Don't interrupt them. Let me do it. They sound disgusting."

"I don't know, I'm sure a vampire spawn could still rip out your heart."

"My, My. Who knew our friend had so much blood in them?"

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart."

"I'm just glad you're being sensible about these revelations. I was worried people might turn up with torches and pitchforks."

"Although, there's still time."

"I already apologised. What more do you want? Unless you're looking for another nibble?"

"Yes, darling? Do you need something?"

"What in the sweet hells were you THINKING activating that lance, I was right there!"

"Next time? No no no, if there is a 'next time' I'll be the one aiming the all-powerful weapon."

"Although, I do appreciate you trying to fix your mistake, just don't do it again!"

"It's just that I happen to be a... what's the best way to put this? A vampire?"

"Oh my honour, the only thing on my mind, is depraved carnal lust."

"You couldn't wait ten seconds before being an absolute freak."

"Oh, good, puns. Because clowns aren't enough of a horror already."

"What? Was it something I said?"

"Really? - Anything in particular?"

"Now, I can't help but notice that one of us is positively drenched in blood. So..."

"At least the smut peddlers of Sharass' Caress will have a field day writing erotic verse about us when we're both dead."

"Hundreds? Urgh, it'll take hours to kill them all. She/He's right, we should just go."

"Oh? Then what do you want?"

"Five seconds into this relationship and I already want to break up with you."

"Oh the one hand, killing Gortash will be fun. On the other, Halsin can be very annoying."

"The man can't stay quiet about 'enjoying the freedom of nature's gifts'. I bet he'd outlaw clothing if he could."

"Good Morning. Thank you for not killing me the other night."

"Of course, what fun! I'm going to fucking kill you."

"I am. And beautiful - not enough people mention that."

"Hmm. Hmm. Thank you for helping me. It was very kind."

"I can't even tell if any of you are acting strange because you've been replaced or because this group is full of weirdos!"

"So... I was wondering if maybe - perhaps - you might be able to..."

"Can you read what's on my damn back? Please?"

"Well, hello... Looking for a cuddle?"

"What are you? No. We are not jumping down there!"

"Oh - eh - Hello again?"

"Easy now. Let's not do anything Hilarious."

"You have a manner of irresistible desperation about you. I like it."

"I'd trust a devil over a vampire any day. I think he likes us."

"Oh, bravo! Encore!"

"Why she sounds positively demented."

"I love it! let's tell her everything!"

"Don't be touchy. I'm sure he meant 'better off dead' as a compliment."

"I'd shake her hand, but she can still snap me in two, so... probably safest to skip it."

"Anyway, it's a brand new day. I'm sure we'll find lots of people for you to kill."

"I must see this. Don't you dare say no."

"Well, this seems like a lovely little spot. The sense of impending doom aside."

"I suppose it was only a matter of time until [ insert name ] took vengeance."

"For the Lady/Lord of loss, She/He does not like losing."

"Come to kill me again, darling?"

"Guilty as charged. Sometimes literally."

"What? No! Don't you dare! This isn't funny!"

"Huh, thank goodness, I was almost worried."

"Nice as it is, she still doesn't have the best hair in the camp."

"Well, I mean... kind of? It's a long story, honestly."

"You'll get back to me? This is important, devil! When?"

"It's not enough we have a gallery of villains to look out for, but now we could be infiltrated by a shapechanger?"

"But you're serious about this? About... us?"

"Tailor's mannequins? I never figured [ insert name ] for a follower of fashion."

"Well done again on besting Baal and all that. It was very twee."

"You filthy devil. I'm shocked."

"Haha! That's - Oh, you're serious."

"Well, of course we can leave him, it's the easiest thing in the world. We just have to keep on walking."

"Well, at least you purr for me..."

"The thing that will decide my fate forevermore? Yes, it has been on my mind, why?"

"Who knows how long before the others go feral without us there to guide them?"

"Let. Me. Go! - Ah... Hello!"

"No, as much as I'd like to become a Lord, ruling over the Underdark's vampire spawn, we have unfinished business with the mind flayers."

"I'm glad you had your fun then. I am here to provide an endless array of delights."

[threewaywithdelusion]

Fics Where Steve's Parents Are Interesting

I know the Stranger Things fandom has collectively decided that Steve's parents are The Worst, but I also like reading stories where they aren't or where they are, but that perspective is complicated. Here are some recs (finished and unfinished fics and please check the tags yourself):

Aftermath by help_me_no

Interesting depiction of Steve's parents, especially him mom, as an absent parent who still loves Steve and has an impact on his life.

and they were SPOUSES (oh my god they were spouses) by narceus

Chapter 4 is from the perspective of Steve's mother. Steve's parents go to dinner with him and Robin after finding out they've been married for several years. This is one of my favorite depictions of Steve's parents which doesn't make them less absent but shows their behavior from their perspective and is absolutely wonderful

I was born when they took my name by WingedQuill

Steve is Seven and his parents are scientists who stole him from the lab and protected him all these years. They're good parents who love him and who worry about his safety.

count to thirty. breathe twice. repeat. by WingedQuill

Steve's parents are still absent, but with a twist. SPOILERS. They are both queer and have partners outside Hawkins. Steve doesn't know this, because they wanted him to have a normal life and not be affected by homophobia in Hawkins.

Jackrabbit Underneath by Grey_Lark

Steve is Seven and his parents are still not great people, but they are present through his early life (which is depicted in the story) and influence what goes on later. The impact of their family dynamic on Steve is really shown. His mother suffers from strange headaches.

you carved the space for my sadness to be seen for once (hold on to me) by ohstars

Steve's mom is a central character in this fic. When Steve becomes a teen parent, she steps up and divorces his father. Steve and his mom have to navigate their estrangement as well as the mother-son relationship between them and the father-daughter relationship between Steve and his daughter

Car Hangs by maiamaryse

Steve's parents are still not great parents in this, but they appear as characters who feel real and fully-fleshed, especially Steve's father.

Verses Out of Rhythm by thankyouplease

I don't usually read or post Harringrove fics, so here's your warning that Steve and Billy have a past, toxic relationship in this one (no Billy redemption). Endgame is Steddie. Steve's parents are a distant presence until the end of the fic, but they are still nuanced characters and decent people, even if they aren't great parents.

[aemondsa]

Whats wrong with shipping Aemondsa tho? I feel like its the number #1 Sansa crackship rn (at least in my pov) like I want to ship Sansa with all the fictional characters I like. Heck, i'm honestly just here in the shadows patiently waiting for some big brain author to write a Gojo x Sansa or Geto x Sansa fic 😂

Same! Sansa is my favourite character in fiction and I just like the idea of putting her together with unexpected people and seeing where the vibes take us. ✌️💗

Ooooh, I would be down for a Sansa in JJK universe fic. It could be a fun concept! I know there is a Sansa/Sesshomaru fic and a Sansa reborn in Naruto ‘verse fic. (haven’t read either, but it’s marked for later)

Personally, I like crackship more than any canon ships—they can never let you down, unlike the ships that are fighting for the canon crown. However, as there is an unexpected influx of people who dislike the ship, I made that previous post. I’ll put more details under the cut, so it’s easier to read.

To preface, if someone doesn’t like the ship, that’s okay. I’m not saying everyone should like it. However, lately people have been acting in a way that makes me think ‘damn, y’all really will do anything to be a hater, huh?’

Here’s a break down of some of the things that happened:

There is a… cluster of twitter users who occasionally make posts like ‘if you ship sansa and aemond, I know you have mental problems’ and ‘sansa x aemond shippers are genuinely insane.’ That’s a very odd thing to say about strangers online over a non-problematic ship that exists because people decided to put their favourite characters together.

Same contingent of people insists that J@ce/Sansa is the better ship, and a) somewhat suspicious that you only bring up J@ce/Sansa as a contender when you are putting down Aemond/Sansa; and b) well, if you feel so strongly about J@ce being Sansa’s ‘gallant, perfect prince’ then why not write that yourself? Be your own hero, make the content you want to see in the world. Nothing is stopping you.

Not for the first time, people on tiktok make videos of the ‘why does this ship exist? ew’ variety, but recently, one reposted art and spoke about the context negatively, and had the gall to say ‘found on pinterest, credit to the artist’ and ???? google reverse image search is free and not that hard to use? Fine, you don’t like the ship, but don’t repost an art without credit. Someone with skill and talent spent time and energy to draw and fully render a complicated piece. Creditless reposting is a dick move. (OP eventually deleted their video.)

Another tiktok came out and it used Aemond/Sansa as a punchline of their joke. And fine, whatever, it’s a comedy sketch and not particularly deep, and sure the scandalised ‘Aemond and Sansa?! 😱😱’ were annoying, but it’s the lying that got me. They said ‘I know people get frustrated because [Aemond/Sansa] are all over the main Daem0n/Rh@enyra tag.’ and that is just… not true. Something that can be disproven with basic math: Aemondsa has 78 fics total of which 23 fics are tagged with Daem0n/Rh@enyra ship. Daem0n/Rh@enyra tag on ao3 has 5,272 fics. 23 of 5,272 is *dun dun dun* 0.436%. Not even half a percent. Sooooooo, how exactly is that ‘all over the main tag’? It’s the lying that gets me, you know?

And of course, the casual ‘oh, why is this a ship?’ / ‘I can’t believe people ship this’ / ‘free my girl Sansa’ tags that people add to posts. Why do we ship them? Cause we can. We’re having fun.

(These are just some examples of recent events that irked me.)

TL;DR: People are strangely threatened by a crackship with less than 100 fics in their ao3 tag, like 10 authors to its name, and necessitates time travel to function. Is it really that serious? Why are people more pressed than a juice that a group of Sansa fans also like Aemond and are exploring the idea of them together? We’re practically a fringe movement, given our numbers—it’s not that serious that we exist. We are just having fun with our friends and gushing over our faves. Mind your business and stay out of ours.

[breakaway71]

Monthly Fic Recs - January 2024

As well as my participation with Fic Feature Friday for older favorites, I promised myself this year that I would take a page out of my good friend @miyamorana's book this year and try to do a monthly rec post of new things I've loved. I am very very behind on keeping up with new stories right now, since I got caught up with Bookmarking Project of Doom, but I do at least have a few recent reads to share! :D

Please keep in mind, my tastes vary and fluctuate with the tide. I read across a wide variety of fandoms and ships. Hopefully if you decide to keep up with my rec posts (assuming I keep up with them, and I'm going to try really hard!), you will find something to your taste!

STRANGER THINGS love my baby like the finest wine by glorious_spoon, ~6,000 words, Steve/Eddie "Where the hell did you learn to bake?" Eddie asks, fascinated, as Steve leans down to peer into the oven, curses under his breath, and fumbles a pair of oven mitts on. "Oh, you know, here and there," he says breezily. "He ruined three batches before you got here," Robin says, ducking her head in. "Hey, Eddie." - Or: Eddie spends Christmas with Steve and Robin, and maybe it's the start of something new. A Festive Mix for a Friend by entangled_now, ~2,300 words, Steve/Eddie Steve learns that the ingredients don't have to be exactly right, it really is the thought that counts. they're going to send us to prison for jerks by greatunironic, ~16,000 words, Steve/Eddie GARETH 11.46am it’s been like five hours should we do a welfare check on him?

JEFF 11.47 am why? you think it’s possible to die from jerking it too much?

GARETH 11.47am ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah

In which Eddie is TikTok famous, and his personal favorite creator just had an unexpected face reveal. THE SANDMAN Cottagecore 'verse by apocryphal, ~23,000 words, Dream/Hob The love story of a fae prince and a hedgewitch in the middle ages. <3 MERLIN like there's hope in this story by queerofthedagger, ~10,000 words, Merlin/Arthur

“Calm yourself,” Gaius finally says. “You’re alright. Gwaine is alright. Do you remember what happened?” Merlin’s brows furrow and his gaze flickers through the chambers until it lands on Arthur. He tilts his head, the confusion on his face only growing. He asks, “I’m sorry, have we met?” and Arthur’s world not only stops, but crumbles.

Things have finally been going well in Camelot; Arthur knew about Merlin's magic, their relationship had been changing, and their plans for Albion—even if for now only shared with a trusted group—were almost too good to be true.

Then an attack leaves Merlin without his memories since Uther's death and, strangely enough, of Arthur specifically, and Arthur's world threatens to come crashing down once more. SUITS many times, many ways by spqr, ~15,000 words, Harvey/Mike

The only reason he’s even in the damn registry is because it’s required when you pass the bar, like a background check, fingerprinting; he literally hasn’t spared it a single thought since he bared his forearm for the NYSSR representative and looked away while they took the scan. Soulmates are something that other people worry about, normal people, the masses, like marriage and kids and mortgages in the suburbs, and besides, Harvey’s not the sort of person who wants a life partner. 

Which doesn’t explain why he’s rushing across town right now, but – he can’t leave his own soulmate rotting in Rikers three days before Christmas. It’s a point of professional pride.