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mana-jjk · 11 months

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I would love to hear your thoughts on inuokko post-shibuya. like how toge goes through the acceptance of his injury, how yuuta would help and be so supportive of him and also their reunion…just want to hear your thoughts on it! go wild! I love inuokko <3

oh my gosh anon thank you i have so many thoughts !!

feel free to send more asks about canon or au’s !! i have so many thoughts it’s insane i an incredibly not stable about inuokko and it’s a little scary tbh.

Post-Shibuya

• so i think it’s important to establish that the time between shibuya and gojo’s unsealing was 19 days. let’s just sit on that for a few moments, just a little more than two weeks.

• what gets me is that a week after toge’s 17th birthday, he is traumatically amputated and alone.

• i do think yuuta was the one to find him, having arrived at around 1:30 a.m. to shibuya. it’s heartbreaking in itself to consider, because even unconsciously if toge calls, yuuta will come barring nothing.

• yuuta is immediately dispatched to shibuya and everything with the culling games is happening so he doesn’t even know if his friends are okay and that’s the hardest part.

• waking up brings a numbness, quiet acceptance that’s been beaten into him since he was a kid. it was inevitable that he was going to severely injured at some point in his life. that’s why he didn’t cry or scream or even feel angry. he was just numb.

• going with the theory that his wraps were meant to contain curse residuals/poison, there was severe nerve damage that extended from the now stump to his shoulder and even a little down his abdomen. shoko tried her best to help him learn how to move again, but she was overbooked.

• every morning, afternoon, and evening, he was forcing himself to move and learn how to maneuver without his arm. he mostly fought with his legs and cursed speech, so he was grateful that he hadn’t lost either. no matter how much inwardly his heart wished otherwise. losing an arm did throw him off-balance so he practiced a lot in learning to fight without the weight.

• no matter how much shoko tried to convince him to rest, he couldn’t force himself to sit still, every time he sat down, he thought of yuuta and maki and panda fighting out there alone. the dead civilians stared back at him in his dreams. the feeling of a thousand cleavers sinking into his flesh pulsed. he couldn’t sit still, so he did what he’s been doing since his parents gave him up. he trained, he fought, he prepared to sacrifice what was left of his body.

• when they called forth everyone willing and able to fight, toge didn’t even hesitate. despite being a traumatized teenager just learning how to tie an empty sleeve, marching towards death was as natural as breathing.

• stepping into the meeting point, he’s in the mind of the soldier, focus on nothing but the next fight, trying to ignore the way his shoulder aches from phantom pain.

• surprisingly, it’s maki who sees him first. while she knew from yuuta what had happened, it still ached her own scars to see him. yet, boldly as everything else she does, she comes up to him and grabs him into a forceful hug. panda isn’t far behind, even with his reduced height. for a moment toge can do nothing but blink.

• yuuta is a breath behind, a mixture of overwhelming relief and devastation all at once in the blue of his eyes, wanting the other to be thousands of miles away but unable to shake his last memory of digging through the shredded remains of civilians, praying to find him whole.

• toge sees him, sees the distress in his eye and reaches out. his hand encloses around yuuta’s, and the distress melts into relief that spills down his face, a crybaby as always. at least that’s how it goes in his mind, past the way his shoulder spasms to do just that. it isn’t relief spilling from yuuta’s eyes, it’s a quiet understanding and grief that tears his heart apart.

• not so long ago, his presence brought relief, his strength was depended on, and he had the ability to at least wipe the tears from his friend’s eyes. all at once it hits him, the scars on his shoulder burn, the feeling of a thousand cleavers on flesh no longer there, the sight of maki’s burns, panda so much smaller, yuuta crying over him, always over him. his own bloody hand tying his tourniquet, not knowing where his friends are, not knowing where he is, alive or dead, hands digging through the debris, strangled breath, pain, burning, darkness, blood, smoke, debris, dead eyes, everyone was dead, why wasn’t he dead?

he didn’t save them.

he couldn’t protect them.

and after everything, that was what broke him.

• he cries, and as everything it’s quiet. the hitch of his breath is enough to send tears streaming down all their faces, just as he feared he’s inevitably cursed them again. it’s only a moment before maki steps aside and warm arms are wrapping around him. he cries until his face burns and his throat hurts from the hitched sobs, but yuuta with tears streaming down his face accepts every curse with open arms.

Recovery

• when everything is over, toge doesn’t really know what to do with himself. all he’s ever known was to fight and sacrifice and part of him thought he would die in the war. now that it was over, he couldn’t wrap his head around actually living.

• he spends his days trying to relearn everything he forgot, having been so focused on learning to fight that he hadn’t even considered what it meant to learn how to cook or write or even properly sign with one hand.

• through it all, yuuta is there, sometimes unbearable in his presence and persistent belief in toge. always watching, yet forcibly holding himself back from intervening after a stern talking from maki. toge failed in the simplest tasks, again and again, and sometimes he could only kick in frustration. but through it all, yuuta never left, never looked at him with pity. sitting and waiting like a golden retriever waiting for the word.

• the few times toge cried, like when nobara complained of being hungry and toge tried to shape rice but couldn’t get it right. he stood in the kitchen, tears blurring his vision, fingers twitching violently, unused to so much use. yuuta had walked in, took one look at him and wrapped his arms around him. strong and so familiar to the way he lifted him from the rubble. he didn’t say anything or trying to pull him away, he just held him as they stood in the kitchen, rocking gently on socked feet and smelling of fresh laundry. eventually toge stood back and tried again, producing a slightly bumpy but edible riceball. yuuta tried to make his own and sent toge into tears again over how absolutely clumsy and misshapen it was. with his single arm, he guided yuuta as best he could and returned the bashful grin yuuta gave him with something almost like relief.

• toge eventually got a prosthetic arm, one he could funnel cursed energy through, but the domain had left a number in phantom pain. a consistent poison stopped only by sigils and yuuta that felt like a thousand knives in his nerves. sometimes it was unbearable and left him wandering at odd hours with gritting teeth and pulsing nerves. he never liked waking anyone up, so yuuta ruined what little sleep schedule he had to ensure that rika always listened for the others footsteps.

• toge never told him, but yuuta’s reversed curse energy was different from shoko, where shoko was practiced and efficient like a bandage, yuuta felt like a warm hand over the injury that pressed until it was absorbed entirely. he never had a mother to wipe away his tears or even a sibling to pick him up again, but the way yuuta wiped his pain away made it seem as though it didn’t even compare.

• the first time toge cooked alone, yuuta cried at the first bite even as toge teased him for being a baby. later, he would gently hold his shaking hand that twitched with exertion with a reverence that shook toge to his core. sometimes the care he treated toge with scared him, so afraid to give yuuta, warm and kind yuuta, the broken pieces of himself. but sometimes yuuta made him feel like he wasn’t broken, that he was something precious. kindness and love that so warm and encompassing, it terrified him.

• it’s through shoko he hears that yuuta is considering going abroad again. despite everything he’s been through, the idea terrifies him like nothing else. still trying to learn how to live, he never considered a life without yuuta in it.

• so he hides, shutting down with all the willpower he had to recover disappearing with yuuta. every time yuuta knocks, he burrows deeper under his covers, willing himself to disappear like he should have before.

• he should’ve known that the people around him never seemed to understand why it would be for the better. maki shoves open his door, drags him out, and drills in his head once again that he lost his chance to escape the day he stepped foot in the school. he loves them, loves them more than any word could describe, and their love in turn aches like an open wound but at this point he can’t imagine living without them.

• yuuta finds him later, sitting outside in the garden he always found comfort in. it’s quiet when yuuta kneels in front of him, taking his hand with a kind and dopey eyes with a soft smile that he must know always strikes a cord in the other, “i am considering going abroad again,” he says, a juxtaposition of healing and breaking him apart again and again.

• “and i want you to come with me.”

• toge was a weapon as far back as he could remember. what the higher ups demanded, he obeyed. he lost his entire life to being that weapon, destroying himself and learning to never yearn for more. he never imagined he’d get to experience what others did, never thought he’d see the outside of japan. never thought he’d live long enough to consider it. but here yuuta was, offering him not only to shatter the perception of what his life should have been, but offering to spend his own proving that idea wrong every day.

• there was no sign or words to convey that feeling, the fear and hope that settled heavily on his chest. the weight of the world crushing him a little more everyday. the coward in him told him to shake his head, to stay where he knew and never leave. but didn’t he have to eventually? well into his third year, he never considered what came after.

• nobara and maki were getting an apartment in the city, permanent partners in missions, in life. panda was continuing yaga’s work, learning how to live on his own for the first time, navigating a world not built for him. yuuji and megumi were still figuring out how to live through their trauma, but they had each other and talked frequently about finding their own place after graduation. everyone was moving on, even if they always had a place for one another.

• “you’re the reason i can wake up everyday and believe that it’s okay for me to be alive,” yuuta says as if he doesn’t already have his heart in his hand, “please let me convince you the same.” and toge was helpless but to agree.

#inumaki toge #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yuuta okkotsu #inuokko #ottoge #jjk panda #maki zenin #megumi fushiguro #itadori yuuji #nobara kugisaki

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aprismaticodyssey · 10 months

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Hello; please read this, if you don't mind.

This isn't any sort of update. This isn't an announcement. I know I haven't been posting and I haven't been active, so I'm sure to a lot of you, I'm all but gone. For all my talk of "I'm writing this!" and "That's being edited!" I haven't shown you guys anything. I will get to that later. This post is to tell you about my dog and his situation.

That's right! I have a dog! A yorkie. I should have spammed you all with pictures of him. We had gotten him (my mother's idea) to help me through depression. He absolutely loves people, adores meeting new dogs (even if the bigger breeds scare him), and especially kids. He's a people person. He'd sooner lick you to death than ever cause anyone genuine harm. My dog's name is Monty. Monty the Monster. And he's certainly grown into his name when he would play!

Unfortunately, at eleven years old, I guess his time is... running out. You see, last month, we took him to be groomed at a pet store we frequent. When we came home, a couple days later, he would eat less. He wasn't quite as playful, but he was still more or less himself. After stressing about his lack of interest in food, we went to the vet. There, we were told he has a heart murmur, a 3 out of 6 on the scale, I believe. We were recommended to take Monty to a cardiologist and our vet personally recommended one that she had gone to.

The problem is... everything was booked up. Some places we simply couldn't trust with something so delicate. Others were full until next February or March. Last night, my mother had me call one more place and after the call, we were told to come in on emergency. Not ideal but everything was full and we had to get him looked at. His breathing is hard and fast, uncomfortable. Wheezing. A few coughs. Distress in his eyes.

So we left. The place was nice. The people were nice. The problem was what they found: metastatic cancer in the lungs. I appreciated that we were told matter-of-factly. Very straightforward. But I still cried nonetheless. And when we were left alone, I broke down. Our options were this: we give him a few days of medication and see if it helps him. If it improves his quality of living adequately, we could get more medicine. Or... after those few days... we come back and have him euthanized. My mother has looked into other avenues already. Further treatments. Tests.

But I've already made up my mind. It isn't fair for me to put him through all of that just to delay the inevitable. I feel like a horrible owner for thinking that. For saying it. Like I should be moving mountains to give him another week. A month. A year. But I can't. I just can't. I couldn't handle seeing my dog knowing that all I've done is bought him time, time his health has decided he doesn't necessarily have. I struggled going to sleep last night even after crying. I told him over and over that I loved him. That he's my best friend and how much he helped me. These eleven years are too short. Too soon.

So... the reason I'm posting this, the reason I'm saying all of this, is just because I would like you, any of you, to say a prayer or two for Monty. To wish him smooth passage into the afterlife and that he's able to eat all the things he never could. Like chocolate! God, he'd love it if he could have it now.

If there's anything I want left behind, it's this post. I love you, Monty. More than I'll ever love myself or anyone on this earth. You helped me more than medicine or therapy ever could. I love you. I love you. I love you. I hope you get to travel the stars. I hope you make friends. I hope you find grandpa somewhere out there and join him on his adventures.

And to those of you who read this... Thank you. I'm sorry for my silence. I'm sorry for not posting more. I'm sorry for not being here. I'll be here more and more soon. Eventually. Just... not yet.

#Nike Monroe Posts #My late dog Monty #personal

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lizmindpalace · 1 year

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Beber de tu sangre. (Drinking from your blood)

This is inspired by this song and you definitely should listen to it: Beber de tu sangre.

Summary: Lucifer is afraid of losing the love of his life.

Warnings: Hurt and angst, although there's some comfort. Depictions of death, distress, depression, anxiety, nightmares and sorrow.

You can also find this work on Ao3 and on Wattpad.

Demons were not the sort of creature that used to die. Certainly, they would get ill sometimes, very often in some cases due to the rebellious nature they embraced that put their well-being at stake frequently, however, almost none of those were serious enough to put their lives at risk.

That was why the doctor could not help but be concerned about the call he had just received a few minutes ago, he remembered the dark voice on the other side of the phone whilst he dashed through the cobblestone streets for the Demon Lord's Castle, where he had been summoned to with such urgency, and to his surprise, even with a threat to his life in between the request coming by Lucifer himself. Whatever the issue was, it was something beyond the abilities of the ruler of the Devildom to handle, and he feared Lord Diavolo's fate was imitating his father's, and his stomach twisted at the idea.

The environment was overflowed with a heavy feeling of distress. The low rank demons walked up and down the halls of the castle as if something was going to happen, something serious, since everyone was busy and yet, the expression read on their faces was sorrow and anguish, but overall, fear. As if they were the ones whose life was inevitably doomed. Furthermore, the dismal darkness the castle's hallways were always drowned in, gave the doctor a terribly feeling of trepidation.

Their expressions and the impression left on him were erased from his mind as soon as he walked in the room he had been asked to come, and he noticed the demon standing by the bed: a night black shadow with gloved hands over his chest, hair as troubled as his mind; fire burning in his eyes, the darkness making those terrible eyes outstand in it, and he knew those eyes could kill, literally. The demon's teeth stock out his mouth, his tongue licked them, producing a malicious gesture; the description of impatience was complete with his foot tapping as though he was marking the beat of an orchestra playing a funeral march.

The doctor plodded with shaking legs towards the demon, he had motioned over him, indicating him to speed up his pace.

"I assume you're expecting something to happen? What are you waiting for? Waste no more time and comply with your medical obligations!"

The demon urged and the doctor did as he was prompted, feeling a weight on his back, as if Lucifer's shadow was over him.

"What is the problem?" The demon asked, his patience had been consumed by the doctor's fear and slow manners that were reflected in his demeanour.

The doctor took a second to breath, since he had been almost unable to do it before, he wiped the sweat off his forehead and finally cleared his throat before speaking despite the growing tiredness shown in the demon's threatening expression, his own voice at the point of breaking.

"It's- it's" he stuttered; usually, Lucifer enjoyed when people showed how much scared they were of him, but on this occasion, he could not appreciate it when he had a dismal feeling eating him up. His solely expression forced the terrified doctor to continue his explanation, after clearing his throat and breathing in: "It's- nothing serious. It's some kind of poisoning due to something in bad condition she ingested, she'll be fine, I will supply some antibiotic injections and, in a couple of weeks, or so, she'll be completely recovered, after that she'll have to take some vitamins, especially, some vitamin D, the paleness of her skin is due to the lack of it".

Lucifer breathed out in relief and placed his gloved fingers over his eyelids, turning his back to the doctor, who took some minutes more before leaving, since he had applied the first jab to his patient.

"Thank you" the girl whispered, she was tired, but she was grateful for all the attention she was receiving, even if she thought it was not something she was in need of.

"Is she allowed to return home now?" Lucifer had never really agreed to having the girl moving to the Castle, he had only accepted because Diavolo would make his best doctor, and therefore, the most capable in the Devildom, to pay her a visit as soon as possible.

"Yes, but she has to rest. Please, avoid stressful situations and unhealthy food and habits... I guess I'll see her tomorrow at the House of Lamentation for the second injection, is that right?"

Both men nodded in silent agreement, the doctor left in haste, and Lucifer slumped on the chair next to the bed, relieved. He had thought he would lose her for sure after that, after all, her face and limbs had turned completely red and she had had problems with breathing, some fever and he knew damn well humans were fragile; he took her hand in his, she was still weak.

"I told you I was fine".

She whispered; exhaustion drowned her voice. A smile was drawn in her face, and Lucifer tried to mimic it. He did not fool anyone, but she was lacking energy at the moment, and she needed to sleep, so his fake expression went unnoticed.

It was not the first time he felt that sort of fear, a different kind of horror that devoured his senses, and made him tremble. It was fear in anticipation, uncertainty, trepidation... he could not handle it anymore, it was the fear for something that hadn't happened yet, but the time it would happen would come at some point without notice, and he would not be able to do anything to prevent it from happening; the thought of it would eat away at him every day. It would be a shadow in the bright moments shared with the woman he loved, that would haunt him in his sleep. The mere thought of his happiness coming to an end was scarier than anything he had ever experienced, he could even face his fall a second time, he would give anything just to be able to keep her. While he watched her peacefully sleeping, he decided, he had to do something.

"Satan, may I borrow the book I asked you about?"

Things had settled once they had returned home, and everybody's concerns had vanished into the air as soon as they saw the colour returning to the girls' cheeks, and the house was being messy and loud as usual once more.

Satan frowned, he had forgotten about it, it was rare Lucifer needed his help, especially because Lucifer could go anywhere and get any book he was in need of... was it an only edition then?

"What would I get in exchange?" The other replied.

Lucifer sighed, but he reminded himself he was willing to risk everything now he had started to put his plan into action.

"I will pay your price, now if you do not mind, I would like to have the book now".

Satan could not refuse such a valuable opportunity and fulfilled the wishes of his older brother, without asking any questions, whatever it was must have been important.

The girl's aftermath was tough; the injections she received were painful, and her daily regular activities had had to be ceased, thus, she found herself in a dispiriting bedroom all day and all night on her own. The brothers were especially busy those days due to the school duties they had to comply with and the upcoming exams, furthermore, autumn was a busy season for the Devildom and the preparations for Diavolo's birthday, Harvest celebrations, and of course, Halloween were taking place. So, as aloof as some of the brothers were, they were forced to contribute to the organisation of those events whether they liked it or not, after all they were the members of the student council.

They would pop up from time to time, though, they would infiltrate through her bedroom's door in silence, trying to pass unnoticed; they would keep her company some minutes before bedtime, before Lucifer's yells turned into threats; it was disappointing, he was the only one who never made an appearance during the fortnight she had been locked up, since he had seemed so concerned about her health before and had promised to keep her safe and sound. She would not say it out loud, but she wished she could feel his embrace, especially when complete darkness invaded her bedroom, the cold struck her fragile bones, and the nightmares harassed her during the nighttime, and she had no one to hold on to in the middle of that oneiric despair.

Days went by like that, and she soon was able to go back to her routine. The doctor had told her, she would be fine as long as she kept watching her habits and taking her vitamins, so she was now as busy as the rest of the members of the house were, getting involved in her academic activities and holiday preparations.

"Where are you going, MC?" She was rushing through the house with a determined look on her face.

"Lucifer has to approve this transaction; I wish Mammon did not take every opportunity to steal from the family's checking account so I could spend more than 100 grimm without having to ask Lucifer for his signature every time". The young woman rolled her eyes amid of her explanation at Satan, who agreed in silence.

"Nevertheless, I highly doubt he's in his bedroom".

She stopped for a second and sighed.

"Did he leave already? He has not been having breakfast with us, so I haven't had really any chance to see him. I guess I will have to chase him in the classroom, I hope he does not have another urgent meeting with Diavolo today".

Satan nodded and shrugged.

"I'll see you at school then." He stepped away, leaving the girl alone, and she wondered where he was originally going to, but he had left before she could ask anything.

Lucifer's door, stood by the end of the hallway wrapped in perpetual silence; she had been so close, it had been really unfortunate Satan had stopped her before she could get closer to it, a draft of an idea was taking shape in her mind, Satan had shown up just when she was about to get there, was he heading Lucifer's room too? Why had he stopped? She was a member of the "Lucifer, you s*ck" chatroom, and she did not remember any plans on pulling a prank on their eldest brother these days, perhaps Satan was planning something on his own? That would probably be something more dangerous than their average joke.

Vexation was the feeling that embraced her every time she thought of Lucifer over the last weeks, because she felt abandoned by him, as though he was avoiding her, however, she did not appreciate Satan making his life harder than it already was, so that was why she decided to sneak into his bedroom, carefully, just to make sure Satan did not have a bucket of holy water that would shower him as soon as he stepped in, or something even worse.

The door was locked from the inside, she noticed, but she had spent too many nights there and knew a couple of tricks that were of use on this occasion.

She slipped into the room and closed the door when her body was completely inside. She soon stopped hearing the voices and steps of those who were hurrying so they could get on time to the Academy. She looked around, and perceived something she was not fond of; she heeded every detail; the bedroom was overflowed by some kind of darkness she did not like, the windows were closed, and the air was impregnated with some sort of odd smell that reminded her of rotten flesh, it was the kind of odeur produced by rust, a blood-like smell, and she had a tough time trying not to vomit. Definitely, there was something eerie occurring.

"Lucifer?" She whispered; she could feel the queasiness increasing with every step she took.

No answer was given, the windows were closed, and the heavy curtains covered the glasses, she pulled them up so the dim daylight could come across, and she could better see. She was stuck in an uneasy silence; her heartbeat rushed, and some tears were filling her eyes as she approached the bed, fearing about what she was about to find out.

"Where's MC?"

Mammon asked, a slight tone of concern painted his voice.

"I did not see her in classes today". Asmodeus realised, the concern in the group was gradually increasing. "Belphie, you're always the last one to leave the house, where was MC when you left?"

"I saw her chatting with Satan".

"Satan?"

"Yes! I was talking to her, she wanted to see Lucifer, and I tried to prevent her from going into his bedroom".

"Lucifer did not come to classes again though". Beelzebub remembered it wasn't the first time he had not attended.

It was relieving that MC was with Lucifer, right? Even if that meant they could be doing things they rather not think about, it meant she was safe, because Lucifer would do anything to keep her safe, they knew that quite well.

"But Lucifer has not been around these days, I have not seen him like in a week, he's always had too much in his plate, but it looks this is beyond what he can manage, he would never skip lessons." Asmodeus reflected. "What's going on with him?"

"We should return home, just to check everything's fine with the both of them".

"Yeah, I have a bad feeling about this".

The group of six people headed together to the House of Lamentation in silence. They were not the kind of group that used to be quiet, but something was weighing them down, something they could not explain.

The mood that drowned the house infected the hearts of the demons, it somehow, felt bad. It was some kind of loneliness, it felt unsettling, even disturbing. The silence was only broken by the echoes of their steps on the marble floors and a distant noise that reminded them of a restless soul.

"It looks like they're not home, MC is not in her bedroom". Leviathan communicated.

"I think we should then check on Lucifer's room". Asmodeus suggested, and the six of them walked down the dark hallway.

The closer they were, the more worried they became, the drowned noise they had first heard when they entered the house made them shiver.

"Lucifer? May we come in?"

It was too quiet despite the mumble coming from it, and this time they were convinced there was something going on. The noise coming from Lucifer's room was more noticeable than it had been before. And they recognised what it was; it sounded like a lament, and even if they lived in the house of lamentation, they had never heard one like that one.

"Lucifer, we're coming in". Someone screamed from the outside.

No answer was emitted. Beelzebub broke down the door with a single movement and the six of them were now inside. They got frozen at the picture before them.

The girl they had been looking for was over Lucifer's chest, at first, they thought they were both sleeping, and they thought it was cute, they considered leaving them alone, however, before they closed the door, Satan noticed the way the girl was attempting to breath, with several tugs, so instead, he stepped closer and asked Beel to turn the lights on since the only light was coming from the open window . He observed the beings before him, the girl was over Lucifer's chest and her eyes were closed, so were his, she was gasping, as though she was trying to get air within her lungs and her lips trembled due to it. Her face was pale, and her eyes were sealed by crusts.

Satan was not a real detective, but he had read too many books on the topic to be able to make a simple deduction: she had been crying and she had fallen asleep while crying, she was in fact, still crying in her sleep, because her body was slightly trembling.

"MC?" Satan called in a soft voice.

Next, he looked at Lucifer. His skin had always resembled snow due to its paleness, however, on this occasion, his paleness was mortal and his skin was turning purple, as though some kind of disease had entered into his veins and drained his blood. His breathing was hard to perceive, he could almost say he was not breathing, and he had to get even closer to him just to confirm it.

"Lucifer's not breathing" Satan took his wrist in his hand and noticed there was no sign of a pulse.

"What do you mean he is not breathing?" Asmodeus frowned and Mammon immediately came closer to the bed, where the two of them were lying.

"MC? I need you to wake up" Satan shook her body, she had barely opened her eyes, when she closed them again, it could be seen she was exhausted and was being victim of some kind of deep sleep or nightmare that was not allowing her to wake up.

"Satan, let me". Beelzebub easily lifted the girl in his arms and stepped aside so Satan could check on Lucifer while everybody else in the room remained silent with a shocked expression painted in their faces in expectation.

The name was called several times, but no answer was given, the roses of his cheeks were as dry as the lips whose warmth the girl had got to know and had also vanished.

"Satan, what's going on?"

The concern in the voice was now painted with realisation but lacked acknowledgement and they started weeping in unison even before hearing the answer.

"Lucifer's dead".

Everything had happened so quickly it all seemed a nightmare far in the past: the arrival of the doctor confirming that the eldest of the seven brothers would not open his crimson eyes ever again. The explanations were not clear, demons were not supposed to die, there were ways to get them killed, but Lucifer did not seem to have any signs of them, of course the possibility of his father interfering was real, Simeon had said something about Lucifer discussing with Michael over the last weeks. But the doctor insisted it looked like stress had literally eaten him up.

It had been a huge shock for everyone, nights in the Devildom had never been darker. The brothers were hopeless; Belphegor was suffering insomnia; Beelzebub had a terrible stomachache that would not allow him to swallow anything and he had lost weight; Asmodeus had broken several mirrors because the only thing he was able to see was a haggard face with red eyes; Satan was speechless, and he felt he was the one to blame, he had hated Lucifer for no reason and now that he was gone he could not tell him how much he actually loved him; Leviathan refused to go out of his room; Mammon tried to contact their father...

Simeon would not accept it was not a joke from Belphegor and Satan, and Diavolo was so confused he ordered Lucifer to make the arrangements needed for the ceremony for his own funeral. Even Barbatos' cold temper was affected, and his efficiency was failing. Luke cried all night, and he was not even able to calm down when Simeon hugged him.

"This must be especially tough for you, MC". Solomon had approached her and passed his arm around her shoulder, in order to bring her some comfort, so she could feel less lonely.

"We had even talked about marriage, you know?" She replied, she was in front of the coffin, but she felt as though she was in a distant land and everything before her was an illusion, a nightmare, and internally she was begging to be woken up.

"Really?" The human frowned. "But Diavolo would not have allowed that, Lucifer knew well that it was not allowed, it would have been a violation of the human world's law".

"I know, and he knew. It was my fault actually, I had a dream, and he was moved by it, lately he had been concerned about something and he told me he'd find a way to make it happen, so the two of us could be together forever".

Solomon did not like how that sounded, he did not like the idea of MC being dragged away from his side, but he felt hatred against the idea of demons breaking human world's rules at their own convenience. Although, it was not something he had to worry about anymore.

"I cannot believe he's not here anymore, that must be a lie, a trick". She burst into tears again, seeking shelter in Solomon's chest, endeavouring to look away from the wooden coffin that was taking from her what she loved the most.

Even accounting for her bids, she did not get to wake up, and she was also unable to release Lucifer from his eternal dream no matter how many caring words she whispered into his ears, and as soon as the fowls announced the break of dawn and the horizon became clearer and the moon hid, the crowd made its way to the Devildom's cemetery.

Under a quiet willow there was a small white marble construction that resembled a palace, it would be Lucifer's new home, it felt as if it was meant to be, but she found her heart was literally broken and pain struck her chest, and she was hauled out of the cemetery since she was unable to leave it. If he was dead as they said, he could not perceive, feel or think, but she did not want him to stay alone there.

The quietness was sepulchral as it was supposed to be, the dead ones were able to sleep to the beat of the foliage dancing to the wind, as perpetual motion. It was an appropriate place to get the rest he had never got while he was alive, even if the price to pay was restless nights for those who had loved him. MC would spend her days on end in the cemetery, eating a sandwich Beel had made for her under the willow, she would take those peculiar orange flowers, the soul flowers he had told her stories about to bring some life to his tombstone. She would also refuse to leave his room during the nights, where his essence was still present on the pillows and blankets, it felt almost as though she was being wrapped by his strong arms; she would indulge herself during the endless nights and would pretend she was being embraced by his muscles, she would whisper loving words into his ears as she would do when he was alive; although this time she was only holding his pillow, the night itself would do the trick, since in the middle of her dreams, she would open his eyes and perceive Lucifer's shadow leaving kisses in her pale skin, and mumbling caring words back to her.

"I know, I missed you too, I feel like I could beg you to let me drink from your blood, so we could be one, yet I am certain there would be no need, you would give me permission, wouldn't you?"

There were no traces left of those dreams, except for some weeps due to the painful memory when the morning came due to the realisation it had only been a dream; an eerie feeling of bitterness and the weakness that Satan explained was completely normal. Time passed by, but she was still caught in that moment of time, where distress was everything she knew.

In addition, she had another reason to be concerned since every time she found herself alone, she felt as though someone was watching her from the distance. It happened in the library, when she was looking for a book, she looked around, but there was no one close; it happened when she was having a shower and saw a shadow on the other side of the door; when she was fixing her hair and felt somebody was behind her, almost getting ready to kill her, but the mirror showed her she was all alone. She was slowly losing her mind and every single sound would startle her. There was a shadow that was taking over her life and she felt less and less motivated to keep going every day.

"Oh, MC, we were worried, why you did not go to RAD today? Are you alright?"

The girl nodded, but her demeanour convinced no one, she looked around as though she expected to see someone, and stared at the moon as if there was no one around her and she was waiting for something to happen; Satan and Belphie shared a glare. The next morning when both of them decided to escort MC to school, they were somehow prepared to see what they had before their eyes when she did not open the door after knocking several times.

A deja-vu crossed her mind as she heard the echoing steps of the doctor hurrying in the distance, she would have felt ashamed if she only had enough forces to do it, she felt as she was going to die anytime soon, and she was scared.

"She is having a blood condition".

"What kind?" Satan frowned when heard the words of the nervous doctor, who knew very well what was going to happen to her, and to him.

"Blood loss".

No one understood how she could lose such a huge amount of blood in a single night. Little they know, it had not occurred in a single night.

The night was quiet but there were screams brought by the wind, that made her heart tuck. There had been a murder somewhere and the victim's screams were brought by the air, travelled in time in the distance, too late for someone to help. The trees tried to warn her about something, the bats danced in the sky celebrating beforehand the victory of the realm of darkness.

She found herself walking down the cemetery in the middle of the night, she was exhausted, and afraid, something or someone was following her once more, she knew she could only find a shelter under Lucifer's tombstone. It was a wolf that looked like a man, that wanted to shatter her body and feed on her, offer her as a sacrifice to the demon lords. The moon had turned into blood, announcing her end and the drops falling on her face were red and thick instead of clear as rain should be, her white clothes were now stained, and a voice she could not recognise kept asking her why she had killed Lucifer. Lucifer's tomb was open, and darkness clasped on to her, dragging her inside the tomb and into an empty coffin that closed once she was inside, trapping her; her screams could not be heard, and she noticed, the screams she had first heard in her bedroom were actually hers and she had been murdered, and no one would be able to get her out of her prison.

"MC, may I come in?" It had been the first time she had had that dream, and without hesitation she had nodded, although she was asleep and did not know she was actually allowing someone to go in, she was lost in a nightmare, and she was not able to find her way back.

The question was the only thing that remained different, since after permission had been granted, it had become a routine, and she did not known that she would spend the night embraced by the cold body she longed so much, while a shadow repeatedly left kisses in her face, descending into her neck where they stopped and became sloppier and turned into something different, since his sharp teeth would drill her soft skin, his hand over her mouth so her moans could not be heard. He felt like some kind of monster because he could see the pain in her gestures, trying to get rid of the feeling even being unconscious; thinking he was the one who was hurting her sent a gulp of guilt to his heart.

Just a few drops every night over the last couple of weeks had brought her to her current situation, and not even the doctor would be able to explain what was happening, even if the eyes of the most dangerous demons in the Devildom were fixed on him, threating him.

The black pitch figure would sneak into the bedroom, take a few seconds to admire the sleepy woman in the bed that used to be his and smile, that picture made everything he had done, worthy. Soon, she would stop suffering forever, and so would he. Although for now, she would have to bear with the nightmares in an oneiric land, the exhaustion and of course, the stabbing pain in her soft skin.

As nights went by, he perceived she was growing paler and paler, weaker and colder and in addition, she was having trouble falling asleep when the nighttime arrived for she was afraid of some nocturnal being, she thought she was only imagining, was chasing her as some kind of murderer, taking her life. That specific night, he could read discomfort in her face , she was dying and he, as confident of his actions as he always was, for the first time since he had made his plan, found himself in need of reassurance, he needed to be sure he was taking the correct course of action, therefore, he allowed her to see and feel that night, he allowed her to wake up and make a decision.

His mouth brushed her skin making her shiver, he removed from her the sedative he naturally produced now. His lips touched hers and she finally woke up, sitting down and rubbing her eyes, she looked at the window; the moonlight was casting shadows over the floor all belonging to the furniture, it was when she noticed a particular shadow that did not fit, and she stared at it in disbelief: the fancy clothes Barbatos had chosen for him in black and red hues for the funeral; the messy hair falling over his forehead and the crimson eyes outstanding in the gloom of the night. She was about to scream, cry and laugh all at once.

"You're dead". She finally whispered after a couple of minutes of repeated blinks aimed to confirm she was awake; she knew she was in the middle of a dream, there was no other possible explanation, she did not want to hold on to the chance of him being actually alive standing in front of her to stay, that'd a be thought too cruel to live with.

"Oh, MC, how I have longed to be by your side once more. I've defeated death just to be close to you". He mentioned with a giggle.

She knew all along, the monster that was slowing encroaching in her dreams was Lucifer's shadow, but she refused to believe he would harm her in any other way, he had caused her enough pain when he had departed.

"Are you making fun of me?" She was weak, still, she would not allow such offense.

"No lies were told, and no tricks were performed", he stared at her, with a calm expression.

It had not been easy, it was difficult for him to tell how much time had passed when gloom and silence was everything he had had, until distant fragments of echoes of weeps and pleads that resounded throughout the tombstones, had finally reached his ears; death had seduced him, tempted him, the thought of staying there in eternal calm had not sounded like a bad idea, until he had heard the hopeless complaint coming from a sweet voice that made him remember why he had surrendered to death; and then the sound of the wind and the trees beating his tombstone became unbearable, maddening, despairing...

"What are you? Am I dreaming? Was I dreaming and it all ended?... Are you a ghost? You cannot find rest because of me?"

He gave her a sweet smile, and tears rolled down her face, she walked towards him and embraced him, making him feel some heat, because ever since he had died, coldness would clasp him tightly, almost making him freeze. She faced him, caressed his face with her fragile fingers and met her lips with his.

"You really are here".

She kissed him all over his face, she recognised the Lucifer she had got to know, and her heart felt finally some comfort after those months of endless despair.

" I've come to claim what's mine, I've come to get you".

"How dared you abandon me?"

She cried against his chest, and he caressed her hair, no explanation was logical, and silence was better. Then they slowly started to swing. He had missed her, but he had missed life as well, a softly tune in the violin overflowed the nocturnal silence they had been stuck in once he cracked his fingers, the voice of the piano completed the symphony. He intertwined his fingers with hers and waltzed to the tick tack of the deadly Danse macabre, it was relieving for her getting to see two shadows on the floor instead of only her own as in previous nights when she dreamed; she would be dancing dressed in the old-fashioned way, in a long lace black dress, with a gentleman with a top hat behind a white mask covering his face, and every time she took the mask off his face so she could kiss her lover, he would vanish into the moonlight. Now it was different because her lips found their way into his every time she turned around.

Words were no needed when his mouth fiercely attacked hers, stealing kisses, stealing her breath, in an attempt to show her he was real, and he had missed her during the time he had been asleep, he cornered her against a wall when the melody finished; he grasped her hips as though he would prevent her from escaping his embrace and intertwined his lips with hers; she noticed it was the exact moment in her dream when the kisses stopped in her neck and the pleasure changed into pain. And she now found herself trying to push him away due to the sharp pain she was feeling, although his hands would make her to stay in place, where he could feed on her, as he had been doing every night.

His mouth moved mercilessly, sucking her blood and her life, and she was about to black out due to the throbbing pain, Lucifer lifted his head to check on her, she was woken up by the blood dripping from his mouth, falling on her chest; she gasped in horror, when she realised the huge amounts of red liquid were coming from her own body.

"What are you doing?" She asked with a low voice, completely frozen due to the fear running through her veins at the picture of the man with sharp teeth, whose face was covered in her blood, that seemed he was enjoying it as if she was some kind of dessert, as though he was a wild animal that had been starved to death who licked his lips, teeth and fingers in desperation. It was not Lucifer but some kind of monster who had taken his appearance.

"I am making you mine". He replied and took his stained fingertips to her face. "Pease be not afraid".

Taking her blood was a new experience he had not faced before when he was alive and had become an addiction over the last few weeks, her blood was so sweet and revitalizing and would have liked to drown in it, he wanted to own her soul; but despite his arousal, seeing her being scared of him was enough to make him to stop.

"Soon we'll be together in eternity, as we had previously discussed about... unless you changed your mind while I was away".

"No". She stuttered, she wanted to be with him, but she was afraid of what he was doing, of what was happening, was he even real? The pain felt very real though. She breathed in and moved her head by the side so he could have access to her neck, and he could finish whatever he was doing, since she trusted him, and she had made up her mind about it. "I want to be with you, take me with you".

He stopped for a second and walked around the room for a couple of minutes. He opened the window so the wuthering automnal wind would take the pungent smell of blood away and the smell of dew and petrichor would instead fill the room. The moon was shining amidst the flicking clouds in the gloominess of the nocturnal sky and the music of the piano continued to play in order to drown her whimpers.

"I wish there was other way". He took her to the bed, crawled and remained on top of her, taking her face and fixing his eyes on hers, attempting to let her know he loved her very deeply and everything he was doing was something that needed to be done, he knew Diavolo would disagree and get into trouble, and Solomon would start a war when they found out and that was why they would need to elope. "It's going to hurt".

"Just do it before the sunrise comes and I thereby, wake up and refuse to whatever this is". There were tears in her face that he wiped away by kissing one by one, he left another soft kiss in her lips before he moved his mouth to her neck again. She moaned in pain at the kiss that became a bite, and inevitably some tears rolled down her cheeks again, she felt as though being stabbed and losing everything she had. There was some kind of nostalgic feeling flooding her heart, it was melancholy. She was tired, and even his attempts to turn the situation into a seductive game as he had seen in media those nocturnal creatures did, failed, since no kisses or touches would make her body react, no pleasure could overcome the pain of life being drained from her body. She looked at the window, the dim sun of the Devildom was coming out, and she realised, it was going to be the last time she saw it, she cried because of the pain, because she was almost regretting her choice and she was scared, but she knew it was too late. Lucifer's hands were stained with blood as his clothes were, there was some kind of evil beam in his eyes.

"I guarantee the first thing you'll see when you open your eyes, will be me".

She believed in his words, yet she was afraid she would never wake up again, for she had never felt that ill ever before.

"Now sleep, sweetheart, rest in peace, I will see you tonight. I will attend to your funeral and suffer as you suffered because of me, but then, not even death will be able to tear us apart, for our love and bond is stronger than time".

He kissed her lips once more, and left vanishing into the moonlight as she had seen before in her dreams, the only sound left in her despair was the clock announcing the upcoming end.

"MC! MC!" it was the desperate voice of the brothers in unison, they were worried about her; they were suggesting making a transfusion, anything that could heal her, and sobbing, exploding in wrath when the doctor said nothing else could be done.

Then absolute silence and darkness, oblivion.

"I had been waiting for you; I told you, I was going to be here by the time you woke up".

He took her in his arms and kissed her, her fragility would never cease to enchant him; she stared at the horizon and noticed the sun cursed their existence and they would remain in the shadows; she smiled, even if they were damned to live in the darkness, their love was now embraced by eternity.

Happy halloween!

Read also: English love affair and Breath before the kiss

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doctorstrangereview · 26 days

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Strange Tales #121

Cover Date: June 1964 On-Sale Date: March 10, 1964

And, the streak ends. Malicious Mordo returns with another cliché situation: a wax museum. Well, Vincent Price starred in House of Wax and Doc's look was originally based on Price. I suppose it was inevitable. The mythos does advance a bit with some new concepts introduced. Also, Doc's collar is near it's ultimate height.

Doctor Strange is on patrol, in a virtual sense. He's using his yet-to-be-named Orb of Agamotto to detect supernatural shenanigans. He doesn't find any, but something doesn't feel right. As if on cue, Doc gets a desperate phone call. The distressed caller even gives an address (not recorded in the story.) Doc immediately sits down! This doesn't appear to be the same funky chair he contemplated a big diamond in the Purple Veil story. For one thing, it's got a really cool dragon head that looks down on the occupant's head. Before you can say "shouldn't you be doing something instead of sitting on your ass" Doc changes to his ectoplasmic self. Ectoplasmic is this story's word of astral.

He speeds to the address and finds... nothing, really. We see a phone attached to what looks like a robotic arm. "It's a trap!" says Admiral Ackbar, eh, Doctor Strange. The consumer side of telephone technology was still relatively primitive when this was written. The phone company (there was only one back then) wouldn't even let you connect anything they didn't manufacture to their lines. To average contemporary reader this probably looked cool.

Doc flies back home, only to discover his body isn't where he remembers it should be! Damn it, I hate when I forget where I left my physical form. The missing body does give us an unobstructed, front view of the really cool chair.

With more incredibly convenient timing, Mordo's head appears floating in the air, huge and in the center of a big red something-or-other. The two have a long-winded exchange. We find out for the first time that you can only be in your ectoplasmic form for 24-hours before your body is destroyed. Your ghost follows soon after. Blah, blah, blah, you'll never find your body. Blah, blah, blah, I've beaten you before and I'll do it again. Mordo's giant head vanishes and Doc gets to work literally finding himself.

Mordo lays a bunch of traps that delay Doc. He finds where he believes Mordo left him, but he's still not there. And, the beastly Baron has managed to erase his tracks. Is Doc doomed? Nah. He uses his amulet to replay the action of Mordo taking his body and follows it.

(I find Mordo's use of technology to lure Doc interesting, but not consistent. First, Mordo comes from a bass-ackward region of Germany and lives in a dark and creepy castle lit by tons of candles. It doesn't seem likely he would come up with this plan. I thought it might be so Doc can't detect the evil magic in use, but later on we discover he can basically erase this. Ah well, it serves the plot so it must be okay.)

We finally arrive at the promised wax museum and Doc finds his body. Mordo has given Doc an interesting pose.

"I'm saved!" Uh, no. Mordo shielded it, of course. "You only got 10 minutes, ghost dude!" says Mordo as he steps out of the shadow. We learn something else that's been hinted at, but finally confirmed. Ghost and physical magicians can't fight each other. What's Doc to do? Why run away, of course!

Well, not really. He possesses a wax figure, grabs Mordo, covering his mouth so he can't say any spells and forces the Baron into his ghost form so they can properly battle. Mordo arrogantly assumes Doc is at his weakest and spends nearly an entire page magically pummeling the crap out of Doc (perhaps.) Doc seems to disappear.

But, as the Baron attempts to return to his body he finds himself stuck inside a banded globby thing. Really. I don't know how else to describe it.

"Tricked ya, dude!" Doc projected an image of himself (a bit like the story in ST #114) and forced Mordo to waste his strength on it. "I'm gonna teach you a lessen and keep you from your body for 23 hours. After that you'll be free to attack me again, because I really never learn to clean up these messes." "You betcha, Doc! Look how I'm waving my fist! I'll be back!" Doc leaves the museum and once again demonstrates his cloak's great flow!

What's that? Doc is gonna visit the Fantastic Four? Yes, Doc will officially join the larger Marvel Universe and every story from now on in contemporaneous with those of his fellow heroes. (There is speculation that the earliest stories may actually precede Fantastic Four #1.)

So, not a spectacularly original story. We get some more magical rules and more magical battles. We do get a sense of how merciless the Baron can be. He does expend a huge amount of effort and energy just beating up Doc when he's down. It's fun. We get a great new piece of furniture in the Sanctum Sanctorum. But the series would be no worse for the wear if it didn't happen.

#doctor strange #doctor strange reviews #strange tales #baron mordo #stephen strange #marvel #comics

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

Text

Everything Undesired chapter 6

Chapter 5

Mammon made it home in record time. He was like a man on a mission with how he marched through the house. He could hear Cyrus crying and he froze.

“No.” he told himself, “No, you are not stopping. Get. Over. It.” The demon forced himself to carry on towards Arella’s bedroom. He could hear her singing softly to the baby as he started to settle down.

“See? It’s okay.” she cooed as she leaned down to press a kiss to Cyrus’ forehead. “I know you miss your daddy, but he has to get his grades back up. We have to be patient and wait for him to get home.”

Cyrus only looked up at his adoptive mother, letting little coos and chirps out as he wiggled around in her arms.

“Arella.” Mammon called, surprising her a little.

“Mammon!” She smiled. “How was your day? I thought you’d be staying later... Is everything alright?”

“No,” the demon replies. “Nothing is alright. This isn’t fair to you. Cyrus is my kid. I’m the one who said I’d keep him and I’m making you do all the work? That’s horrible, don’t ya think?”

“What? No, I don’t mind this.” She smiled, trying to reassuring her partner. “You help enough, Love. It’s not like-”

“No, I don’t help nearly as much as I should. I’m only able to keep him when he’s quiet but the minute my own child starts cryin’, I push him off on someone else- usually you. I’ve been such a terrible mate and an even worse father and for what? Somethin' that’s not even his fault?! I’m bein’ ridiculous. I’ve put all this weight on your shoulders when I shouldn’t have.” His voice began to rise with each word, unknowingly transforming into his demon form which scared Cyrus.

The infant began crying loudly as he hid his face against Arella’s chest. She immediately tried to calm him as the Avatar of Greed rushed forward to them returning to a more human-like appearance.

“Let me have him.” He frowned. Scaring his son was the last thing he wanted.

Arella would only nod as she handed the boy off to his father, watching carefully for any signs of distress from her boyfriend or from Cyrus.

“I’m sorry, Buddy.” Mammon lowers his voice to a softer, quieter tone as he bounced the baby in his arms- a trick that often worked well with Satan during his infancy, “I didn’t mean to scare ya. Please don’t cry.”

His movements were tense at first but soon relaxed as Cyrus started to wind down. Once the boy was calmer, his face buried in his father’s neck which made him stiffen briefly, a grimace on his face as he fought the impulse to pull away.

“Mammon,” she started, “please, don’t force yourself to take care of the baby. It won’t end well.”

“Don’t worry, babe,” he looked to her, “If I don’t make myself do this, I’ll never be able to get past it. I’ll keep him for the rest of the night. I’m sure ya have things ya wanna do, right?”

“I mean I do have homework, but I really don’t want to do that right now,” She admits. “Maybe... we could do something together? Maybe go out with the baby or shopping?”

“It has been a while since you’ve really left the house,” he nodded. The idea of them going out and doing the things normal families do was tempting, he had been longing for that kind of thing. “I’ll get him fed and get him dressed in warmer clothes while you go get ready.”

Arella nodded as she gathered up some clothes and headed to the shower to wash up.

Mammon looked down at his child who still had his face buried in the crook of his father’s neck. The demon padded over to where Arella had been keeping the formula and started to make a bottle for him. It was a lot harder to make a bottle while also holding an infant than he remembered- maybe because Satan wasn’t as squirmy as Cyrus was. He knew the boy was just trying to get comfortable but it was making his stomach twist and tie in knots as he feared he might drop the child. How much did infants take at feedings again? Was it three ounces, two?

Just to be safe, he grabbed the container of formula and went into the kitchen to fill three ounces of water into the bottle before adding the powder and shaking the bottle to mix it together. He ran it under warm water for a bit and tested on his skin it to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Cyrus.

He readjusted the little one in his arms as he gave him the bottle, holding it at an angle where the baby couldn’t take too much too fast. When Cyrus wouldn’t eat anymore, Mammon pulled the bottle way to see how much he’d actually taken. His eyes widened in alarm when he saw how little his son had actually eaten.

“An ounce?” he asked as he looked down at Cyrus with a worried expression. “No wonder you’re always cryin’, kid. Ya gotta be starvin’. Do ya just not like the taste of formula? Is that why you’re not eatin’ enough?” He tried to offer the bottle back to his son, but Cyrus only turned his head away and let out a whine. “Ya really ain’t going to eat any more than that, huh?” He grabbed a kitchen towel and placed it over his shoulder as he laid his son up against his shoulder.

He started to pat Cyrus on the back until he heard a few burps from the child. The white-haired demon pulled the towel off his shoulder and placed it in the wash basket in the laundry room as he readjusted the infant in his arms so he was cradled in Mammon’s arms. He took a few moments to really look at Cyrus for the first time since he was brought home. The Avatar of Greed knew he was lucky sometimes, but he never really processed just how much Cyrus looked like him. As unfortunate as he was to experience what he had at the hands of the witches, the fact that his son had absolutely no traits from his biological mother- whichever one of them that may have been- was a miracle.

“Ya really are my little mini me, aint’cha?” He let a small smile grace his lips, “This might work then. I really could pretend you were always ‘Rella’s kid with me...” He brushed a thumb over the baby’s cheek and felt a warm feeling start to form in his chest as Cyrus’ tiny hand came up to grasp his thumb and he smiled at Mammon for the first time. He felt tears start to gather in the corners of his eyes at the thought. “Our baby...”

The sound of that made the demon hopeful and ultimately, he was glad he forced himself to do this. All he wanted was to be a good father despite everything. He wanted to give his son the loving home he deserved- one he knew the child wasn’t going to get with the witches.

“I’m lettin’ ya know right now kid, your old man can be a real idiot sometimes and I know I’m gonna make some mistakes with ya- I already made a couple- but I think you’re gonna turn out just fine...”

“I think you’re going to do just fine too, Mammon. You’re already on the right path.”

Mammon’s head shot up at the sound of his older brother’s voice as Lucifer came to join him, leaning back against the counter as he looked down at Cyrus.

“This really was the best-case scenario. He could have had any mix of features and yet he turned out looking exactly like you.”

“It really is a miracle, huh?” The second-born smiled. “I don’t think I could have done this otherwise, ya know?”

“I agree. I’m ashamed to say, but if he had looked anything like one of them, I would have killed him on the spot regardless of your wishes. As impossible a choice as it was, I would have put your well-being above all else- including the life of an innocent child.”

“I know you would have. That’s what makes you such a great older brother, ya know? No matter what kind of trouble the six of us seem to get ourselves into, when it really matters, you’re always there to save the day. You always have the answers.”

“For a moment that night, I didn’t.” The first-born admits. “After finding out what happened to you all I felt was wrath and guilt... I introduced you to those horrible women all those years ago when you were looking for a place for that human girl. Back then I could have never guessed it would lead to all of this... and then when we heard Cyrus for the first time, I couldn’t believe it at first.”

Mammon only nodded at that. “I’m glad you didn’t though. Things may be rough right now- I may not be able to completely separate him from the events of those nights, right now- but I think as long as I keep pushin’ myself to do this, it’ll happen eventually. That I’ll be able to love him at some point... All I want is to do right by him, Lucifer. All of us aside from Satan know what it’s like to have a father that never loved us apart from our usefulness as the seven virtues... And I always told myself that if I ever had a kid at some point that I would show them all the love that the old man never gave us.”

Lucifer let out a chuckle at that, “To be honest, I don’t think he even loved us in that aspect either. If he really did, he wouldn’t have sentence Lilith to death. We wouldn’t have had to wage war with him. The only ones who ever loved us were the angels who carried us until our births.”

“Yeah, but the war was inevitable, Lil was just the last straw- for all of us.”

The brothers were silent for a time, the only sounds that could be heard be heard coming from Cyrus as he purred in contentment.

“I’m gonna see if Arella’s ready and get him dressed in some warmer clothes. She wants us to go out with Cyrus and I don’t know ‘bout you, but I think it’s high time to show him off.”

“Have a good time then,” the eldest nodded with a soft smile as his brother headed back to Arella’s room.

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#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #om! mammon #mammon angst #obey me lucifer #om! lucifer #obey me oc #arella #cyrus

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professorjaskier · 3 years

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A Twist of Fate

Hey guys! I wrote a sad fic for @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde because she wanted a fic that would make her cry! I think I delivered. Thank you to @kuripon for betaing this work!

TW: There is a major character death and depictions of blood and a fatal injury. You’ve been warned! I hope you enjoy(?)

A03 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30468945

Over the many years of their companionship, for all the ways that Jaskier had imagined their inevitable separation, Geralt's death had never crossed his mind as a possibility. Jaskier was always supposed to leave first, involuntarily dragged away by the cruel hands of death, but gone nonetheless.

There had been moments when Jaskier’s thoughts had wandered to the macabre, wondering when the thin string attaching him to the world would be snipped by the cruel hands of fate. The day when he cuckolded the wrong person or didn’t move fast enough to avoid the sharps talons of a griffin. On the worst days, he would speculate that his death would be brought forth by sickness or worse, old age. Something unpoetic and dull, the opposite of what he’d worked to be his entire life.

Geralt always hated when Jaskier would voice these contemplations of his own humanity; that flame that burned bright, but was inevitably shorter than the veritable bonfire of a witcher’s lifespan. With these conversations, Geralt would grow quieter and hold him tighter, as though his grasp could fight the continuous march of time.

Neither of them had anticipated this.

Geralt always said slow witchers were dead witchers. He’d never said anything about slow bards causing the death of a perfectly fit witcher. One still considered to be in his prime.

It had all happened so fast, the bandits popping out of the foliage in droves. Jaskier knew it was his fault, no matter the platitudes his friends would offer him later on. He’d been playing his lute as they’d walked down the deceivingly empty road despite the look of consternation he found on Geralt’s face. The witcher had seemed on edge, but he’d ignored his lover’s distress, instead focusing on his newest composition. Things had been good the last few months, with Ciri ascending to her rightful place on the throne and that entire Wild Hunt business put behind them. Hell, they hadn’t been on the road in months, Geralt settling into his newly acquired vineyard and Jaskier running his own business. Inevitably, Geralt grew bored of his sedentary life and Jaskier had followed him back onto the path. Perhaps those months of respite had made them lazy, unused to the perils of traveling. Jaskier would never know.

What he would remember was the way that he’d been caught off-guard by a young man sneaking up from behind. The man was more like a child than a man, barely growing whiskers on his chin. Jaskier would’ve felt bad for the teenager if he hadn’t been trying to murder him. As it was, that child had stabbed his sword straight through Geralt’s breast as the witcher pushed him out of the way.

Jaskier watched in shocked silence as the polished steel sliced its way through Geralt’s sternum, the blood bubbling out of his love’s body. The child looked nearly as shocked, staring at the sword in his hand in horror as it speared through Geralt’s body.

After a moment, Jaskier rushed forward and hit the young man over the head with his lute. He heard a horrendous crack, but had no time to investigate the damage done to his precious instrument beyond checking that the boy was truly unconscious. Once that was confirmed, he hurried over to Geralt’s side.

Red. All he could see was red intertwining with the pale ivory of Geralt’s face and the spun silver of his hair. Things looked bleak. He had seen Geralt in terrible situations before, holding himself together though sheer stubbornness and dumb luck, but this was bad. The sword stuck out of his broad chest, while Geralt stayed unnaturally still on the ground. Jaskier let out a sob, certain that his love was dead, until he heard a quiet, choking sound come from Geralt’s mouth. He immediately kneeled to the ground, uncaring of the damage it would do to his fancy clothes. Clothes could be replaced, but his lover couldn’t be.

“Geralt! You’re fine, it’s going to be fine. Just tell me what potion you need and I’ll get it!” He spoke these words, nearly incomprehensible with the speed at which they were said, but upon looking up he saw that Roach was gone. This latest version of Roach was new, not yet hardened from the perils of the Path, and had run at the first sign of danger. Normally that would be fine, but she also carried every potion Geralt would need to heal.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, gently petting the silver hair he loved so much, ignoring the tacky feeling of blood under his fingertips. Swiftly tearing off his doublet, he placed it under Geralt’s head, hoping to afford him some comfort while he ran to find the runaway mare. “Okay, I’m going to find Roach, just stay here! It’s going to be alright Geralt, I’ll find us some help.”

As he stood to complete this necessary task, he felt a hand weakly grab at his wrist. “No,” Geralt whispered, forming the words around the blood spilling from his lips. “Stay,” he commanded with a pleading light in his eyes.

Jaskier sat back down immediately, gingerly shifting the witcher’s head into his lap. “Geralt, I need to find—”

“It’s too late,” Geralt choked out, looking paler every second.

Jaskier sobbed at those three words, finally understanding the severity of the situation. He placed a hand on Geralt’s cheek, caressing it in the hopes that it would bring minimal comfort to the man he loved.

“Why?” Jakier asked as tears spilled down his pale cheeks. “You would’ve been fine, it wasn’t worth it.” His voice broke on the last word, sobs destroying any semblance of loquacity left within him. “Why would you do that, you stupid witcher?”

“Was worth it,” Geralt slurred, exhausted from the fight and the subsequent blood loss. “Couldn’t live without you. Sorry.”

Jaskier choked back a sob, overwhelmed by the inescapable conclusion of their final adventure. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded, staring into golden pools of light that became dimmer every moment. “I shouldn’t have been playing my lute, I saw you were distracted—”

“Not your fault—” Geralt insisted, taking a weak hold of his hand, stroking the trembling fingers with a calloused thumb. They were silent for a moment, the sound of Geralt’s labored breaths filling the space around them like an unwelcome guest. “Tell Ciri and Yennefer I love them,” Geralt gritted through his teeth, fighting through the unbearable pain to say his last wishes. “Bring my medallion to Kaer Morhen. They need to know.”

Jaskier nodded frantically, wiping away the blood dripping from the corner of those lips he knew better than his own. He watched as Geralt attempted to say more but no words came out, impeded by the blood pouring out of his mouth. With his last vestiges of energy, he saw Geralt mouth, “I love you,” before falling limp in his arms.

The world fell silent, everything falling still as Geralt shuddered his last breath. “No,” Jaskier brokenly whispered, knowing deep down that no one would answer. “Geralt, no, please, don’t leave me. You can’t leave me!” he cried out, his voice breaking on the final word. When there was no response but the sound of birds and wind blowing through the trees, he laid his head down on the witcher's still chest and clung as tightly as he dared, imparting one last embrace.

He wasn’t supposed to die first. This was wrong. “It was always meant to be me,” Jaskier murmured to the empty shell lying in his lap.

It was never meant to end this way.

#major character death #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fandom #witcher fanfiction #Jaskier #Geralt #whump #blood

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cycat4077 · 4 years

Text

Stuck-On Cheese

Summary: Sometimes “the best intentions are fraught with disappointment.” Set during summer 2016 (S17). Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: ANGST. Relationship troubles. Couple’s fight. Telling the squad. A cuss or two. Words: 1844 AO3: here

Part 9 of the Changes verse - but it can be read as a one-shot too.

A/N: I really, really like this one. I honestly felt that this plot was necessary to progress their relationship. I enjoyed writing it and I hope you like reading it too :)

Sonny’s gonna love this! There’s an extra little bounce in your step as the thought runs through your mind.

Entering the squad room again feels so nostalgic. It’s where you met Sonny, and for that, it will always hold a special place in your heart.

Carefully clutched in your arms is the purpose for your visit – a bag of Tupperware housing a steaming slice of Mama Carisi's lasagna. What's special about this particular batch however, is that you made it.

After Sonny phoned you earlier in the day saying he wouldn't make it home for dinner, you called up Mrs. Carisi and she gladly dictated her infamous lasagna recipe to you. You thought making one of his favorites, complete with delivery, would be the perfect surprise!

Marching towards Sonny’s desk, you greet all the familiar faces. Despite not having seen them in a year, Sonny’s incessant stories made you feel as though you had been around every day since you left.

“Hi, Fin! Hey, Amanda! How’s Jesse?” you rhyme, cheerfully. But instead of having your friendly addresses returned, you’re met with puzzled looks on confused faces.

Then you see Olivia. She emerges from her office to lean against the doorframe, surveying the bullpen and your arrival.

“Uhh…nice to see you…?” stammers Rollins from where she sits at her desk. But you can tell from her inflection that she doesn’t understand what’s going on.

Your voice grows meek. “Is Sonny here? I…brought him supper.” You turn to glance at each and every face that surrounds you, yet all turn up with blank stares.

The world starts to spin. Your throat tightens. Your stomach churns. You feel the thud of your pulse hammering in your ears.

Does no one know? Did he not tell them that we’re together? It’ll be a year in November!

Rollins’ voice slices through the silence. “We figured Carisi was dating someone but we just didn’t know who. It makes sense that it’s you though since you seemed to hit it off pretty well.”

You can barely make out Fin's retort through the ringing in your ears, but the words I told you so and, pay up, Amanda come across loud and clear.

Your body draws itself close in attempts to make yourself small. You wish you were anywhere but here. This revelation feels like a huge slap – except your face doesn’t sting, your heart does.

Why wouldn’t he tell them? You question yourself. Why? Why? Why?!

Lieutenant Benson repeats her words, dragging you back to reality. “He's in an interview right now,” she gestures to the two-way mirror behind her, “but I can get him for you if you’d like.”

Your brow furrows. The Lieutenant’s voice is laced with…with…pity! While you whole-heartedly respect her, you hate being pitied.

“No…No,” you say firmly. Everything is a daze. Anger bubbles up inside you.

You toss the lasagna on Sonny’s desk a little too forcefully, mumbling out a good to see everyone again, before turning on your heels to leave.

It’s surprising that you’re able to make it to the subway since your vision is blurred by tears. You try your hardest not to let them fall, dabbing the corner of your eye with your pinky to soak them up. It feels as though you are on autopilot, somehow getting off at the right stop and making your way back home – well, Sonny’s apartment, you suppose.

You enter, lock the door and fly past the kitchen. The supper dishes sit abandoned in the sink, cheese hardening on the casserole. But none of this even crosses your mind as you head straight for your bed.

The tears now flow freely, doubt preying on your mind like a raven plucking at roadkill.

All this time and not even one mention of me? Sonny had been so excited to introduce me to his family…All the ‘I love yous’. Is it because he’s afraid of moving too fast?

Time slips away while you drown in your thoughts and so, when Sonny’s keys jingle in the door, it causes you to startle. That sound once filled you with excitement and would lead you to greet him with a giant hug and sloppy kiss. Tonight though, you have no will to move. Your body feels heavy, yet hollow and you shrink under the covers, pulling your knees to your chest.

You hear a clunking noise belonging to Sonny setting down his things and locking away his gun. Your heart rate picks up. You wish he would just leave you alone, but of course you know that won’t happen.

Your intuition is confirmed by the shuffle of feet crossing the apartment, drawing near to the bedroom door. The nob twists and the door creaks open. Refusing to look, you shut your eyes tight, awaiting the inevitable.

"Doll?" the familiar voice says. A few seconds pass before you feel the foot of the bed dip. Sonny softly speaks your name.

This time you cautiously look over. Your eyes are puffy and your face is tear streaked. You shift in place, sitting up ever so slightly to face him.

Sonny's features are wrought with distress. He hates seeing you like this. "Don't cry, please," he begs.

But instead, you snap. "Don't cry?! Why? Is it normal for someone's boyfriend to keep their relationship a secret for almost a year?" Sonny opens his mouth to speak but you talk over him, emotion pouring out. "You spend most of your life with these people; people who are so important to you, yet don't even think to mention the person you 'love'." Immediately you know that the air quotes are a low blow. Sonny winces. "What, keep me a secret in case things don't work out? Or…or maybe you just enjoy living a double life!"

"No!" Sonny protests, his voice tainted with frustration. "That's not it at all!"

"Then what is it, Sonny?!" Your anger is at full peak. "I told you about my insecurities. I told you that I've been led on before and just how much it hurt me. If what we are is just some trial period, I need to know. I...I can't waste time loving someone if they don't love me back. I just can't. Not again." Defeated, you let the tears flow, unable to control them.

"Doll," he urges. "I love you. I truly ‘n honestly do. More than anythin’ in this world! I meant everythin’ I said to you before. You're the one person who I can be myself around ‘n who loves me for everythin’ I am. You're the most important person in my life ‘n it's for that very reason why I haven't told people at work about you!" Your face crinkles in confusion. "We see some pretty fucked up cases." His language shocks you. “Yates, for example. Psychopath. We're their enemies, ‘n because they're so…so...so fucked up in the head," he raises his voice, "they'll stop at nothin’ sometimes. Hell, even Lieu got kidnapped ‘n tortured a few years ago! One little vulnerability,” Sonny snaps his fingers, “’n they've got their in. A way to manipulate ‘n get revenge. And I can't have you be my collateral." Desperation rinses away the anger in his voice as he sits there on the edge of the bed before you.

You stare in shock as he exposes his greatest vulnerability. His blue eyes are pleading, needing you to understand. "If there's no trace of you at work, then no one can ever harm you. No one can ever take you away from me. Please understand that."

This is all so sudden and confusing and, despite his rationalizing, it irritates you. “I don't want to be protected from you, Sonny!” you argue. “I know your job has risks. You've accepted them and by being with you, so have I. Liv and Amanda and Fin are all so important to you, so why keep me from them? I can't live like that. What if, God forbid, something did happen to you?” your voice strains. “How would I know? Second- or third-hand news from one of the other Carisis? How do you think that makes me feel? Maybe I am insecure about whether or not I deserve love, but I've gone all-in when it comes to loving you. I need to know you've done the same."

Sonny groans in frustration. "I have! A long time ago ‘n I've neva looked back. I wanna share all the good things with the squad ‘n tell them how in love I am. I wanna tell ‘em everythin’ about you. I want your picture on my desk, on my phone, in my wallet. But I'm scared. Hidin’ you has been the only way I can make sure I don't lose you. But...but if you want...if you're okay with the risk...Okay.” Sonny exhales. “I don't wanna push you away. I need you more than you could ever know.”

His words go straight to your heart. “I don't want to fight, Sonny,” you concede. “I just felt so...humiliated when I walked in there today and no one knew why. Like I was some cheap, secret fling."

Sonny hangs his head, voice growing soft. “I'm sorry. I shoulda told you about them not knowing. I shoulda told you why. I just didn't think. Please,” he looks at you with those big blue eyes, “I don't wanna fight either. Will you be able to forgive me? Is this somethin’ we can overcome?” You can see how scared he is. His jaw flexes and he swallows nervously. Sonny truly is worried that he’s created a rift between you that's too great to mend.

But you nod out a ‘yes’ because you love him and he loves you. His intentions were in the right place even if he didn't think about how it could affect you. The blame however, is neither all his to own. You instantly jumped to conclusions and assumed the worst. It’s a trait you've always hated yourself for, having gotten the best of you too many times in the past.

“I’m sorry too,” you admit, trying to convey your sincerity.

Offering you a gentle smile, Sonny inches closer on the bed, opening his arms. You shift forward and he wraps you in a warm embrace. This is where you belong.

Fresh tears escape your eyes and dampen Sonny's shirt. He tilts back to look at you, blue eyes soft and loving. You reach up, caressing the side of his face and he leans into your touch. Slowly Sonny bends his head and kisses you, lips offering silent apologies. And in your kiss is forgiveness.

When you part, a sniffle escapes you. "I've gotta go and wash those dishes, otherwise the cheese will never come off."

Sonny lets out a lighthearted laugh. "C'mon, doll. I'll help you." He then stands, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

The evening passes with the sound of clinking dishes and sloshing water filling the tiny kitchen as the two of you work in tandem to wash away what remains of the stuck-on cheese.

---

Feedback is loved! And let me know if you wanna be tagged :-)

Part 10 here

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x you #law and order svu #svu fanfiction #sonnyshine of my life #my fanfic #The Changes verse #Changes

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iamtwilighttrash · 5 years

Text

My Breaking Dawn

BACKGROUND: I am rewriting Breaking Dawn the way I think it should have been written. To preface, please note that in my Twilight universe:

1) Jacob and Bella were never anything more than friends. In New Moon, they were nothing more than brother/sister-ish friends. In Eclipse, Jake and Edward actually became good friends, and he was ecstatic to hear about the wedding. (NO KISS EVER OCCURRED)

2) Angela is more present in Bella’s life. This is very important to me.

3) Edward and Bella have basically the same relationship: he still left her in New Moon, they’re still the classic/mushy/everlasting romance type, etc. BUT they also are young, they have more fun with one another, and Bella knows how to hold her own a little bit.

4) Bella is much more integrated into Cullen life/family. She, Jasper, and Emmett are closer, and there is no tension between her and Rosalie after Eclipse.

5) Edward does not buy Bella a new car. I like her truck, and so does she, and Jacob and Rosalie are around to fix it up.

6) Please assume that Charlie found out about the engagement in the same way as in the original. I don’t feel like rewriting that, and I thought that it fit the narrative well.

7) Jacob has long hair. This might seem insignificant, but it isn’t, and it means something to me.

Anyway, I’m going to jump right in! I hope you enjoy my Breaking Dawn.

(Stephenie Meyer OBVIOUSLY owns these characters and the saga. I’m just adding my creative aesthetic spin to it. Some elements will be incredibly similar in wording to the original, but for the most part I am entirely rewriting it)

CHAPTER ONE

I was getting married. I was getting married. I was getting married. Tomorrow. So soon, my head spun.

I paced around Alice’s bedroom, the sound of my socked feet just whispers to my own ears; to my vampire family, I probably sounded like an entire marching band. Alice was perched on the edge of her bed, Rosalie beside her, both of them bemused and statue-still. Esme flitted anxiously by my side. Her soft, sincere face broke my firm resolve to bolt from the door.

“Bella, honey, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” she murmured gently, slender fingers framing my face to stop me. I met her gaze, certain I appeared frantic.

I’m getting married! This was the final fitting. I would have to look at myself in the mirror, in the elegant gown of eggshell white, and see a stranger looking back. “Esme, what if its all...wrong?” Before Esme could answer, Alice surged to her feet and gripped my hands. Her touch was stone-cold, hard, but gentle. It soothed me marginally.

“It will be fine Bella, go to your happy place.” Rosalie sashayed to the corner, a vision of grace, to grab the satin dress. The color complimented her skin and hair beautifully. She would make a stunning bride. But what of me, silly, insignificant, young, human girl? Would the fabric turn my skin translucent; would the guests be able to see right through me?

I closed my eyes, trying to listen to Alice. If I couldn’t shut off the ramblings of my mind, perhaps I could redirect my thought. My happy place. The nerve-wracking wedding done and behind me. I had married Edward, fulfilled my end of our life-altering bargain. It would be his turn. Our final adventure together with me as a human. So soon, I would become just like him. The eternity that I had long-hoped for would begin. But, before that, there was just one more thing...

Our honeymoon.

Sex was not so scary to think about in the grand scheme of things, even if I would be having it with a vampire. I trusted Edward entirely. In fact, my only worries stemmed from insecurity. How would either of us know what...to do? Edward had his brothers around to help him. I supposed that I could ask Alice or Rosalie, but then...but then what if Edward heard them think about what I asked? The thought was so mortifying that, in the moment, I blushed.

Okay, so maybe I couldn’t go to my happy place with company in the room. Even barring my embarrassment at having him know I asked his sisters how to have sex, there was still the inevitability of my heart racing at the thought of being with him in that way. If Esme could hear the evidence of how much I enjoyed my happy place...

So, instead, I focused the slip and glide of the satin gown over my skin and the cool brushes of Esme and Rosalie’s hands as they held the garment in place for Alice’s minor sewing adjustments. My weight hadn’t fluctuated much, so there was little that needed to be altered from the last fitting. Just a little bit taken in in the back, I thought, judging by the pinch of the fabric. Esme hummed while Alice worked, and the melody worked to soothe the nerves that threatened to fray.

“Oh, Bella...” It was Rosalie speaking. I opened my eyes to look at her, concerned by the tone.

“What? Is something wrong?” She was looking at me, at the dress, at me in the dress. Oh, god, I’m hideous! I’m too human. Esme had stepped back to join Rosalie, and she daintily covered her mouth with her hands. The only person seemingly unaffected was Alice, who had seen me in the dress many times.

“No, Bella, you’re...”

All wrong?

“Stunning.” The word shocked me. Stunning? Me? Coming from Rosalie’s mouth, Rosalie the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on, that word was like an expletive. I shuddered beneath the weight of her praise.

“You...you think so?” I had yet to turn around and look at myself in the mirror. I was frightened. Would I be able to recognize myself, Bella the bride?

“Oh, sweetie, you look beautiful!” Esme reached out and hugged me; she smelled like lavender, and orange blossom, and breakfast tea. Her body was like ice and yet, as she gave me a little squeeze, my whole body felt like it had been basking beneath the Arizona sun. I hugged her back automatically. In her, I had found a mother in the areas that my own was lacking. Unwanted tears sprung along my lower lash line. On a day such as this, my mom should have been there. I was reminded once again that my choice— becoming a vampire— would effect more than one aspect of my life.

Esme pulled back and wiped away the moisture with steady hands. Alice, sensing my unraveling, was quick to change the subject.

“Alright, Bella. Go ahead, look at yourself.” Simple enough task, but my feet felt like they were buried in cement. Look at myself? How? With an uneven breath, I forced myself to turn and face the long mirror on the wall.

The dress was so...Edward. Even on my body, I could tell it was designed for him. I panicked, trying to see myself in the timeless shape, the Calla Lily folds; even the lace of the sleeves mocked me. I was far too plain, too ordinary. Was I all wrong for him? They had spoken of how beautiful I was, but where? I noticed the splotches on my cheeks from crying, the puffiness under my tired eyes, the unevenness of my body’s proportions: human. Mortal. Meant to end.

“Well?” beamed Alice. I turned back, and three pairs of golden honey eyes appraised me warily, waiting for my response.

“I love it,” I choked out. Esme’s smile vanished. Alice and Rosalie pursed their lips. I could not fool them. I was an awful liar.

“What’s wrong?” The dam broke; I came, at last, undone. Esme was quick to usher me towards Alice’s bed, folding me into a marble embrace. I was glad Edward wasn’t home; the sound of my distress would have roused him to check on me, regardless of Alice’s stern warning to mind his business and stay out of her room.

“I’m not,” a hiccup broke the sentence, “good enough for him. I’m all wrong.” Rosalie— I knew it was Rosalie from her feather soft touch— rubbed my back while Alice touched my hair.

“Isabella Swan,” it was her stern voice that jolted me. I sniffled, conscious of the fact that I was staining Esme’s lilac blouse with my tears, and pulled back to meet her gaze. One strand of spiky black hair had escaped its polished, messy spikes and was drooping over her left eye. She brushed it back, so quickly that my eyes barely registered the gesture. “Edward loves you, you silly girl. He wouldn’t go through all this trouble for just anybody.” It was teasing, but truthful.

“Okay.” Yes, she was right. He loved me. I loved him. It would be okay. I took a deep breath, mortified that I had started sobbing. “Sorry, sorry.” The knee-jerk reaction made me sniffle. Had Jacob been there, he would’ve made me laugh, told me to get over myself— maybe I should call him. As if on cue, my phone buzzed on Alice’s antique vanity, the sound like a beehive. Sometimes, I swore, Jacob could sense my sadness from miles away.

Esme released me so I could answer my best friend. His voice, husky and warm, assaulted my ears before I could say a single syllable.

“Bells, you better not be crying you idiot. I can hear you from outside. I’m here to spring you.” I rushed to the window to pull back the sheer curtains, and indeed he was there, leaning against his bike with my spare helmet tucked under his arm. He waved.

“I have to get out of my dress you jerk. I’ll be down in a sec.” As I spoke, Alice started undoing the pearl buttons on my back.

“Cool. I’m letting myself in and grabbing a snack.” Esme heard that and her soft, soothing laugh began when I snapped the phone shut.

“I’ll go down and keep him company. I’ve been meaning to ask him about the progress on his new car. Oh, and Bella dear,” she said, reaching out to cup my cheek. I gave her my full attention. “Edward might not be biologically mine, but he’s still my son. I know how much he loves you. He smiles so much more now, and I can tell his happiness is due to you. You are so incredibly right for him, Bella. And I—” there was a little catch in the back of her throat, “I’m so happy you’re joining our family.” With that, she kissed my cheek and all but danced from the room.

I couldn’t help but smile. I told myself to relax— all that mattered was that I loved Edward, and he loved me back. The rest— the dress, the wedding, the guests, the honeymoon— was unimportant. I stepped out of the gown, and Rosalie gave me a firm look.

“Bella, this is your wedding. I thought the dress was lovely on you, but if you’d rather wear something else, the choice is yours.”

“Of course, Bella,” said Alice, though her brows furrowed slightly. Visions of me prancing down the aisle in my sweatpants likely plagued her thoughts. “We can come up with something, anything you want, in time for tomorrow. I’ll hand sew a dress myself if I have to.” I looked at them, my sisters, and felt so loved I choked. Forgetting my partial nudity, I wrapped both of my arms around them in a tight hug.

“I love you guys.” They both laughed. “Tomorrow is going to perfect. I’m just nervous.”

“Well of course you are,” Rosalie chuckled. I pulled back to dress myself in my jeans and one of Edward’s hoodies. It smelled like him— I inhaled deeply. “It is your wedding day, after all. I’ve been married so many times and I still get butterflies.” I was so excited to get to attend one of Emmett and Rosalie’s weddings in the future; Emmett promised me that their next one would be ridiculously themed, as it was his turn to decide.

“Okay. I’m going to go spend time with the Best Man before Edward steals him for the Bachelor Party.” That thought put a little knot in my stomach, though Jasper had promised me he would keep it under control. It would just be Edward, his brothers, Jacob, and Seth. 3 vampires and 2 werewolves walk into a strip club sounded like the start to a bad joke, and two of them were underage anyway.

“Don’t forget, your Bachelorette starts at 8:00.” Alice’s tone was stern, but she was smiling.

“Yes ma’am,” I joked, saluting playfully as a ducked through the door. On the way down, I could hear Jacob and Esme talking. After the battle that had rid us of Victoria, Jacob had spent a great deal of time recuperating at the Cullens. He and Esme bonded; I knew he saw some of his own mother in her features, and that warmed my heart.

“Hey Bells!” cheered Jacob. He draped one bulky arm over my shoulder as he finished up his conversation with my almost mother-in-law. In his opposite hand, he held a soda. Esme had started stocking food and drink for the wolves, and for my human father, the latter of the two having only ever braved the threshold once since finding out about my engagement.

“You two should get out of here before Edward shows up and ruins the tradition. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Esme kissed both of my cheeks, and then stood on her tiptoes to do the same to Jacob, before shooing us from the kitchen.

“You wanna ride on my bike, pretty girl?” asked Jacob, wagging his brows at me while he offered me the helmet. I snorted and shoved him a little.

“My mom always told me to say no to creeps.” But I took the helmet, securing the thick strap beneath my chin. “Why aren’t we running?” Riding on Jacob in his wolf form took days of practice, but I had finally gotten the hang of it. Emmett had even taken his fair share of turns, much to everyone’s amusement at the time. Jacob revved the bike.

“I figured we better do something just a little dangerous. It’s your last night as a free woman, Bells. And its the last time I’ll get to spend a full day with human- you.” I swallowed hard at the reminder. I had no regrets, of course, about the impending wedding or my decision to join Edward’s family permanently. Even setting the Volturi aside, I knew I was meant for vampire life. I could feel it in my bones, in my heart— an eternity with Edward was what I wanted. I was almost there.

Jacob started to drive; the bike didn’t go very fast, but it felt like we were flying. I clung to him, watching the forest blur, as the wind whipped my skin. There wasn’t much room for conversation, so my mind— predictably— wandered. I thought of the passed summer, my last human summer, which was coming to its glorious end. I thought of staying out late to build card empires with Jasper and Alice, infuriating chess games, and movie nights with Emmett. I pictured Edward sprawled out in the sun, body engulfed in a see of purple wildflowers, as his diamond skin refracted endless light; they swore that my memories would fade, but I swore that nothing in the whole world could make me forget that. Even then, in the present, I could feel the hard planes of his cool chest as we swam in the hidden lake he’d taken me too in July, could see the way those amber eyes glittered in the moonlight streaming through his open bedroom windows on late June nights.

I would remember more of my last mortal summer than just the Cullens, of course, as I knew they would be mine forever. Going fishing with Charlie— who had begged me to go just one time with him— and hearing the way his surprised laughter echoed in the cab of his cruiser as I told a joke about fish (Why did the trout leave the cult? They were too sacrifishal). Roasting marshmallows with Jacob and the rest of his pack while Billy and Sam raced around the yard; of course, Billy had won. Buying books with Angela. Walking the beach with Jacob. Spending one last weekend in Florida with Renee, painting our nails and listening to rock.

But my human life was soon to be over. I had said goodbye to the possibility of having any more memories like that, as being a bloodthirsty newborn would ensure that I was too dangerous to have those moments again.

Just as thoughts began to somber, Jacob cut the engine. I realized I had closed my eyes— when I opened them, we were on the beach. We both dismounted and stretched, me removing the stuffy helmet so I could gulp in salty air and him tidying up his windblown locks. We headed down to the shoreline in silence. The quiet was comfortable; in it, I could hear the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs and the rhythm of our feet on the damp earth. It was an overcast day, but the sun promised to poke through the cloud cover at any moment.

“I’m going to miss this,” I said after a few minutes of us slipping off our shoes and wiggling our toes in the sand. Jacob nodded. His eyes were on the waves.

“Me too, Bells. It’s gonna be weird, after you...well, when I see you next.”

“I won’t be able to show my face in public for a long time. I’m gonna be a walking freak show.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, teasing. “You’ll be a real circus act.” He took my hand as we continued to walk. With Jacob, there was nothing romantic about the action; he had always just been my sunshine, my best friend. I hadn’t realized until then just how much our friendship would be effected. No more beach trips, or dinner with Angela in Forks, or watching TV on his couch during lazy Saturday mornings. I would be a vampire. Though the pack and the Cullens were on good terms, there would be something in our biology pushing us apart. I was going to be, genetically, his enemy.

“Will you still be my friend, Jake, after all this is over?” There was a lump in my throat. It wasn’t time to say goodbye yet, but it would be the last time I would get to see him alone. He pulled us to a stop and studied my face.

“Bella, how many times have I told you? What you are doesn’t matter to me. You’ll still be Bells. Just a little more creeptastic.” The fake word made me giggle despite the fact that tears threatened to surface. He gave me a goofy smile— when he hugged me, though, I could tell that he held on just a little bit tighter than he would have had this been any other day.

#twilight saga #breaking dawn #breaking dawn rewrite #twilight #twilight universe #meyer #bella swan #cullens #quilieute #jacob black #au #please be nice to me I worked very hard on this

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cateringisalie · 4 years

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FFVII Halloween Day 1

Written for the prompt ‘Frankenstein’

As long as Shinra occupied the mansion there had been rumours. Speculation over what was happening in there. Certain parts of the Nibelheim population were convinced they knew only too well the kinds of things. It was a secret base for escalating the conflict with Wutai – a notion Shinra strove to downplay at every turn despite the town’s relative proximity to the island nation. Others were convinced it was connected to some new energy project, a refinement of Mako power and a way to truly usher in the kind of theoretical future generally only seen on sci-fi TV shows over the last twenty years. For many this argument was the most persuasive given the first Mako reactor was located nearby and many inhabitants could remember its introduction and construction. Particularly the strange occasion something happened at the site and seemed to spook all those working there. A number of town denizens had been present but could not be persuaded to let any details slip – outside of they had been there at the time, and the root cause of the event centred around work on the foundations. Many of the town viewed this event in a far darker light. They pointed to an abrupt upsurge in night terrors among all sections of the population. Nibelheim was a town forever steeped in myths and traditions – notions Mako power was intended to sweep away. Instead the construction of the reactor only increased belief in archaic and long-ridiculed notions. And it was impossible to truly argue there was no basis. The newer generations would never realise, but those present around the time of construction noted a change to the town. A sense of constant surveillance. Of strange whisperings in the dead of night when alone. Of the mountain growing more inhospitable and difficult to cross than it ever had in the past. In short the Mako reactor ushered in a new era of out-moded belief much to the chagrin of those pushing for modernisation and who publicly dismissed all such superstitious talk as nonsense, but were privately all too familiar with the strange symptoms. Shinra’s occupation of the mansion should have been a further turning point, a further detachment from the legend-soaked past. Instead it became exacerbated. The decrepit mansion was capable of housing a great number of research staff, but few stayed within the walls at night, opting instead to make use of the town’s inn. Some members of the infantry were on permanent posting inside the building, and some of the researchers; notable Professors Gast and Hojo were rarely seen outside. The townsfolk were more familiar with the unexpectedly glamorous Doctor Crescent and her perpetual shadow Vincent. But wasn’t it odd, the whispers inevitably voiced. A single woman amongst all those men. And Vincent clearly hopelessly enamoured of her. What might have been an amusing match-maker notion was swept away as the town’s haunting became worse. Shinra had been in place for perhaps six months when the night-terrors abruptly intensified. Some reported lights on the mountain, figures struggling through the rain up and back down the mountain. Afterwards the dreams came so often. Strange disturbing dreams, all detail vanishing with the morning light, leaving nothing but a lingering discomfort and a sense of a song whose lyrics no contortions could voice. The six month mark also saw Doctor Crescent move permanently within the walls of the mansion. Inquiries to her status and health were brusquely dismissed by the guards. Vincent stayed closer to the mansion increasingly exhausted and harried. The dreams and sleeplessness worsened. A month later a distracted Vincent circled the town asking if anyone knew of Professor Gast’s whereabouts. He made the same futile checks for three weeks before rarely venturing outside of the mansion again. Nine months, the whole town awoke in the early hours of the morning and no one was able to sleep. For the next few months the sun did not shine on Nibelheim. Grey clouds hid away the sky, the town plunged into perpetual gloom. The dim light allowed the Mount Nibel monsters to draw closer to the town, to lurk in the deeper shadows in the outlying areas. Venturing out of doors was risky and the increased demand on the Mako reactor saw frequent breakdowns and numerous repair teams dispatched to put it right. Most expressed surprise at the presence of another Shinra team in the town and were barred from accessing the mansion. Many abandoned ancestral homes and their families. Nibelheim was increasingly outdated and left behind, but those who once clung to it as their only home made the conscious decision to escape it. To seek out the sun, to settlements not plagued with monsters. The bright lights of Junon and Midgar forever shone in the distance. A far cry from the town’s crumbling power grid and inexplicably tepid well water. Those who remained endured the hardships and the strange blight seemingly brought on by the presence of Shinra. Until the child. At first, nothing but a stray sound on the wind; the scream of a hungry baby. There were numerous young children in the town; the Strifes, Lockharts, Heartilly and Alexandros’ had all been blessed with children recently. But Undyne reported it sounded as if it came from within the walls of the mansion. What was a child doing in among the group of scientists? The rumours came fast. The notion Doctor Crescent might have become pregnant over the course of their project was no stretch – and some entertained speculation of Vincent being a decent match for her. But if Crescent had given birth, why was she hiding away. No doctor had been dispatched to the mansion, though perhaps the men of science knew enough to cope. But strange and cruel; to keep a child locked up away from the world. The parents must be overprotective or outright cruel. Attempts to ask after Doctor Crescent and a potential baby were rebuffed as all queries to the guards were; the rumours twisted further. Perhaps Crescent had not given birth. Perhaps she and Gast vanished together. Or she had a child – but not her own. Both rumours swirled around the notion of a child obtained from elsewhere. Fanciful stories of changelings drew shivers and uneasy feelings when discussed. Were the children of the Strifes, the Lockharts, the Heartillys and the Alexandros’ truly their children? Not simply some hideous exchange with the scientists. Were there twins amongst the births, one held by the families and the other given away? All four families angrily denied the accusations, the town doctor corroborating the single births. Tempers became frayed and short. And the rumours would not be quelled. Every town had tragedies, and still births and distressing catastrophes struck other families. How certain was anyone the tragedy was true, or perhaps the tragedy might have been reversed? Cruel rumours, increasingly setting one group of townsfolk against the other. Proof demanded of death, of not making some deal with Shinra. Still rumours and nothing more. Until the night the scream of a child split the air; the freakishly loud shriek emanating from the Shinra mansion. The same night the reactor failed, the phone lines failed. And yet light still shone I the Shinra mansion. A cry went up. Those who feared what lay within the mansion, who were concerned for the child no matter his origins, those who blamed Shinra for everything. The town rallied, flaming torches to see in the darkness encompassing the town. They swarmed to the mansion, snarling guards ordering them back, levelling guns against them. Some in the crowd responded with rocks; the guards fired. They had no hope after. The town swarmed them, trampling them and tearing their weapons from their hands. The mansion was stormed- And of the secrets discovered within, none are willing to relate. The entire structure was put to flame before the crowd marched to the top of Mount Nibel and set about destroying the inert reactor. Few would ever talk about the time Shinra came to town after, awkward questions from children resulted in them being hugged close and told to drop the subject. The ashes of the mansion were ground further down, new soil laid to cover the vast reach of the grounds. They planted flowers and trees, no trace of the mansion remaining. But the petals and buds of the plant life were inexplicably purple and silver-hued. And a young couple - Tidus and Yuna - continued to raise their son. There were occasional slips of the tongue when conversation touched on the family; of a tragic, difficult birth before. Of the parent’s sorrow prior to the fire. Of some who viewed their son with suspicion and something bordering on hostility. A perfectly normal boy. Maybe a little tall for his age, but for the most part unexceptional otherwise. The hair colour was unusual though genetics was such a strange thing was it not?

#ffviihalloween #final fantasy vii #ffvii #final fantasy #alternate universe #my ffvii fanfic

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annes-andromeda · 4 years

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Ragnarök: Asgard’s Twilight

Chapter 7: Vanaheim

N/: I had to literally search up shit like Astronomy, Astrophysics, Cosmology, Physics, and bunch of theories just to make this make sense and not look like I was pulling it out my ass.

What is she doing here?

Our rangers scouted her out within the forest.

She should be in Midgard, not Vanaheim!

Take her to the healers. A fall like that could’ve severely damaged her.

Foster...

Jane’s eyes shot open, her body aching. She was covered in blankets and lying in a bed. Getting up, Jane adjusted to her surroundings. The ceiling was covered in trunks of wood and leaves. Golden dust fell from the trees, falling onto the fabric of the blankets.

Getting up, Jane could see a dress piled upon a chair next to the bed. It was a gorgeous shade of blue with purple lining and an armored corset.

Looking around, Jane tried making sense of where she was. Her head was still aching, and she noticed that her arms had bruises of yellow and purple, possibly from the fall.

The fall...That’s right. Hela had pushed her out of the Bifrost, separating her from Thor and Loki. Once her body was out of the bridge, Jane felt her breathing full on stop. The feeling of her heartbeat pausing and her body freezing was horrible.

She then felt her heart drop as she moved around the bed feeling for her diary. Jane then sighed as she found it on a small table, seemingly untouched. Jane couldn’t handle having her research being taken for her yet again. Only if it was lost, she was sure she couldn’t sue some thousand year old aliens.

A knock was then heard from the door, causing Jane to jump slightly. She took a deep breath and straightened herself “Come in” she said

The door opened, and a familiar dark beauty poked out. Lady Sif greeted Jane with a warm smile, her deep eyes piercing, yet inviting. She was clad in silver armor and red cloth, and her hair as black as night was tied back to frame her face.

“You took quite a fall there, Ms. Foster” Sif said, standing at the doorway “Had you not been found in the forests, the void of space surely would have killed you”

Jane got up from the bed “Where am I?”

“Vanaheim” Sif answered “My home. Still not sure how you were able to be here in the first place, but know that you are welcome here. The Vanir are not as...skeptic as the Aesir”

“Thor” Jane said abruptly “Have you seen him? A-And Loki? Is there anything on them?”

Sif’s brows furrowed “Loki? Loki is dead. What are you talking about? Jane, what happened with Thor?“

”Th-There was this woman. And she pushed me out the Bifrost. I-I don’t know what happened. I-“

Sif shushed her quietly, seeing the distress in Jane’s eyes “Calm now, Foster. I need you to remain calm. What was it that happened”

Jane stopped for a moment, and looked directly at Sif “I need to see Heimdall”

———————————————————————————————————–

The two ladies walked across the halls of the building, Jane now wearing the dress left for her. Sif took her outside, where bond fires and large tents were put up. Some of the people looked at Jane with curious eyes, which she replied with a bewildered gaze of her own. There were rock trolls and ogres within the camp, working at their weapons or conversing with some of the Vanir.

They then stopped at a tent with bodyguards, Sif stepping out of the way for Jane to go in first. She could see a man talking with some soldiers, and Jane could recognize the familiar voice.

“Excuse me-“ Jane then froze as the man turned to look at her. Heimdall no longer wore a large helmet and golden armor. He donned a dark poncho with leather, and his hair was much longer. No longer did he look like an imposing figure, but someone who appeared somber, yet inviting.

Jane turned her head “Oh wow...” she muttered under her breath before clearing her throat “Heimdall, something’s happened. Thor-“

“No need to inform me, Jane Foster” Heimdall interrupted “I know what was happened with Thor and Loki”

Sif was heard gasping lightly as she moved in front of Jane “You mean...it’s true? Loki is alive?”

“Yes” Heimdall answered. He turned back to the group, resting his hands on the table “It seems the God of Mischief survived his wounds in Svartalheim”

“So he paraded as Odin this whole time?” Sif asked

“Seems so. My eyes have seen what has happened to Thor. I never thought I’d see this in my lifetime. Never could have imagined the day would come”

“Brother” Sif said “What is it?”

Jane’s brows furrowed. Brother? That was new. Mirroring Sif’s actions, Jane moved to the side of the table, looking to Heimdall.

His golden eyes were fixed on both of them “It is Ragnarök. The twilight of the gods has begun. Hela of Niffleheim has escaped her prison, and she is on her way to Asgard as we speak”

Murmurs could be heard from the other men, murmurs of fear and shock “What about Thor and Loki?”

“I cannot see them anymore. Hela has pushed them far beyond my reach”

Sif exasperated “Well then how in Bor’s name are we supposed to find them?!”

Heimdall put his hands up “Calm now, sister. We will find them. All we need is a correct course of action. Hela is far more powerful than any of us realize”

The tent fell silent at Heimdall’s words “We must be cautious”

Jane was about to speak but then, a familiar noise came from outside. Almost like...Bifrost? Everyone immediately ran out the tent to see what it was. Volstagg and Fandral were moving through the crowd, pushing past the people and telling them that it was urgent.

“Heimdall!” Fandral exclaimed “Lady Sif! Most terrible news!”

Volstagg pushed in front of him “Tis Hela! She has taken the throne of Asgard and proclaimed the All-Father dead!

Everyone gasped in shock, with Heimdall’s golden eyes widening as he turned to Jane “Is this true?”

Jane nodded “Yes. Hela put a sword through his chest and took the Odin force”

“The Odin force?!” Sif said in shock “With that sort of power she would be impenetrable. Not even a thousand men could stop her!”

“What must we do?” Fandral asked “With Odin gone and Thor absent, Asgard is at Hela’s mercy. Ragnarök will come and we’ll have no way to stop it! All of the Aesir will die. Men, women, children!”

Volstagg grumbled “Absolutely not! We mustn’t let all those innocent lives fall by the hands of that murderous she-devil! Whatever actions need taken, we need to proceed now!”

“What will we do with the men we have?” Hogun said, stepping forward “Even if we manage to acquire a weapon more powerful than her, it will not stop the inevitable destruction that will befall Asgard”

Fandral agree with Volstagg “Which is why we must retaliate this very moment!”

“No!” Jane exclaimed. Everyone turned to look, causing her to feel rather awkward. But Jane stood her ground nonetheless “You don’t know what Hela is capable of! Most of you have only heard of her from stories told by your parents or your nannies. We can’t just use brute strength and luck”

“Then what do we need?” Sif asked

Jane stopped for a moment, trying to think. Her technology would be really handy right now, if weren’t for the fact that were currently on Earth. And she doubts it would stop the Goddess of Death.

But then, something clicked in her brain. She couldn’t guarantee this would work, but it was well worth a try.

Jane grabbed Heimdall by his arm to get his attention further

“Do you guys have a library I could use?”

———————————————————————————————————–

Everyone around her looked at Jane like she was crazy. Most of them were seasoned warriors who, although highly skilled and intelligent, seemed to take less interest in books and more in weaponry. But Heimdall was almost hopeful, letting Jane take the reins from there.

When rummaging through the shelfs, she eventually made it to one book that had the rune of Asgard on the cover, alongside the runes of the other eight realms circling it. Jane carefully went down the ladder and placed the book atop a table.

“On Earth, we’re told that Ragnarök is basically the end of the world” Jane explained, flipping the pages of the book before stopping at one with Yggdrasil. Before she proceeds, she turns to Heimdall “What do your people know of Ragnarök?”

Heimdall raised an eyebrow “It’s as you said: it is the end of all things and of Asgard”

Jane put her finger up “Except that’s not all. On Earth, we’re taught that Ragnarök begins with a Great Winter that’ll cover the world in snow. Food becomes scarce and people will slaughter each other for survival. The stars will fade, the World Tree will tremble, and the monstrous wolf Fenris will break free of his chains to swallow the Sun whole. His brother Jormungand shall rise from Midgard’s ocean and spit his venom into the world, poisoning the land and the water”

She continued “Surtur will march on Bifrost with his army, all the while Heimdall blows the Gjallarhorn to announce the coming of Ragnarök. Odin is killed by Fenris, Heimdall and Loki slaughter each other, and Thor dies by Jormungand’s poison. The rest of the world falls into the sea, leaving nothing but an endless void”

The Warriors Three, Sif, and Heimdall had looks on their faces that could only be described as true horror.

“All my years of long life “Heimdall rasped “I had only been told that Ragnarök was impossible. A story meant to show that all beginnings have an end. But this-“

“It’s death” Fandral interrupted, his face pale “That’s all it is; nothing but endless death to our world. To our people. To ourselves”

Volstagg growled angrily “This cannot be! Ragnarök was not supposed to come within our lifetime! Now, we have no choice but to prepare ourselves!”

“We could not have known!” Hogun stepped in “The end of our world is unbeknownst to all but the Norns who oversee the roots of Yggdrasil”

“But the signs!” Volstagg exclaimed “If Ragnarök was something that needed warning, then there must’ve been an eternal winter!”

“Which is exactly my point!” Jane finally spoke above the Warriors Three, their attention focusing on her again. She sighed before speaking, trying not to sound stressed or worried “I’m what humans call an Astrophysicist; I merge chemistry and physics together to learn about different celestial bodies. But to be in this profession, I had to also study Astronomy and Cosmology”

“Yes, we know about Midgard and your science” Sif commented. The words may have come out condescending, but her tone begged to differ

Jane flashed an awkward smile at the beautiful warrior goddess “We essentially have theories where we try to explain how the universe was created. There’s the most famous one, the Big Bang Theory, which says the our universe began with a cosmic explosion that created everything”

“Preposterous” Volstagg muttered “Everyone knows that it was Odin and his brothers, who slew the Frost Giant Ymir, that created the cosmos”

Heimdall shushed him immediately, allowing Jane to proceed. Jane sighed “Anyways...we also have theories talking about the end of the universe, like the Big Rip theory and the Big Crunch theory. Then there’s theories saying the universe will only expand further until it’s too cold to sustain any life, like Big Chill”

“So?” Fandral asked “What’s your point?”

“My point,” Jane retorted “Is that like you, humans have spoken about the end of all things too. But, as I explained, I am a Astrophysicist. Most of the theories I’ve stated have yet to come to fruition or proven to be true. Just like I know Astronomy and Cosmology, I also know Physics. And one of the most famous laws, primarily Newton’s laws, explains that an object will remain at rest until a external force acts upon it”

Sif’s eyes lit up, almost as if she beginning to understand “It’s almost like battle” She said “One person may have a plan to stop armed forces, but it can only be successful if the ones behind it act on that strategy”

Jane smiled “Yes!” She exclaimed happily “Yes, exactly! We have another law that says that for everything action, there is an equal and opposite reaction” Jane returned to the book and pointed at the World Tree “That could be what’s happening with Ragnarök. There must’ve been some sort of act that caused the event to change. Even though Ragnarök has begun, it’s already far more different than in the story!”

The Warriors and Heimdall looked at each other “You’re right...” Heimdall agreed “If your Midgardian myths are to be believed, then Hela had no part to play in Ragnarök. And Odin was supposed to be slain by Fenris, yet here he is, skewed by Hela’s hand”

“And also” Jane added “In Norse myth, Hela is supposed to be Loki’s daughter. But as far as we know, he hasn’t shown interest in anyone romantically”

“What?” Sif said, her brow furrowing

Jane pursed her lips “Odin said that Hela is actually his daughter from Jord, who’s basically the Nordic Mother Nature. Hela also gave birth to Loki, making her his mother and Thor's sister. Since she’s older than Thor, she was able to get the Odin force despite Odin naming Thor the new All-Father”

Everyone looked at each other in shock. So many words in so little time, they thought

Hogun looked to Jane “With all this information, it must mean that perhaps there might be a way to slow Ragnarök before it ends Asgard. Although Hela rules Niffleheim, she cannot raise souls from the dead, merely tend to them or control them”

“And she must have some sort of weakness” Fandral added “Even someone as powerful as Odin managed to have shortcomings”

“So what can we do?” Sif asked Jane. They all looked to the mortal girl, who tried to avert eye contact. Jane had never been given this much leadership freedom before. She felt she was useless on Asgard. She couldn’t fight or wield a sword like Lady Sif, and yet, here she was, looking to a mere mortal for guidance.

Jane felt an almost adrenaline rushing through her “We need to conduct a plan to take the Aesir out of Asgard and stop Hela. You think you guys can handle that?”

The Warriors Three nodded “We are at your most humble service, Lady Jane!” Volstagg proclaimed

”Good” Jane said before looking to Heimdall “While the Warriors do that, we need to build Gjallarhorn for you to sound. I know you have your all seeing magic, but we need to warn everyone, not just Asgard”

Heimdall nodded “I will have the craftsmen mine the strongest metals to construct it. With my eyes and my horn, I shall be able to send out the warning of the inevitable twilight”

Jane clasped her hands together and smiled “Alright then, let’s get started”

The Warriors Three left the library, Heimdall staying to stare at Jane with a smile “You burn brighter than any star I’ve ever seen, Jane Foster” Heimdall said proudly “It is no wonder the Valkyrie have called to you in slumber.

Jane’s mouth was agape “You...You know about that?”

”I hear their voices from the halls of Valhalla” Heimdall commented “Although their physical bodies have been lost, their spirits live on and protect the fallen in battle” He put a hand on Jane’s shoulder “Due to our circumstances, I am unable to fully help you. But perhaps my sister might be of service”

They both looked at Sif who was rummaging through the pages of the book “Great” Jane’s voice broke the pregnant silence, and she waved at Sif “Hey, are your coming?”

Sif only nodded halfheartedly “Yes, I’ll be with you in just a moment. You go ahead, I’ll meet with you shortly”

With that, Heimdall and Jane left the library, with only Sif in the room. She kept looking through the pages, until she stopped at one. Atop the paragraph, it read her name in runic text. Sif trapped the paper with the pads of her fingers, stopping at the first few sentences:

Lady Sif, the Dark-Haired Daughter of Asgard, Fairest of The Fair, Gentlest of The Gentle. The Unstoppable, The Stunning, the shield maiden of Asgard. Sister of The Good Heimdall, Daughter of the Vanir, Goddess of War, of The Hunt-

The last sentence was off.

Sif could see that the page had been tampered with, as the words ‘Goddess of War, of The Hunt” were clearly added in. She tried to see what text was underneath, but her efforts had failed. Sif could only sigh and close the book, walking out the library to return to Jane’s company.

#marvel #my writing #fanon marvel #ragnarok rewrite #jane foster #lady sif #heimdall #the warriors three #volstagg #fandral #hogun #gagnarok

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thebibliomancer · 4 years

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #205: Shadow of the Claw!

March, 1981

"... And the CLAW shall inherit the Earth!” isn’t even what the villain plan is, come on, cover copy person.

Yellow Claw was going to have a bunch of kids, make them fight to the death, and then the super child was going to inherit the Earth.

The actual cover is neat though. I like how all the red draws attention to the center where red is not.

Yes, I am good at talk about art.

Anyway, last time on Avengers: a woman named Shu Han who had been brought to Yellow Claw’s island to be one of Yellow Claw’s many wives (despite being a genius physicist athlete and could honestly be a superhero in her own right with those skills) sent out a distress signal which was eventually received by the Avengers. A lot of goofy stuff happened, Vision got captured like a dingus, Wasp did none things, a cyborg slime kraken was fought, and eventually Yellow Claw was like ‘whaaaat Shu Han doesn’t love me? Fine, begone!’ and told the Avengers to gtfo his island so he can start living his harem anime protagonist self-insert fic and also take over the world.

Which brings us to now.

After his dingus-like capture, Vision needs to be recharged because photons are his sweet calories and he never diets.

In fact, weirdly, he’s hungrier than usual this time. Sixty-seven whole additional solar units more than usual hungrier.

I don’t know how much a solar unit is. Even as a ballpark. But Iron Man finds it noteworthy so I’m noting it.

Meanwhile, in the only one person sitting room, Wasp retcons some actual actions into the last issue so that her entire screentime wasn’t pointless.

Maybe I should learn to be more patient on multiple part stories.

No. No, its the comic writers who are wrong.

Anyway, while Wasp was spying on Yellow Claw, she noticed some weird equipment in the research lab, including a lot of tubes filled with odd, sparkly mist.

Unfortunately, that’s all she managed to see before Yellow Claw told the Avengers to gtfo his island.

Which leaves them without much they can do about Yellow Claw.

Sure, they suspect he’s up to something. Hell, Iron Man would even admit that they know he’s up to something.

But being able to prove it is a different matter. And since Yellow Claw’s island is in disputed waters, moving without proving could lead to political fallout.

Captain America: “Iron Man is right. If we had proof that the Yellow Claw poses a global threat, international law would allow us to investigate. But as it is, we don’t have a single, tangible clue to--”

And then Jarvis walks in and tells them that the Yellow Claw’s top assistant, Dr. William Liu, is here to speak with them.

The timing this man has. Outstanding.

They scan the man to make sure he’s not walking in with a bunch of laser guns stuffed down his pants and then let him in.

And Dr. Liu pleads for the Avengers to help him. Cap asks why they should help or even trust one of Yellow Claw’s men.

Dr. Liu: “I could no longer live with the horrible nature of the master’s plan! That is why I secretly left the island, hoping that my absence would go unnoticed until I could reach you, and tell you of-- AAAGGHH!”

He doesn’t get to finish his warning because his crotch suddenly explodes.

I don’t know how else to describe it.

Apparently Yellow Claw rigged his assistant to explode in case of treachery or just for funsies. A barely alive, crotch exploded apparently a cyborg all along Dr. Liu realizes that Yellow Claw must have remotely activated his destruct code.

He gives the Avengers some coordinates in Australia and begs them to stop Yellow Claw.

Dr. Liu: “... Y-you must stop... the Claw! Y-you’re the only hope for... the children...!”

And then he dies. And based on panels, it seems like his chest exploded more than his crotch. His pants are intact.

This was the proof the Avengers needed to act, so as soon as Dr. Liu’s body is carried away by ambulance, the Avengers prepare to leave.

But Jarvis finds a note on Vision’s door begging leave from the mission.

Vision: “I regret that I have not yet recuperated to the point where I may participate in Avengers’ activities. Please understand. I do not wish to be disturbed.”

What an oddly formal ‘I’m sick, don’t come in’ letter to pin to your door.

Iron Man is perplexed since he oversaw Vision’s recharge himself and the solar gas tank should be full. But Scarlet Witch says that Vision has his reasons to do things and they should just carry on without him.

So off they go in the Quinjet.

But as soon as they take off, Vision goes to take the second Quinjet.

Why, he’s not sick in his room at all!

Hours later, the Avengers arrive in Australia, of course passing over a kangaroo, or else how would we know its Australia?

And at the coordinates poor exploded Dr. Liu gave them, they find a cave. And in the cave they find a secret base where that sparkle gas Wasp saw being loaded onto three missiles.

Y’know. I think I gave Vision too much shit last time for his stealth fail. Because the Avengers as a whole get spotted while they’re scoping out the missile cave.

Black Panther needs to give them all some refresher learning.

MEANWHILE, though. Back at Yellow Claw’s island, Vision ditches his Quinjet and intangibles into Yellow Claw’s base.

When he reaches Yellow Claw’s throne slash harem room where Yellow Claw welcomes him back and asks him how the hell he discovered he had been tampered with.

Vision explains: 1) that he required extra power to recharge, 2) that he detected ultra-wave radiation being emitted from Dr. Liu when he blew up, 3) detected the same radiation from his own bad self. Thus he deduced that he had been altered to be an unwitting mole through which the Yellow Claw could spy on the Avengers and that the alteration was what was draining extra power.

Also why Vision ditched the Avengers and came here instead.

And it was all a very smart move up until it was a dumb one.

Yellow Claw was prepared that Vision might figure things out and show up again so the doorway had a Vision trapping trap installed in it and now Vision is trapped in the Vision trapping trap.

After all his ‘I’ve come alone to defeat you’ bravado, Vision can now only defiantly claim “the other Avengers will turn your dreams into dust!”

You Tried, Vision. You Tried.

But Yellow Claw isn’t done having been one step ahead of things yet.

See, he let Dr. Liu escape and warn the Avengers because based on the broken into vent he knew that Wasp had been in his base and probably saw enough to suspect something was up. The coordinates Dr. Liu gave the Avengers was a trap!

A trap of three strong mooks with really dumb names.

Bludgeoner, Transformer, and Compressor.

Guarantee these guys won’t be recurring.

Anyway. Iron Man and Jocasta repulsor and eyeeeeee beam at the three so Transformer can readily demonstrate why his name when he absorbs the energy and blasts it back at them.

And Bludgeoner and his big hammer hands bludgeon Wonder Man and Captain America.

And Compressor, why if you guessed that his big ol cheese grater hands compress the air between them to put the squeeze on anyone stuck between, ... wow. That’s a really good guess.

You’re good at comic books, friend!

Scarlet Witch uses a hex bolt to drop a stalactite on Compressor to free Beast but the fly swatter hands man crushes the rock and shoots the shrapnel back at Scarlet Witch.

And Wasp is as useless as she often is. Sigh.

Iron Man tries to swing behind Compressor and repulsor him but Compressor blasts air and sends Iron Man SKRRUURRUNCH into the cave dirt, carving up a furrow.

Sure, this has been only two pages but this is a bad showing against three dinguses with dumb names. I mean for crying out loud, a man named Compressor just bodied a guy called Iron Man.

Back at the Claw Cave... no, wait, that’s confusing. The Avengers are fighting in a cave. The Claw Condo? Back at the Claw Condo, Yellow Claw tells Vision that hey his friends are going to die gruesome and frankly embarrassing deaths but maybe Vision could eke out a little win for himself.

Claw has long platonically admired his construction and capabilities and with Dr. Liu exploded, he does need a new second-in-command.

To sweeten the pot, he’ll even explain his villainous plot because I’m sure we’ve all been wondering about that.

Yellow Claw: “You see, my line was created to rule this planet -- though mankind has stupidly resisted that inevitability. But now, despite the chemical concoctions that prolong my existence, I grow old. My years are numbered. And that is why I selected these women, exemplary in both body and mind, to assure a form of immortality.

For each shall bear me a son, and in time those sons shall fight each other to the death! The survivor, the fittest, shall then fulfill my fate by becoming supreme ruler of the Earth!

Though I swear, he’ll not be subjected to the same obstinacy, to the blind sense of human freedom that has frustrated me for these many decades!

For within those cryogenic storage banks is genetic material gathered from the world’s most physically and mentally perfect humans! And from that matter, my heir will create a new order, a new population, all raised to obey by a single edit: unswerving reverence to my son!”

Vision: There is a flaw to your logic, Claw. You seem to forget that there are already several billion people on this planet -- people who will never serve the likes of you.

Yellow Claw: Ah, once more you underestimate me. For at this very moment, the missiles at my Australian launch base are being readied for take-off. Once in orbit around the Earth, they will dock with my private spacecraft.

Then at my command, they will release a specially formulated vapor, one which will permeat the entire planetary atmosphere, rendering everyone on the globe -- except for those here in my closed-environment sanctuary -- irrevocably sterile!

With no children being born, the Earth will be barren in the space of a few generations -- barren save for the followers of the new Yellow Claw!”

Okay, so, credit where it’s due.

That’s a VERY evil plan.

Sterilize planet, replace humanity with genetically servile slave race, make babies fight to the death for the right to rule that whole shebang.

In terms of a dick move that's a major league one.

So when Yellow Claw asks if Vision will become his new number Liu, Vision answers: “Perhaps, miscreant. Perhaps I will join you... in hell!”

Yellow Claw isn’t too bothered by the refusal and even decides to let Vision have a front row seat to his plan being fulfilled.

And I don’t mean tying him to the front of one of the missiles.

I mean, Yellow Claw’s throne room launches from his base as a hot rod pink spaceship, sold separately.

Back at the Avengers fight, Wasp does a thing.

Honestly, its a pleasant surprise.

Her powerset of ‘be small, shoot tiny lasers’ not being much of a help, she thinks outside the box. She scoops some dirt from the cave floor and jams it into Bludgeoner’s arm joints to slow him down.

And then Wonder Man clocks him in the face. Who bludgeons the bludgeoners indeed.

It does go to show that a ‘useless’ power like Wasp’s can actually be very useful if you write her smart. A superhero team should be more than just big punches, more than just spectacular powers. Wasp has great combo potential for playing things strategic and that should be something the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes are too.

Beast realizes that Wasp had a really good idea. The Avengers outnumber these three jokers so why not gang up on them with teamwork? Besides, they’re not working together in any way so the Avengers might as well.

So Beast grabs Transformer’s shield arm to leave him open for Jocasta to OPTIC BLAST!

And Cap throws his mighty shield to know Compressor’s arms apart so Iron Man can kick him in the face.

Which is impressive since Iron Man was flat on his ass in the immediately previous panel.

Apparently this was a gaffe caused by the pages being edited separately and the error not being caught before the book went to print.

As far as things go, not the worst error! I didn’t even notice it until it was pointed out.

Anyway, in a fit of pique from his dumb name dudes losing the fight, Yellow Claw kliks a button. The goons join hands or whatever weapon they have passing for hands and then they blow up.

Yellow Claw: “It is done. It cost the lives of three worthy operatives but at last -- the Avengers are dead!”

Ah, villains. Always ready to flip the board if they start losing.

And with the Avengers totally dead for realsies no foolin’ Yellow Claw is free to launch his missiles full of sterility vapors.

Actually, he could do that by remote so I don’t know why he had to wait for the Avengers to be explode. He could have just launched the missiles while they were busy fighting.

Anyway.

With the Avengers dead I guess the book will be about- can’t think of a good one for that recurring goof. So yeah, the Avengers aren’t dead.

Scarlet Witch used her powers to shield the team just in the nick of time.

Captain America: “Thanks, Wanda. If you hadn’t cast that protective hex sphere around us just in time...!”

Scarlet Witch: “Don’t mention it, captain. I rather enjoy being alive myself!”

Although, I didn’t know she could just shield people with her powers like that. Unless she altered the probability that explosions hurt so that they didn’t. Yes, that sounds plausible.

The two flying members of the team, Iron Man and Wonder Man fly out of the cave after the missiles, still determined to save the days as heroes often do.

The missiles launch into orbit and then something really goofy happens.

I’ve been saying missiles because the comic has been saying missiles and I guess they are technically missiles. But if I asked you to imagine a supervillain launching some missiles full of a chemical weapon, would you imagine this?

When the missiles launch into orbit they link up with Yellow Claw’s hot rod pink spaceship.

When I first saw this, I thought: is he going to launch them again from his spaceship? A bit of an unnecessary additional step.

But no. That is not what is going on here.

The man is just super committed to his iconography. The missiles join the spaceship and then bend to make it clear its supposed to resemble a claw.

That’s the kind of goofy nonsense I’m here for.

Iron Man and Wonder Man show up, to Yellow Claw’s alarm, and try to attack the hot pink spaceship but bounce off uselessly. The thing is protected by a strong force field.

Yellow Claw probably goes ‘phew’ internally and gets on with his evil plan.

With the missiles bent, as missiles are known to do??, to resemble claws, they can begin to spray the sterility gas into the atmosphere.

Yellow Claw: “Soon, it will be over! When enough vapors are released to mingle with the entire atmosphere -- the shadow of the Claw shall cover the Earth!”

And with things looking grim, Vision decides that things are down to him. I mean he did go off alone and is now stuck inside the enemy’s spaceship. He’s in a good position to mess things up.

So stuck suspended in a trap, he increases his density and mass to his limit and beyond! One ton, two, further!

The energy bubble holding him gives way to his weight, allowing him to make contact with the deck of the ship. Adding his weight to that of the ship and throwing it out of orbit.

The ship will crash into Earth and at this point, it can’t be stopped.

Yellow Claw is fairly pissed.

He smashes the device holding Vision captive and then starts trying to kill him with his bare hands.

And he’s capable of hitting Vision when he’s intangible because he studied Vision while he was a prisoner, the first time he was a prisoner. And created circuity to his metal sleeves that lets him tangible the intangible.

And thus he tries to strangle Vision.

I’m not sure he needs to breathe. Probably why Yellow Claw is punching him instead in later panels.

Vision points out that this fight is fairly pointless and that Yellow Claw could be using this time to escape but Yellow Claw is determined that he get something accomplished today.

And then the ship crashes into the ocean.

A short time skip later and the Avengers have parked the Quinjet on the ocean (it buoyant) and are searching for the Vision.

How did they know the Vision was here? Didn’t they think he was recuperating back at the mansion?

Apparently another gaffe but one that could be handwaved. Earlier in the issue when the three dumbnames appeared, Yellow Claw appeared on a monitor to taunt the Avengers and Vision was visible behind him. Captain America even appears to be pointing at Vision like ‘hey I know that guy from work.’

So conceivably they knew he was with Yellow Claw when his ship crashed.

Iron Man gives up on searching the ocean, not being able to find the Vision in the water but Vision just peaces in from the sky. He intangible’d out the ship just before the crash. He’s totally fine.

Scarlet Witch: “I am glad that you are safe, my husband. And I’m glad that the danger has ended.”

Vision: “No, my love. Though it is true that the Yellow Claw is dead, that he will no longer plague us with his particular form of madness -- there are too many others like him, others who would rise to power by crushing the freedom that is every being’s birthright.

And as long as any of them remain unchallenged -- the danger will never end.”

With that, Vision sort of stares out across the ocean moodily. Because a true Avengers story ends with someone staring at something moodily.

And I dunno! Maybe it was the extended break from doing this liveblog but this two-parter wasn’t as bad as I dreaded.

Supposedly, part of the impetus of the story was to do a last hurrah story for Yellow Claw and then shove him under some furniture because his yellow peril character concept was growing increasingly awkward.

After one more story in Marvel Fanfare with Cap, Yellow Claw was shelved for nearly three decades.

And man launches sterility gas missiles into space to form a giant claw to make it so that his successor can repopulate the Earth with a new, freedom hating breed of humanity is pretty great as far as comic book nonsense goes.

Although, in retrospect, I’m realizing that this was basically the same plan the Sentinels that kidnapped Scarlet Witch had.

Sterilize the planet with Wanda’s magical uterus and then replace humanity with a genetically engineered kind that could not mutate.

Comic books are weird.

Next time: Human Torch guest stars. Everything is on fire.

Follow @essential-avengers or like or reblog or send me questions or tell me I’m doing an okay job or do nothing. There are many choices available. But I would appreciate feedback.

#Avengers #the Vision #Yellow Claw #essential marvel liveblogging #essential avengers #Wasp #Jocasta #Beast #Wonder Man #Captain America #Iron Man

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hyperionswrath--archived · 4 years

Text

@onepartbrave

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Squall quipped quietly, tone almost playful in its intent. Pretty certain he spat the words out yesterday with an entirely different sentiment fuelling them, today felt… nicer. Calmer with himself than he had been in what felt like years. Perhaps, a sense of closure was occurring, having met Seifer and essentially patched up a part of history. Maybe it was the fact there was the promise of tomorrow since he’d concurred with sparring (the blond would never back out of a fight). Or, the longest shot yet… potentially, he was just happy. Untainted, simple happiness he was allowed to wallow in for the time being. So what if it came from hanging around his former rival? No big deal.

Famous last words…

A frosty glare bore into the man’s back at that unnecessary remark about his apparent cuteness. Seriously, was he picking a fight? Because Squall wouldn’t let bothersome comments slide should he continue to make them like an imbecile. Huffing lightly at yet another jibe against him following, he set his pace to be moderate despite the light-headedness threatening to overthrow him.

Marching along when Seifer took the eventual lead, Squall followed his guidance without complaint. Though a frown marred his features at noticing the man hunching over as the chill hit, slate-blues inspecting the coat he temporarily claimed for his own again. It wasn’t fair the blond braved the wintry weather oncoming while he paraded about in a pilfered garment… Nonetheless, he kept that protest private as he knew it’d be a pointless battle he’d inevitably lose. As mentioned before, Seifer was stubborn to a fault and Squall didn’t have the thinking power to properly banter for victory.

Plus… the scenery was slowly taking over his attention. Flamboyant buildings took the place of rustic establishments and Squall knew immediately they were in a completely different section of the city. Strobe lights and neon lit up the street with partygoers and gamblers alike crowding entrances in hope for admittance. A sense of unease settled within, knowing plainly he’d never set foot in places like this when alone (from bashfulness or nervousness, he wasn’t sure) but tailed Seifer undeviatingly. One in particular stood out like a sore thumb, embellished with grandiose unlike any Squall had witnessed. No clubs in Esthar held this appeal.

Swallowing uncertainly, he stuck to Seifer like glue as they ascended a short flight of stairs, pausing only when the Glaive prompted him. Staring up in a silent query, he refrained from griping when the warm, cosy coat was jostled so an inner pocket could be accessed and kept a watchful eye on what was going on instead. Everyone was dressed smartly and he was beginning to feel more out of place by the second. Even when commanding the military plot he worked for, he’d never been one for ‘dressing to impress’. If they didn’t like how he looked, that wasn’t his problem. Here… it was another story, a different setting, and vague regret was starting to build at the back of his mind.

When they were welcomed, Squall steeled his wavering nerve and stepped inside with his former rival, examining all he could as they strode on. Dizziness fleeting, he was in dire need of another drink should he stave off the need to escape and his eyes sought out the bar as soon as they appeared to enter another room but he was yet to place one. Some woman glanced at him expectantly and he noted it was for the coat. Accordingly, he tightened his grip on it, reluctant to be released from the safety net it offered and shook his head politely. Appeased with his answer, the woman waved them on and Squall saw they were getting further inside, more into the fray.

And—someone’s hand was on him. A brief flicker of eyes behind him confirmed it was Seifer’s. Comforted it wasn’t a stranger’s, he felt somewhat flustered it was Seifer’s. “Ah… drink?” he requested in a reticent tone, perking up marginally when spotting what he wanted. “I’ll get one—you can find your friends?”

Breaking off any contact he had to save his composure from cracking further, Squall dodged many bodies and wandering hands with sluggishly retuning grace, all the while keeping Seifer’s coat tight about his form. Of all the days to wear form-hugging jeans… At least, he’d been told they were in passing conversation. Careless about that fact presently, he approached the bar and waited with fraying patience to be served, drumming his barely free digits on the polished surface.

Of course it was just his luck that someone decided they wanted to chat with him during. Some guy was clearly waiting on beverages himself and glided along the counter to stand beside Squall in the meantime. Catching movement in his peripheral vision, Squall’s head jerked to the right, jolting back at how close the stranger dared to get. A downside to not being known, he guessed. People invaded his personal space like it was a game. Some hushed remark about his borrowed coat met his ears, and he scowled lightly, shaking his head in a negative manner. Go away…

They didn’t. In fact, the man persisted in talking to himself, trying to engage Squall in conversation. Tiresome efforts were rewarded with nothing but flat stares and mild glares. Oddly, it seemed to spur the man on. Maybe he should’ve gone with Seifer first and ordered him to get some refreshments. At least he had people skills, unlike the brunet…

Yes, he would like to know, thank you very much. But having expected no useful answer, all Seifer had to offer was a low chuckle. At least the tension between them had settled somewhat, even if it had been exchanged for something different. Tense too, but mixed with anticipation? Best not to think too much about it.

As had to be expected Squall soon showed signs of discomfort, the tall blond easily picked up on it by how the brunet's shoulders were set, how his gaze darted around, and how he simply wouldn't want to let go of the coat. Which might become a little too warm to wear inside, but he was willing to humor the man. So both of them entered the building proper, reaching the main area which was crowded to the brim with people, mostly passing through to reach the different areas of the inside. To the left was the bar, huge and manned with four to five bartenders merely dressed in leather pants, muscles glistening from oil or other anointments. Farther behind the bar a hallway led to another set of rooms as well as the toilets, while the right side also had three more hallways leading into different areas and thus, themes.

In the middle of the current hall, a stage was placed on which preparations seemed to be made. Stairs on both sides of the hall lead to the upper floor, consisting of a balcony surrounding the vicinity and, if one was to go upstairs, more hallways.

Before he could even stop Squall, the brunet already dove headfirst into the crowd to get drinks, which had Seifer sigh exasperated. He already knew where his friends were, as he had texted them before. Shrugging, he took a moment to take out his phone and confirm their position as well as letting them know he had arrived before he let his gaze wander for a while. Being the tall blond in a military uniform he was, coat or no, he was bound to pull attention to himself in a setting like this. And he'd lie if he didn't enjoy it. But right now his concern lay with a certain SeeD who thought it wise to dart off alone.

He was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt though, maybe he was able to procure their drinks without getting himself in trouble? And so he leisurely sauntered over in the general direction Squall had taken off to, taking his time and allowing the gazes of strangers to wander over his athletic figure, jade-greens scanning the bar to finally find the lithe form swimming in his coat and, how could it be any different, already prey to one of the guests. Not entirely able to help himself smirk briefly, Seifer strode over and stopped behind Squall, leaning over to speak close to his ear so he could hear him over the music.

"Don't wander off alone," his low voice rumbled, emerald gaze now staring directly past his companions head at the stranger getting into the brunet's private space way too casually. Lifting one arm to snake it around Squall's hips and pulling him closer, he shot a warning smile to the intruder. "Sorry but he's with me. Back off." The guy seemed to be intimidated by the appearance of a Glaive in and on itself and thus was wise enough to not put up a fight as he lifted both hands in an apologizing manner, mumbling something as he started backing off and retrieving his drink, hurrying off into the crowd again.

Sighing slightly, the tall blond let go of his former rival, not wanting to distress him further by being too close as he nodded in the general direction of the bar where their drinks had been placed in the meantime. "Come on, the guys are by the stage. There's some performance tonight and we seem to be just in time," he spoke again close to the other's ear, out of necessity. And, well, maybe because he liked it, too.

He waited for Squall to go ahead, again placing one hand at the small of his back for the convenience of being able to steer him in the right direction, all the while towering behind him like a misplaced guardian. Soon he was able to make out the telltale maroon head of Tredd, the brunet and half-shaved one of Kerr as well as the light sandy tuft of hair belonging to Luche along with four other people. Three girls and one guy, the ones they had picked up elsewhere. His Glaive comrades were also still in their uniforms, coats tossed on the benches somewhere, and chatting away, while the civilians all also didn't wear too fancy clothes. It was not mandatory in the Diamond Dust, although preferred. If one came with a Kingsglaive as company, no one would complain to begin with.

Before they could reach their table, however, Seifer stopped Squall once more, leaning down to him, the look in his eyes death earnest this time. "Listen," he set to speak, making sure the brunet was paying attention, "if it gets too much, no matter what, you tell me. Understood?" Making a point of not sounding commanding for once, he could only hope that his concern was not missing its mark. There could be things happening in this vicinity that might easily overwhelm the reserved SeeD and, quite frankly, he'd hate it if this evening ended on bad terms just because he didn't pay attention to how the other felt about it all. Nodding at him reassuringly, he straightened his posture and made for the table, greeting the cheering Glaives with clasping hands and teasing words.

#onepartbrave #rp #long post #.awww he is concerned #.he's like a guard dog istg #.no one take my squall it's mine and mine alone #.no toss #.only play

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

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Mark of the Wolf Part 14

Catch Up Here!

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader (Lastname: Markolf)

Words: 5k

Warnings: Some gory body horror bits -imo. Violence, another cold open, angst? Butchered Swedish.

A/N: It’s funny, looking back at my series plot outline, I never thought this was the direction I was going to go with this confrontation but... The pen writes what it wants.

Leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter! It helps ☺

Derek and Peter sat in the front of the car –Peter at the wheel driving at a more dangerous speed than Derek did. Markus sat beside you.

The others had taken other cars.

The car was cold. The air-con turned all the way up for some reason. It seemed you were the only one with goosebumps that refused to smooth over since you were the only one rubbing at your skin. In search of a warmer cardigan, you reached beside you to grab your duffle bag, but then you remembered you didn't have it. It was with Scott.

Damn!

You should have dressed warmer.

A dial tone sounded from Derek's phone. This was the third time he'd tried the same number. His brow was scrunched in annoyance as he tapped re-dial for the fourth time.

Your head was pressed to the cold glass of the window, the trees whooshing past to form one collective reel of green and brown as your nails dug into the bandage wrapped around your palm. An itch you couldn’t get at annoying your newly formed cut.

"She's not going to answer," Peter said, eyes focused on the road. "Besides, our plan isn't contingent on her being a key player."

"We need the back-up in case things go south," Derek said. "She's the only one powerful enough to take one of those hunters head-on if we need a quick exit."

"I cannot wait to say 'I told you so' when this inevitably blows up in your face," Peter snorted.

"If that happens we'll all be screwed to high hell," Derek said bleakly. “Which means, you’ll be going down with me, smart-ass.”

Peter rubbed his nose, a redness forming just above his lip. He exhaled loudly.

Once the ringing stopped, an unclear voice sounded out through Derek’s phone's speakers. He placed the phone to his ear.

"I need to cash in a favour," his tone was indifferent.

There was a beat of silence, thick and disturbing.

Peter shuffled awkwardly, stretching against the uncomfortable seat material and forward slanted head rest.

"She's not gonna show," Peter sing-songed.

You laced your fingers around your pendant, wringing it about from left to right like a pendulum. A spot on your chest marked by sage oil.

Derek hummed before cutting the phone, it sounded contemplative rather than disappointed. He turned to Peter, "I guess we're just going to have to hope everything goes as planned then."

The car was parked on the edge of the treeline to the woods.

Peter groaned, looking down at his expensive shoes and the damp soil outside, "These were new shoes."

"I'll buy you a new pair if we live through this and you stop complaining," Derek clapped back as his heavy boots stomped into the mud, splatters of wet soil spraying on his dark jeans.

You and Markus disembarked and for once you were glad you weren't wearing your tennis trainers.

"On the plus side, if we all die, at least it’ll be in style," Markus noted dryly.

Peter shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

"Alright, split up?" Markus asked.

Derek nodded, "Yeah, since we know the lay of the land better, Peter and I will take one of you and we'll work going inward."

"If this place is so important, why hasn't anyone ever mapped out its location?" You asked, hands stuffed in your jeans to keep your body heat close as a cold breeze swept through.

"We tried. The Nematon has a tendency to hide itself," Derek told you.

"Oh..." you said, pretending to understand.

Peter looked around for a minute before speaking over his shoulder, "I'll take tall, dark and broody with me."

Both Markus and Derek pointed at themselves in confusion.

Peter rolled his eyes before pointing at your brother, "The other tall, dark and broody."

You lifted a finger to protest but before a full sound left your throat, Peter had already disappeared into the dark forest with Markus in tow.

You cursed under your breath and from the cheeky smirk Derek wore, you knew you hadn't sworn low enough.

"Come on," Derek's head nudged towards the dense forest. Hands in his back pockets.

"Perfect," you said sarcastically.

You and Derek walked in silence, your hands running up and down your bumpy flesh to burn the cold away.

The woods held an eeriness to them that made the air feel like burning sulphur despite the cold. Fog rolling outward like a dense smoke cloud the farther from the road you got.

You stepped in a mud patch and slid forward. Derek's quick hands caught you and kept you steady.

"You okay?" he looked you in the eye.

You blinked away and cleared your throat, "Yeah, t-thanks."

"You feel cold," he shrugged off his jacket. "Here."

"N-no, I- I'm fine, really," you refused his offer, but Derek ignored your words, draping his jacket around you. It was sweet of him.

"Relax. It won't eat you. It's just a jacket," he smirked.

You nodded while pressing your lips together.

"So… come here often?" you asked as Derek marched forward with long strides -you practically had to jog to keep up.

"To the woods?" he chuckled. "Yeah, this place is a riot," he added dryly.

You scrunched your face and Derek’s arms flexed as he folded them together.

"Actually I grew up close to these woods," there was a sadness to his voice.

You were intrigued, chin rising higher to get a better look at his face, "What's your family like?"

"Dead. Mostly," he noted casually.

Your eyes went wide.

Derek shuffled, feeling that maybe he sounded a bit more serious than normal. He ground his teeth before laughing humourlessly and tried again, this time lighter: "We used to be like your family, actually. Large, overwhelming, very unapologetically different."

"Thanks, I guess…?" you swatted at some fireflies.

Derek shifted his eyes blue and the bugs scattered from predatory fear. He relaxed back to normal and added, "It's a compliment, trust me."

You smiled before asking, "What happened?"

He answered almost immediately, like it as a rehearsed line or one he’d thought about many times, "The girl I was dating turned out to be a hunter… a homicidal one at that."

"Boy, those just follow you everywhere," you jabbed.

He craned a brow your way, "Goes with the territory."

He held your gaze for a moment too long and heat flushed through you, your lips tingling from the memory of his tender yet rough kiss. Your cast your eyes down at your feet.

When you looked back up you noticed Derek rubbed his nose discreetly.

You were compelled to ask him out of curiosity, "You and Peter have been doing that all night. Everything alright?" you pointed to his nose with a red nib.

"You can't smell it?" he was surprised, his eyes fixed on your pendant.

"Is it the sage?"

He hummed in response.

"Sorry," you said with a glib tone, feeling bad for causing everyone so much discomfort.

He cocked a half-smile, "Don't apologise. That is the only reason we're still alive-" he pointed at your pendant. "I can survive a little irritation. Immortal hunters? Not so much."

You stopped for a bit. Mind remembering something that made you laugh dryly. Derek turned to you.

"What?" he asked.

"N-nothing," you held his jacket as your body shook with laughter. "It's just ironic isn't it? The first time I met you, I dug a bullet out of your chest. You were the one in need of saving then. Now look at how everything turned out. I'm the proverbial damsel in distress and it pisses me off!"

It was Derek's turn to laugh, hot air permeating through the cold night in foggy breaths.

"You find that funny?" your jaw squared as you planted your feet and crossed your arms.

"I think it's funny you think you're a damsel," he smiled wider. "Not many damsels I know of have no qualms with cauterising a man's wound using the tip of an arrow and a zippo. And you can damn well be certain they aren’t eagerly offering themselves up as bait. Not once mind you, but twice." He held up two fingers.

"Then I guess I'm an idiot," you remarked flatly.

"Aren't we all?"

Derek placed a hand on your shoulder. Your body reacted as you’d come to expect, with a shiver running up your spine and a flush rising up from your neck to greet your cheeks.

He uttered in a manner reserved for those more than friends -soft and intimate, "Take it from someone who lost their lycanthropy once, claws and teeth and speed doesn't make you powerful. Resolve does. And you've got that in spades."

You gulped, the warm feeling creeping into your chest again. It was strange seeing him so… open. This version of Derek was different from the one you first saw bleeding out on your metal slab.

Derek didn't move. His hand sending ripples of electricity through you from the contact. It didn't help matters that his jacket smelled of his scent and was wrapped around you like you were a couple in an 80's movie.

It all should have felt overbearing, too demanding, but for some reason, it felt the complete opposite. It felt like just enough.

You took a step forward and Derek stayed locked in place. He was determined to keep his promise. If anything were to happen between you two, under the stars and the pregnant silver moon, it would be only by your say so. You held all the cards and from the tantalisingly tempting way your lips tingled, you knew instinctively what your next play would be.

Your brain shouted for you to step away, to keep things from getting complicated, to not risk your heart again, but your lips parted of their own volition and soon you were speaking in a heady tone, "Derek… I…"

His jaw tensed, though it was much subtler. His eyes on the verge of turning blue. An odd aquamarine settled over his irises instead. He was trying his damndest to stay in control. It was then that you noticed how tightly he balled his other fist. The air filled with more trails of fog from his and your breaths. They kept climbing in frequency.

"I…" your feet trembled and then a howl pierced through the sound of crickets, startling you from your daze.

Derek inhaled and let his arm drop free from your shoulder, he brought it to his own and started working the muscle there as if it were sore.

"Peter's calling. Think he's found it. Come on," he shrugged as he walked in broad strokes towards the origin of the howl.

You cursed again and followed after, thankful for the cold air for the first time since the night began. It drained the colour away from your face.

"What took you guys?" Markus asked as he hopped off one foot onto the other in repeated motions.

"They were probably in-dis-posed," Peter wiggled his eyebrows as he strained the syllables of that last word, a devilish smirk pulling his face up.

Derek shook his head and you bit your inner cheek, ignoring the suggestive look Peter had shot your way.

A stone’s throw away was an old stump in the middle of the clearing. The Nematon.

"That's the Nematon?" you asked, a little disappointed.

"Not much to look at, but trust me, that thing is teeming with supernatural energy," Peter said.

Markus squatted close to the tree, placing his hand on its flat surface. His eyes flashed to red and back, nails shifting into claws then back to nails.

"They're right, this is it." He confirmed.

"This thing is barely higher than my knee. Without branches, what are we going to fashion stakes out of?" you raised your hand at the short stump.

Derek and Peter glanced at each other, each thinking the same thing.

In unison, they said: "The root cellar."

The root cellar was dark. The smell of earth was rich here. An old stain of a bloody handprint had turned a coppery orange colour on one of the root tendrils snaking into the ground. A five-fold-knot carved into another. The air was freezing, like the temperature decreased exponentially, forcing your teeth to chatter. A sickening feeling tugging at your gut as your organs protested in every way possible.

"Something bad happened here," you spoke in a hushed whisper.

Derek was stiff, eyes turning glassy as they stared daggers at the five-fold-knot. The atmosphere around him shifted. All of a sudden he was his usual brooding and detached self.

"That is an understatement," Peter replied.

Markus took in the air, coughing slightly. He and Peter scratched at their noses in almost perfect synchronicity. Not Derek though. He stayed painfully still.

"What happened here?" Markus rose his eyebrows.

Peter's mouth opened then closed, a furrow on his face.

"Let's just get what we came for and wait for the call," Derek grumbled out, claws extending instantly as he slashed at a sturdy section of root and pulled it free.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, "You heard the man."

***

You paced about the sparsely furnished loft space that belonged to Derek. There was yellow police tape discarded next to the entrance. A large window with no curtains provided most of the light in the open-plan apartment.

Derek tossed his phone on the counter, a sigh leaving his lips. "That was Scott. It worked. Now it's our turn."

"Do you think they'll make it out okay?" your voice was shaky, worry keeping you on edge.

"We can't worry about that now," Derek walked over and stretched out his hand expectantly.

You swallowed hard, a ball forming in your throat as you tried to unclasp your necklace with shaky fingers.

Derek squeezed your fingers, "Let me."

You spun around, focused on counting the number of bricks on the wall whilst he removed your necklace. His thumb brushed the back of your neck lightly and then he walked away to stash the necklace in a sealed ziplock bag, tossing it in a drawer for extra measure.

"And now?" you said after you had counted all the bricks on that stretch of wall.

"We hope Scott and Liam can take a few hits and stop any stragglers from coming our way while we..." Peter kicked his feet up and lounged on a leather couch, "Wait."

You stared down at the yellow tape, sorely aware of how tense the room was.

You did the one thing you hated doing in such instances, you made with small talk, "So… you still wanted for murder?"

Markus's head snapped up from his phone, nose no longer red. His attention was drawn towards Derek who was leaning against the kitchen island -his nose also no longer red.

"Alleged murder," he held up one hand to reassure your brother. "And, yeah, in four counties actually."

"Have you thought about what you're going to do if we survive this? I mean… you can't live on the run forever, can you?" you pressed your palms together tightly using your knees to keep from anxiously bouncing on your feet as you sat on the opposite couch to Peter’s.

"If we survive, that'll be just one of the many things I'll have to cross off my to-do list," he retorted.

Markus squinted before sitting up straight, hands clapping together once, "That's why you look so familiar. You were on the news some months ago. Manhunt in--"

"Shh!" Peter shot up quickly.

"I hear it too," Derek said hurriedly as he vaulted over the counter and pulled you behind him, stake in hand.

Right then, an arrow pierced through his large window and shattered the glass. The sharp point dug into the wooden floorboard a few inches to the left of where you'd been standing.

Here we go again.

"Okay boys," Peter cracked his neck before extending his fangs. "Once more with feeling!"

All three of them were all glowing eyes, long claws and wolfish snarls. You raced behind the kitchen island and ducked behind it for cover but no new arrows whistled through the air.

Just then, Astrid barrelled in in through the window, her nose raised high as she sniffed at the air, fangs extended. Her claws were longer than all the men's and her eyes glowed a deeper blue than Derek's or Peter's. Come to think of it, Markus was the only one in the room with red eyes.

Astrid clicked her tongue several times, one long-clawed finger swaying from the left to right, "I knew something was afoul when you weren't with the True Alpha and his rageful beta.” She turned to stare daggers at you, “Alyster will be pleased I found you and after I kill all three of your wolves, I'll deliver you to him." Her accent was heavy, Scandinavian. You realised this was the first time you'd heard her speak English.

“It is your time now,” Astrid pointed at you, a grin on her face.

Peter laughed.

Astrid’s eyes twitched, "What is so funny?" she demanded.

"The fact you thought it would be that easy," he replied like he knew the punchline to a joke she didn’t.

Astrid took a step closer, her claws slicing through the air. Peter leaned back with perfect timing.

"Now!" Derek growled.

Theo burst out of a hiding spot holding a jar of black ash and chucked a whole fist full of it at a broken circle on the floor. An impregnable ring forming around them while the other men in the room tried to hold the rabid Astrid down. You dashed back to the drawer Derek had stashed your necklace in and quickly clipped it back on.

"Mountain ash!" Astrid screamed in anger.

Like a volatile typhoon, Astrid took on all three men, her long claws slashing deep and wide. Blood soaked through torn clothes and your ears were deafened by the piercing howls and deep growls that vibrated off larynxes. Markus lifted his stake when he got an opening, but Derek held his hand at bay.

"No!" Derek stated bluntly.

Markus stared in confusion, not about to let one of the people that'd nearly killed his sister survive.

Peter took the brunt of Astrid's attacks while Derek and Markus were forced in a stand-off.

"Get out of my way!" Your brother shouted, twisting his arm free from Derek's hold

"We need her alive!" Derek shouted back, replacing his hold with his other hand. “For now.”

"Can we argue about this later?" Peter spoke through bloody teeth.

"Rahhh!" Astrid shouted as she lodged her claws into Peter's side, a scream ringing out.

You gasped, taking a step forward.

Derek got distracted by the sound for a fraction of a second, but it was all it took for Astrid to sink her claws into his back and lift him up over her head.

"Derek!" you screamed as you rushed forward, body impaired by the force field of blue light that flooded your vision when you collided with the mountain ash barrier.

Derek spat out a splotch of coppery scented blood as she threw him onto the ground, hard. The sound of his jaw breaking made the floorboards shake. Markus wasted no time and imbedded his stake in her spine. Astrid screeched, dark veins rising up to become visible around her neck and temple.

"Omöjligt..." she whispered as she collapsed onto the ground. Her eyes still open and her chest still moving. He hadn't killed her, but Markus had successfully immobilised her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. No!" Peter panicked over Derek's bloody and sliced form. His wounds healing, albeit not fast enough. "What the hell were you thinking?" he glared at Markus with bared fangs.

Markus answered matter-of-factly, "Protecting my pack."

You whimpered when you saw black oozing from Derek's wounds.

That wasn't good.

"If he dies…" Peter whispered low and sinister. Then he snapped up at you and Theo when Derek grunted weakly, "Break the seal damn it!"

Theo broke the circle with the dragging of his heel and a wave of blue energy rippled out. Faster than you’d ever seen him move before, Peter carried Derek to his couch.

Upon seeing the blood and smelling the copper, your veterinary skills kicking in. You ran to Derek's side and steeled your nerves before slicing the knife across his shirt and exposing his chest. Peter slumped down next to you, eyes serious.

"Help me tie her up," Theo asked for Markus's assistance as he hoisted Astrid onto a chair, binding her hands in rope.

The black veins had spread and her skin was beginning to wrinkle and prune. The tips of her fingers discolouring to a dark purple as one of her nails slipped off from the crown with no opposition.

"Eugh!" Theo grimaced in disgust as he held back a gag. "Uh, man! I th- think she's- she's starting to decompose. Rapidly."

Markus blocked his nose as a new stench wafted through the air.

You could smell it too. It was so strong it made your eyes nearly water.

"Whatever magic keeps her alive, the root from the Nematon must be sapping her dry. You were right," Markus assessed.

"Whatever you needed her alive for, you better do it quick," Theo urged as his cheeks filled with air from a repressed gag.

"Fools…" Astrid spat, a tooth slowly dislodging from her blackening gums. "We can't die!”

"Yeah, well you aren't looking very alive either," Theo coughed out from behind his palm, trying to keep from breathing in her ghastly scent.

Astrid carried on, “One always takes our place. We’re divine soldiers. A champion must always exist as long as the First Coming still lives."

“The First Coming? You mean the plague?” Markus pumped her for information.

Astrid huffed. She smelled like a gangrene infested wound, septic and infected, “The First Coming isn’t a sickness. She is a woman of unparalled power. Only her own magic can imprisson her. Only the blood of the tainted will keep her at bay. When there are none of the ex alia left she will bring about the end of the world. ”

You ignored Astrid’s discomforting words and felt all over across Derek's back, running over the imperfect triskelion. Padded fingers forced black ichor to cascade out from circular holes torn through flesh. Derek's eyelashes fluttered in pain and all you saw were the whites of his eyes. He was too quiet. Too slack. It was unbearable to see him like this, but you had to focus.

You wouldn't let what happened to Alex happen again.

Not to Derek.

"Peter, get me a sharper knife and some alcohol!" You ordered while examining the claw marks more closely. "Markus get me better light. Theo check to see if any of Astrid's claws broke off her fingers."

Displeased, Theo tried to look over Astrid's fingers as carefully as he could, his face sneered in disgust as he held back more gags. When he tried to lift a finger up gently the interphalangeal joint came right off, skin and flesh peeling away freely.

"Eugh! Gross! They keep sliding off like… like fucking butter, I can't- It's too-" He retched dropping Astrid’s severed finger bit like he just lost at a game of hot potato.

Markus scrambled to collect every lamp he could find and place it closer to you while Peter arrived with the whole cutlery tray ripped out of the drawer. Peter unscrewed the cap off the bottle of scotch and held it out for you.

You took a swig and then another and then poured some over Derek's scraped back. Derek shuddered, but no sound came out of his mouth.

Unresponsive to pain, he was going into shock.

You pulled out a butter knife, doused it in alcohol and started digging around Derek's first cut, barking at Theo with authority, "You're just gonna have to deal with it, Theo! Just keep checking!"

Peter picked up the bottle of scotch and took a few swigs himself.

Astrid started laughing, her voice growing hoarse with each chorus, one of her teeth fell out and Theo winced, dodging the discarded enamel.

"Wait, you're right!" Theo shouted when he looked over her other hand. "One of her claws is broken in half! Among other things…"

"That's why he isn't healing," you bit down, resigning yourself to breathe only through your nostrils as you concentrated hard on your task. "I just have to get it out in tim- Shit!" You wiped sweat away with a blood-stained hand.

"What? What is it?" Peter leaned closer.

"I think it punctured his heart..." you stammered, more tears welling in your eyes. You chased them away with a loud clearing of your throat.

Peter dropped the scotch bottle, the glass shattering and spilling amber liquid everywhere. Then, leaving you with no time to react, he lunged at your brother and the two struggled against one another.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop it! You two can fight it out if he… dies. But not while he's still breathing!" Your shout echoed in the loft.

They all stilled, even Astrid. You returned your attention back to Derek.

You had cleaned Derek's wounds as best you could, but Astrid's claw had pierced too deep into his heart. You were afraid you'd simply send Derek off to a far quicker death if you pulled it out. Maybe that would be a mercy, considering his state now.

Derek's body was burning way past the normal temperatures of any human fever. Almost like he was fighting off an infection. His skin was damp and his wounds not yet healed –that scared you. You compressed his larger cuts with the rags of his shirt, but there wasn't much else to do but wait.

Wait and watch him die.

You sniffled several times, trying to keep from progressing to full-on crying. Your heart heavy and your stomach twisting on itself.

"Theo, go to Scott, you can do more for him there. Take Markus with you. He isn't wanted here," Peter said without looking up from his nephew's dying form.

Markus took a step forward, "If you think I'm leaving my sister alone with yo--"

"Go with him," you said softly, not looking up from the blood-soaked rag. "I'll be fine."

Astrid was getting worse too. Her skin had turned leathery now, as though she was mummifying. Her eyes dulled in colour as cataracts formed over her filmy eyeballs. She couldn't see even though her eyes were wide open.

Peter picked himself off the floor and grabbed Derek's stake off the ground.

"What are you going to do with that?" you asked with no emotion. You knew exactly what he was going to do, you just didn't want to go forward with something unsaid.

"I'm going to save my nephew," he said through gritted teeth and he moved over to kneel next to Astrid. "Tell me how to save him!" he barked in her ear. From the way she didn’t react, you guessed her eardrums were the next to go in her decay cycle.

Her head craned too far back, popping sounds emanating from her sagging neck, "You're too late. Kill me. Don't kill me. It doesn't matter. It's up to him now,” one of her fingers pointed at Derek before falling clean off.

Peter growled before stabbing one of Astrid's bony legs under her now baggy armour.

She wheezed in pain.

Peter tilted his head to the side, twisting the stake in her tough, meatless leg, "Tell. Me. How!"

Astrid's jaw pulled wide as she tried to hold back a scream, a rip forming at the corner of her mouth.

"Peter stop!" You stood and pulled the stake out of her leg. "We aren't monsters."

His eyes flashed blue and he backed you away from him with a frightening snarl, canines chomping at the air close to your face, "That's where you're wrong. I am a monster!"

In lightning-quick movements, Peter pushed the stake into Astrid's heart and her whole body began to shrivel.

Between straggled breaths from burst air sacs, Astrid raised her head towards the light of the full moon, a melancholic smile crossing her dehydrated face. With what little life she had left, she whispered words not meant for anyone in this room, "I det här livet och nästa. Jag kommer se dig igen. Min kärlek..."

Then her head went limp, falling to her deflated chest as the ropes slipped off her body. Astrid was no more and in her place was a pathetic mummified corpse steadily turning to dust. Then she was nothing.

Suddenly, and violently, the weather changed. The wind grew tumultuous, a horrifically sharp scream carried with it. In the distant, lighting struck down in unnatural and frequent bursts of light. Somewhere in the dark clouds, a tornado began to swirl.

You and Peter ignored the chaos happening right outside the window. The two of you were locked in your own personal pandemoniums.

"Pull out the claw," Peter said darkly, having made up his mind.

"It's too close to his heart. If I-"

Peter's nose almost touched your own. His clawed fingers wrapping around your neck to pull you close, "His condition is only getting worse. Pull out the claw. If he's going to die, it's going to be quick. Put him out of his misery."

You shoved Peter away, but you knew, deep down, it would be the humane thing to do. And now you knew you had definitely gone insane if you were agreeing with Peter Hale.

“You just had to make me say I told you so,” he said bitterly, a tear streaming down his face. “Just like your mother.”

You knelt next to Derek, trembling fingers grazing his paling flesh. As you wrapped your hands around the tweezers gripping the claw, you whispered in his ear, "You said it took someone of tremendous resolve to go through what I've been through and have survived. I also believe it takes someone of great resolve to go through what you go through every day and still have the courage to wake up every morning. I admire that about you. I believe you still have some fight left, Derek… and I need you to survive this… because… because I have a question to ask you."

With a solemn teardrop, you pulled the claw out of his heart and crumbled to the floor, palms pressed together as you and Peter held your breaths.

An otherworldly green glimmer shone from inside Derek's open wound.

Finale!>>

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allgirlsareprincesses · 5 years

Text

Why Jasmine is the greatest Disney Princess

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while and I wanted to do more research before I did, but then the new Aladdin (2019) came out and HERE WE ARE. So this is me winging it with what I hope is still a pretty convincing case for Jasmine being the greatest Disney Princess so far.

What makes a great Disney Princess? Well, you could argue they all have something to offer: Snow White rocked some impressive sarcasm for a 14-year-old, Cinderella was pretty bold for her time, Sleeping Beauty was a dreamer with epic hair, Ariel is spunky and brave, Belle is bookish and kind, Pocahontas is regal and self-sacrificing, Rapunzel is sweet and empathetic, Tiana is passionate and hard-working, Merida is independent, and Anna is loving and faithful. There are others I didn’t include, of course, but the point is that there’s something to admire about every princess, and they all represent the modern woman in their own way. But did they need to be princesses in order to be these amazing characters? With the possible exceptions of Pocahontas and maybe Merida, I’d argue no. These stories would hardly be different, for the character at least, if she was any non-royal woman. And yes, I know Cinderella and Belle only became princesses by marriage, but even then, their stories could have been the same with any powerful man. It didn’t have to be a prince.

Of course, historical princesses and fantasy princesses are not the same thing, and we’re definitely talking about the latter here. Except for a few incredible and very unique ladies, most historical princesses were property whose carefully-preserved virginity was sold for a treaty, land, or a lot of money. They often lived and died miserable, their spectacular portraits notwithstanding. Fantasy princesses are, on the other hand, unabashed wish fulfillment for centuries of women who had little to hope for. These are the beautiful, powerful women we wish we could be, how we might see ourselves if our circumstances were different and nothing prevented us from realizing our potential. Fantasy princesses live the lives we want, and Disney princesses live the most flawless, perfect, clean version of that life. So by that metric, the greatest Disney princess might be the one who lives the most fully realized life that most girls can aspire to.

Jasmine in the original 1992 film

So, let’s talk about what we know of Jasmine (animated by the brilliant Mark Henn) from her introduction in the animated film. The first we see of her, she’s just rejected a suitor, so right out of the gate, we know she’s got no time for egomaniacs. A great trait, but not necessarily unique just yet. Belle also had zero tolerance for pompous douchebags. Next, we get some exposition setting up her conflict (and Aladdin’s) in that she’s legally bound to marry a prince, and she has a deadline. Naturally, she wants to marry for love, which is again sweet but not really original: Aurora wanted to marry for love, too, despite her betrothal. Then, Jasmine mentions that she’s never done a thing on her own, never had any real friends, and never even been outside the palace walls. This seems to be a hint that she might be spoiled and naive, if still sympathetic and appealing.

Finally, we get the line about “Maybe I don’t want to be a princess any more!” Ah, now that’s new. What does this mean? Is she declaring her ultimate goal, to reject her title and birthright, and become something new? Or is this setting up a lesson she’s going to learn about embracing her role? We don’t know, but suddenly we’re paying attention, trying to figure out if this is a spoiled brat or a girl on the verge of becoming a fully-realized woman. The next time we see her, Jasmine follows through on this thought, escaping over the palace wall to take her future into her own hands. We know now that, foolish or not, this is a woman with agency, who’s going to move the plot forward through her own actions rather than sit around and be an object for the hero.

In the market, we see Jasmine’s wonder at the world she’s never seen, but more importantly, we learn that she’s not just a self-absorbed teenager: she has a kind heart. She notices a hungry child and gives them food. True, she doesn’t understand that she needs to pay because she’s never had to do that, which is a consequence of her tremendous privilege. But, for someone who apparently had never before had direct contact with her people, simply recognizing hunger and instinctively seeking to correct it is encouraging. Importantly, this is also the first time we see her actions mirror Aladdin’s: we saw him offer food to a child only a few scenes before. The audience is starting to recognize that this girl is our hero’s equal (if not more).

Now, we come to the inevitable Damsel in Distress moment, and this is where Jasmine really shines. Caught off-guard by the abrupt cruelty of the outside world, she’s not quite able to talk her way out of having her hand chopped off for stealing, but thankfully Aladdin steps in to help. Jasmine, rather than being rattled and afraid, is intrigued and doesn’t miss a beat when her savior whispers “Just play along!” She follows his cues and immediately gives an Oscar-worthy performance as his insane sister, getting so into the ruse that she gives a glassy-eyed greeting to a camel as if it’s her doctor. To my knowledge, this kind of quick thinking is totally unique among the Disney princesses, certainly at the time. Even better, as we’ll see, Jasmine uses her smarts and acting ability several more times in the film, so this scene isn’t just a contrived meet-cute.

On the rooftops, we learn more about Jasmine: she’s genuinely grateful, she can graciously take a compliment (her blush when Aladdin tells her she “stands out” is adorable), and she is, in her own words “a fast learner,” at least when it comes to imitating Aladdin’s street sense. Finally, they arrive at his hovel and she’s entranced by his apparent freedom. Upon hearing how impressive he finds the palace, however, we see her sink back into her own problems, focusing on what she doesn’t have rather than her extraordinary wealth and luxury. From the audience’s perspective, this is definitely a flaw, but one that makes sense given her life experience up to that point. Once she and Aladdin connect over their mutual feeling of being “trapped,” Jasmine completely succumbs to his clumsy charms, and they nearly share a kiss UNTIL….

They are surprised by palace guards and the iconic “Do you trust me?” exchange takes place (this will set the tone for their entire relationship throughout all of the animated content that came after, but more on that later). Aladdin is captured and without a second thought, Jasmine reveals herself and in a commanding, regal tone, ORDERS the guards to release him. For a girl who declared only a few scenes ago that she didn’t “want to be a princess any more,” she changed her tune FAST when it suited her. In fact, from this point onward, she embraces her power and wields her position like a weapon, never again seeming to question her role as Princess of Agrabah. When the guards try to question her, she tells them her actions are “not your concern” and when they tell her she’ll have to take her complaint to Jafar, she gives the most menacing glare of any Disney heroine, ever (fight me), with a sinister “Believe me, I will.”

A quick note before we continue our recap of Jasmine’s epic badassery: during production of the animated Aladdin, the crew had a bit of a crisis with Jasmine being so amazing that she completely overshadowed the hero. Studio head Jeffrey Katzenberg (a horrible human who nonetheless brought a few nuggets of wisdom to the Disney Animation Renaissance of the 90s) is on tape saying he understands why Aladdin would like Jasmine, because she’s fantastic, but that he doesn’t understand why Jasmine would like him. At the time, Aladdin was written and drawn younger, scrawnier, more boy than man and more befitting his “street rat” title. There was a song about his mother, which also contributed to the impression of him as a child, and it quickly became clear that the hero was not really worthy of the heroine, as written. Aladdin was completely redesigned by supervising animator Glen Keane to have a more adult, heroic physique (despite the fact that much of his animation had already been completed), the mother character was removed, and Aladdin’s personality was patterned after popular film stars like Tom Cruise. To further “age up” the cast for this new, more adult take on the story, Jasmine voice actor Linda Larkin was trained to record all her lines in a lower register than her natural voice, making Jasmine sound more like a woman than a girl.

So, back to the palace (which, remember, she’d left because she didn’t “want to be a princess any more”) and Jasmine marching right up to Jafar to get in his face about the boy he took from the market. Still with that same commanding tone she used with the guards, the princess wastes no time on pleasantries and invades Jafar’s personal space, demanding answers and admitting no resistance. When he accuses Aladdin of kidnapping her, Jasmine doesn’t hesitate to tell Jafar she ran away, clearly more concerned about the boy’s freedom than any consequences she might suffer for her actions. But when she hears that Aladdin was executed, Jasmine mourns…. Not only for the kind young man who helped her, but for the damage that her selfishness caused. Though she blames Jafar when speaking to her father, Jasmine reveals to Rajah that she feels Aladdin’s death was “all [her] fault.” It’s not supposed to be her story, but we’re clearly seeing the princess learn a powerful lesson about the consequences of her actions. This is why we see Jasmine continue to mourn for multiple scenes, really right up until she realizes that Prince Ali is Aladdin: the guilt she feels is devastating. She’s reaching a new level of moral maturity even as the object of her affections is constructing an elaborate lie to win her back.

When Jafar is chastised by the Sultan for executing a criminal without consulting him first, he makes a silky and obviously insincere apology to Jasmine, who utters possibly her best line of the film: “At least some good will come of my being forced to marry. When I am Queen, I will have the power to get rid of YOU!” And then she marches off. DAMN, GIRL. And the best part is that Jafar takes her seriously. He knows that was no empty threat, and he discusses with Iago whether Jasmine will have him banished or simply beheaded. Tell me, when has a truly menacing Disney villain ever been that TERRIFIED of the heroine? That’s power, people, the kind that most women can only dream about. Jasmine has it and she’s going to USE IT. Jasmine, First of Her Name, Queen of Agrabah….

Sorry, where was I? Oh yes, Jasmine scaring the sh*t out of Jafar like the badass b*tch she is. So anyway, Jafar realizes the only path open to him is to marry Jasmine (and then kill her, of course), so we see that plot being hatched just as Prince Ali comes to town. Unsurprisingly, Jasmine is even less impressed by the princely pomp and circumstance than usual, if that’s possible, and she literally ignores the parade when she realizes what it is. Then she overhears Ali bragging to Jafar and the Sultan that he will “win your daughter” and she snaps with undisguised fury: “How dare you! All of you! Standing around deciding my future? I am not a prize to be won!” And again with the storming off (there’s a lot of that, I mean she’s nearly 18, after all). But seriously, this woman is my feminist icon. She literally just took down a potential suitor, her own father THE KING, and the second most powerful man in the kingdom with one line.

Finally, Ali shows up at her balcony and Jasmine is blunt: “I do NOT want to see you. Just leave me alone.” Of course, when Ali takes off his turban, she recognizes him immediately. She doubts for a moment when he lies to her, and then he starts attempting to impress her. This is the second time we see Jasmine turn to her considerable acting skills, and the first time she uses her considerable powers of seduction to fool a man: she stalks toward Ali like a she-wolf, telling him everything he wants to hear. She takes his compliment about her beauty (and remember, we’ve already seen her blushingly accept that same compliment before) and turns it into a weapon against him, drawing him in only to put him in his place as a “swaggering peacock.”

Naturally, Jasmine is intrigued by the magic carpet and the opportunity to taste freedom again, but it’s Aladdin’s ultimate tell of “Do you trust me?” that finally draws her into his arms and out into the night sky. Love, for this princess, is an expression of her desire for freedom: it’s what she chooses to do with that freedom, more than an end in itself. And both the music and lyrics of “A Whole New World” speak to that freedom as much as or more than romantic love. For two people who feel “trapped,” this song is the ultimate anthem. And as they soar, Aladdin tosses an apple to Jasmine with his signature move, and she’s again certain that it’s him. Rather than confront him directly about his lie, she again uses her smarts and performing ability to entrap Ali into admitting he’s Aladdin. She really lets loose on him once he realizes he’s caught, asking if he thinks she’s stupid. Then, Jasmine demands the truth…. And of course she doesn’t get it. Though this naivete could be viewed as a flaw, we know that their early relationship was built on trust, so it makes sense for Jasmine to bestow this on her suitor without reservation. We’ve seen so much of her harsher side ever since Aladdin was dragged away a prisoner, so this glimpse of her soft heart is refreshing and reminds us of why she is so extraordinary.

Back at the palace, Jasmine is in full teen-girl-in-love mode, having her first kiss and then dreamily humming as she brushes her hair (this is the only time we see her hair unbound in the film, signifying her achievement of freedom through her love for Aladdin). Upon discovering Jafar’s plot to marry her, Jasmine of course refuses forcefully, declaring without hesitation her love for Prince Ali. During the ensuing confrontation, Jasmine is a bit more the object for Aladdin than his equal, unlike in the rest of the film, but this doesn’t last. We next see her excitedly preparing to introduce her betrothed to the kingdom, even as he tries to confess the truth to her. While this analysis focuses on Jasmine, it’s notable Aladdin respects her enough to attempt to admit his lies and reveal his true identity, however belated. This shows how worthy she is, that in spite of the risk of losing her, Aladdin wants to be honest and be her equal partner. This is another theme we’ll come back to later.

When Jafar steals the lamp and makes himself Sultan, he demands that Jasmine and her father bow to him. Once again, she defiantly refuses, even as her own father begins to bend in submission. When Aladdin’s identity is then revealed, Jasmine is understandably startled, but there’s no indication she’s deeply hurt or angry, especially as she’s confronted with a much greater immediate threat in Jafar, and that Aladdin is obviously attempting to protect her. Alone with Jafar and reduced to a slave girl in chains, Jasmine still tries to fight back in any way she can. She pleads with Jafar to show mercy to her father, then throws a goblet of wine in his face when he suggests she marry him. Understandably, she’s terrified when Jafar uses a wish to attempt to force her to fall in love with him. Again, since giving her love is Jasmine’s ultimate expression of her desire for freedom, to be forced to love against her will is the greatest possible threat to that freedom. It’s not just that it’s a heinous thing for any woman or person, but that it’s the worst for Jasmine, specifically, because of what we know of her character.

A quick note here about the similarity of Jasmine’s situation to another princess who has recently joined the Disney family: Princess Leia. Like Jasmine, she is captured and chained by a villain (Jabba the Hutt) and dressed in a “sexy slave” outfit meant to demean her as a sexual object. Also like Jasmine, Leia keeps fighting back, and eventually finds an opportunity to turn the tables on her lascivious captor and use the conditions of her captivity (literally, her chains) to destroy him. In both cases, there tends to be undue audience attention to how sexy the character looks (hello, Male Gaze), rather than how she uses her strengths to defeat the villain.

So then, Jasmine spots Aladdin creeping up the steal the lamp, and this is where she cements her place as the greatest Disney princess, IMO. Just as she has several times before, she uses her wits and her Oscar-worthy acting skills, and makes Jafar believe that his wish has been granted. In a startlingly mature turn for a G-rated film, Jasmine uses her sexual appeal as a weapon against the villain, to enable her lover to defeat him. All undulating hips and shoulders, a sultry purr, and excessive flattery, she slinks toward Jafar, distracting him as Aladdin draws closer to the lamp. When it seems Jafar might suddenly notice his enemy, Jasmine takes the drastic and self-sacrificial step of pulling him in for a passionate kiss. What’s notable about this moment is that Aladdin, in a classically male possessive moment, becomes just as distracted as Jafar, and misses the opportunity Jasmine gave him. It’s another example of how, though Aladdin has many wonderful qualities, the princess really is still out of his league. The filmmakers made her so brilliant that it’s tough for the “diamond in the rough” main character to measure up.

Her ruse having ultimately failed, Jasmine still tries to fight back physically against Jafar, but of course she can’t. But Aladdin can, so he yells to her to get the lamp and she nearly does, until Jafar traps her in a massive hourglass. At this point, she’s back into Damsel in Distress mode since it is after all Aladdin’s story (I guess), but thankfully our hero uses his own cunning to trap Jafar in time to free Jasmine. To his credit, the first thing Aladdin does when he faces his lady after the battle is apologize for lying. Her response is perfect: “I know why you did.” She doesn’t say it’s okay, she just expresses empathy for him, because she doesn’t doubt his feelings for her. His judgement, maybe, but not his love. And then, she doesn’t hesitate to express her love for him, directly. And finally, when Aladdin tells her he must do the right thing and “stop pretending to be something [he’s] not,” she says “I understand.” She accepts that him making the right decision means they can’t be together. It hurts for sure, but she has the moral fortitude to cope with it. Seriously, Aladdin doesn’t deserve this goddess.

So Aladdin makes the right choice and frees the Genie, and then the Sultan changes the law so Jasmine can marry him. Her father’s justification for this decision is that Aladdin “proved his worth,” rather than that his daughter has the right to choose ANY suitor she likes, which is kind of unfortunate. If anyone has proved their worth at this point in the story, it’s Jasmine, who has defended herself, her family, her city, and her lover throughout the film. Fortunately, this is something the creators of the 2019 film recognized and corrected…. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

As far as we knew at the end of the original film, Aladdin and Jasmine had married, and I believe that even if you considered ONLY this movie canon, the point that Jasmine is the greatest Disney princess stands on solid ground. But as we know, that was NOT the last we saw of these characters, and all the content since then has only reinforced how uniquely awesome Jasmine is.

Jasmine in the animated sequel content

After the smash success of Aladdin in the theaters, and the Little Mermaid TV show, Disney read the tea leaves and decided to create the first of its direct-to-video sequels. These cheaply-made, poorly-written debacles (often derisively referred to as “cheapquels”) would be a staple of studio income for some time, and were an intense topic of debate as well. That’s a tale for another day, but the point is that the first of these was The Return of Jafar, in 1994.

I’m not going to spend a lot of time on this film simply because it’s horrible and I have zero desire to watch it again, but I remember Jasmine being a lot more damsel-in-distress and less badass than she was in the original film, right down to her voice being higher than the carefully-crafted and mature vocals she had in the theatrical release. The film was mostly designed to set up the TV show, by removing the obvious remaining threat of Jafar, rehabilitating Iago for additional comic relief, and bringing back the Genie. It did all of these poorly, but the show afterward was better for having these issues resolved before it began. And the series, whatever its faults, had lots and lots of great Jasmine moments.

For example, in only the second episode of the entire series, Bad Mood Rising, Aladdin and Jasmine are sent on a diplomatic mission to a neighboring kingdom, to establish trade. Interestingly, there’s no indication that it’s Aladdin’s mission, merely that the two of them are “the delegation from Agrabah” and the episode starts with Jasmine giving Aladdin crap for his lack of diplomatic experience. They find the kingdom devastated by famine, and discover this is because the king, a young child, is enchanted such that his moods determine the weather. The kid’s boredom and tantrums are causing his people to suffer, so our heroes attempt to entertain him. Only Jasmine succeeds by telling him a story, in a delightfully direct reference to Scheherazade from the original 1001 Arabian Nights. The boy king is so fascinated by Jasmine’s storytelling, he commands her to stay with him forever.

At first, Aladdin and Jasmine try to escape, but when confronted with the suffering of the people, Jasmine agrees to stay with the king. Aladdin of course protests, and Jasmine utters my absolute favorite line ever: “I was raised a princess, Aladdin. And a princess knows: the needs of the people outweigh her own.” Like WHAAAAAT? I was about nine when I saw this and I swear it blew my tiny mind. I loved princesses, but the idea of them having a responsibility to their subjects had never once crossed my mind. Hearing Jasmine declare herself a servant and protector of the people completely changed my perspective on mythical (and to some extent, actual) royalty, and influenced my opinions of fictional princesses forever.

Jasmine freely chooses to go with the young king, even refusing to accompany Aladdin when he comes back for her again, but we see her mourning the life she lost. Even in a cheap and immature kids’ show, it’s clear that she’s made a real sacrifice to save the people. Thankfully, our heroes are able to teach the boy king that being kind feels good, and he releases the princess back to her city. I noticed when rewatching this episode that Aladdin’s first instinct is always fighting and physical aggression, whereas Jasmine turns to diplomacy. This is both a trend throughout the series, and also a setup for Aladdin’s eventual maturation. The show nearly always casts Aladdin’s aggressive stance as mistaken, which is an interesting commentary given the time.

In a much later episode, called “The Ethereal,” Jasmine has a dream foretelling the destruction of Agrabah. She is, of course, extremely disturbed, especially when events from her dream start occurring in sequence. Eventually a sort of Angel of Death called The Ethereal arrives to pass judgement on the city. We are made to understand that this is a very serious threat, as this same being has already destroyed Atlantis, Pompeii, and Babylon. While Aladdin attempts to make a magical spear that will destroy The Ethereal, Jasmine and her father take her on a tour of Agrabah’s wonders, to convince her to spare the city. They show her the fine library, the marketplace, and works of art, but The Ethereal is unimpressed. She begins to rain fire down on Agrabah in a fairly Biblical vision of the apocalypse, complete with smoking rubble and screaming citizens.

Aladdin attempts to use his spear to nullify the Ethereal’s powers, but his efforts fail. Our heroes come to accept that the city will be destroyed, so they turn their attention to saving as many of Agrabah’s people as they can. Jasmine sees a child about to be crushed by falling debris, so she uses the same pole-vaulting move Aladdin taught her at the beginning of the theatrical film (nice continuity, Disney TV writers!) to leap over the rubble and push the boy out of the way. She is then crushed by the falling tower. Just in case you weren’t SURE that they just killed off the princess in a Disney property, they have Aladdin finding her body in the rubble and saying in a devastated whisper, “She…. she’s gone.”

Holy sh*t, Disney, did you just DO that??? What? Keep in mind that this is at least two years before Hercules was released in theaters, in which Meg was also crushed by a falling column when she pushed Herc out of the way. So not only did Jasmine sacrifice herself first, as far as audiences were concerned, but she did so for her people, not just her lover. This is not to say that Meg’s act was selfish, of course, but it’s notable that Jasmine’s sacrifice was for someone she wasn’t particularly close to, yet she acted without hesitation all the same.

As the people of Agrabah visibly mourn their princess, The Ethereal floats down with a smile and says “I have seen what I needed to see. Your princess’s sacrifice makes it clear: she understood.” She restores Agrabah, then resurrects Jasmine, who tells Aladdin “It’s the people. The people make Agrabah great.” The Ethereal then warns them not to forget this lesson, and leaves.

Though these are the two episodes that most stand out in my mind, they clearly demonstrate that Jasmine thinks of herself not as Aladdin’s girlfriend, but as a public servant, a political figure with responsibilities to her people and a genuinely empathetic heart for them. It makes very clear that when the Sultan’s reign ends, Jasmine will absolutely be the ruler of Agrabah. While this is never stated explicitly to my memory, it’s obvious that Jasmine would be the wisdom and power behind the throne, as there is no clear arc built around preparing Aladdin for any kind of leadership. Despite the Sultan’s proclamation in the original film that Aladdin will be Sultan, it seems he’s really more of Jasmine’s consort, which appears to suit both of them just fine.

This leads me to my last point about the TV series, and one that segues well into the “threequel” that ended the animated content: Aladdin and Jasmine’s relationship is treated in a surprisingly mature fashion. What I mean is, though the writing on the show is often cheesy and a little cringeworthy, this is also a kids’ show that uniquely features a committed, long-term adult relationship. They often reference their plans to marry, and frequently say “I love you” to one another. Though there are ups and downs in their relationship, they remain committed and mostly very honest with one another, consistently demonstrating that their bond still rests on that trust that was so heavily emphasized in the 1992 film.

One episode in particular demonstrates this deep commitment, called Eye of the Beholder. In it, recurring villainess Mirage transforms Jasmine into a snake, to test Aladdin’s love. Aladdin determinedly sets out to find a way to break the spell and change Jasmine back. When they are unable to find an antidote, a devastated Jasmine tells Aladdin to leave her, believing that she will be a snake forever. Instead of leaving, Aladdin eats an enchanted fruit that also turns HIM into a snake, declaring to her “If we can’t be together as humans, then we’ll be together as snakes.” A furious Mirage screams “No, this was supposed to tear you apart, not bring you closer together!” And of course the episode ends with them being transformed back into their human forms.

While this is definitely more of an Aladdin moment than a Jasmine one, it’s important that her lover is shown being committed to her, because it demonstrates that he is truly worthy of her. Remember that in the original film, it was a major problem during production that Jasmine overshadowed Aladdin, so seeing him grow and become an equal partner is tremendously important to keep the audience invested in their relationship. I appreciate that instead of forced breakup plotlines, the writers of the series chose to show Aladdin and Jasmine growing even closer over the course of the show’s run, making them excellent romantic role models for kids.

Eventually, Disney chose to bring Aladdin and Jasmine’s story to a close, creating Aladdin and the King of Thieves in 1996. Blessedly, this film again featured Robin Williams as the Genie, and some much better animation than what we saw in Return of Jafar or the TV series. The story started with an obnoxiously-Westernized wedding, which was then interrupted by the appearance of the legendary 40 Thieves. We see here the return of Badass Jasmine, who punches out one of the thieves as payback for “ruining [her] wedding.”

Consulting an Oracle, Aladdin learns that his father, whom he had presumed dead, is still alive. There next follows another of my favorite Jasmine moments. She sings a beautiful song to Aladdin, about why she loves him and how special he is to her. The key line is “People like you don’t just come out of thin air.” Aladdin also has a verse trying to describe his painful childhood, including the wrenching line “Your father’s a man who taught you who you are; mine was never there.” I love the acknowledgement there that the Sultan, despite his faults, has been a good father to Jasmine, and that in particular, he shaped her and made her understand her place in the world. At the same time, Aladdin spoke to a generation of lonely kids with Daddy Issues, and there was Princess Jasmine, listening sympathetically and offering support.

The song ends with Jasmine encouraging Aladdin to go find his father: “Our wedding can wait. I think it’s worth a small delay. And won’t it be great to have your father see our wedding day.” No bridezilla here! Jasmine is happy to support her partner and put his needs first. When Aladdin learns that his father is “trapped within the world of the 40 Thieves,” Jasmine tells him “Take as long as you need.” Wow. He really, really doesn’t deserve her.

Aladdin goes off, finds out his dad, Cassim, really did abandon him and his mother, and confronts him about it. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the movie, but I remember being fascinated by how Aladdin didn’t let his father off the hook, but told him that his family had needed him. In an attempt to rehabilitate him, Aladdin brings Cassim back to the palace, where of course temptation gets the better of him and he gets caught stealing (again). Out of a sense of grudging loyalty to his family, Aladdin frees his father, but at the border of the kingdom, refuses to continue on with him. Cassim points out that Aladdin is a criminal now for helping him escape, and tries to convince him to leave Agrabah together. It’s at this point that Aladdin finally becomes a real man, defiantly shouting at his father, “I won’t walk out on Jasmine!” and turning his back on Cassim. DAMN RIGHT BOI, YOU TELL HIM. And as his father rides away, Aladdin returns to Agrabah to face the consequences of his actions.

Of course, they forgive him immediately and Jasmine even helps Aladdin rescue his dad later, but how great is it to finally see our hero show that he really is worthy of the princess’s heart? After this whole story has been told, this is where we end up: with Aladdin reaffirming his commitment to Jasmine, because homegirl is a damn QUEEN, thankyouverymuch. So Aladdin and Jasmine win the day and are finally married, and while we don’t hear anything of their lives together afterward, it seems like they probably had a wonderful life together, and that Jasmine was a wise and fair ruler with a supportive consort who always put her first. Or at least that’s the headcanon I’ve developed over the years.

Jasmine in the 2019 Live-Action Film

So this brings us to the latest of Disney’s live-action remakes…. BUT FIRST! Some context: I’m pretty lukewarm on this film. It’s fine, but IMHO it doesn’t hold a candle to the original animated version. That said, this rant isn’t about critiquing the film as a whole, so I’m going to set all of my nitpicks aside and focus just on the treatment of Jasmine, and whether she is STILL the greatest Disney princess in her newest incarnation.

Short answer: Yep, she is. While I can’t be certain that the writers for this movie had watched any of the TV series, I was struck by their choice of arc for Jasmine: whereas in the original film, her goal was simply freedom (expressed by loving whomever she wanted), her goal here is to literally rule Agrabah. That’s incredibly bold and of course anachronistic, but remember that we’re talking about a fantasy princess here, not an historical one. As in the show, Jasmine demonstrates an understanding of statecraft when she urges her father to maintain peace with the kingdom’s allies. Since she is interfering with his plans for a coup, Jafar insists she remain silent and enchants the Sultan into agreeing. This leads to an “I want” song for Jasmine, which she did not have in the original, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

While this Jasmine is missing some of the endearing traits of her animated predecessor, like the quick thinking and the acting skills, her ambitions to leadership create a similar problem to that of the original film. Remember that the 1992 filmmakers never quite solved the problem of their Jasmine overshadowing the hero, and now, with a new arc of her own that really has nothing to do with Aladdin, this Jasmine doesn’t really NEED him. Unfortunately, this leads to their two stories happening in parallel, rather than as part of a clear singular plot. Worse, it means that the climax of the film downplays Jasmine’s role in favor of Aladdin, robbing her of that wonderful moment from the animated film in which she tricked Jafar to help her lover. In the end, Jasmine’s achievement is her father formally declaring her his successor, and marrying Aladdin is more of an incidental bonus.

Issues with story structure aside, this Jasmine is much more academic than the street-smart girl from the animated content. She’s clearly well-studied in geography and diplomacy, which is why she has no patience for doltish princes like the one she rejects at the beginning of the film. She even has the self-awareness to recognize how being cooped up in the palace makes her an unfit leader, which is why she’s in the market the day she meets Aladdin. Whereas 1992 Jasmine left for selfish reasons - she wanted to be free of the royal pressures she faced - 2019 Jasmine left the palace specifically to learn how to serve her people. This is a level of maturity that the animated princess does not reach until fairly late in the TV series. While I miss the feisty, sharp-witted girl from my childhood, I have to admit that I love the compassionate, driven, calculating woman depicted in this new film, as well.

Which brings me back to the new song, “Speechless.” First and foremost, it’s fantastically performed by Naomi Scott, who has easily the strongest set of pipes in the cast. The musical style is out of place with the other songs, and the scene itself is a weird music video dropped into the middle of an otherwise tense moment nearing the film’s climax, BUT! It’s such a great girl-power ballad that it really doesn’t matter. Honestly, the lyrics don’t really even reflect Jasmine’s inner struggle THAT precisely, but this is because the song isn’t really about her, it’s about the audience, specifically the young girls in the audience. Disney understands that girls will project onto Jasmine as they do all the princesses, so they’ve given us the new “Let It Go” to belt out when we need to get psyched up about anything. I mean, I could easily hear this being played at a Women’s March or similar event. It might not make a lot of sense in the film, but Jasmine is definitely the perfect character to deliver this manifesto to the young women of 2019.

Point being, the only must-have on my list for the 2019 remake was that it not ruin my beloved Princess of Agrabah, and blessedly, they didn’t. And I think she still holds a solid first place among the princesses of the Disney lexicon, as the only one to seriously treat her role as a head of state. Pocahontas, Merida, and Moana all had moments of service to their people as well, but none with quite the boldness, cunning, and selflessness that Jasmine achieved in all of her many incarnations. I assume that Disney is seeing dollar signs and will put out another live-action sequel at some point, and it will probably be terrible, but honestly I don’t mind seeing more Jasmine as long as she continues to be the example of a powerful princess.

So thanks for reading my first unnecessarily-long Tumblr rant, and if you made it all the way to the end, please comment or reblog and let me know what you think!

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