#the only time iago says thank you is for the bit

[accultant]

@swarmcall

❝ Kongratulations to your fertilization, Iago. ❞

Iago looks up from the pocket they had been mending in their cloak, squinting at Cricket, trying to parse just what the Hells he says to them. The strange little bug seems to be under the impression of... something. Something Iago can vaguely piece together after staring at him silently for a few beats longer - but is still completely clueless as to where this is coming from.

Hm. So peculiar. Iago sometimes finds his oddness quite charming ( perhaps not so much when he's making suggestions about their fertilization, but, ). They always find it amusing.

They look back to their stitches and continue working, "Ah, yes. Very kind of you, Cricket, thank you."

[xcerizex]

"raise your arms, strike a pose. your mask must be perfect, as perfect as a rose."

In which a simple stage play has more than just curtains hiding secrets.

(fem!summoner, gender neutral!polaris, sirius, angst, othello, character study(?), shenanigans, 7.4k words, lazy at the end)

"Tell me again why am I here?"

Spica narrows his eyes in clear disapproval. "If you are unsatisfied with the current arrangements, I can make it so that the one onstage is you instead."

"Yeah, not happening."

Alpheratz shakes his head in mild frustration and leans back with his arms crossed. The whole Guide Committee is currently stationed inside Contell's auditorium, assisting several other sorcerers for an upcoming play. Both Vega and Arcturus are off somewhere else helping with the props, while Spica reviews the paperwork in his hand.

Pollux? He's sleeping on the front row, probably tired from practicing his lines. Comically, there is a stack of items balancing atop of his head thanks to Alpheratz's magic–and boredom, creating an impressive show of magical dexterity. It's only at times like this does he ever use his magic for anything skillful, but Alpheratz himself begs to differ.

"It's not like they need all of us, roping in the whole committee is way too much and too unnecessary." The frown on his face is clear, speaking loudly of his disapproval–even if his mouth doesn't.

Spica continues his work heedless of Alpheratz's complaints, "The sorcerers are relying on us for their safety, it never hurts to take caution. Especially after recent events."

At those words, Alpheratz directs his stare to the girl on Pollux's left, silently reciting her lines in her head. She has taken the role of Othello's wife and diligently memorizes the dialogue of the whole play, not wanting to miss a single thing. It's only when she senses his gaze boring into her does she break free from her immersion, and finally glances up from the script she has been revising over the past hour.

"Don't look at me like that." She may not be a renowned multitasker, but she could still hear everything despite the razor focus on her lines–including Alpheratz's thoughts–and gives him a flat stare in return. "If you've got a problem, sleep it off."

He whistles at the dark bags under her eyes, she is clearly more cranky than usual. "Maybe I will, if only Spica would let me off early. I'm not sleeping with him here."

"Not a chance."

Spica's answer comes quick.

"I'm not even doing anything!"

That's true. Alpheratz and Spica were supposed to be in charge of the safety measures surrounding the stage, only for Spica to end up doing most of the work, leaving Alpheratz to his own devices.

The tower above Pollux's head sways as dangerously as ever.

Spica ignores him and returns to his work, but the Summoner is only a tad bit more sympathetic and gives him a troubled smile before returning to her lines. She would usually be more willing to help him out but her days of sleepless practice has gotten to her, leaving her in no mood to assist him and his lazy habits. Alpheratz thinks it's slightly unfair.

"Besides, you're working too hard." He tries his chance to get a way out of here. "Don't you think it's about time you took a break?"

"Nah."

At times like this, the Summoner resembles Spica's quick wit a little too much.

Alpheratz gives up immediately and slumps on his seat, "I didn't think you'd be so enthusiastic about this play. Did not expect that at all." He says this offhandedly, not expecting her to respond, but it's when he takes a closer at her, does he sees her staring at the stage.

Sirius is on that stage.

Out of the whole Guide Committee, only three of them have taken roles in the play. The Summoner as Othello's wife, Pollux as the Iago's wife, and Sirius...

Sirius is playing the role of Othello himself.

When the cast was announcement, nobody was surprised at Sirius' involvement. He was known for his love of theater, and even more so for his capricious attitude. No one batted an eye when it was announced he got the main role, and all Spica did was remind him to not neglect his duties.

Inspired, Pollux applied for the second round of auditions, and ended up getting stuck with one of the more unpopular roles. After some encouragement from Arcturus, Pollux accepted the role as Iago's wife, and consistently practices with a long skirt so that he won't fall down when the time comes he has to go onstage.

The play was mainly held as a way of uplifting the students' spirits after the various accidents that has happened over the last few weeks, starting off with that incident at the garden, to the entire fiasco at the gala.

What the entire Guide Committee hadn't expected however, is that the source of the chaos herself had also volunteered to act onstage. And as Desdemona no less.

"Well." After some time, the Summoner finally responds to Alpheratz's statement. "I was a theater kid before I came here. And while I would usually prefer becoming a part of the musical staff, I don't think it's too bad to change it up every once in a while."

She's still watching the stage.

"I'm very surprised though." Closing her script, she takes another good look at the cover. "I didn't expect the work of Othello to be here of all places."

Intrigued, Spica finally shows interest in something else that aren't the papers in his hand. "Did they have this in Mid Earthiem?"

"The story? Yes."

A soft snore interrupts them and they all watch with trepidation as Pollux stirs a little, the tower on his head wobbling precariously. The Summoner breathes an inward sigh of relief as Pollux goes back to sleep, and the tower becomes stable once more.

"It's a very upsetting story."

"I guess you're right."

The Summoner can't blame the frown on Alpheratz's face on his usual grumpiness - the story is indeed not a very happy one - and she returns back to staring at Sirius onstage.

"Don't you feel uncomfortable on having to perform with him of all people?"

The Summoner shrugs her shoulders, "Not really. Sirius may be a weirdo, but he's a great actor."

"That's not what I meant."

She knows it's not, but pretends not to know anyway.

Alpheratz finally decides to add another item to the tower on Pollux's head, and carefully levitates the script in Pollux's arms to balance it at the very top. It stays, and Spica silently marvels at the ability of bored, and the things they'd do to quell said boredom.

"May I suggest to you, Alpheratz, that you have yet to check the anti-combustion procedures for the curtains?"

Alpheratz starts to grumble, but the Summoner has already immersed herself in Sirius's rehearsal. She watches him grip the area over his heart - as if in agony - while lamenting about his wife's unfaithfulness. When a person is on stage, most can't see the expressions of the actors, which is why they have to resort to looking at their body language and right now, his shoulders are drawn tight and his stance tense, looking as if he might lunge at someone viciously should they draw his ire.

'I wonder how he got so good at acting.'

Both Spica and Alpheratz are still quarrelling, and in an attempt to get them to stop, she comes up with a rather intrusive thought. She faces Alpheratz with a look more serious than ever and regards the trembling tower on Pollux's head.

"What if I just toppled the thing myself?"

It's as they say, if you can't beat them, join them.

"You wouldn't f******* dare."

Everyone is promptly interrupted, as Pollux finally wakes up from his nap and tries to sit upright. The last thing they hear is Spica click his tongue, when the sudden disturbance of balance leaves the whole tower toppling over itself, giving Pollux a brutal wake-up call.

The sound of rushing water fills the kitchen as Sirius washes the dishes in the sink with an unusual atmosphere of homeliness. It's dark out, but the sight of the city past the windows is as bright as ever. Even at this time of the day, people are still moving about.

Finishing up, he places the last dish inside the cabinet, closing it with a small click. He takes his time surveying the rest of kitchen in hunt for any more things to clean up after, a habit he had formed ever since he started living here.

Once he's sure there aren't any undetected messes, he makes his way out from kitchen and walks into the living room. There is a little bit of impatience in his steps, as he walks a pace slightly faster than he usually would–if only to make his way back to his master sooner.

Entering the living room, he sees them holding an object in their hands with their back turned to him.

"What are you holding, Polaris?"

Sirius is curious about the book in his master's hands. Hearing him, Polaris turns around and regards him with a smile.

"It's a book from Mid Earthiem, having found its way through the wormholes no doubt. Would you like to read it together?"

"Um..."

Around this time, Sirius should be about 13-14 years old and is still considered young. He is at the age where spending time with one's guardian like this would be considered embarrassing among his peers, but he was never one to care about such things. The only reason he hesitates is because he's unsure if he would be able to enjoy the otherworldly story at all.

But time spent with his master is a rare thing, that's all it takes for him to agree.

"Yes, please."

The both of them seat themselves on the couch and Polaris begins to recite the story the way one would tell a bedtime tale to their child. Sirius is slightly embarrassed by being treated as such, but he doesn't mind it. His master's voice is soothing and calm, having the ability to soothe a child's tantrum, quell the chaos of masses, or just read a book. In this small world where only he and his master exists, he doesn't mind having to put up with the way Polaris treats him. Still, the story is interesting in its own way, and Sirius can't help but marvel at the literacy diversity between Bound Arlyn and Mid Earthiem.

However as the story continues on, the previously cozy and familial atmosphere between them turns into something more somber, as the story reaches its fevered climax. Desdemona's death.

"He did what now?!"

Sirius stands up in righteous anger. Polaris is neither startled nor disapproving of his outburst however, and simply regards him with a curious look in their eyes.

"Does it upset you that badly?"

Sirius is still quivering with rage, "I..."

He falls silent. Realizing how angry and loud he'd been, he quietly sits back down the couch.

"I'm sorry, Polaris."

All they do is simply chuckle. "Don't be. It's good to have such strong sense of morality, I'm quite happy about that actually." And they mean it, Sirius has mostly done nothing but follow Polaris' line of thinking ever since they took him in and rarely ever rebels. Having his own opinion meant that he was growing up well.

Sirius shakes his head. "It's not that Polaris." His gaze scatters across the room like fickle light.

"I just think that...if Othello had truly loved his wife, he wouldn't have killed her, much less hurt her at all."

Maybe he is a romanticist.

Polaris reaches out to ruffle his hair, and all Sirius can do is groan endearingly. His master continues to treat him like a dog, patting and smoothing his hair in pride, but Sirius does not mind the extra affection.

"That's a good mindset to have."

Polaris praises him, but the praise only leaves Sirius confused.

"What kind of mindset would that be, master?"

The Tower of Babilli looms outside the windows of their home. Ominous, oppressive, and promises a premonition of tragedy.

The hand that rests on his head is as warm as ever.

"The kind that would never hurt anyone they care for."

Sirius remembers the day Polaris announced that they would recommend Othello to be written down officially as a work of literature in Bound Arlyn. He remembers asking his master why, only to receive a cheeky, non-assuming answer in return.

"Because you liked it."

Sirius begged to differ at that time, but he didn't care enough to say anything.

Several years later in commemoration of Polaris' passing, they constructed a play based on the story of Othello, wishing to honour every and all of their contributions. The story has withstood the erosion of time even till now, becoming something that even sorcerers can enjoy casually should they find themselves in the fancy to go to the theater down town.

How disgusting, how flippant. When he sees the happy smiles on their faces, he feels as if he could kill them, kill himself.

A loud crash resounds across the room, as a vase falls off the nightstand and Sirius bangs his fists against the floor repeatedly. The broken shards have pierced the skin of his hand, but even as blood trickles down his palms and splatter across the floorboard, he does not care. This pain is nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

He lifts his head up to gaze at the Tower of Babilli through his window, and only the mirror will ever the see the pure look of despair, anger, and sorrow etched on his face like hard marble.

He has just lost the one important person in his life.

But Sirius refuses to believe that this is the end. No matter what it takes, even if he must become the devil himself, he will do whatever it takes to bring them back.

No matter what.

Rising unsteadily on to his feet, he faces in front of his mirror in what must have been ages for the first time. He sees the light coat of dust over the surface of the mirror, and his tear-stricken face.

He sees someone incredibly weak.

'That won't do.'

He stares at his reflection, asking what would it take, what must he do, and how he would have to change to achieve it. The pressure in which he looks at himself may crack the mirror, before it cracks himself. After a long, long time, he finds his answer. And when he does, he realizes that he's still staring at himself.

He tries smiling.

It looks fake.

His face immediately reverts back into a frustrated frown, before he forces himself to smile again.

Be more cunning.

It looks too forced, try again.

Be more natural.

Sirius tries thinking about his happier times, maybe the smile will look less fake.

Be less kind.

He puts a stop to that quickly, and tries again. Only this time, he makes sure not to make it look too sincere, in case people see him as a good person.

Be the villain.

He will play the role of the villain, if it means the hero can take the stage once more.

They do.

That night, the night after that, and many other countless nights, he will try again, again, and again to smile the way he needs to.

Later, his smile is just the way he wanted it to be.

But he can never smile the way he used to. To smile a smile filled with pure, unadulterated joy. No more, he can't. Not even if he wanted to.

In his eyes, it is a small price to pay.

But when he sees the girl step on that stage for the first time, Sirius can't help but feel his smile is more fake than ever.

'You were wrong, Polaris.'

He has already hurt her.

"Did they have the make the dress this fancy!?"

The Summoner covers her mouth to prevent herself from bursting out into the laughter. It helps only slightly, the broken huffs of warbled laughter only getting louder and louder the longer Pollux twirls around with his fancy new costume in agitation.

Fitted in a velvet dress, Pollux looks positively feminine. His usually short pink hair has grown longer–thanks to a potion brewed by the theater club–giving him the look of an elegant lady. Unfortunately, no magic found in any corner of Bound Arlyn could ever hope to cure his innate clumsiness, so all they can do is pray and hope he won't set anything on fire on set as he flails about.

"Stop moving so much."

The laces on the back swing frantically as Pollux moves about with similar energy and Vega comes up behind him in an attempt to grab him still by the shoulders. The sight makes the Summoner lose her composure unfortunately, and she starts guffawing.

"Is everyone ready?" A sorcerer from the theater club pokes his head into the dressing room to check on them. Seeing Pollux restrained by the arms judo style by Vega, she has to control the impulse to run away.

"Not yet, I still have to tie my hair up." The Summoner quickly resumes her preparations, but the sorcerer is understanding and simply nods her head.

"Alright, then. Once your ready quickly head backstage." Pollux is finally free from Vega's death grip, and straightens up to tidy his extensions before scrambling away.

"What am I, some kid's toy!?"

They hear Pollux shout at them as he runs out of the room and promptly disappears, probably to get ready for the stage. The Summoner stops laughing and turns her head towards Vega.

"Why'd you do that Vega?"

He shakes his head in exasperation, "He could've knocked something over something had he continued to panic. You know how prone he is to accidents."

The Summoner can't help but agree in her head.

Despite the fact that Sirius is nowhere to be found, no one is worried. Sure he comes and goes at unexpected intervals, has a severe lack of decorum, and tends to drop most of his duties at the drop of a hat, but they know that Sirius wouldn't miss out on the chance to enjoy himself, especially if it involves theater.

Which is why even as the clock ticks by, no sorcerers are worried enough to come looking for him, and if they did, it wouldn't be out of concern for him. Except for the Summoner herself.

He disappears often, yes. But she's still worried.

The Summoner is still struggling with her hair–not having had enough practice with old fashioned hair styles–and considers abandoning the entire updo to look for Sirius instead, until she hears a knock on the door.

"Oh? You're still here?"

Speak of the devil.

She secretly feels relieved at his appearance."Yeah. I just can't seem to..." She tugs at the end of the ribbon in an attempt to tighten her bun, only for it to all come undone miserably in one fell swoop.

"...get this right."

Silence fills the room and the Summoner silently curses at herself. Of all the things she had to be unprepared for, it was her hair.

"Don't worry too much about it. I'll get it, eventually." She raises her arms to the back of her head, ready to try again. The soreness of her arms from holding them up for so long–plus the combination of slight panic and frustration as the seconds pass by–clouds her senses, the reason why the sound of Sirius' footsteps coming closer does not register in her mind.

Which is why when she feels a cold hand grazing her wrists, she nearly yelps in surprise.

"The Summoner is quite careless, and not at all aware of her surroundings. What if someone wanted to kill you?"

His words are antagonistic, but his touch is somewhat gentle, elegant as he takes the ribbon from her and his fingers travel down to edge of her nape where her hair rests. Gathering a bunch of strands in his hands, he gets set to work.

"Your lucky it was me. So why not let me do your hair instead?"

She gives him a deadpan stare through the mirror, "You're already doing it anyways though, aren't you?"

He merely chuckles, and she heaves a sigh.

"Next time, I would prefer it if you'd asked me for my permission first before touching me." The Summoner's voice drips heavy with exasperation, but she doesn't oppose his touch and lets him carry on with him touching up her up-do.

His hands are surprisingly skilled, efficiently looping and weaving the fancy ribbon around her hair, gathering it up into an elegantly braided bun within minutes. The proximity between them makes her nervous though, and when his fingers lightly brush against her ears, she suppresses a shiver.

Her ears are very hot, Sirius thinks intrusively.

Soon, he is done. And the Summoner can't help but feel envious of his skills as she admires the product of his handiwork in the mirror.

"Maybe you should have been a hair stylist instead." She curls a stray lock of hair around her finger. "I'm sure you would have done well."

The Summoner hears him laugh. "Why thank you, Summoner. A strange compliment, but a compliment I'll take nonetheless. Ah, and one more thing."

Sirius pulls out a hairpin in the shape of a six pointed star adorned in aquamarine and silver from the lapels if his costume. It is elegantly crafted, with swirling patters and chiffon ruffles enhancing it's worth. Looking at it, the Summoner surmises that it must be very expensive.

It takes her too long to realize that Sirius has moved in even closer than before, and feels the stray locks if his hair brushing against her ears as he fixes the hairpin to the side of her bun. She bites down a scream, resisting the impulse to yell at the Constellations because who else could have possibly manifested this situation in a scenario much like some low-grade novel?

The Summoner thinks that this is about the most patience she has ever practiced within one day, believing she's the only one nervous here.

What should have been a mere few seconds feels like an eternity finally coming to an end when Sirius finally pulls back to admire his handiwork.

"Can I move now?" The Summoner wiggles her feet in impatience.

"No? I haven't stared at my genius for long enough in my opinion."

"Hahahaha." Her laughter is practically dripping with sarcasm.

He holds his hand out to her as she turns around anyway to give him a glare, and sees the ever-so-slight flicker of adoration in his eyes.

She thinks what she sees is but a mere phantom.

"Well then, shall we head on out my dear wife?"

The Summoner scrunches her face up, but plays along anyways and takes his hand, "Yes, we shall."

Perhaps if he'd called her "Desdemona" instead, she wouldn't have made that face.

Being near her like this–he thinks as he grasps her hand–all feels very unfamiliar. All very unlike him, his quips softer than usual, not as sharp or mocking, and the gaze that scans the entire audience in front of him filled with less spite. He thinks he's changing.

He's not sure if he likes it.

Finally ready, the both of them leave the dressing room and walk hand-in-hand in a fashion reminiscent to that of their roles–a general and his elegant wife–and leave the dressing room to the area directly behind the stage hidden by the swaths of curtains. Shortly after arriving, they see Pollux panting heavily in anxiety as Arcturus diligently does his best to calm him down by providing gentle blows of wind from his wand. It does not help much at all, but Pollux is too busy trapped in his thoughts to care. And when Arcturus sees the two of them approach, he brightens and calls out to them.

"There you guys are! The play was about to start so everyone was getting a bit worried."

"The only one truly worried here..." They notice Vega–who had been standing inconspicuously beside Arcturus throughout the whole time–indicate his head towards Pollux. "...is him. And the play doesn't start in about 15 minutes, sorcerer Arcturus."

The actors have gathered themselves in one spot, donned in costumes of glamor and glow, ready to take on the masks of a life unfamiliar to them with pride on the stage. Even Pollux, though nervous a minute ago, straightens his back to prepare himself for the performance in steady anticipation. Upon further inspection though, someone notices his feather hat askew and rushes forward to straighten it before the play starts.

Everyone is bustling with excitement, delighted at the chance on having to perform a story introduced by Polaris, and eagerly await the curtains to rise, not paying any attention to Pollux profusely apologizing to the sorcerer who had tried to straighten his hat, and who now sports a red nose.

Sirius feels the girl beside let go of his arm as the lights dim, and routinely stamps down the urge to reach back out to her. He clenches his fist, and loosens it before anyone else can see.

"Everyone take your positions!"

(Act 1, Scene 3) The confirmation of Desdemona's love:

The spotlight is bright, vastly different from the same types that the Summoner usually sees in Mid Earthiem. They are enchanting, mimicking shimmering starlight, making the whole play on stage look more captivating than ever. The glow of it all however, is not enough to have the actors themselves lie and deceive their own thoughts and feelings.

"But you tell us, Othello." A sorcerer dressed in formal garb inquires the man in front of him. "Did you poison this girl's feelings with devious and improper ways? Or did such a union between you both be happened upon free and appropriate ways among two people?

Sirius laughs a little bit on the inside, a place where nobody else can see. Asking himself secretly, "Which is it?"

What is his relationship with the Summoner?

Othello then raises his head high in self-confidence, with an assurance that one would consider mocking that of the man's words. "I beg of you, senator. Send someone for the lady and have her express herself in her words in front of her father. Should there be any indication of my foul practices, then feel free to not only to take away the trust in my position and title, but my life."

The character he plays speaks lines worthy of his noble character. Unlike his usual persona, Sirius displays a dignified general in image indeed. All his snarky aura and volatile demeanour have been carefully tucked away beneath his current mask like a bound rope.

Standing behind the curtains watching him - ready for her cue - the Summoner can't help but marvel at the accessories of deception in which he adorns himself with.

The sorcerer playing the role of the Duke gives a slight nod, perceptively conveying his desire for the truth. "Bring Desdemona here."

The bit-part actors on stage shuffle away to where the Summoner is. But both Othello and the sorcerer still have a few more lines to recite before she takes the stage. So as the actors linger about around her getting ready for the next part, she counts her breath by two beats in an attempt to calm herself down.

Even if it's not her first time performing in front of the audience, she still gets nervous.

"Desdemona loved listening too."

The lines are still rolling.

"Even if the frequency in which her household duties would drag her away, she came back as quickly as she could and listened with fervour. Upon seeing so, I picked a convenient time in which I could talk to her and begged me so to tell her the parts of the story she had missed."

"So I agreed."

Sirius thinks that Othello was weaker than him.

"Once I had told her about the distressing episodes of my youth, she responded with a world of sighs. She thought and claimed a strange story. A very strange story, and a very sad one."

Sirius doesn't need to look inside the Summoner's head to know she thinks of something similar whenever she sees him.

She may not know him at all, but that didn't matter.

She still sees him.

"She wished she hadn't heard it, but regardless, wished she had been a man so that she could have had such adventures. She gave me thanks, and told me that if I had a friend who was in love with her, I should teach him to tell my story in order to win her heart. And on that hint, I spoke out."

"She loved me for the dangers I have experienced, and I loved her back for the pity in which she holds for them."

"This is the only witchcraft I have used."

These words make him uncomfortable, because he thinks they might be true.

The Summoner takes her cue, takes a deep breath, and straightens her posture as the bit-part actors push open the fake door leading on to the main stage. Right now, she is Desdemona. An elegant lady in love with a general.

That general being the persona Sirius has put on, as he sits there gazing at her with an unfamiliar gaze. One that he had put up for the play itself no doubt, and yet, it makes her anxious. But the Summoner keeps her posture refined and precise as she makes her way forward.

"There she is." The sorcerer playing as Iago leads her to stand in front of the Duke. "Let her tell you herself."

After Desdemona was waved to be seated, the Duke turned to Desdemona's father. "I do think that such a story would win over my own daughter. Good sir, why don't you make the best of this? Broken weapons are always better that bare hands in the battlefield after all."

Desdemona's father shakes his head. "Please, listen to her. Should she claim to take half of the blame, only then shall I accept this." He draws himself closer to Desdemona and takes her hand. "Come here, my dear. Can you see the person in which you owe the most obedience to?"

The Summoner plays her role well, as Desdemona gently slips her hand away from her father's. "My noble father, I have divided loyalty. I am thankful for the life and education you have provided me, both of which has taught me to respect you. I am still your daughter, and I will always have a duty to you."

She stands up and makes her way towards Othello - towards Sirius - and the closing proximity between them makes her heart speed up.

Especially as she holds his hand. Unlike earlier, she realises how cold it is.

"But this is my husband."

And this is just a show. A fake one. But Sirius feels his heart squeezing tighter as the Summoner turns around and gives him a loving smile under the pretext of being Desdemona.

Oh how he foolishly longs for it to be real. And these dangerous thoughts, he wishes he could just kill them.

But the show must go on, without consideration of how this whole situation feels like a bad joke.

(Backstage) Preparation for Act 5, Scene 2:

The stage crew shuffled around the waiting room in frenzy, setting up props, yelling at each other, and preparing for what is arguably the most anticipated scene of the entire show; Desdemona's death.

The Summoner took a deep breath, and reached her arms behind her to retrieve the hairpin that Sirius had pinned to her hair.

Even now, she's not sure where he got it from, why he bought it, or why he let her use it at all.

She ruminates for a few seconds while looking at the beautiful star-shaped hairpin, rotating it around slowly, the lights around her making it look as if it were twinkling. Like a star in the night sky.

But she doesn't have much time for this, so she quickly snaps out of her reverie to release the ribbon that held her hair-do together letting her hair fall down on her shoulders, the familiar sensation making her relax, most of the tension having been released.

Most of it, she's still nervous.

"Summoner, you're up for a wardrobe change!"

A female sorcerer approaches her a garment in hand. The next scene involves an unknowing Desdemona sleeping on her bed, so as the Summoner takes the new set of costume from the sorcerer's arms, she holds it up to reveal an old-fashioned nightgown.

"I'll be ready as soon as possible."

She places the brooch aside as she says this.

Nodding her head, the sorcerer leaves the Summoner alone so that she could get changed. But her hands shake as she unzips the back of the nightgown, the clock ticking behind her ominously, making her feel even more anxious for her next scene on stage. No matter how many times she has done this, the nervousness of having to perform on stage in front of a large audience will always be there.

Once she's done changing into the nightgown, she takes one more glance at the brooch on the dressing table, thinks for a few seconds, and quickly makes up her mind so as to not waste anymore time. She swipes the brooch off the table and gently, carefully, hides it in her pocket.

She's not sure why, maybe's she's afraid of losing it.

Maybe she thinks it'll provide her comfort.

"Are you ready?"

The sorcerer knocks on her door, and the Summoner notices that her tone has become considerably more tense and rushed. The clock seems to tick even louder, and the Summoner quickly answers her.

"Yes! I'm ready, I'll be out in a second."

Everyone is nervous, she has to do this properly.

She opens the door and sees the sorcerer give her a relieved smile, but that smile quickly turns into a serious expression as the Summoner is hurriedly ushered away to the back of the stage for her next scene.

"We have to hurry, there's not much time left."

Yes, she knows. The Summoner feels her veins thrum in nervous energy and her steps hasten in response.

But as they're walking past the wooden corridor that leads directly to the area behind the curtains, they hear someone shout out to them in warning.

"Watch out!"

"!"

On normal occasions, the Summoner thinks as she watches a heavy set of curtains fall down on her, she would have reacted properly. Maybe dodge, cry for help, or take cover and duck.

But her body is still stiff and frozen from her accumulated anxiety, she can't move. Even as the impending shadow blankets her sight, mind, and senses.

"Get down!"

But the sorcerer next to her is still sharp somewhat, and pushes the Summoner forward with her body to prevent her from getting smothered by the heavy weight of the old, velvet curtains.

But that could only do so much.

"!"

The Summoner feels a sharp pain in her ankle, and can only vaguely hear the sounds of raised, worried voices around her, as the pain blinds her from everything. She can't move or do anything in this state.

It hurts.

It hurts so much.

She must have sprained her ankle.

"Summoner!"

The Summoner looks up to see Pollux rushing forward in worry towards her. The familiar and friendly face is what gets her to finally start talking, after having stayed silent in shock.

"P-Pollux, do you...know any healing magic?"

She hears her own voice water in pain, so she stamps it down, holds in her tears. She can't ruin her makeup and she most certainly can't worry the others now, especially when Pollux looks as if he's about to cry for her himself.

From here, she can hear the actors speaking on stage, and she feels her entire body tremble more violently with each passing second, as the time comes for her turn to go up on stage draws nearer.

She has to go up on that stage, even if her ankle feels like it's about to tear apart, even if it might make it worse. So she asks him for help, anything can work at this rate.

But Pollux fidgets uncomfortably at her request. "Of course I can! But there's no way I can heal it in one go, I'm not as talented as Alpheratz or Spica..."

His voice is trailing off in doubt, but when she spots Sirius at the other end of the stage, hidden behind the curtains from the audience, staring at her direction, she tugs on Pollux's sleeve.

"Anything will do."

She emphasises her words, conveying her determination, and desperation.

"It's fine if you can just heal it a bit. You've learned the Tranquilizer Spell haven't you? The one used to immobilise foes."

The Summoner gestures to her ankle.

"You can cast it here. Use a weaker version of it, enough so I can still move. So long as I can't feel the pain, I can still perform."

"But-!"

Pollux tries to protest, but the words die down on his throat as he sees the expression on her face, looking as if she were ready to charge through hellfire. Slowly, he nods, like a pitiful, apologetic kitten.

"Alright, then."

She can still make this work. She just needs to do her very best.

She doesn't notice the look Sirius wears, as he sees her get back up on her feet again. He's too far away, as always.

(Act 4, Scene 2) Othello kills Desdemona:

He's not sure what he should do anymore.

He glances down at Desdemona-the Summoner-watching her chest rise and fall as she lays down on the bed prop, mocking sleep. Up close like this, he's the only one who can see what the audience can't.

The pained twitch of her eyebrows.

"This is the reason, my love."

He has no choice but to recite his lines.

"The heavens would scorn me, should I utter the mention of it but yes, that is the reason. Yet, neither shall I shed her blood, nor leave a mark any darker than the colour of snow."

"But she must die."

Would it make things easier?

"Or else, she may betray other men. Put out the light first, and then take hers away. Should I put out the candle, I can relight it once again."

The way he has done countless times, rewinding time and time and time again.

For the sake of someone long gone.

"But should I take away your light, you deceptive existence of beauty and wonder..."

He crouches down beside to lift a strand of her hair, up to his lips, kissing it ever so softly.

"...never again can this light be relighted. To pluck a rose from it's stem, it shall surely wither. So while I am still here, let me stay."

He bends over his sleeping beauty and kissed her forehead, as per the script.

"Such a sweet scent, should surely change my mind. To bear to let this all go, I cannot."

Sirius brushes the Summoner's bangs aside, and kissed the corner of here forehead.

"Should you remain as beautiful dead, then I shall kill you and keep on loving you."

He believes that. Sirius thinks he may do that.

"Something so sweet, something never so fatal. These tears remain on my cheeks, but they are cruel tears indeed."

That is the cue, and the sheets rustle against the nightgown ever so slightly, as Desdemona wakes up.

"Ah, she is awake!"

Desdemona wakes up drowsily, and casts her sleepy eyes towards him, as he watches a small, loving smile blooms on her face like a dainty flower.

"Othello."

"Desdemona."

Othello gazes at her with a face filled with sorrow.

"Have you done your prayers tonight, Desdemona?"

"Yes I have, my lord." Desdemona reaches out a slender arm towards him, as if to lull him to bed.

"Will you not come to sleep?"

Othello ignores her, and says instead, "If you can think of any crime that you haven’t reconciled with heaven, pray for that immediately."

Desdemona rises with trepidation. "What could you mean with that?"

"Do it, quickly." He urges her. "I shan't kill you and your unprepared soul. Heavens forbid, I do not want to kill your soul at all."

"Are you...talking about killing me?"

She sounds scared, pained, and Sirius again has to resist the urge to reach out to her.

"Yes."

Yet, his facade remains still.

"N-No!"

Desdemona withdrew away from him as fast as lightning. "By the constellations, have mercy on me! I have not done anything!"

"And Amen, with all my heart."

Desdemona looks at him with fearful eyes. "I am afraid. Because you are murderous when your eyes roll like that. I don’t know why I should be afraid because I don’t feel guilty about anything. But I am afraid nonetheless."

"Think about your sins."

As he recites this, Sirius thinks about his.

"The only sin I have ever committed, is that of my love for you."

To that, if he dares to, Sirius agrees.

"Yes, and it is for that, you are dying."

"My beloved."

He adds that in himself.

He shouts at her, replicating his rehearsal on that day, mimicking Othello's rage at his wife for his unfaithfulness. He conveys as much betrayal and feelings of hurt he can muster, to dredge up the old memories in hopes of delivering a successful, convincing performance. The way he has done all this while.

It is with this, he knows that he is the one laid bare before the Summoner.

And the Summoner herself in turn, responds to his acting with her own. Counter his fake emotions with her own.

"Is it what I fear? Is he dead?"

She laments for the death of Cassio. The one Othello had accused of Desdemona being unfaithful to.

"If all his hairs had been lives my great revenge would have had stomach for them all."

"Alas then, he has been betrayed, and I’ve been undone.’"

Desdemona weeps. And Othello is enraged.

"If he truly loved her, he wouldn't have wanted to kill her at all."

Things are not so simple, nothing ever is. But this is the one thing Sirius still believes in even now.

Still, he also believes that if he could hurt the Summoner enough, scared her enough, she'd finally leave Bound Arlyn. Stay out of his life, his plans...

And stay safe.

"How dare you weep for him in front of me! Down!"

He pushes her down on the bed, his hands on her throat. And sensing the time of her death approaching, she pleads with him.

"Kill me tomorrow! I beg of you, my Lord please-!"

"No-"

"Just one more hour please!"

Her voice cracks, and Sirius see the Summoner shed tears as if she were in pain.

Who is he kidding, of course she's in pain. Cleverly using it for her performance, using a method completely different from his.

She struggles frantically against his strength, flailing and begging for him to let her live longer, for one more hour, one more minute, one more second. She cries and weeps in despair as he continues to grip her throat, cutting off her oxygen.

The Summoner is a good actor, he thinks. Her cries of pain feel real, piercing his heart, and he thinks he wants to die. Thinks he may cry for her as he spots a small wound of blood appear at the side of her nightgown and he wants to scream in pain.

But he's too far gone. His mask is already too perfect.

"My Lord please-!"

He hates the fact that he wants to cry for her but he can't. Her body goes limp under him, her breathing slowing down, and the Summoner dies in his arms as beautiful as the day he first saw her.

He realizes then he's destined to hurt the people he cares for, even when he doesn't want to. But he himself has twisted his own nature into the monster he wanted to be. It makes sense, that he can't even gift her a simple brooch without hurting her.

All he wants to do is dance the night away with her, as innocently as he did before.

But he can't do that oh no.

He just can't.

The most anticipated scene of the show has been executed brilliantly, and the audience erupts into a wild show of applause.

[onyxedskies]

wip wednesday

thank you @dazzlerazz for tagging me <3

content warnings: graphic depictions of violence and torture, kidnapping, references to starvation

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she heard footsteps. She had been dozing, drifting in and out of consciousness; Shiro spoke to her, sometimes, and sometimes she spoke to him. Their conversations, one-sided or not, fizzled out quickly, but they were reassuring all the same. Kept them sane, she supposed, though that may have been a strong word. 

How long had they been there? She had no idea. Iago had sent water to them semi-regularly; there had been no food. Did he plan on starving them to death? She wouldn’t put it past him. His evil knew no bounds, from what she had been told. Even Papa decried his methods, and he was not known for often taking the moral high ground. 

Iago was in their cell, then. He had tools in his hands, but Ophelia didn't recognize them. That was likely a good thing; she didn’t want to recognize them, she didn’t think. It was better that she didn’t know what was coming. 

Iago didn’t say anything to either of them. Instead, he put the tools on the ground before spinning around and dealing a rough punch to Shiro’s face. Shiro grunted, cursed; Ophelia hesitated for a moment before standing on shaky legs, watching angrily as Iago delivered another punch to Shiro’s face. 

She didn’t know if it were a moment of sudden bravery, or a random lapse of judgment, or simply the rage she felt as she watched Iago beat Shiro so thoroughly, but she sent a bolt of Thunder at Iago. It stunned him just enough for her to have time to regret her decision before he turned on her, a freezing smile on his face. 

“‘Phelia,” Shiro breathed, clearly horrified. She simply straightened her back as much as she could; if Shiro would put himself in harm's way for her, she shouldn’t be afraid to do the same for him. 

They were in this together. They would protect each other, and they would make it out together. 

Together, or not at all. 

“The little bird has found her song,” Iago said. He grabbed her by the throat, slammed her against the wall. She did not back down, glaring at him; anger and fear coursed together through her veins, but she met him head on. “How adorable.”

He let her go. She stumbled somewhat, but she remained standing. Iago bent down, grabbing one of his tools–upon closer inspection, it resembled a hammer. She then noticed the spoke in his other hand, and realized what was happening only a moment before he grabbed her wrist, slamming it into the wall above her. She bit back a scream as the break from earlier was jostled. 

“Sing as much as you want, my little nightingale,” Iago hissed. “The only one who will hear you is your beloved prince.”

“Don’t fucking hurt her!” Shiro yelled. He thrashed in his bindings, trying to kick at Iago, but they were too far away; each one of Shiro’s kicks missed by just a hair. She didn’t look at his face, knew she wouldn’t be able to handle the desperation, the helplessness, the fear. So instead she simply glared at Iago, bit back any words she might have said, and braced herself for the pain that was sure to come. 

He placed the spoke against her exposed palm and did not hesitate with the hammer, driving it into her hand. She screamed, her knees going weak; the pain spread, caused her vision to white out. He kept hammering, driving the spoke through her hand and into the wall; she had no doubt it was shattering her bones as he kept going. She couldn’t see, spots dancing in her vision, but she refused to black out even as her body screamed against her will. Shiro might have been threatening Iago, or perhaps he was trying to soothe Ophelia, or perhaps he was simply screaming wordlessly along with her; she couldn’t tell. 

Eventually she felt the flat of the spoke hit her palm. She stood there, panting, willing her knees not to give out just yet, for it would only hurt more if they did. Iago grabbed her other wrist, pinned it in the same way. Shiro was spitting threats, and she could tell he was crying but the pulse in her ears was too much for her to be able to tell what, exactly, he was saying. And then the spike was being driven into her other hand, and her mind honed in on the pain and the pain alone, and she was helpless against it. She was screaming, and her body thrashed despite the way it was only making it worse, despite the way it only satisfied Iago’s sick urge.

And then it was done. She was left there, her hands nailed to the wall, unable to take the weight off her feet lest she wanted to damage her hands even more. And then Iago flicked his wrist, and Shiro was collapsing to the ground, his binds gone just as they had been the first time Iago had come in here to torment them. 

How long ago had that been? It had to be at least a week. Too much had happened. But she couldn’t know that for sure. 

Iago put the hammer away. He came back with a tool that looked almost like tweezers, and then he knelt down next to Shiro. He picked the hammer up again, laid it across Shiro’s hands before muttering some incantation that Ophelia couldn’t catch, and then he smiled. The sight of it made her sick to her stomach, but there was nothing she could do about it. She was still nailed to the wall, unable to break free and help Shiro despite how much she wanted to. 

She could only watch in horror as Iago took the tweezer-like device to Shiro’s fingernail before harshly pulling back, ripping the fingernail off. Shiro screamed, and Iago cackled at the first true reaction he had gotten from Shiro before moving on to the next finger. And the next. And the next. 

One after another. Iago switched hands when he ran out of nails on the first one, repeating the process. Ophelia screamed at him to stop, but she doubted she was heard over Shiro’s screaming and sobbing, over Iago’s laughter. Gods, his laughter. It cut through Ophelia, ringing in her ears. No doubt it would be haunting her nightmares, the sick sound combined with the pained screams from Shiro, the man with the highest pain tolerance she’d ever met. Gods, it was horrifying. 

Iago said nothing when he finished, simply standing and letting Shiro lay on the ground, still choking on his sobs as the pain didn’t fade. He looked between the two of them for a moment before grinning. 

He threw a piece of bread on the ground. It was small, but it was the only food they’d had in days. Somehow, despite the fact that her body was doubtlessly starving, Ophelia didn’t want it. 

He didn’t say anything more. With a swish of his cloak, he was gone, leaving the two of them to their pain, to their misery. 

Neither of them said anything. For what was there to say, after that?

[silverloreley]

Wait a second...

So this is page 37 from “Auradon’s book of secrets“ (thanks @fortitudinem​​ for the scans) and, uh, this is the only info I came across about the actual origins of Auradon so far (the earlier part of the book has something too, but this is very specific so it caught my attention).

We could consider the webseries “Villains’ Lair“ the prequel for Descendants, or at least a plausible recostruction of the events. It’s a story in which the Villains, after mysteriously escaping from death’s clutches/ are revived, decided to tamper with time, perhaps managing (the webseries is ongoing) but (will be) ultimately defeated by the Princess’ Academy girls + their princes, and it could make a lot of sense as Descendants’ prequel.

Okok, I’ll elaborate.

If you talk about a rebellion, it means a group not in power going against the ones in power. This means, at a certain point, Maleficent was the actual leader of the world (page 45 talks about “Maleficent’s takeover”!!!), along with the other Villains who had formed an alliance (like in Villains’ Lair, but with Maleficent as the official lead).

This means the Heroes fought after training with the system later developed as the game of Tourney. Which could have happened in “Princess Academy” (the parallel yet shorter webseries to V’L, perhaps the origin of Auradon Prep?).

This means, by the time this rebellion happened, all the stories had been completed (or rewritten according to the will of the Villains, like in “Cinderella: A Twist in Time” but for all of them). (this also would give time for all the minors in the stories to become adults and get married at an appropriate age, but that’s another matter).

This also means a big scale fight happened between Heroes and Villains. This is no small thing because it would mean there was no such thing as Beast deciding to move war and annex all his neighbours, it could have more easily been that they all fought together, formed a large alliance and once defeated the enemy someone (BatB) came up with the idea of uniting their lands for a better development and defense.

The Isle was corollary: since the dead Villains came back from death once, they could do it again, so they needed to be restrained in a more effective way. The fact they may end up having children was not accounted for, the only thing the Barrier did was to prevent the Villains from 1)using magic, 2)escaping, 3)dying and be revived outside therefore foiling points 1 and 2.

Now, I already thought this last bit before (although my best guess so far was that they were trying to prevent necromancy and similar things) and I stand it makes sense. It doesn’t explain the large population of the Isle, though, not in full, unless we add a few more bits.

In folklore, fairies think by absolutes. Black or white, this or that, good and bad, they just have their own moral code and rules and never change their minds. We know Fairy Godmother was the main (if not the only) maker of the Barrier and I think the moving of the Villains to the Isle could have not been done by normal means. Magic was used, a huge spell to teleport all Villains from every corner of Auradon to the Isle. Except it worked too extensively and took mean-spirited people (Cinderella’s step-family), more or less innocent minions (the goblins, trolls, people under Jafar’s paybook...), major and minor criminals, even animals! (Scar, Shere Khan, Iago,...) etc. aka every being a fairy would deem “not good“, and this despite the eventual redemption some of them underwent (Iago and Anastasia in the sequels, LeFou in the live action,...).

What am I saying? That maybe the metas depicting Beast and Belle as the evil overlords who conquered it all are a tad off from canon, especially if the same stories don’t take into account Fairy Godmother’s involvement.

Now, that’s not to say Auradon isn’t under a very strict monarchic system, it is (please don’t use “fascism” to define it, the two things are different) Auradon is an absolute monarchy that uses propaganda like any other ruling system in history (the basis of fascism and nazism are different and I wish people would start to learn proper terminology before using it. “colonialism” is also wrong in this context for the reason mentioned above) and it’s perfectly fine to give this kind of reading to the main plot in fanfics, exploring the themes and expand ideas is one of my favourite things about fanfictions, just as long as you realize this diverges from canon. Canon which has fantasy racism and children neglect and other dark themes, I’d like to add.

One more thing about the Barrier. I think the spell has one more use other than keeping the Villains alive and powerless: a form of brainwashing, aimed at mellowing the worst traits of the Villains, otherwise it would be hard to explain how clever and smooth Jafar became blumbering and loud, how elegant and controlled Maleficent turned jumpy and excitable or how the smart and poised Evil Queen is a botox-dead-brain. And so forth. I know the Doylist explanation is that Descendants is aimed at kids, but that’s my Watsonian explanation to the downgrade of Villains.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Headcanons for Jamil if/when Kalim decides to end the Vipers' indentured servitude? What would he do with newfound freedom and chance to live a normal life?

"Genie Jamil, you're free." - Aladdin Kalim

(These headcanons are set post-NRC graduation!)

Curiouser and Curiouser...

As soon as Kalim gives the word, Jamil's off like a bullet to pack his bags. Kalim lingers in the doorway, watching the whirlwind preparations while wearing a sad smile. He’s there every step of the way, even seeing his friend/rival (?) off at the airport.

Of course, Jamil packs lots of anti-bug items, from bug spray and mosquito nets to a first aid kit full of bug bite treatments and antidotes...

"I'm off to see the world,” Jamil declares, suitcase in hand and backpack strapped to his back. “... Take care of yourself while I’m away, Kalim. You’re your own responsibility now, not mine.”

And so begins Jamil’s journey across Twisted Wonderland to sate his wanderlust. As the plane lifts up from the ground, he can make out the crying form of Kalim—waving and smiling through his tears as he sends Jamil off.

Early in his journey, Jamil picks up a parrot (naming it Iago after the Great Sorcerer of the Desert’s faithful companion) as a travel companion. He teaches it how to speak by using crackers as positive reinforcement, but he later regrets it, as the parrot soon squabbles with him. Though they’re constantly at each other’s necks, Jamil has to admit that the conversation and the company are appreciated. (And not gonna lie, being called “Master” by the parrot really strokes his ego.)

He takes his time visiting the various countries of Twisted Wonderland, sometimes staying as much as a few months at a time just to explore every corner of his current residence. While he’s staying abroad, Jamil makes a living offering his housekeeping and cooking services to the locals. (He doesn’t want to rely on his family’s money to fund his travels, he wants to be self sufficient!)

Jamil doesn’t really need to be doing something specific to be satisfied. He likes just wandering through the towns and cities, drinking in the sights and sounds. After all, now he has all the time in the world to relax and take life as it comes.

Jamil makes his own fun! He keeps very little of his personal belongings or means of amusement on him, bringing only the essentials. Whenever he’s bored, he can just pick up his feet and dance through the streets. It sometimes attracts a crowd that cheers him on (which greatly embarrasses him).

He’s a bit of a sneaky one! If he’s in an area that’s impoverished (say, the slums of the Afterglow Savanna), Jamil will spare some of his food or money in his own “Jamil” way. “Half of this loaf of bread is for me, and half of it is for you,” he’ll say, right before dropping “his” half into the hands of a second child. “Clumsy me, I’ve dropped it. Well... finder’s keepers, as they say.

Sometimes he has to apologize to his neighbors at the hotels and homes he stays at, since Iago can make a racket when he’s upset or hungry.

He passionately avoids making a trip to the depths of the Coral Sea no matter how many invitations Azul sends to him.

Jamil remains relatively polite to others, but he’s now much more free to let his venom and snark shine through in his words. Don’t be surprised if he makes a biting remark here and there.

Jamil sends letters and postcards of the various places he visits back home to Najma (just so she knows he’s safe/not dead). He thinks of Kalim too, but his pride won’t allow him to casually send things to the son of a family that once brought him great pain. (... Well, that’s fine, because Najma shares his letters and postcards with Kalim anyway! “Thank goodness Jamil is happy,” Kalim sighs.)

In the summers, Jamil’s struck with this sense of homesickness. The hot weather reminds him of the climate of his home country, and of the many fond childhood memories he had there, exploring the bazaars and watching fireworks light up the sky. When that happens, he’ll pick up souvenirs and make his way back to the Scalding Sands.

Jamil passes out gifts to his family (though he insists he just “happened” to have the souvenirs on him and had no use for them), then excuses himself—only to be stopped by Najma. “You can’t fool me. There’s someone you’ve still got to pay a visit to, you know? Luckily for you, I know just where he is—though he might be a bit busy!”

Taking her brother by the hand, Najma leads Jamil to the Asim estate (yes, by foot). Once they’ve cleared the front gates and entered the foyer, the Viper siblings are greeted by a familiar face, beaming as brightly as the sun.

“Welcome, strangers. This year’s Silk Ciry Fireworks Festival is hosted by the Asims. As the new head of the family, allow me to welcome you, both to this great city and to the festivities.” Kalim announces, happily spreading his arms out. “And welcome home... Jamil.”

“Squawk! Welcome back, Jamil!!” Iago echoes from his master’s shoulder. Jamil glares at his parrot and gestures for him to zip his beak.

“It’s been so long!! You'll have to tell me all about your travels!” Kalim cries, happily bounding over and taking Jamil’s hands in his own. “Please, stay over! We’ll have a banquet and chat under the stars, just like old times!!”

“Kalim... I return after years away, and you still treat me as though I’m your friend? You really haven’t changed at all.” Jamil folds his arms. “I tried to usurp your power before—yet you can so easily forgive me for that? Only a fool would...”

“Heeeey! Jamil bought you a souvenir! It’s sticking out of his backpack!” Najma interrupts, pointing at the telltale pocket. “Don’t mind him, Kalim. My brother must have really missed you too.”

“Wha—Najma, don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!!” Jamil turns to swat his sister’s hand away from his backpack... but then, Iago takes flight and snatches up the souvenir! He flaps over to Kalim and deposits a cute star-shaped charm safely in his hand.

A childish squabble breaks out, just like old times.

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

sweet creature - a close reading + othello + brokeback mountain

hello here we are again, in the deep deep hole we can keep digging for ourselves in a desperate attempt to figure out all of harry’s lyrics. i’ve been at this for a bit now and it feels like i know nothing. and then there’s a shakespeare reference i should get into?????

well here it is. finally. i’m sorry to keep some of you waiting; know that i’m so honored people actually care about whatever i have to say on this??????????????? really. love you and thank you. 

read this if you want a:

lyric breakdown of sweet creature

short summary of shakespeare’s othello

deep reading into how those two could be connected

brokeback mountain connection

synthesis and interpretation, besides the othello connection

breakdown and plea bc this gay menace just does this to me

LET’S GO SHALL WE?!

hs1, track 5 (intro post)

lyric analysis

Sweet creature Had another talk about where it's going wrong

“sweet creature” is quote from Shakespeare play Othello ⟶ see analysis below

“another talk” - communication issues, common theme in h (and l)’s music

relationship issues 

(here the whole interpretation of the song being about gemma (h’s sister) already falls through for me, bc you don’t experience these things with a sibling. where is it going wrong? w a sibling? you just punch each other in the arm, then give a good hug and move on, done.)

But we’re still young

“we” as the prominent pronoun in this song. “we” is a unit

“young” as a theme: “still” - met very young, fell in love young, are still young

～ tbsl “i was just a little boy”, ～ too young, ～ we made it “when we’re so young”

We don’t know where we’re going But we know where we belong

～ dlibyh “driving down a one way road to something better”

～ don’t forget where you belong - “home”

And, oh, we started Two hearts in one home

where some more of the gemma theory finds ground, apparently - but “two hearts in one home” would leave out their mother, which wouldn’t make sense if it were a song about h’s family, since he was always very close to his mom? it’s not like it was he and his sister against the world

“started” “two hearts in one home” - moved in early on - fits the h&l narrative ofc #theylivetogetherdealwithit

It’s hard when we argue We’re both stubborn, I know But oh

lovingly admitted

h loves him despite the difficulties, despite character clashes - “i know”, familiarity

h admits that he’s just as difficult

“both stubborn” - even found a similarity among the struggle

Sweet creature, sweet creature Wherever I go, you bring me home Sweet creature, sweet creature When I run out of road, you bring me home

home isn’t a place, it’s wherever this person is - he can talk him down, make him feel safe, whenever and wherever

“i go” - harry’s out on his own now, going after his solo dreams - but he’ll always come back home

“road” - maybe it’s my larrie brain corrupting me once again, but i can’t be the only one who always thought it was “rope” until i looked at the lyrics properly? anyway, when h runs out of road, doesn’t know which path to take, if it’s left or right, “you” shows him the way. yk maybe like a compass

Sweet creature Running through the garden

scene in Othello where “sweet creature” is said is set in a garden

+ motif of gardens/plants in Othello used as metaphors, esp. by Iago (see later, this is important)

gardens in literature: peaceful, secret, intimate, private world, place of youth - garden of eden, secret garden

Oh, where nothing bothered us But we’re still young I always think about you and how we don’t speak enough

“bothered” - their reality is now that people bother them all the time - in the early days the had more chances to be carefree

communicate, boys (think they’ve worked past this but it’s a good reminder)

Sweet creature, sweet creature Wherever I go, you bring me home Sweet creature, sweet creature When I run out of road, you bring me home You’ll bring me home

unique future tense right at the end of the song: you currently bring me home and you always will. faith in the future. despite their struggles they’ll always make it

OTHELLO, SHAKESPEARE 

Othello has many twists and turns in intrigue, all including the classic human weaknesses of jealousy, deceit, selfishness, wrath, mistrust and miscommunication. The storyline centres around Othello, a general of the Venetian army, originally from the north of Africa. (An integral part of the play is the subject of his skin tone, as it causes racism with those opposing his marriage, but this has little to do with this post, so if you want to grasp a bit more of the storyline, you can always google it or watch this very enlightening video.) 

(Lemme give a summary real quick, with very blurry details just so the post makes sense)

STORYLINE:

Othello gives Cassio (army person close to Othello) raise 

-> Iago (army person close to Othello) angry 

-> Iago gets Cassio drunk and starts a fight 

-> another dude gets injured, Cassio is blamed for everything 

-> Othello strips him of his rank 

-> Iago convinces Cassio to get close to Desdemona (Othello's wife) to get his rank back 

-> Iago sows doubt with Othello about how close Desdemona and Cassio are getting 

-> Iago convinces Othello of Desdemona’s infidelity 

-> Othello makes Iago his lieutenant, convinced he’s the only one to be trustworthy 

-> Iago plays a trick (w a handkerchief, look it up if you want) and Othello now thinks Desdemona’s cheating has been physically proven 

-> Othello swears to kill D and tells I to kill Cassio 

-> Iago convinces other guy to kill Cassio instead 

-> plot to kill Cassio fails and Iago has to kill the other guy to keep the scheme quiet, leaving him and Cassio injured 

-> Iago blames it all on a courtesan Cassio was involved with 

-> Othello murders Desdemona 

-> Emilia (Iago’s wife) sees all and realises Iago was the manipulator of it all (bc she figures out the trick from earlier) 

-> Iago kills her 

-> Othello kills himself

Long story short, Iago and Cassio both want (to be close to) Othello. Either for personal gain or due to emotional desires, they’re going pretty far to earn this man’s attention and affection. Since Othello is married to Desdemona, she is the centre of Iago and Cassio’s plans to get closer to Othello. Cassio wants to get close to Desdemona to get her to mediate between him and Othello, while Iago will convince Othello that Desdemona has been unfaithful and thus drive them apart so Iago can take on the role closest to Othello. A popular interpretation of Othello is to especially see Iago’s character as one driven by jealousy caused by homosexual desires.

The reading of Iago as a homosexual, as well as general gay tension between all three main men, is encouraged, as usual, by Shakespeare’s ambiguous writing. To give some examples (all Act III - Scene III)

(Of course, “love” between these “friends” can be interpreted as platonic, nothing romantic at all. But the layers of ambivalence that Shakespeare deliberately left us aren’t to be ignored just bc the word “love” doesn’t necessarily have a romantic connotation.)

Othello @ Iago (in the middle of Iago deceiving O to make him believe Cassio and Desdemona are involved)

Iago’s words here can be interpreted as “you don’t want to know my thoughts bc i am currently deceiving you” or “you don’t wanna know what’s on my mind bc i want your dick and unconditional love and i also want it to be all mine, babe. no sharing”

“my nature’s plague” def sounds like he’s not a fan of his natural urges.

had to add this one

here iago says he doesn’t blame desdemona for falling in love with othello, since it’s happened to him too. othello’s reply sounds like a wedding vow

Basically, during this entire scene, Iago goes on to sow doubt with Othello, while constantly reminding him of his love. Then Othello asks for cold hard proof that Cassio and Desdemona are involved and Iago tells the story of how he heard Cassio talk in his sleep. 

SO all these were details necessary to understand the so-called “sex dream” in Othello, which coincidentally happens to contain the nice little word group we’re trying to get to the bottom of:

“sweet creature”

ofc that little stage hoe menace would choose the fucking double-entenred sexually charged scene to grab inspiration from for a cute lil love song

I’ll place it here for you to read first:

So basically, Iago tells Othello Cassio's had a loud dream about embracing Desdemona, while actually physically embracing Iago and calling him “sweet creature”. It’s very important to remember at this point that these are all made-up stories by Iago, so he has created this fantasy on his own. The ambiguity of “to lay with” is pleasantly planted there as well, just to make it all a bit more spicy. Iago is blatantly telling Othello that Cassio was kissing and grinding on him in his sleep. Or, you know, that Iago’s imagined that happening. The words “sweet creature” are supposedly uttered by Cassio to Desdemona in his dream, yet it’s Iago who has thought of them, as if Cassio had uttered them to him. All super nice and gay, if you ask me. And why tell this to Othello? Why add those details? Wanna make Othello jealous of you and Cassio, mate? What’s up? Don't be shy, you can tell us. Without causing the deaths of everyone close to you.

The scene ends with these words:

Another interesting detail I can’t fail to mention is Iago’s tendency to use gardens and plants as metaphors in his speech. Like in the dream story, where he describes kisses to be growing from his lips, rooted there, which Cassio is trying to pull out. Some especially memorable quotes by Iago: 

“Our bodies are our gardens, to which our wills are gardeners; so that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme . . . the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills” (I.iii.317–322). 

“Though other things grow fair against the sun, / Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe” (II.iii.349–350)

Iago, as pointed out above, is very in touch with nature and how humans are always part of that, whether they like it or not. In some ways he seems to say you can manipulate nature by sheer force of will, yet in others he seems to think his nature is something he can only follow, like with what he says about “his nature’s plague” in Act III. 

So yeah, that’s basically what you need to know about Othello to get the Sweet Creature link. I'll get into what this might mean from Harry’s point of view below.

BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN

You might be wondering in what fucking hole have i fallen it's too deep i wanna get out but well bestie you're in this fandom and that's how shit goes around here so you can't be surprised. This one's all the one and only @bluewinnerangel 's work, since she's the one who brought this to my attention, once again, as so many things. Genius at work over there, go give her a follow if you're not already. Anyhow, it's time you've listened to this song in the Brokeback Mountain soundtrack: 'Snow'.

undefined

As most of you might know, Brokeback Mountain, is a famous gay cowboy movie. For this reason, and this reason only, the audio parallel to Sweet Creature is an immaculate choice. Sneaky gay asshole Harry Fucking Styles has managed to blatantly copy a melody from this cult movie about a secret gay love. Are you kidding me?

The movie is set in the 60s in the US and homophobia is a huge part of the plot, causing the men to keep their homosexuality a secret in fear of not getting jobs or even getting killed. Their love is very physical and very real, though, so throughout their entire life they struggle trying to live hidden/apart. There's also the famous line "I wish I knew how to quit you" that sounds a whole lot like the love is a drug and i'm addicted to you thing h & l got going on.

(And if you don't really buy this little run, listen to 'The Wings' from the same soundtrack and then to From the Dining Table. It's like a fan piece, just a lil faster.)

SYNTHESIS

ALRIGHT. 

Might seem a lot of Shakespeare for just a simple lyric analysis post, but I needed it to tie it all in even if it was just for me to know and so I assumed you’d love to be involved in this mess as well. 

First of all, 

I interpret the main parallel with Othello as Harry painting himself, once again, as a jealous lover. He’s literally sung about himself as “being of the jealous kind” and it’s no secret at all that if someone gets their hands on his lover there is some lethal switch that turns on. Don’t get me wrong - I don’t think Harry would start murderous plots in order to secure his lover’s affections, but I’m very sure Harry recognises the desire to be the sole recipient of said affections, without the distractions of others who have their eyes on his lover. Whether or not Othello is happy in his marriage to a woman, it’s still a theme in the play, and if we interpret Iago’s motives through the lens of jealousy, we can easily draw the parallel to Harry’s life. H loves someone who is “taken”, or at least “officially”. Iago is full of self-deprecation, which hs1 is riddled with as well. Self-hate, lack of self-acceptance, and even if there is self-acceptance, it’s mixed with that hate. Iago’s repressed sexuality, when interpreted that way, has driven him to such extreme actions that he’d rather see the one he loves and everyone around him destroyed than settling to witness his lover spending his life with another. A pretty intense figure to identify yourself with, but there are more than enough clues in Harry’s other lyrics that show this side of him: unforgiving towards those who mess with his lover, making him drown in that jealousy. 

Iago’s character in the play is a cunning, complicated one, but especially deceitful and cruel (esp to women), so I don’t think Harry would want a connection to be drawn between a murderous theatre character and this kind, warm love song. I’d think, if there even if this deep connection to Othello in the first place (there’s things we’ll never know) (but it’s a beautiful connection to make, with all the parallels), the side of Iago’s personality that honors nature and connects the human body to nature is something that should be especially highlighted. It’s this human nature that can’t be twisted or turned, no matter how you try to fight it. It’s parts of yourself that you can help grow and make better, or even purposefully make worse. It’s the body as a garden, where the line “running through the garden” then becomes nice and interesting in a very Harry way. yk like smiling sweetly at you while making a sex joke. “Where nothing bothered us” then ties in again with the common theme in H (and L)’s music where the bedroom is sacred, where they’re properly connected and finally in private and lose control or whatever.

Whatever the Othello interpretation may be, the words "sweet creature" are famously from this play, and it's not a common phrase in general, so my belief in the title of the song, at least, being a reference to those words spoken in the play, stands very strong. It is a known "gay Shakespeare thing", as it's a scene with two men sharing a bed, when it all comes down to it. And Harry referenced this, and it's important as fuck.

Second of all, 

this song is the beacon of hope on hs1, in between all the desperately sad songs that deal with break-ups, depression, loneliness. I fucking love hs1, but I can’t listen to it like Fine Line, bc it really fills me with a sadness about life, which is the exact opposite with FL for me. And that’s all perfectly fine, since Harry needed to get that off his chest and he’s also an emotional sad lil gay and we need to let him have his dramatic emo moments. BUT Sweet Creature, my saviour, screams hope and the absolute faith that they stand strong and always will. It’s a soft love song, with the kind of sentiments filling every line that only an established love can. They’ve known each other for ages, been through a lot, and despite everything, they’re each other’s home and that will never change. It’s how it started and how it’ll end. In my readings of songs like Meet Me in the Hallway, i also saw that same faith, that firm belief that they’ll always share this life. And we need that yk. They need that, and we live vicariously through them, so it’s a good thing it’s sorted. And if you’re still on the fence on the whole are-they-together bit: look.

Home is at the centre of Harry’s art. It’s a common thread across his two albums now, as well as the songs he wrote in the band. Same goes for Louis. At some point they established this strong feeling of home as the other person. They were always on the road, and if they were on the road, they had each other as an anchor, and if they were home, they also shared that space. And they turned it into a religion, almost. The most obvious song to point to is Home, of course, written by Louis (among others, but most importantly him ofc), but there’s many others.

～ change your ticket “change your ticket home”, ～ if i could fly "i'd be coming right back home to you", ～ tbsl “it’s hard for me to go home and be so lonely”, ～ canyon moon “two weeks and i’ll be home”/ “i’m going home” or yk read this post by @bluewinnerangel​ bc she has summed it up perfectly

There,

that really is all I needed to get off my chest in terms of Sweet Creature. I'm sure there are more and deeper holes to dig, but this is where my brain space pulls to a halt. Who knows, maybe that garden shit is way more than it seems? Maybe the whole Othello thing is a total waste of time and Harry is laughing in his fist rn. But I'd like to think it's not, and that this person who is becoming more and more entrenched in queer culture and the community at large purposefully referenced this work of art that has been famously interpreted through a gay lens long before Harry was even born. That he imitated a melody from a famous gay movie and wove that into the main love song on his debut album.

He knows so much about queer history and culture and references it all the fucking time, and it's up to us to pay attention. This force of nature isn't just wandering through his solo career slapping sounds together with words that could make a hit and climb the charts. He is actively placing his work in the library of queer art and it has to be honored and celebrated.

[sharkselfies]

The Minds Behind The Terror Podcast Transcript - Episode 2

Here is a transcript for episode 2 of The Minds Behind The Terror! In this episode, showrunners Dave Kajganich and Soo Hugh are joined by author Dan Simmons and actor Adam Nagaitis, who plays Cornelius Hickey. They cover episodes 4-6  of the show, getting into Hickey’s psychology and Adam’s incredible acting, Dan’s feelings about never revealing the monster too soon, Adam getting locked in a conference room with the Tuunbaq prop for twenty minutes, and the spectacle that is Carnivale.

The Minds Behind The Terror Podcast - Episode 2

[The Terror opening theme music plays]

Soo Hugh: Welcome to The Minds Behind The Terror Podcast. I’m Soo Hugh, executive producer and showrunner of this labor of love, here with my partner in crime Dave Kajganich, executive producer and showrunner.

Dave Kajganich: Hello. 

SH: Today we welcome The Terror author Dan Simmons, and actor Adam Nagaitis who plays Cornelius Hickey in the TV series. Dan is calling in from Colorado, and Adam you’re here from London.

Adam Nagaitis: I am! Hi! 

DK: Adam and Dan, I don’t know that you have been introduced to one another, so welcome both we’re happy to have you! 

AN: Thank you! It’s lovely to be here. 

Dan Simmons: Thank you. I have to start with just a fanboy meltdown here, I don’t do this, I don’t praise actors that much even when I’ve met them, but I need to use a word that as a novelist and as a mature, American human being I don’t use because the younger generations have appropriated it, it’s the only adjective that they use in their whole vocabulary, but Adam, your performance as Cornelius Hickey was brilliant. It was awesome. 

AN: Thank you so much, Dan, and obviously the feeling is beyond mutual. There is no Cornelius Hickey without you, so, um, really overwhelming to hear someone like you say that, so thank you so much.

SH: This is so touching.

DS: And I’ll confess something else to Adam, the first time I watched it, I thought your character was a good guy because he jumped down in that grave to put the lid back on.

[laughter] 

DS: It was on my second viewing I thought, “Wait, he stole the boy’s ring! Bastard!” 

SH: So this is the second podcast of this series, if you haven’t heard the first one, episode 1, we recommend highly that you go back and listen to those, that first episode will cover episodes 1.01-1.03. Today we’ll talk about episodes 1.04-1.06, and if you have not seen those episodes please, please don’t break our hearts and listen to this podcast! Watch the show first! We’ll have many spoilers that we’ll be discussing. 

SH: So now since you guys have finally met one another, Dan and Hickey--Dan and Adam.

[laughter]

SH: Should we talk about, Dan, just how you first originally structured Hickey in the novel, and we know that you loved Hickey, but your experience watching the show in terms of seeing the changes that we have made and what we’ve kept from the book, how that affected you. 

DS: Mostly the changes that you guys and Adam did for the character of Hickey I think, uh, I don’t wanna praise too much, but they’re marvelous. They showed me a succession of, um, not villains but a complex, sometimes wicked character in a way that I don’t think I got to in the book. My character was like--a bit too much like Iago in Othello, you know, he tended to be motiveless malevolence, or malignancy, which is the way you describe Iago. And there are many Iagos in the world, but the way that Adam created Hickey out of the soft clay of my introduction was marvelous to me. I could just see all the wheels turning in Hickey’s head, all the ways he’s looking for an edge, so I took it to maybe point C or D, you guys took it through Y. 

DK: The last thing that we’ve seen Hickey do is that he has gone through the lower decks of Terror and has shat on a bed...

[laughter]

DK: ...and has found a resignation letter from Crozier that no one is meant to see, because Crozier is now in command of the expedition. We have laid out a different kind of ascension, if you will, or architecture for Hickey’s arc in the show from the book, and I wonder, Adam, if you could speak a little bit to having read, I think, part of the novel and been told to stop reading by me and Soo because we didn’t want you to be confused. How did you receive these episodes, and how did you plan to sort of make the--cover the distance between those two points in Hickey’s arc, which it’s a lot of distance to cover.

AN: There are pieces of the novel that stayed with me and unfortunately I could not get out of my head as much as I would try, ‘cause they were very potent aspects of Hickey, were always useful, but it’s as you said, Dan, it was just that the switch, I’m just backtracking ‘cause there’ll be a reason, but the switch from, the clarification for me, or the justification of his motivations was all really I had to find. A new soul, a new motor. And that motor sort of begins--perhaps changes gear, in episode 4, when Hickey is--I don’t wanna say betrayed? But you know, for the first time he’s proactive about a decision he makes when he goes and grabs Lady Silence.

[show audio]

Crozier: There’ll be no violence towards this woman without charges brought and well proved. Who is responsible for this?

Hickey: I am, sir. 

AN: He’s pushing the boundaries of what his courage is allowing him to do at that point, and he knows that this is dangerous. But it’s also completely necessary and he can’t help himself. And I think he’s fairly sure of a reward. But what ends up happening, he considers himself constantly self-aware, like an incredibly high introspective IQ, that if he’s achieved anything in his life, it’s that he is completely honest with himself at all times. He has these conversations in the mirror all day, every day, just to make sure that he’s sharp, that nobody will call him out on any sort of fracture that they can see within him. He sees his weaknesses, he accepts--that’s a soulful narcissist, I suppose, as a way of describing him, but one thing that has escaped him he realizes is that his desperate need to be accepted, to be loved, to be seen, and be patted, and to be, um, to have that authority figure, whatever you wanna call it, allowing you the rite of passage.

[show audio]

Hickey: Captain Crozier, there’s something I wanna say, but I hardly dare speak the words.

Fitzjames: Oh, speak the words, Mr. Hickey. 

Hickey: Well, of all I know in this world--and of this world… I tell you. That… I do not believe it is an animal we battle.

AN: And he realizes when he gets lashed, this day of sort of revelation, where he understands every time he gets hit, you know, he--I took a lot of the lashing I took through the way that Hickey’s described in the book, that his life has been this low level horror story, and pain is something that is incredibly interesting to him. It’s not something to be avoided, it’s something to be embraced. 

[show audio]

[sound of the lashing, Hickey gasping in pain]

SH: Adam, if we had to break down the whipping scene, ‘cause I mean your performance in that moment, I mean, it’s so extraordinary, the amount of what you were able to pull out physically as well as just emotionally in your face in that scene. Will you walk us through, what did you internally--‘cause in all you were saying about Hickey being with one foot planted in practice but also at the same time being the self-aware philosopher, but in that moment of the lashing, some different, higher kind of understanding must have been in place, ‘cause pain is at work there. Was your process different in that scene? 

AN: You must forgive me as well for goin’ on, ‘cause when I talk about Hickey I get lost 

[Crosstalk, Soo reassuringly saying “No!”]

AN: and I go forever, but I remember it sort of breaking it down, preparing it was breaking it down into how you are perceived when you enter that realm of torture or judgement or whatever it is, and he always is gonna make sure that he didn’t lose the experience in stupid, human things like shame, or, you know, consideration of embarrassment, he never walks in--it’s almost as if there’s never anybody else in the room, he doesn’t care to cloud it. And that was the very first point, was to get in and go, “What does it mean to be punished as a boy?” I was thinking, “You know, that’s it, what does that mean? I wonder what they’re gonna do to me?” When he realizes that and these people around him, that--I don’t know, it’s kind of--I suppose it was such a strange collaboration of sensations, because at the one point, you know, I’m in this, as an actor I’m naked in this scene with all these people, and being punished as a boy should have taken Hickey down, you know, the shame should have overwhelmed him, and it should have been this sort of embarrassing situation, and instead it became empowering. He wasn’t afraid of crying and screaming, and again, it’s not--if it’s practical, and it helps, it’s no big deal. It’s just pain. And everybody else would be in pain, and it doesn’t matter. Even if, you know, if people perceive him as weak, he’ll find a way to get ‘em. It doesn’t matter. 

[show audio]

Crozier: Again.

[whip cracking, ship creaking, muffled groan from Hickey] 

SH: And something we haven’t talked about much yet in these podcasts is this theme of hubris and the hierarchy and the patriarchy, and Dan you explore it fully in your book. In terms of figuring out, you know, where our characters come from, and their foundations and backbones, they come from a very distinct historical period that really thought that their empire was the crowning achievement of human civilization, right? And that the royal navy is this prime embodiment of that conquest. They were gonna go out into the world, find that sea route to China, and the world will be theirs. In both the book and our show, that kind of thinking is what drives them into the heart of peril, right? And what was always interesting about the Hickey character, in some ways, was he questioned--in some ways he’s very--too modern for his times, in some way, in that he questioned that hierarchy, that patriarchy. 

And that’s something that I think Dave and I can both sympathize with as well. The character was so interesting to write for because Hickey was in some ways an easy embodiment of our voice today. And then when you--when we watch your performance, what was great about your performance was it was never slippery, ‘cause it’s really easy to play Hickey as slippery. I always felt that your performance was always located in something very very direct. People can play characters like Hickey where you don’t--they never wanna commit to anything because he’s supposed to be nebulous, or too ambiguous. That was never the situation. When you had that smile on your face, when Irving is saying, you know, “climbing exercises!” we know you’re not playing Irving, which is great, and I think that’s such a success of your portrayal of Hickey, is it never feels slippery. 

DK: Well an awful lot of people came in to audition for this part, and what we found was a lot of people, most people--in fact, everyone but you, Adam--played Hickey as a kind of pre-built villain, and when we saw your first tape come in and you were open-handed, and you were smiling your way through the same monologue that everyone else had put fangs on, we knew that you were our Hickey, because that kind of charisma, and that kind of confidence, and that kind of hubris, in a way, is what were going to be the magic ingredients, I think, it’s what we sort of loved about the opportunity for the show to take the Hickey from Dan’s book and sort of turn it in a different unexpected way so that readers who hadn’t read the book wouldn’t know right off the bat whether they were meant to sympathize with Hickey or be wary of him or both, and I think that’s a great achievement of the performance is you sort of feel you’re on both rails the whole time, and I think that’s kind of an amazing achievement.

AN: That’s how you wrote it! I mean that was exactly--I think that you saw what you wrote, the real strength of that character was in his understanding of himself and his understanding of the hierarchy and how this world functions, you know? He’s studied it, gave him an intelligence, that’s the way I saw it when I read it.

DS: But it’s pretty amazing to think that by this point in the show, you have stolen a dead boy’s ring, you have shit on your ex-boyfriend’s bed, you have murdered our favorite doctor--

[laughter]

I mean there’s a lot, you’ve done a lot of things to turn the audience against you, but I don’t think that’s how an audience will feel! 

AN: All completely justified.

[laughter]

SH: You’re acquitted. 

[laughter]

SH: Can I steer the conversation just slightly in a different direction, ‘cause Dan, you made our lives very difficult in one way, so you have these two incredible set pieces in your book

[Crosstalk, Dave saying “yes.”]

SH: and they happen to fall chronologically so close to each other that production wise we had to film them one episode apart.

[Dave laughing, and he laughs a few more times in the background throughout the following]

SH: So in 1.05 we have the huge Blanky mast Tuunbaq fight sequence, and then in 1.06 we have Carnivale. They are along with something that comes at the end of our show, they are--those two scenes--those two sequences are, you know, some of our biggest biggest, just, action set pieces. They’re just extraordinary spectacles. But Dave and I, you know, we grew many grey hairs in this process because they’re so fantastic in the book, they’re fan favorites in the book, we knew that we had to--we knew we were gonna be pillaged based on whether or not we succeeded in those scenes. So seeing the mast sequence and seeing Carnivale, what did you think? DS: I know the difficulty in putting two set pieces like that close to each other, I mean, the chase with Blanky was pretty dynamic, and even more so from the book to your show, it was very dynamic.

[show audio]

[Tuunbaq fight scene! tense music, Blanky yelling, Tuunbaq roaring]

Hodgson: Fire!

[cannon fires, the shot hits the Tuunbaq and it growls, Blanky falls and screams, the mast creaks]

DS: And I love the character of Blanky, all the way through to, you know, his ending. He’s wonderful. 

SH: Speaking of the mast sequence, what we were discussing prior, this is the first time we actually get to see the Tuunbaq. We’re curious how both of you--you know, ‘cause Dave and I, we’ve been very careful about how we utilize and deploy the Tuunbaq in our show, and making sure also that narratively in the story-wise it didn’t feel like, “Oh, we need to ramp up this episode, we’ll throw the Tuunbaq in,” that we were very more deliberate about when we put the Tuunbaq in our show, and making sure that it didn’t, like Dave was saying, didn’t fit the monster of the week. But I mean Adam, you have a very particular relationship with the Tuunbaq that starts to become revealed in episode 4, could you just walk through how you were thinking about it? 

AN: The way that I started to think about the Tuunbaq was as a character, that was the best way for me to think about it, as another, you know, another member of the narrative in general, and it’s a person--it, of all the people, there are only, including the Tuunbaq, there are two that I respect: Crozier, who I see as something of maybe a soul mate, would be a way of describing it; and the Tuunbaq, who I see as a person who is, he or she is, true to themselves and unafraid, and undeterred, and pure in their resolve, you know, and their execution, and so it’s almost admiration and mutual respect, and that when that Tuunbaq looks at me, and I look back, that I see myself. And I see what I might become, you know, and I have--and Hickey sees himself as having elements that the Tuunbaq doesn’t have, you know, the idea of, Hickey so rarely sees people that he acknowledges, that, in his mind, deserve or warrant his acknowledgement, and when he first meets eyes with the Tuunbaq, that’s what he goes through.

[show audio]

[wind whirling, footsteps, Tuunbaq growling]

DK: Dan I was always curious to ask you about the Tuunbaq in terms of your creation of that creature. I mean in our research we found elements of different sort of spirits from Inuit mythology that seem like the Tuunbaq is kind of an amalgam of, can you walk us through sort of how you hit on that idea and what parts of it are from Inuit mythology that you can remember and what parts of it are your own invention, or just how that creature came to be, it’s such an interesting, fascinating creation?

DS: That’s a good question, I’ll answer it, but first I wanted to add an unharmonious, non-praising comment, which is when I was watching the series on my little computer screen and I got to the Tuunbaq chasing Blanky up the rigging and so forth, I paused the show, walked out in my front yard, aimed west, and shouted, “Don’t show the fuckin’ Tuunbaq!”

[laughter]

DS: “Not yet!” I’m sure you heard that. 

SH: Did you think we showed it too much in that sequence? 

DS: I did when I saw the sequence. When I’d seen the show front to back, one and a half times now, I think it’s fine. Dave, you remember, when we first talked about things, that was--I was stressing that left, right, and center, which is--I was basing it on a favorite movie of mine, which nobody else has as a favorite movie, but it’s the 1951 version of The Thing. Howard Hawks directed it even though he gave the credit to his DP, but he directed it, and it got so every time a door opened, every head, every person turned to look. And the monster turned out to be James Arness in a silly suit. But the tension was tremendous, and I think you guys build up very nicely, you know, everybody’s ready, looking over his shoulder, there’s that scene where somebody does, and the wiser man says “It’s only the ice, Georgie, it’s only the ice,” but of course it’s not.

[show audio]

[Neptune the dog barking]

Strong: He’s been goin’ on like that since the wind died. 

Hartnell: Take your wigs off. 

[rustling, wind whistling, Neptune continues barking]

Hartnell: Don’t you hear that?

DK: It was a fine line to walk, because on the one hand, you know, I don’t know if anyone would have made the show if it didn’t have, you know, quote unquote “a monster” in it. So we were trying to be very intelligent on how we deployed the Tuunbaq in the show, and wanted to make sure that when we did it didn’t feel like it was meant to spice something up, that it felt sort of earned, in some way, and you were confident that the less we showed of the Tuunbaq the better. But that isn’t--it’s not the easiest sell if you don’t happen to agree with this point of view, and you know, luckily we were sort of able to have our cake and eat it too, in a way, but still, even when episodes one, two, and three aired, we were reading reviews and people’s comments online saying, “Is there a creature in this show or isn’t there?”

DS: Or what, yeah. 

DK: Some people really want that settled, and so we tried to do it both ways, we tried to show just enough to make sure that it felt like we weren’t being coy about it, but not so much that we exhausted what’s interesting about it.

SH: And also the fear--there is a danger, if you put it off, ‘cause, Dan, Dave and I agree with you that you wanna hold off the reveal of the monster as long as possible because it’s just gonna be more satisfying that way, but there’s a tipping point to that as well, of course, you know, right? ‘Cause if you delay it too long then the expectations are almost too great. And when you delay the monster for so long the level of perfection that the audience is gonna expect is never--we were never gonna please them. So at some point, by finding that right balance point of “we show them enough that they know we’re not playing coy with them.” 

DK: We also had a storytelling reason, a really good one, to make sure we did show it up front in the first third of the season, which is, you know, by the time you reach episode six you realize there’s something wrong with the Tuunbaq, that it is getting sick, or it is going off somehow, I mean, when Lady Silence finally decides that she’s going to offer her tongue to it in hopes that it will accept her as a Shaman and that she can contain this sort of mythological disaster that’s happening, and it rejects her, and it shows up to that scene looking a little woozy, and you know, there’s obviously a cause to be concerned about it.

[show audio]

[eerie music, Tuunbaq growling and snuffling]

DK: That wouldn’t have landed if we hadn’t seen, in some form, the Tuunbaq in all of its majestic glory. You know, we think of the Tuunbaq as quite presidential, in terms of its comportment, you know, that it is a pure expression of this mythology, it is the keeper of equilibrium, it is neither a hero nor a villain. But by the time we get to episode six, we should be feeling a little bit panicked about what this creature is becoming. It seems to be falling apart in front of us in the same way that the men are.

SH: Our Tuunbaq exists. We don’t play that game of “it’s a figment of our characters’ imagination.” That is one route we could have gone, we did not wanna do that. 

DK: Adam, I don’t know if you remember, when we finally got the scale model head of the Tuunbaq to Hungary, and we had it in a conference room, I think, and I grabbed you from set and I didn’t tell you where you were going, and I took you to a door and I pushed you through it and closed it behind you, and in that room was the Tuunbaq, and you were the first person in the cast to see it. Do you remember what that experience was like? 

[laughter]

AN: That was terrifying! 

[laughter]

AN: I do remember, I remember that day very very well. It was just a head on a stick, wasn’t it? 

DK: A big head, but yeah.

SH: Enormous. 

DK: It was just the head--

AN: A great big head on a stick! And I knew the importance of it, so I sort of closed my eyes and opened them. I remember thinking, it was the eyes, the human eyes, that convinced me that it was a unique, thinking machine. It was a unique creature that had--that was worthy of respect, that was kind of the thing that I remember thinking about it. And of course it was terrifying. But yeah, I remember the teeth, the human teeth. It was so brilliant, it was so brilliantly conceived. I remember it was head height, and I just stood in front of it for a while.

DK: I remember it was twenty minutes before I opened the door!

AN: You opened it for a long time! I was like, uh, is it gonna move? It was great. It was really scary.

DK: So Dan, walk us through where it came from. I mean, this is a creation from, almost from scratch, I think, from you. 

DS: Well first I built the Tuunbaq out of what I think is a good monster and would be a good monster in the Arctic. And after constructing it, I went just tearing through Inuit mythology and stories and oral tales for quite a while before I found the right creature. He was called Tuunbaq in the mythology, but it could’ve been Sedna, Sedna was a great sea monster. They have so many wonderful beings. But you guys summed it up in dialogue…

[show audio]

[man speaking Inuktitut, another man translating] 

Translator: From the Shamans… the thing that eats on two legs and four… a thing made of muscles… and spells. 

James Clark Ross: I don’t understand. Is he describing a man? 

Translator: Sorry, Sir James. I don’t know what the hell he’s describing. 

DS: That was the best summary of the Tuunbaq that I’ve heard. I’m gonna steal it from you if I ever do readings on this book again.

DK: Oh good.

[show audio]

[men cheering]

Fitzjames: There it is. We’ve not heard that sound in far too long.

DS: I especially enjoyed Carnivale. I like it that you didn’t follow my lead and turn the Carnivale on the ice into the scene from The Masque of the Red Death. I had a sailor who’d actually read that story in Boston in my novel, so he’s the one who set up the Carnivale with all the rooms from the Edgar Allan Poe story, and yours, the idea of celebrating, going home essentially, when the sun rose, that made a lot more sense to me. 

DK: Well do you know the reason we went in that direction, I think in the writer’s room when we were discovering all the different sort of signs and symptoms of things like scurvy, nostalgia was considered a primary symptom of scurvy, and one way you could diagnose it. And we thought, well, if these men were going to throw a party and all bets were off in terms of what the theme of that party would be, we wanted to embrace the likelihood that a lot of those men who were in early stages of scurvy at that point might have leaned too heavily on nostalgia. And that gave us a kind of a surprising new sort of code to sort of explore in Carnivale. 

[show audio]

Fitzjames: Come on, boys! 

[cheering]

Fitzjames: Now, let’s get our hair good and powdered before that damn sun finds us again.

[more cheering]

DK: The idea that Dr. Stanley, who has a child back in England, and, you know, has a clear sense of what the kind of illness that’s on the table being discussed could do to the men, and he hears the news of the beginning of episode six that they’re probably running out of food and, you know, the episode, that episode six is called “A Mercy” for a reason, that really Stanley thinks he’s doing a great favor to all of the men by killing them. And it just was--I’m curious, when you watched that reveal in particular, that the Carnivale disaster was not going to come from the Tuunbaq but was going to come from somebody who was a kind of Cassandra in a way, like understood what was coming, in a way that lot of the men didn’t understand, whether that rang true emotionally to you in terms of how you would position these characters at that point in the novel.

DS: In the novel, you don’t have to compress time like that. The things can almost coexist and still work. So I had a little more freedom to do the Carnivale. But when you showed the malignant motives of the various people behind it, the doctor and so forth, the burgeoning insanity made sense.

[show audio]

[distorted music, liquid pouring, yelling]

Crozier: Hold him, hold him!! 

[flames crackling, more yelling]

DK: Hickey’s arc between episode four and episode six, you sense someone who’s coming into a power, but doesn’t exactly know yet how he wants to use it, and is scanning other people and other relationships to try to find out where will the advantage come from. And I think what’s great about the final shot we have of Hickey in six, that is Hickey just before someone tells him, probably, that they’re going to be walking out.

AN: By the time we reach episode six, he’s well on the way to formulating in the material world, in our physical world, to formulating his sort of group. What’s going on inside him, what’s going on in his--maybe even subconsciously, or even very very very quietly consciously, is a furthering of his understanding that this universe is for him. These happenings are for him. They have his name all over them, his real--and since the beginning of his life he’s been checking the dials, trying to tune into the right radio station where there’s a clear voice of the numinous, or the supernatural, or the universe, or God, or whatever you wanna call it. He’s hoping for the clear voice that says his name. 

DS: I have a question for Dave and Soo, which you looked at the muster of the crew as I did, you know, I had to decide who was what in a fictional term, you have about 127 interesting stories if you want to pursue them, but were you aware early on that there was gonna be one messiah developing in the story? 

SH: I don’t know if we looked at it in terms of a messiah figure.

DS: Ah, but Hickey does. 

DK: In these episodes, I think he doesn’t quite yet know what he’s going to become, except he knows he doesn’t have to be subservient anymore to other people’s versions of what he could become. I think he’s not quite sure where he is. He knows he’s just moved from one ladder to another ladder, he’s no longer on sort of the hierarchical ladder of the ships, he’s on a bigger ladder and he’s climbing, and he doesn’t quite yet know what heights that will reach, but it’s fascinating to see Hickey unleashed in these episodes, but not yet know what he’s going to put his power toward. 

[audio from the show]

[the music from the end of episode six during the brief moment of sunrise plays]

SH: 1.04-1.06 takes place from the last sunrise of the year, and then the end of 1.06 is the sunrise of the year, so in terms of just that lovely visual metaphor, it’s also our dark nights, where we have polar nights. Did you guys, watching the episodes, did you guys feel that darkness? You know, Dave and I were so curious whether or not people understood what it feels like to live in perpetual darkness for months, and whether or not our audience was gonna get that. How did that come through for you? DS: The darkness, it was a hard thing, I think, to do in a series like this, it’s pressures, like the men in the ship not only have the pressure of the ice groaning and moaning and growling and pushing at the ship, they have the pressure of the months of darkness. And I think you did it well, I don’t know if it was a reviewer or a friend who said the show is all about--in the ship it’s all about claustrophobia, outside the ship it’s all agoraphobia, fear of open spaces. 

SH: Oh that’s wonderful! 

DK: Absolutely. We talked a lot about that in the writers’ room, about how there was--we didn’t know which was worse, you know, and characters would have different opinions about that. Is it better to be sort of sealed up in almost a coffin-like environment, or is it better to be exposed with no way to protect yourself? I don’t know what I would choose. 

[The Terror opening theme music plays]

SH: So that is episodes 1.04-1.06, Dave and I are here with Dan and Adam, and it’s been such a pleasure you guys, thank you for joining us, and next time we’ll be covering episodes 1.07 and 1.08. Dan and Adam, both of you will be back as well. 

DK: Wonderful. 

DS: Great. 

SH: Thank you! 

[preview snippet from the next episode plays]

AN: In complete honesty, it never occurred to me that any of those things were cruel or despicable!

[laughter]

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Meeting Iago on your first day

Request: Yes or No

Just want to make it clear, despite everything that Iago went thru, he was still toxic and used suicide multiple times to manipulate Viruca. He clearly does have a good side unlike Nate and Niragi which is the only reason I'm writing for him. I'm thinking about turning this imagine into a possible fic series in the future but the relationship won't be sunshine and rainbows. (Y/N) is male in this. I'm starting to prefer second person view.

~

You walked down the hall, gaze forward and bouncing from student to student. Galicia was a small town where everyone knew everyone which meant unfamiliar faces were spotted easily. Luckily, it seemed like most students preferred to get information from each other rather than try to get to know you. You turned a corner, passing by two guys. The sound of a grunt and thud caught your attention, making you stop and turn towards the guys. It seemed like the two were friends and rough housing.

"Mind your business." The one pinning the other guy sneered, a grin appearing on his face. Your eyes flickered to the guy before to the window, suprised to find the window was fine considering how hard the impact sounded.

"He's new, Iago." The pinned guy pointed out, wincing slightly. He'd probably be sore for a bit. Iago let his friend go, rolling his eyes.

"I know that, Roi. I'm not fucking stupid." Iago huffed, turning his predatory gaze back onto you. The bully and his minion. How fun. You turned away from them as Iago opened his mouth, taking out your phone when it buzzed. You answered the text from your mother, finding the teacher's lounge. You knocked twice, entering and heading down the steps towards the table. A woman gave you a smile, putting on her classes and looking over a paper.

"(Y/N) (L/N)?" She asked, looking up at you for confirmation. You nodded, approaching her. She gave a wide smile.

"Welcome to Novariz, my dear. Here's a list of your teachers, the subjects, and the classroom number. My name is Marga. If you need anything or have any questions, I'm here for you and so is the rest of the staff." Marga gave a warm smile, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder. She seemed nice enough. You looked over the paper, nodding.

"Thanks." You mumbled, folding it after memorizing the classroom number. Marga nodded, taking off her glasses.

"Let me know if anyone causes you trouble, sweetheart. I'll take it care of it." You nodded, turning around and leaving the lounge. You glanced at the numbers, finding your locker before finding the classroom. You entered, catching the attention of some of the students. You took an empty seat, resting your head on your fist. The bell rang as the teacher entered, students sitting down and looking forward. The teacher looked over her students, gaze landing on you. A smile broke out onto her face.

"As you all can tell by now, we have a new student! Let's make him feel welcomed. I'm Raquel and I'll be your literature teacher. (Y/N), would you like to stand and say some things about yourself? Just so your classmates and I can get to know you better."

"I'm good." You replied, hearing snickers come from the students as Raquel quirked a brow but nodded, turning and picking up some chalk. You took out your notebook, writing down some notes until you felt someone burning holes into the back of your skull. You turned your head, making eye contact with Iago. You looked forward when he sent you a smirk. It was gonna be a long year.

Gifs aren't mine.

[gamerwoo]

Pentagon headcanons: Pentagon as Disney Characters’ Kids

a/n: you can thank my cousin forcing me to listen to the descendants soundtrack for this. may or may not do oneshots for these at some point so uh,,,,,,we’ll see

-

Hui, son of Dr. Facilier

while hui never wanted to take on ‘the family business’, he feared his father so he did it anyway

and now he has debts that he has to pay

but he really does want to be a good person and he tries to avoid doing bad things as much as he can

he tried going to jinho to see if he could help lighten his problem a little bit, and that’s how they initially became friends

he doesn’t come across as creepy like his dad, but rather tries to read the person he’s trying to scam

so sometimes he uses his cuteness to his advantage, sometimes his sexiness

he does his best to target bad people to scam rather than just anybody off the street

he still can’t help but feel somewhat guilty no matter what though

-

Jinho, son of Hades

like his dad, he’s sarcastic and short-tempered

but jinho knows how to mask his anger pretty well

and then he’ll get his revenge later

he’s not really the greatest at making friends so he just kind of hangs out with hui and yuto

hongseok gives him the benefit of the doubt too

he really can be a good person but when your dad is hades,,,,,

despite how much alike they are, jinho and his dad don’t get along very well, so jinho often spends his time away from the underworld

-

Hongseok, son of Gaston and Belle 

you read that right kids, he’s the son of gaston and belle

not saying she had an affair but might be implying it

he’s basically got the bodystrength and cockiness of his dad, but the kindness and braincells of his mom

no one's slick as hongseok no one's quick as hongseok no one's neck's as incredibly thick as hongseok’s 

he’s basically gaston but he’s not an asshole and he drinks his respect women juice

he feels really bad for his dad so he still talks to him but he wants him to change his ways and actively tries to get him to do so

loves to play with the kids in town and will often buy them snacks and stuff from the stands

there’s a lot of debate in the kingdom as to whether he’s even a prince but he still has girls lining up to marry him lmao

-

Hyojong, son of the Mad Hatter

nobody is really sure why hyojong is the way he is

but really who was sure why his dad is the way he is either

likes to do literally whatever he wants and does not give a shit what anybody thinks

which is why he doesn’t have many friends

even hui doesn’t try to mess with him

his only friend is basically wooseok because everyone else either thinks he’s crazy or just thinks he’s obnoxious

but he’s actually a really sweet person, but nobody actually gets to know him except those curious enough to find out

but he does still pull really dumb pranks on literally anyone

he’ll even go for jinho if he’s around

he’s here for a good time not a long time ok

-

Shinwon, son of Genie

uses his power to do whatever he wants in possibly the dumbest ways possible

he’ll literally just turn into a toaster and pop some toast out of himself like he just does things that doesn’t make sense

but he thinks it’s funny and entertaining so whatever

despite having his freedom, the keeper of his lamp is hyunggu because his mom wanted to study it and shinwon was fine with it

he doesn’t technically have to live in his lamp anymore but he just prefers it

“you should see my gaming setup in there”

he’s friends with pretty much everyone

the only exception is yuto just because his dad is wary of him

-

Changgu, son of Hercules and Megara

obviously hercules is known for being yknow a god

but he gave that up to be with meg and thus changgu was born

an absolute sweetheart who just wants to help people

wants to be just like his dad so he works out a fuck ton

tbh,,,,,,,,really wants to be a god because his dad was so he feels like he’s kind of in his shadow

people will be like “wow changgy is just like his dad BUT he’s not a god”

thinks he can’t become one so he basically tries to be one just without yknow the magic and immortality and stuff

but he lives in a fairytale works so i mean cmon anything is possible

wink wink

-

Yanan, son of Cinderella and Prince Charming

the Perfect Son TM

well, in front of people at least

his parents are super iconic obviously but he’s kind of sick of everyone’s expectations of him tbh

he looks like such a sweet beautiful prince and he is but god he kinda wishes he could just not be a prince for a little while

everyone expects him to be as fantastic as his parents and he hates it

but he won’t voice it directly he’ll just be lowkey passive aggressive lmao

he’s not always like that tho he’s still a polite boi

hates going on dates with suitresses 

at first it was because he was really shy but now it’s just because he finds them all to be kind of the same

despite his feelings toward everyone’s expectations, he does want to be king and he wants to be good at it

but he wants to make his own name for himself

-

Yuto, son of Jafar

other than his powers, he’s nothing like his dad lmao

okay well other than the powers and the animal sidekick

his best friend is a fennec fox named adi who can’t talk like iago could but she’s much less sassy anyway

well, usually

everyone in town assumes he’s mean and scary because he looks pretty intimidating but he’s literally the sweetest and kindest person ever

he tries to give things to the poor kids but nobody will take anything from him

he has a staff very similar to his father’s which is how he uses most of his magic, so he basically hardly uses the thing lmao

jafar expects his son to basically fuck over aladdin and jasmine’s kid since he failed

and despite being forced into this giant scheme, yuto wants nothing to do with it

but he fears his dad way too much to tell him no

-

Hyunggu, son of Honey Lemon

The Sweetest Boy TM

considering who his mother is, you know he chugs his respect women juice

the biggest smarty pants but he’s not a showoff about it

he’s not like that one annoying kid in class who answers all the questions, he just sometimes will randomly spit out lil facts and stuff

he’s exactly like his mom personality-wise

super sweet, very outgoing, loves learning new things and making new friends

manages to see the good in everybody

one of the only people who are nice to the villains (other than hongseok) even though his mom is still lowkey kind of wary of them

but she still always says “their kids are not them, so we can’t assume”

honestly thinks his mom is the coolest person on the planet

close second is baymax lmao

honestly if baymax were a human it would be hyunggu just like,,,,,,less puffy lmao

-

Wooseok, son of Alice

super duper curious about everything

he’s a little tiny bit strange but nothing close to hyojong

always has very vivid dreams and tbh he can’t ever remember if they’re dreams or old memories

typically pretty quiet but sometimes he just,,,,,,,,gets very loud and strange

usually brought out when he’s with hyojong

sometimes he hangs out with hongseok just because belle used to babysit him and read him all kinds of stories

so wooseok is more friends with hongseok’s mom than hongseok lmao

he hasn’t really done anything bad but the town is still kinda wary about him

but they’re nice to his face they just talk about him behind his back

he’s usually too lost in his own little world to notice tho

[sunflowersunshinevol6]

Iago’s Demise

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Warnings: sexual content, vampire!Harry, blood, Priest!Harry, nun!Y/N

Summary: Escaping from his maker Harry finds himself in London, masquerading as a priest and pondering immortality. But when a young nun tempts him, will he be strong enough to resist.

London was almost another world entirely. But the young vampire stalked it’s streets all the same. He found home in St. Etheldreda’s Church, masquerading as a Priest. He had hoped to find salvation for himself, for his soul, outside of the walls of his maker’s grasp. 

“Good morning Father,” he nodded, keeping his eyes down as he passed through the corridor. He lit a candle and knelt before the altar, clasping his hands together tightly and bowing his head. 

“Father God, all these humans, it is remarkable. Thank you for the control, for the will to resist my thirst. What is my goal? What is my purpose in this new life? Am I damned?” he asked this everyday, never truly finding the answer. 

He had not hunted in nearly six months. Not since he’d come to London, it was hard. More difficult by the day, and yet he persisted, refusing to live off the humans he blessed and prayed for. If he died, he died, and into his Lord’s arms he would go. He did not know what this life was, but he would use it for good. 

“Father Harry?” He straightened up, turning to see a young nun standing behind him. His instincts jerked within him as he laid eyes on her. She was gorgeous and the smell, she smelled divine. The most beautiful meal he could have ever hoped for. 

Harry grips the cross around his neck tightly and takes a step back. Father, save me from this demon, this lust that rises in me. The gluttony. Save your daughter. Spare me from Satan’s grasp. She looks at him confused, her eyes wide and innocent, her cheeks flushed with the blood that pushed through her tiny veins. He could hear it and his mouth watered. 

“Yes? My child.” he cleared his throat, turning his eyes back to the altar. She knelt beside him, lighting a candle of her own. The perfume of her scent wafted towards him, he leaned towards it, hoping not to arouse suspicion. 

“Father you’ve been quite absent these past days. Are you ill?” he wasn’t, the sun had been bright and with no clouds in the sky it was harder to hide. He had stayed in the tombs, praying solemnly and ignoring the gnawing need to feast on the humans above him. 

“I have been sick,” he muttered quietly. He stood, dusting himself off and moving away from her. “Now I must go my child. I have to-” she touched him, her fingers brushed the back of his hand. He heard the audible gasp as her warm skin connected with his cool and hard surface. The instincts jerked again, and this time he felt he could not resist. 

“Father-” he grabbed her, too quickly as her body slammed into his. He fisted his hand into her hair and yanked her head back. He could resist no longer. Satan was good, he knew how weak Harry’s will would be, so he sent the sweetest of temptations. She whimpered, her body quaking with fear as his lips brushed against her skin. 

“Father forgive me,” he mumbled before sinking his teeth into her flesh. 

He dragged her down to the catacombs. There, among the dead, they would not be disturbed. She had fainted as he had begun to feast. That would not do. He paced as she lay on the dirt floor, the flame from the torches that lit the hall, flickered and lit up the red wound at her neck. He gripped the cross again, praying over and over for forgiveness and guidance. What would he do now? What could he say to her? He did not want to kill her. That was a mortal sin. But he was immortal. So what did that mean for him?

She groaned, lifting her head slightly she opened her eyes. Fear struck her, she had no idea where she was. A man stood just feet away from her. It was then that the memory came back to her. The coldness of his hand, the feel of his lips at her neck, the sharp pain she had felt. 

“F….Father Harry….” fear and apprehension dripped from her voice as the devil stepped closer to her. She whimpered, trying to move back. 

“Stand my child.” he demanded. She did as she was told, slowly getting to her feet. Her body ached and there was a throbbing pain at the spot he had bitten her. She placed her hand over it, feeling the gaping wound beneath her fingers. 

Her eyes watered with tears, her skin pale, her lips parted. The horror radiated off of her. He didn’t want her to look at him like that, like he was a monster. It was her fault. And the Devil’s. He had been tempted and fallen. He took a deep breath, the silver of the cross digging into his hand, it never cut him. She stayed rooted to the spot as he brushed his hand over her cheek. 

“Do not fear me,” he tried to sooth. She bit her lip, the open wound on her neck was not helping to sate his hunger. It made him want her more. “Do not fear me.” he kisses her forehead, it’s hard and cold. She stiffens, hands clenched at her sides. 

When he looked down their noses brushed. He was so close, too close for comfort. There was a darkness that surrounded him, she could sense it, it wrapped around her, Satan’s grasp, pulling her in. She tried to move away, but he grasped her wrist, pulling her closer, flush against him, his other arm wrapped around her waist. 

“Look at me.” when their eyes met she wanted to scream, but froze. His eyes were bright, a blood red she had never seen in any human face before. He was not human. He was a demon, and he had her trapped. “How beautiful, you are,” his lips closed over hers. They were cold and hard, her stomach fluttered. 

“F-Father-”

“I’m sorry,” he bowed his head. “I’m sorry but you….I can’t….” he looked back at her, fear evident in his eyes. It pulled at her heart strings. Her head was telling her to run, to get as far away from this monster as she could. But her heart was saying no. There’s something else going on here. 

He gripped her wrist tightly. She tried to struggle but was no match. And she saw his eyes. For the first time, she had seen the red rimmed eyes of her priest. Fear coursed through her as hot and quickly as her own blood. 

“Y..You are a demon sir.” Harry’s lips dragged over her neck. Everything within him tried to resist. 

“Pray.” he growled, gripping her tighter, he tilted her back further, baring his teeth against her neck. Her skin was warm, the blood pulsed in his ears. It was too much. Heaven help him. 

“Our Father….” his fangs sank into her neck. She gasped and grabbed him hard, fingers fisting in his hair. He pressed her against him, crushing her to his chest. The sweet tang of her blood being slurped into his mouth was euphoric, he moaned, relishing in the high of it. 

She had never experienced anything like this. After the pain came something else entirely. A pleasurable feeling she had not anticipated. She whimpered, her body pressing against his as he gently laid her down on the ground, climbing over top of her. She pressed her hips up into his groin, he pushed down against her shoulders. Heat pooled between her legs, her center throbbed. She wanted more. She wanted his touch, his kiss, his body on hers. God help her, she couldn’t think straight. She could hear him drinking deeply from her. He could take it, he could take all of it, she didn’t want the pleasure to end. 

He pulled away, forcing himself to stop. Blood dripped from his lips onto hers, her own lips pale, body weak from loss of blood. She was close to death. Her eyes were glazed and she took a shaky breath. 

“Did you pray?” he asked her, brushing his finger over her lip, smearing the blood, she could taste it. Metallic, like pennies. She nods, wincing as the movement causes her pain. 

“S...Save me….” she cried out weakly. He tilted his head. 

“Do you truly wish to be damned? You cannot.”

“I...I don't want….please don’t let me die.” he snorts, leaning down and whispering in her ear. 

“You would be a devil with me?” he asks her. He doesn’t know what’s come over him, the power is in his head. He could take her life or spare it. In this moment , he feels close to God. 

“S...Save me….” He reaches up and slices open his own neck with a sharp fingernail. He leans down, pushing the wound against her lips. She inhales sharply. He holds himself up over her.

“Drink of me. Drink of me and have eternal life.” she sucks on the wound, drinking his blood from him. He moans, he can feel his cock stiffen between his legs, he reaches down and palms himself lightly, she can feel the back of his hand, and presses her hips up, he moves his hand out of the way, and pushes down against her. 

She’s getting stronger, she sucks harder and grabs him tightly, pushing her hips against his hard, they grind against one another, she can feel the heat within her building as their pace quickens, he groans clawing at the ground as she drinks from him. The power she begins to feel is incredible. He starts to pant, she can feel him getting harder. 

The dirt and rocks digging into her back stop bothering her, the pain fades away as the burn in her body coupled with the pleasure begins to overtake her. His hips stutter and he pulls away from her, only to capture her lips with his. He kisses her hard, their teeth clashing, he bites her lip, causing blood to trickle down her chin. 

Her orgasm shakes her to her core. Her body arcs and he rolls off of her onto his back. She writhes and shakes, licked by the flames of the venom that courses through her and the pleasure that rocks her. Once her orgasm subsides she cries out, turning her head to look at him, wide eyed and with fear. He grins, his teeth glistening with her blood. 

“Your body is dying….you will be mine.”

[equisetumspn]

Party at Victor’s

”Cas, come on man. It’ll be fun, I promise. Everybody will be there,” Dean pleaded with Castiel. “Listen, I know we said that we would stay at home and watch movies with Sammy and Kevin like we did last year and the year before, but this could be our last chance at celebrating New Year’s with our friends. This time next year everything will be different and maybe people won’t even come home for the holidays. Please?”

Castiel sighed. How could he deny his best friend anything? He never could, and it had only gotten worse in the past year and a half. Ever since he realized that he not only had a crush on his best friend but was in hopelessly love with him.

They had been down by the lake the day that Castiel’s feelings caught up with him. Castiel had been sitting on a blanket, trying to concentrate on his book and listening to Dean and Sam laughing as they had chased each other by the edge of the water. Dean had flopped down on the blanket next to him, water droplets coming off him and landing on the page of Castiel’s book. Castiel had looked up at Dean. The sun had hit him, making his green eyes sparkle in the light and emphasizing his new freckles that had come out in the summer sun. He had said something but Castiel hadn’t heard a word, too distracted by the boy in front of him. It had been like he had never seen Dean before. Dean had needed to repeat himself two times and ask if Castiel had been alright, before Castiel had registered that Dean had been asking about going to go get some ice cream. Castiel had tried to blame being too engrossed in his book and an unexpected plot twist in it, but he hadn’t been sure if Dean had bought it since he had kept looking questioningly all the way to the ice cream stand.

That evening, Castiel had paced back and forth in his room, trying not to panic. Falling in love with his best friend was such a bad idea and it was such a high school cliché that he had felt his cheeks burn red when the realization had hit him all over again. But it wasn’t like he could just as sudden fall out of love with Dean and he didn’t want to risk the friendship, so after he had considered his choices, he had decided to suppress his feelings. It hadn’t been easy, and he had spent the last eighteen months pining and feeling jealous when Dean flirted with someone else or went on a date. He had told himself a million times that he was over it, that it was behind him, but then Dean smiled and Castiel’s breath caught in his throat and his heart flipped in his chest.

“Cas?” Dean was still looking at him with a small smile. Castiel felt the last of his resistance fade away.

“All right let’s go to Victor’s party. But I still want to see that movie.”

“Yes! I’ll ask Sam if they can wait with it until tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at nine, see you then!” Dean bounced out of Castiel’s room. Castiel could hear him scurry down the stairs and then the footsteps stopped and turned back up again. Dean popped his head back into the room “It’s gonna be fun, Cas, I promise!” Dean smiled at him and disappeared again.

Castiel fell down on his bed and buried his head in his pillow. He wished that they could have spent the New Year’s Eve with Dean’s younger brother and his best friend like they had the last few years. Instead of a night filled with popcorn and joking around while watching action movies, he started to mentally prepare himself for a long night filled with loud music, speaking with people he wasn’t particularly fond of, and, worst of all, probably seeing Dean dancing with someone else, maybe kissing them at midnight. Castiel hated the feeling of jealousy. He had no right being possessive of Dean. He told himself yet again that if Dean got together with someone he was going to be happy for him, a true best friend would be happy. He thought of Iago’s line in Othello, the one about the green-eyed monster that feeds on the meat while mocking it and he knew that if he saw Dean kissing someone at midnight, his heart would break and his own green-eyed monster would consume the parts. Castiel sighed again. It was going to be a long night.

 *********

 Dean turned onto Cas’ street a couple of minutes before nine o’clock. He parked across the street from his house and texted him to let Cas know that he was there. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of ‘Ramble On’ that blasted through the Impala. He got so into the song that he didn’t see Cas leave his house and jumped high in his seat when Cas knocked on the window on the driver’s side. Dean leaned over and opened the door on the other side, trying to glare at Cas who laughed at his reaction. It almost worked, until he felt his breath hitch when he saw that underneath the trench coat, Cas was wearing the soft button down in the particular shade of blue that brought out his eyes even more than usual. All of a sudden, he felt way too underdressed in his flannel. He scratched at the back of his neck and lowered the volume on Led Zeppelin. 

“Shut up Cas.” He started the car. “So are you ready to party?”

“Um, I guess.”

“Listen buddy, we don’t have many parties left before high school is over, so I’m glad we’re going to this one tonight. But, like, I also know that these aren’t really your thing so if you truly want to leave, you just come tell me. Okay? If it gets too much for you then we leave. Don’t want a repeat of what happened two years ago, okay? Promise you’ll tell me if you need to leave?”

“Dean. I can leave by myself in that case.”

“Nah-uh. That’s not how this friendship works. If you need to leave, we leave together. Capiche?”

Cas gave him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

  When they got to the party, the street was filled with parked cars and the music streamed out of the open door as people entered the house. They walked into the kitchen and found Victor distributing drinks to those who’d just arrived.

“’Course Cas.”

*

“Soda is fine, thank you.” Cas got his drink and left the kitchen, saying something about going to find Aaron to talk about a documentary they both had watched. Dean just shook his head and turned back to Victor.

“Hey Winchester! Good to see you man! Here,” Victor handed Dean a beer. “Novak, you want a beer too? Or a soda? Got plenty of both, and some stronger stuff too.”

“So, Vic, did you have a good time in Aspen? You got back yesterday didn’t you?”

“Yeah, the snow was perfect. It was great actually. It’s nice to spend time with family and do something fun, you know? But there’s like a limit on how much time you can spend with your parents and younger sister before you start to go a little bit crazy. Just glad I convinced them to let me have this paaartyyy!” Victor hollered the last word and the kitchen filled with loud whoops in response.

*

  “So Jo,” Dean said and cocked his head to the side. “Midnight’s getting closer. Any plans on who you’re gonna spend it with?” Dean smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  Dean had a great time. He was only a little bit drunk, the kind that just made the world seem like a happier place and made everyone funnier. He talked with Jess about her plans on becoming a nurse. He checked in with Cas. He stood next to Stevie and cheered for Charlie against Gabriel in what must have been the world’s most equal game of beer pong. Charlie finally won, but it was really close. He checked in with Cas. He danced with Lisa for a bit and then with Benny and Andrea. It was a good evening.

*

“Seriously Winchester?” Jo leveled him with a flat look. “You and I? Not gonna happen again. We tried that when we were fifteen. It was a total disaster, we even swore to not talk about it again, remember?”

Dean flushed at the memory. It had felt so wrong and things had been really awkward between them for a while after the kissing incident before they had decided to put it behind them. He grimaced. “Yeah, sorry. You’re right.”

“Of course I am. I’m always right. Besides, you and I both know that there’s someone else you want. And have wanted for a really long time.”

 “Wh- I… Uh… Wha- What are you talking about?”

“Don’t even try to front, Dean.”

Dean hung his head and looked down at his feet. “Am I really that transparent?” he asked quietly.

“No, you’re not. I don’t think other people know how you feel, but I’ve known you all our lives and I guess I just know how to read you.” Jo squeezed his arm and what she said made Dean feel little more relieved. Maybe the entire school wasn’t laughing at him and his ridiculously huge crush on his best friend behind his back after all?

“Dean don’t worry. I really think it’ll work out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and find Victor before midnight.” Jo winked at him and then she spun on her heel and walked away.

   He peaked into the kitchen but the only people there were those needing to refill their drinks. Dean couldn’t find Cas in the dining room where Charlie was obliterating people at pong again, nor among the dancing students in the living room, nor in the den where Aaron and Chuck played a video game that seemed to require a lot of tactics. Dean cursed Victor and his family’s way too big house, making it impossible to find people while he ran up the stairs to the top floor, taking two steps at a time. At the top he met Benny who come out from one of the upstairs bathrooms.

Dean blinked a couple of times, trying to process the last few minutes. Had he really suggested to Jo that they should kiss again? Jo liked Victor? Jo knew about his feelings for Cas? But most importantly, did she really imply that he might have a chance with Cas? He looked around the room and saw that several of his friends were already starting to pair up, even though it was almost ten minutes left until the clock turned twelve. Scanning the room, he realized that he hadn’t seen Cas in a while and he suddenly felt a rush of urgency to find him. Even if he probably wouldn’t be brave enough to kiss him at midnight, he still wanted to spend the last minutes of this year and the first of the next with Cas.

*

“Benny have you seen Cas lately?”

“I think I saw him walk out into the garden a little while ago.”

“Thanks man!” Dean ran down the stairs again and through the kitchen where Bela smiled dangerously at him and tried to stop him, but he tore past her out the French doors. The doors slammed shut behind him as he stepped out on the patio.

“Cas? Are you here?” Dean squinted out in the garden’s darkness. He walked down the steps onto the lawn. “Cas?” He called again.

“I’m over here Dean.”

Following the sound of his voice, Dean found Cas sitting on a bench by a hedge at the far side of the garden.

“Hiya Cas.”

“Hello Dean.”

“What are you doing out here?” Dean sat down on the bench next to him.

“I just needed some air.”

“Are you not having fun? Are you okay? I told you to come find me if you wanted to leave…”

“No, it’s been fine. I needed a little break, that’s all. It got so loud.” From out here, all that could be heard from the party in the house was the base from the music and the occasional excited yell. “Isn’t it close to midnight now? Shouldn’t you be in there? I bet there are a lot of them who’d want to spend midnight with you Dean.”

As if on cue, the music got quieter.

“Nah. I’d rather be here with you.”

Dean looked at Cas. Loud counting was now coming from the house. Before Dean could second guess himself, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Cas’. He felt Cas tense and Dean wondered if he had done something really, really stupid and ruined everything just because he lacked self-control for a moment, but then Cas melted into him and started to kiss him back. The shouts of ‘Happy New Year’ came from the house. Dean finally tore himself away from Cas’ soft lips and leaned his forehead against Cas’.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“No, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Dean lifted his head and looked at Cas. “Wait. What?”

“Dean, I’ve been in love with you since the summer before junior year.”

He couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of him. “Well then I have you beat, Cas. I’ve been in love with you since we were fourteen.”

“Oh. Really?” Cas looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Mhm. Really, really.” They looked at each other and this time neither of them could hold in their laughter.

“Man, we really are a couple of dumbasses!” Dean said and looked at Cas’ eyes, shining with happiness.

“Maybe. I just wish we hadn’t wasted so much time…”

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying. I vote for us stop wasting time then.” Dean leaned in again.

Cas smiled into the kiss and when they broke apart, he asked “So what do we do now?”

“I say we kiss some more, you know, just to make up for lost time and then tomorrow I’m gonna take you on a date. A real one.”

“The first of many.”

“Yeah obviously.” They both smiled into the next kiss.

[villainousshakespeare]

Just one bed fluff with a character of your choosing, if it isn't taken yet?! I'm partial to Loki and Tom, but whoever floats your boat in the moment! Congratulations on 200 followers! You deserve them and more, sweetheart!

Sorry this took so long my dear! Hope it was worth the wait. I decided to do Tom for this. :-)

Kicked Out

Rated T - alcohol use, kissing, implied smut

Lots of fluff!

Tom Hiddleston/Reader

The music pulsed around you too loud for the small space. Mechanically you sipped your watered down margarita, trying to push down the depression that threatened to overcome you. If your friends back home could see you now they would be laughing at how excited you had been. Here you were, sitting alone at a hotel bar. This was not how you had envisioned things at all.

It had not all been bad of course. You loved the play you were acting in. Well, of course you did! It was Shakespeare! Even though you had only a bit role you were understudying Desdemona. And the cast was all first rate. You had already learned so much in just a few weeks! The upgrade in quality from your scrappy theater company where it was a struggle to get male performers who came anywhere near the talent level of the women such as yourself to an internationally renowned ensemble boasting genuine stars more than made up for going from playing the lead to a glorified extra.

If only you didn't find yourself feeling so cursedly shy. You had always had a bit of social anxiety, but until this tour it had never been an issue with castmates before. The theater was the one place you had always felt in your element, confident in yourself and able to mingle with everyone. You wished that were the case now. 

Being assigned to room with Tisha had seemed like a wonderful stroke of luck at first. Like you she was on her first international tour, and was therefore playing several smaller parts in the ensemble. She was bubbly, outgoing, and talented, immediately drawing the attention of everyone around her. Unfortunately for you, that everyone included Michael, the actor playing Othello. He had become visibly smitten with her during the first read through, ignoring everyone else to shamelessly flirt with her whenever the opportunity presented itself. You would have been happy for her if he wasn't married with a child. The situation didn't seem to bother Tisha, who carelessly told you that she saw the whole thing more as a career move than a real relationship. What happened on the road, she breezily said, didn't effect real life, except for possibly leading to bigger roles down the line when he recommended her for future shows.

It was none of your concern, you had told yourself. They were grown adults and for all you knew he had an understanding with his wife. The problem had begun tonight, when they decided to take their relationship to the next, inevitable level. You had assumed that when this occurred, as you had guessed from the start it would, they would avail themselves of his room. After all, as one of the stars of the production he had a large room all to himself. Unfortunately for you, this did not turn out to be the case. As a married celebrity, Tisha had explained to you in hushed tones, Michael's meant had to be careful in situations such as this. He could never be seen having a woman enter his room, much less stay over night! Of course you wouldn't mind vacating your room for a while, would you? She had pleaded with big puppy eyes in a tone that clearly said she did not expect you to say no, and had somehow ushered you out the door, blithely commenting that you should be able to come back in a few hours, just knock before entering to be sure. The door shutting in your face had been cruel and final.

So here you were, sitting by yourself at the hotel bar with a bartender who looked like he would dearly love to cash you out and head home. You could have found one of the other actors to let you crash wish them, but you didn't really know anyone that well yet. The insecurity that flooded you when you thought of knocking on a virtual stranger's door and asking to sleep on their floor was too overwhelming.

"Trouble sleeping?" a voice like melted caramel asked from just over your shoulder.

You choked on your drink, splashing a bit of it onto your lap and the bar in front of you. You would have recognized that voice anywhere. You heard it often enough in your fantasies. But though it had been three weeks since you had begun working with him you still could not believe that you were now hearing it in person as well. Never in your wildest dreams had you believed that you would actually book a show with Tom Hiddleston.

Turning on your stool you saw the man himself standing behind you. He was so attractive it made you want to cry sometimes. You had come into contact with other celebrities over the years, and in almost every case seeing them up close and personal had somehow ruined the fantasy of them. In real life they had each just seemed... ordinary. With Tom, it was the exact opposite. He was handsome on screen or in pictures, in real life he was literally breathtaking. From the top of his burnished gold curls to the soles of his well worn grey boots and everywhere in between he was perfect. 

"You could say that," you laughed uneasily, face turning crimson. You had never spoken to him alone before, and never anything other than vague platitudes at the end of rehearsals or addressed to a group at large. 

"Me too," he said, giving you a half grin. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

What could you do but shake your head and gesture to the seat next to you. Pulling out the bar stool he folded his long, lean frame onto it, stretching his legs out. Your feet dangled like a child's from the stool, but his reached the floor with ease you noticed. Damn, but his legs were long!

"I'm always nervous before opening in a new city," he admitted, signaling for the bartender to come over. He ordered a single malt scotch and another daiquiri for you, requesting that the waiter make it with top shelf tequila.

"Still?" you asked, surprised that he would get nervous given his lengthy resume.

"Of course," he shrugged. "Never trust an actor that tells you he's not nervous. He's either lying or not pushing himself hard enough. The day my nerves go is the day I pack it in. The challenge is everything."

"Well, it's good to know it's not just me," you said quietly with a soft smile. You were nervous of course, even if that wasn't why you were there now.

"This is your first professional show, isn't it?" he asked.

You nodded, surprised that he knew. Was your acting that clunky that your lack of experience showed in just your few scenes?

"I watched your audition tape," he told you, grabbing a handful of bar nuts and arranging them on a napkin. "I wanted to come to the auditions, but Ken thought it might make people nervous. I made sure to watch all the tapes though. You were very good. The passion you put into Lady Anne was remarkable."

You blinked at him, all words deserting you. He had seen that? You were quite proud of your Lady Anne, but he was right. It was hard enough to have Kenneth Branagh watching you audition. If Tom had been in the room, you doubt you would have been able to do it.

"Thank you," you said at last after a long pause while he snacked on peanuts. "I had no idea."

"I like having a say in things like that," he shrugged. "When you're doing a show that's this intense, who you're on stage with is a big deal. Also, both Ken and I are firm believers in giving new talent an oppertunity. After all, him taking a chance on me is how I ended up with my career. What kind of person would I be if I didn't pass on the favor. I was the one who pushed for you to be Desdemona's understudy, by the way."

"Really?" you wished the word didn't come out like a squeak.

"Mhm. In fact, I thought you could have played the part. Producers wanted a name though, and I guess you can't blame them. Have to make their money back. Still, you were quite impressive."

You were saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of your drinks. Tom thanked the bartender and asked to have the drinks, including the one you had had before, charged to his room before leaving a large tip on the bar.

"Thank you again," you said, sipping on your new and much stronger drink.

"No need," he waved it off. "Othello was my big break, you know. I played Cassio in a production with Chewitel Eijifor and Ewan McGregor. It was fantastic, but I always wanted to do Iago. I try not to make dream part lists, I'm a bit superstitious that way, but now that I'm actually doing it I can admit it."

"I would think it would be on any actor's list!" you said, trying to hide the fact that of course you knew about his previous Othello, along with every other part on his lengthy cv. "I would like to tackle it myself some day."

"I would love to see that," he smiled, looking sincere. "You have a great facility with the language. And there is no reason why Iago should have to be male. I must say that I greatly appreciate that we live in a time where the gender barriers for such superb parts are beginning to break down. What other roles do you dream of tackling? I promise I won't tell a soul!"

You weren't sure whether it was the alcohol warming you or the way he smiled and listened to you like you were the only person in the world, but you soon found yourself engaged in a long discussion of Shakespeare that ranged from contentious - you would never agree on who the ultimate Richard III was, with you preferring Ian McKellan and Tom being loyal to his good friend Benedict - to the ridiculous. He had you in stitches when he recounted the story of an actor (he refused to name them) who had so completely missed an entrance on press night for Much Ado that Tom and his scene partner had to improve in verse for three minutes. When the poor man had made it onto stage, he had not had time to put his shoes back on. The review in Time Out the next day had gone on for two paragraphs about the social commentary of having a barefooted Don Pedro. By that point you were on your third drink and laughing like old friends, hunched over and shaking with mirth.

"Oh! Yes!" Tom said suddenly, pulling himself up to standing and holding out his hand to you. "Come on!"

"What?" you asked, totally confused.

"This song!" he replied, enthusiasm shining from his face. 

"It's a good song," you agreed, listening to Michael Jackson's Beat It blaring out from the speakers.

"Well then?"

"What?"

"Dance with me!"

"Tom..."

"I refuse to take no for an answer," he insisted, dragging you to your feet and onto the dance floor.

Tom's energy was infectious, there was no avoiding it. Abandoning the last shreds of your dignity you surrendered to the music and the exuberance of the man spinning you around the floor. He was good of course, you had seen it on videos often enough, but he made you actually feel like you could dance as well. Michael Jackson turned into Prince and then Tina Turner as the two of you made idiots of yourselves in the empty bar.

"Last call," the beleaguered bar tender called, ruining the vibe. 

Looking around you realized that he had put up all of the chairs and wiped down the bar. As tempting as it was to order another drink and prolong the fun, you knew that it was not fair to the poor server. Still, you didn't know what to do with yourself now. Would Tisha and Michael be finished with whatever they were doing? Had it been long enough to go up?

As Tom helped put up the remaining bar stools and finished off his scotch you collected your purse. You stared at your phone, trying to decide whether or not to text Trisha.

"Okay, out with it," Tom said, looking at you with an unwavering stare.

"With what?" you evaded.

"The truth. Why were you down in the bar by yourself? And don't say nerves. I've talked to you enough now to know that you are not the sort to drown your anxiety in alcohol."

"You did," you said, not believing your audacity.

"I came down for tea," he said.

"Tea?" you parroted.

"There was no earl grey in my room. I like to have a cup in the morning while I get ready."

"But you had a scotch! Two of them!"

"Well, I would hardly be a gentleman if I let a lovely lady drink alone," he shrugged. "So. Spill it. What brought you down here all by yourself?"

"Um... it was just... a little crowded in my room," you tried to sound as noncommittal as possible.

"Ah, I see," his quick brain filled in the pieces. "You're rooming with Tisha, aren't you?"

"Yes," you answered slowly.

"So Michael has made his move has he?"

"You know?" you asked, somewhere between mortified and relieved.

"Well, they haven't exactly been subtle," he said with a wry laugh. "Also, he has a bit of a reputation. I had hoped it was just rumor, God knows there are enough of those about me, but it appears in this case there was some truth behind it. Don't tell me they kicked you out?"

"They told me I could come back later," you said quickly, trying for some reason to make them look not quite as selfish and failing miserably.

"Why couldn't they just have gone to his room? No, never mind. Foolish question. You poor thing. I am so sorry you have to deal with this. Would you like me to check with the front desk and get you another room?"

"Oh, no, that's really not necessary!" you said. You could only imagine the talk if that were to happen, trying to explain to the tour manager why there was an additional expense on the invoice. True, it was Tisha and Michael who should be made uncomfortable by it, but you just knew you would be the one to squirm from the scrutiny.

"Well, there is only one thing for it," he said, placing his large hand on the small of your back and ushering you out of the bar. "You shall stay with me."

"What?" for the second time your voice, pride of your acting arsenal, was rendered little more than a dog whistle.

"It's no problem," he shrugged, walking towards the elevator and taking you with him. "I have a large single room all to myself. I'm sure it will be much more comfortable than breaking up whatever your roommate and Michael have going on."

You looked away and bit your lip, trying to decide what to do. It was such a tempting offer. Not that you would ever get any sleep in the same room with this man, but at least you wouldn't have to face the love birds.

"Darling," Tom said, gently turning your face to look you in the eye, "you have no reason to worry. I am not Michael. I would never take advantage of a costar. I just want you to have a comfortable place to get a good night's rest before your performance."

"I never thought... Of course you wouldn't take advantage!" you said with a laugh. As if someone like Tom would try to take advantage of you, you thought. It would be hilarious if he wasn't standing there looking like an overly attentive angel.

"Good, then it's settled," Tom's smile beamed at you. "Come on."

And just like that you found yourself in the unbelievable position of movie star Tom Hiddleston showing you into a large corner hotel room on the top floor. The comparison to your small shared double was insane. You were fairly sure your whole room would fit into his en suite.

"Oh," you gasped, not intending it to be audible.

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning to you all solicitous.

"Nothing," you said miserably, trying not to stare at the giant king size bed. You didn't know why you had expected there to be two beds. He had told you it was a single room. As it was there was not even a couch for you to sleep on. Two large over stuffed chairs took up space on the other side of the room, and hard backed ones surrounded the table near floor to ceiling the windows.

"Ah," he said, perceptively following your thoughts. "Yes. One bed. If you like I can sleep in the chair."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" you blurted out.

"I assure you, I have suffered much worse," he smiled. "If you feel uncomfortable sharing, I will gladly curl up in the armchair."

"No, that's just silly," you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "After all, the bed is so big you could fit five people in it. As long as you don't mind, that is."

"Not a bit," he said rubbing the back of his neck. "Now, let me find you something to sleep in."

To no surprise you soon found yourself in a pair of long running shorts and a Legend t-shirt. You surreptitiously pinched yourself to make sure this was real. To be dressed in one of the patented Hiddleston outfits was surreal to say the least. 

You walked out of the bathroom to find Tom sitting on the edge of the bed in his own pair of jogging shorts, glorious broad chest bare. Trying desperately not to stare, you shyly walked around to the other side of the bed.

"Left side alright for you?" he asked, always the gentleman.

You nodded and quickly got yourself under the covers, pulling the blankets up to your chin. Tom turned off the light and got himself situated, leaving the bedding down at his waist. In the dim light you could just make out the whirl of hair on his chest as he curled onto his side facing you. Your fingers itched to reach out and feel it, but you managed to keep them to yourself. You could feel the heat radiating from him, like a live fire warming your body. He reached out gently and touched your face with the backs of his fingers, still staying to his side of the wide mattress.

"It was lovely getting to know you, darling," he said quietly. "Rest well."

You smothered the whimper threatening to erupt and rolled onto your side, facing the window as far away from him as you could get without hanging off the edge. Attempting to ignore the pooling desire in your center you settled in for what was sure to be a long, sleepless night.

When the alarm went off you almost jumped out of your skin. Blearily you tried to sit up, but a strong arm around you kept you anchored to the bed. A murmured curse sounded behind you and the beeping stopped. A face buried itself in your hair as you were pulled closer to the wall of chest at your back.

Oh sweet lord! you thought, as awareness of your location flooded into your brain. Gingerly you opened one eye just enough to confirm that you were half way across the bed in the center of the mattress. You must have rolled over in your sleep, you realized. Which of course meant that Tom had also drifted to the middle of the bed to meet you in what could only be described as he the most comfortable and simultaneously uncomfortable embrace of your life.

He felt divine. He body was all pliant skin over hard muscle, Warm and soft and deliciously scented. His obscenely large hand splayed across your waist, just below your breasts, to rest against the stripe of bare flesh where your borrowed t-shirt had ridden up in your sleep. His legs, those impossibly long limbs you had admired in the bar last night, were pressed against you, one rising up to hook over your own. It was heaven. If only it was intentional. Silently as you lay in his embrace your mind cringed awaiting the moment he woke the rest of the way and realized that the woman in his arms was only you, a pathetic cast mate he had taken pity on when she was cast out of her own room.

When you could bear it no longer, you tried to gently pull away from him. Once again his arm tightened around you, holding you close to him. You closed your eyes and tried to think of a way to delicately extricate yourself. That was when you heard your name, mumbled in his honey warm voice made rough by sleep into your hair.

"Stay," he said, snuggling further into you. "Please."

Well, when he asked so nicely! Really, you decided, when would you ever have such a chance again. Surrendering to the bliss, you allowed yourself to sink back against him. You would soak up these moments, you decided. Save them for when you were feeling lonely, or needed a happy memory to see you through a hard time. After all, what could be better than being held in Tom Hiddleston's strong arms?

It was too short a time before the alarm went off again. Tom swore, lifting his arm from around your body to turn it off. You felt him, more fully awake this time, realize the situation you found yourselves in. His body stiffened and his leg quickly slid off of yours.

"I am so sorry," he said, pulling his head from where it had lain in the top of your hair. "Please, darling, forgive me. I didn't mean to take advantage."

"No need to apologize," you assured him, trying to sound as though this sort of thing happened to you every day. "After all, we were both asleep."

"It's just been so long since I've had a beautiful woman in my bed," he sighed, arm rising to cover his eyes. "My body just reacted instinctually."

"Beautiful?" you heard yourself say, a note of disbelief in your voice.

"Can you doubt it?" he asked, sounding surprised himself. 

"Generally speaking," you laughed, thinking that this man calling anyone beautiful was like the sun calling a lightning bug bright.

"My darling, you are stunning," he said, rising up on his elbow to look at you. "You are also intelligent, funny, and delightful. I thought I had a crush on you before I got to know you last night, but now..."

"You have - a crush?" 

"Damn," he said quietly. "Forgive me. I should not have said that."

Slowly, not daring to believe what you had just heard, you rolled over so that you were facing him. Hair mussed and eyes slightly unfocused Tom looked even more devastating than usual. A light growth of stubble shadowed his jaw, and in the dawn light his freckles stood out against his pale skin.

"Did you mean it?" you asked, stunned.

"There are few things as attractive... as sexy as talent," he said quietly, not meeting your eye. "When I saw you act, well, I could scarce keep my eyes off of you."

"You do realize that you are the most talented person I have ever seen," you told him, shock bringing out your candid side.

"You are very kind," he blushed.

"I am very honest," you answered. "You really think of me like that?"

"I think of you all the time," he replied, looking at you at last. "Often like that. I have spent the last three weeks trying to work up the courage to speak with you. When I saw you sitting alone in the bar last night, I thought someone must have heard my prayers."

"I am in a dream," you said. "I am in a dream and any moment now I will wake up and be back in the small black box theater performing for ten people."

"If you are in a dream than I am too," he smiled. "Darling, I understand if you want to leave. Things with me are never simple. It is an unfortunate side effect of the career I have chosen. But if you are willing to try, I would love to court you."

"Court me?" you grinned at his archaic turn of phrase. "Like with flowers and poems and such?"

"If you would like," he said, surprising you once more. "I have written a poem or two in my day, though I am more adept at songs. They are more forgiving. For now, we could perhaps start with breakfast?"

"Breakfast sound wonderful," you said, realizing suddenly that you were in fact hungry.

"I will order room service then," he nodded. "But first, sweetheart, would it be too forward of me... may I kiss you?"

Unable to speak you nodded your head once. Tom smiled, and reached down to grasp your chin gently between his thumb and finger. With an aching tenderness he brought his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet and full of promise. You felt it all the way down to your toes in ways that far more invasive kisses had never moved you. Your back arched and you molded yourself to him, his free arm encircling you to hold you close. Emboldened by the embrace, you let your own hands find their way around him and to his back where they slid down the naked skin in a caress. With a quiet moan he pulled away, and you briefly felt his arousal brush against your let as he let you go.

"The things you do to me," he sighed, fingers lightly tracing your face. 

"I know what you mean," you breathed, feeling light headed from the kiss.

"I started this leg of the tour irritated at Michael," he confided. "Now I am tempted to send him a thank you gift. What do you thing? Champagne? Chocolates?"

"If we give them all that, won't it just encourage them the next night?" you giggled.

"Ah, now you see my clever plan," he teased. "How else can I hope to get you back in my bed?"

"Tom," you spoke seriously, "clever plans are not needed. All you need do is ask."

"Hmm," he grinned, pulling you close once again. "I am suddenly more happy than I can say that they forgot my tea."

"So am I," you smiled, nestling in against him. "You have no idea."

"Well then," he said. "You will just have to show me. Fortunately, we have months to go, and I for one have never been so happy to start a tour."

As you burrowed back together under the covers you could not help but agree.

@yespolkadotkitty @hopelessromanticspoonie @nonsensicalobsessions @hiddlesholic

[green-eyed-whumpster]

My OC Universe: Rowan 104

Chapter 104 Summary: Cordelia talks to Rowan while they wait for Peter to return. And when he does, he did as he promised and wrapped up Rowan’s hands. (Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: PTSD whumpee, reference to fictional death, cuts, lil bit of blood, lancing blisters

Rowan sat outside like he promised after Peter disappeared into the trees, Cordelia moved a chair outside and sat with Rowan, reading her book patiently. Rowan longed to be able to talk to her about her book, but he couldn’t read, and he had never read a book, he didn’t know what would make it good, or bad, or how to judge its literary quality. He could ask what it was about, but he didn’t want to be a bother.

She noticed him, however, staring longingly at the cover of her book, from eyebrows crinkling in disappointment as she turned the page. She knew he wanted to read, but she kept forgetting to teach him.

“Are you curious?” She asked eventually. “About the book?” Rowan flushed bright red and shook his head, too quickly to be truth.

“Sorry, I-I was just…”

“It’s all right,” She smiled, closing the book with her finger marking her page. “Would you like to know what it’s about?” Rowan looked back towards her and nodded gently.

“Please,”

She turned her smile to him and reclined slightly, no longer having to lean over in order to read.

“It’s about a man, you remember the tavern owner in the city? He had dark skin, like night,” Rowan nodded and she continued. “Well, he’s dark like that, too. He had a lovely wife, her name was Desdemona, and she was young, and gorgeous. The man was called Othello, he was a military general, and he had two companions, Iago and Cassio. Now, Othello recently promoted Cassio to his right hand, and Iago didn’t like that, he thought that he deserved the position. And to get back at Othello, he decided to ruin his relationship with Desdemona and Cassio, so he gets Cassio drunk, to humiliate him, and have Othello sack him,”

“But doesn’t that mean Iago gets what he wants?” Rowan asked cautiously, afraid of saying something wrong.

“He does.” Cordelia replied immediately. “But he doesn’t just want to get that job, he wants to ruin Othello forever for slighting him. He gets his wife, Emilia, to steal a handkerchief that belongs to Desdemona, embroidered with strawberries, to plant in Cassio’s belongings, to make Othello think he and Desdemona are having an affair.”

Rowan listened intently as she told him the rest of the story, about how Roderigo is betrayed, how Desdemona is murdered, how Iago is revealed by Emilia, she finally stopped speaking and looked at him, waiting for a reaction.

“Is that it?” He asked and she nodded. “That’s how it ends?”

“It’s a tragedy, Rowan,” She replied sadly. “People die, you just have to appreciate the story.”

“But wait, if you know how it ends then why are you reading it?” He asked.

“I like the story,” She replied. “One can learn a lot about people through tragedy.”

~

Peter returned just as the sun was setting, he emerged from the side of the house, small blood stains dotting his shirt, but not soaking him through in a way that would scare Rowan. He grinned at the boy, jumping up the stairs to greet him and Cordelia, wary of his own hands, strained from resetting traps and dispatching of animals.

“How are your hands?” He asked, removing his weapons.

“Fine, thank you,” Rowan replied, letting him take his wrists and turn them over.

“Oof, those look painful,” Peter’s eyes ran over the yellow bubbles of pus surrounded by skin the colour of ham, and the little crescents of scarlet blood dotting his left palm. “Come inside, we have some medicine for blisters.”

Rowan followed him into the house, leaving the bucket outside since he didn’t want to attempt to carry it. Peter hung up his bow and began pulling off his shirt, hoping to get rid of it before Rowan took too much notice.

“Sit at the table, I just want to get changed and I’ll come back and treat them.” He promised and Rowan nodded, moving to a chair and sitting down. Noticing, as he pulled out the chair, that his hand truly was hurting.

A few minutes later Peter pulled out an adjacent chair, sitting close to him, a box with a red cross on it. He opened it and pulled out a roll of thin bandages and a container with a salve in it. Rowan couldn’t suppress a weak whimper when he saw Peter pull out a needle.

“Don’t be afraid, I need to lance them so they can be wrapped up,” Peter said. “I promise that it won’t hurt you, I’ll only pierce the skin to release the liquid, and the most pain you’ll feel is when I drain them.” Rowan whined softly, uncertain, and still very nervous, but he wanted to trust Peter again, and this seemed the best way.

Peter got a candle and lit it, which didn’t help Rowan’s nerves, much less so when Peter held the needle over the flame. “This will sterilise it,” Peter told him, seeing the fear in his dark eyes. “Make sure it isn’t infected.” It hadn’t helped either. But he soon found himself with his hand resting face-up on a handkerchief, fingers trembling as he saw the needle, turned blue with heat, inch closer to his blisters.

“Are you all right?” Peter asked and Rowan nodded uncertainly, biting his lip to keep from making any other sound. “Close your eyes, you won’t have to worry about watching it,” Rowan obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut to let the darkness distract him from the dread.

A soft pressure on the blister in-between his thumb and forefinger was the only indication of the needle before he heard a soft sigh.

“There we go,” Peter said and Rowan’s eyes opened from surprise. The yellow pus was seeping from the pierced skin and Peter gently pushed it, squeezing the blister flat.

“It’s…it’s a rather messy job, would you rather I did it?” Rowan asked, glancing up to where Peter’s eyebrows had lowered in concentration, dabbing away the substance.

“Nonsense,” He murmured, moving the needle back to the flame. “It didn’t hurt much, did it?” He added, changing the subject as the needle sparked blue.

~

Peter gently dabbed the salve on both the blistered skin and the surrounding redness before delicately wrapping Rowan’s hands in the bandages.

“Are these too tight?” He would ask frequently, each time Rowan would shake his head. He watched in admiration as Peter’s hands curled steadily around his own, fingers walking along his palm to make sure the bandage was firm.

“There,” He said, tucking in the edge of the bandage and pinning it carefully. “How are you feeling?” He asked, lifting a hand to cup Rowan’s cheek before thinking.

“I’m fine,” Rowan answered. “I’m sorry, though, you were right, my hands do hurt now.” He admitted and Peter smiled, removing his hand to pack away the medical box.

“It’s a learning opportunity,” He answered. “It can take some time to become used to labour.” An idea occurred to him and his eyes lit up before turning to face Rowan. “Maybe tomorrow we can teach you to read,” He suggested. “Since you won’t be able to go back to woodwork for a few days.”

“Oh! I’d like that!” Rowan grinned and let his eyes rest on Peter. “Thank you,” Peter smiled at Rowan’s eagerness and nodded.

“Of course, we can start tomorrow.” He promised.

[fatesdeepdive]

Entry 13: Corrin’s Boat Dreams

The arena is open now, which means I can force units to fight to feed my gambling addiction. The game choses a random unit and random enemy for you and you get resources if they win. It’s very lacking, especially when compared to arenas in other Fire Emblem games.

At the end of the last entry we got a new unit: Kagero. So, time to do the thing I do in these entries and talk about her.

Kagero

Kagero is Ryoma’s other retainer, also a ninja, who has stats that make her a glass canon. Her personal skill makes her better at fighting other units who wield shurikens. She hasn’t really shown much personality yet, so I can’t talk about that, but I can definitely talk about her design. I love the scarf and the hair that covers her face. On the other hand, tiddies. This royal guard has massive boobs and deep cleavage, because Intelligent Systems knows their audience. To be fair, attractive female characters aren’t necessarily bad, and the game at the very least does have female characters who aren’t super fanservicey. I actually don’t mind Kagero as much as say, Tharja or Camilla, because she seems to have a personality beyond sexy. Probably. Been a while since I played this game.

Support: Corrin/Takumi

C: Corrin tries striking up a chat with Takumi, but he is hostile towards her, because of the whole backstory thing. See entry six for clarification. Anyway, Corrin suggests Takumi teaches her archery as an excuse for the two of them to spend time with one another.

B: Takumi is a stern teacher, but Corrin slowly improves. Corrin accidentally hurts herself and Takumi cancels the training session, quietly admitting to himself that he pushed Corrin too hard.

A: Takumi apologizes to Corrin and admits that she’s talented and fiercely devoted to Hoshido.

S: Corrin improves greatly at archery, thanks to Takumi’s training. Then we get the obligatory not really incest handwave and the two of them get married. Yay. This one actually has Corrin ask who her father is, if it isn’t Garon or Summeragi, and Takumi says that Mikoto didn’t write it down, which feels like a shitty thing for her to do.

Review: This is a weird conversation, considering the fact that Takumi learning to trust Corrin also happens in the main plot. Still, Takumi softening up a bit when Corrin gets hurt is a nice character moment. As for the S-Rank, you all know how I feel about the bullshit deus ex machina to excuse incest this game does.

Support: Oboro/Takumi

C: Oboro and Takumi talk about fashion, which reminds Oboro about her murdered parents. He asks if she wishes to return to fashion and she brushes it off, saying that she is more than happy serving him.

B: Oboro begins making a ceremonial outfit for Takumi and contemplates that her parents would be proud of her for being the seamstress for a prince.

A: Takumi sets Oboro up with a job helping other people with fashion in her spare time. She thanks him for the extra work.

S: Oboro attempts to quit both her fashion job and retainer job, because she is in love with Takumi. He says that he already knows, which makes sense, because that thirst was palpable. Takumi proposes to her and explains that he gave her extra work so she can start her own business after the war, which is nice but is also something he should have probably discussed with her in advance.

Review: This is a very laid back conversation that portrays Oboro much kinder than the game often does. I actually think Takumi comes off as a bit controlling, which is why retainers dating their masters is a bad idea, but overall it isn’t an awful support line.

Support: Corrin/Silas

C: Corrin asks Silas about why she doesn’t remember being friends with him and he brushes it off, because apparently everyone completely forgets about their childhood friend who was so devoted to them he became a knight for the slim chance he might see them again. Silas mentions that he and Corrin made a list of all the places she wanted to travel to and the two of them agree to go on a trip together.

B: Silas recreates the list from their childhood, which is filled with non-specific things like “a festival” and “a street food stall”. It’s actually a little cute. Corrin broods over why she can’t remember Silas and he tells her to ask her retinue, which is a word I had never seen before.

A: Corrin, after asking her retinue, reveals that she cried for days after they took Silas away. The two of them discuss how good friends they are.

S: Silas tells Corrin that she’s hot now and he loves her because she’s hot. He admits that Corrin’s out of his league, but they get married anyway because Corrin will have sex with anything with a pulse.

Review: So Silas is telling the truth? Really? He was so suspicious! This would have been much better if Silas was lying about his past and never knew Corrin. It at least would have had a resolution, as opposed to the half-hearted shrug that is this conversation. It set up a mystery and then just pretended it didn’t exist, which is infuriating.

Support: Hinata/Subaki

C: Hinata finds Subaki staring at his own reflection in love, because Subaki is literally a narcissist. As in, he’s doing the same shit Narcissus did that was so cartoonishly arrogant that the word narcissist is named after him. Also Subaki makes fun of Hinata for being a slob and agrees to teach him how to be more classy.

B: Subaki teaches Hinata basic cleanliness tips, like bathing, and combing your hair, and ironing your clothes. Hinata says that Subaki’s being ridiculous, and it’s framed as him being a slob, but I kinda think he’s right? The two of them are soldiers fighting behind enemy lines, they can afford to have wrinkled clothes.

A: Subaki recommends taking minor steps towards cleanliness.

Review: This is a mediocre, but ultimately harmless, fluff conversation that makes Subaki look like an asshole.

Birthright Chapter 11: To The Sea

The gang sails to Nohr. Takumi brings up the fact that Iago is probably a spy, but Corrin says she trusts him because, and I quote, he stood with us through one battle without stabbing anyone in the back. Such high standards our hero has.

Corrin says that she likes the sea and wants to buy a boat. The game better end with us getting that boat. Suddenly, the weather gets bad and the boat shakes. The ghost dude who killed Mikoto flies out of the water and attacks Azura. A battle begins against the ghost dude and an army of ghost pegasi riders. Weirdly, the ghost swordmaster dude isn’t actually an enemy in this map.

Early on in the battle, a new character named Reina shows up. She flies over to Corrin and explains that she was sent by Yukimura to help.She also brags about killing a shitload of enemies.

Reina

Reina, according to her unit text, is one of Mikoto’s retainers. She’s our first pre-promoted unit, an upgraded Sky Knight called a Kinshi Knight that can wield bows. I love the idea of flying anti-air units, but from what I remember they have bad growths. Design wise, I like that she has scars and looks a bit older than most of the female units. It establishes that she’s an experienced warrior. The halo thing is a bit weird though. Personality wise, she seems insanely violent, to the point of having a mini version of Lifetaker as her personal skill. But like, in a comedic way. Unfortunately, Reina only has supports with Corrin, which means she’s a bit of a throwaway character.

This was our obligatory Fire Emblem boat chapter. Stationed around the boat are Dragon Veins that create wind to keep the fliers at bay, but honestly I didn’t need them. I played this map defensively, bating the fliers with Rinkah or Silas then sniping them with Setsuna, Takumi, and our new flying death machine. Side note, what even is this ship? It’s covered and filled with market stalls, which I’ve never seen before.

After the battle, ghost dude, who we never actually fought and thus is still here, attacks Takumi. Zola sacrifices himself to protect Takumi and the ghost just kinda disappears. Sakura heals Zola’s wounds and Takumi apologizes for doubting him.

[etlunainmorte]

"You really sure you don't wanna come?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for inviting me, anyway."

"Alright, then! See ya!"

You waved goodbye at your new colleagues, wishing them well, and watching them with a slight smile as they went, in groups, to the theatres to see the latest Marvel movie.

What was it again? Oh. Doctor Strange, The Multiverse of Madness.

"Would you like that movie?" You asked yourself in a low voice as you turned around and walked straight to the opposite direction. "Huh,... V?"

As a matter of fact, you would never know the answer to that question. Or maybe you could, if you invite him over to see it with him. The man has an undeniably great taste in the arts, you couldn't help but wonder what his reaction would be upon seeing it.

If he would come, that is.

For one thing, he's always busy with his work as a Devil Hunter. Second, said job ate most of his free time.

Third, he lived far away from you.

You sighed as you noticed the young couple sweet talking with each other inside your favorite coffee house to your left. Clicking your tongue and cursing yourself with your luck, you decided not to torture yourself and skipped your favorite frappe for the day.

How could anyone blame you, though? It's not as if you wanted to move away from him in the first place, no.

It's this job. This job you've been dreaming of for years. Well, you loved your previous job, yes. But, the moment this great opportunity came knocking on your door, you just couldn't help but accept. However, it required you to move away from your boyfriend.

Well, the distance would mean nothing to you if the new job was only a few blocks away from home but, no. It required you to move three districts away from Red Grave. Past rustic Swan Lane and rural Gaol Town to a bustling district called Wifmann.

Your heart twitched in pain the moment you remembered V's face when he found out. Of course, the man was beyond sad, and because of that, you were willing to refuse the offer. Hell, you just can't choose career over the person you loved, no!

However, he made a selfless decision and told you it's alright to grab this once in a lifetime opportunity. He was well aware of your dreams, and he wanted you to succeed in your chosen career. And in life. 

And so, here you were, living your daily life without the man you love, waking up each morning without him by your side, going to work without him to kiss you, going back home without him to hug you, and going to sleep without him to whisper sweet nothings to your ear and lull you to sleep with his soothing voice as he read to you your favorite poems.

Sometimes, you were wondering: was it really a good idea to live like this? Sure, you were getting the best things in life, your dream job, an amazingly generous pay check, the most friendly and competitive colleagues, decent bosses ( at least ), a wonderful urban neighborhood that was so different from what you were used to in Red Grave, and, very soon, a house you would call as your very own.

But, all these wonderful things,... in exchange for your one true happiness in the world.

It was very easy to say that, with each passing day, you were steadily getting bored of your monotonous, successful career woman schedule. With each passing day, you found yourself getting closer, and closer, to the inevitable. All that glitters is not gold, indeed. For once, you were lured by this shimmering bait, and now, you felt nothing. You were no longer happy with this empty existence.

And exactly eleven months later, you've had enough. You have made your decision, and you would definitely see this through.

Tomorrow, you would pass the resignation letter you made the other night. You would pass it and go home to V. You couldn't care less that you're turning your back on this so - called wonderful dream life. You're going back to your real home, and that's it.

Back to where your true happiness is.

Suppressing the tears that was brought upon by mere thoughts of your beloved, his deep, calm voice, his ever - charming smile, and his gentle green eyes, you entered the quiet suburban neighborhood and walked straight to the right where your little house was. You opened your hand bag, and took the key from it. You were about to open the door when you heard an achingly familiar sound coming from the living room inside. It was the sound of a violin, and a piano accompanying it. Someone entered your home! And,… not just someone!

The music,…

Was it,... Elgar?

Wait, if it is Elgar, then that only means - !

You grabbed the brass door knob, yelped when the door, itself, fell off its hinges, as if something forced it to open, and bolted inside, not bothering to take off your coat and bonnet,...

And there, standing in the, once, tidy kitchen and making a complete mess of it, was the man, himself, and his two familiars, who were most probably the suspects to blame for your damaged door, standing ( or flying ) right next to him, watching whatever he was making.

"I think you should put in the egg yolks, first, Shakespeare." The demonic bird instructed, as if he knew everything about baking.

"I,... don't think that's what the,... manual,... states." Came his deep voice.

"We should have watched a tutorial on the internet like what that noisy mechanic says,..." The bird answered, and as if something burned his back, he looked behind him and realized you were standing there, eyes blurry with tears and lips trembling with mirth. "Hey! Hey, V! She's here!"

The man called V turned around, green eyes wide with surprise, and pale face and jet - black hair a bit messy with flour and bits of some mysterious gooey – like red substance. And when he saw how,... emotional,... you were upon finally seeing him after such a long time, he couldn't help but tear up a little, as well.

"I,... ah,... " V stuttered, a hint of pink coloring his once pale cheeks. "Oh, my,... I,... please forgive me about the mess! I - "

"And the door," You cut him off. "And the sink. And the floor."

"Forgive me, I could clean afterwards - "

"And the music. And the surprise."

"Oh, dear! I hope you don't mind Elgar, my love,..."

"And the speaker." You sighed and smiled, finally letting your tears fall freely from your tired eyes. "Oh, V,..."

"Well, I - "

Everything happened in a matter of seconds. You running towards him and throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you without even a single care for your pristine clothes. And him reciprocating the warm hello you gave him as his arms went around your waist, holding you close, and burying his face in your fragrant hair.

Then, giving your head a tiny kiss, he whispered to your ear, his emotions overflowing in his voice, "Salut,... d'amour."

"Hello to you, too, my love." You answered, kissing him on his flour - powdered cheek. Then, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you, "What are you making?"

V gulped nervously. Letting you go for a while, he looked back at the mess that he and his familiars have created on the kitchen counter, and said, "I was,... going to make you a pie. Do you,... perhaps,... love cherry, my love?"

"Cherry pie, huh?" You said, and with a smug look on your proud face, you removed your bonnet, threw it carelessly aside along with your signature handbag, rolled up your sleeves, and tied your hair up in a ponytail. "I'll gladly help." Giving a sly look to the demonic bird on V's arm, you added, "What could a Demon bird possibly know about baking?"

"HEY! AT LEAST, I'M HELPING HERE!" Griffon squawked. Then, pointing with his wing at the feline familiar who elected to rest on the floor next to the table, he said, "LOOK AT THAT KITTY! SHE'S USELESS!"

You gave out an over exaggerated sigh as you placed your hands on your hips and hummed, wondering how to patch up your beloved's mistake. Somehow, he has already messed up the whole process of making the dough, and the cherry filling he has prepared and set aside for later looked suspiciously like Slimer's middle - aged elder sister.

"But, you're tired, my love." V said as he hugged you from behind, the thing he always does to distract you whenever you're busy doing something in the kitchen. Either to tease you or do something else entirely. Either way, it always worked in the past. But, not today. "I'm sure you want to take a rest."

"Yeah, let Romeo and I handle the rest, Juliet." Griffon agreed.

"No can do, Iago." You answered with a smile as you took a clean bowl and some of the eggs from the carton. "Let me help. I insist. You've come all this way to visit me, so I want to feed you a proper meal." Turning to V and giving him a sweet smile, you added, "And I think it's about time I teach you how to bake, V."

"Would it,... take long? You must be famished by now." The man asked, tightening his hold on you as if he doesn't want to let you go anymore.

Ah, how you missed his touch, his voice, his warmth,...

... his smile and his caress,...

You missed V so, so much,...

"It doesn't matter." You simply answered as you focused on the task ahead. "We have time. We would have all the time in the world, I promise."

It took him a few moments before he realized what you just said, and when he did, his eyes widened and burned at the same time.

Did you just - ?

But, what about - ?!

"I missed you, V." You told the man, your face away from him, your eyes starting to blur once more with tears of happiness.

V smiled, feeling the same emotions as you did, and pressed his lips against your left cheek. "I missed you too, my sweet, little lady."

"I love you, V."

"I love you more, (Y/N)."

***

🌸 My short but sweet prize for @dreaming-gamer . I hope I did justice to your request. 😅😅😅🙈🙈🙈 Did a little twist. I hope you like it. ❤❤❤😊😊😊 🌸

***

🌸🌸🌸

***

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 29

Warnings: fluff/angst

Rating: SFW

You and the trio left the door to the previous floor and had enter the world of Agrabah.

“Look, guys! Someone's in trouble!” Goofy said. The four of you saw Aladdin up ahead. He was surrounded by several Shadows.

“We'd better do something!” Donald said. The four of you ran into the brawl with your weapons.

“Mind if we help?” Sora asked. 

“Thanks! I thought I was done for!” Aladdin said. The four of you fought the Heartless, but more kept coming.

“They just keep coming!” Donald said. 

“Guess we'd better see if the legends are true. Magic lamp, my first wish! Get rid of these Heartless!” Aladdin said. Aladdin held out a lamp. Blue smoke came out of it and a blue genie was released.

“Stand back, kids! Genie of the lamp coming through! Ain't nothin' I can't make right as rain---well, if we HAD rain in the desert,” Genie said as he teleported beside Aladdin. 

“But enough dry jokes! One Heartless disappearing act, coming right up!” he said. Genie wagged his finger in the air, and the Heartless disappeared.

“Gawrsh!” Goofy said.

“Why didn't you call him in the first place?” Donald said. Aladdin looked down.

“It's not that simple. You see---” he said.

“I couldn't have said it better myself. But I will anyway! I'm strictly limited to three wishes per master. And ixnay on the wishing for more wishes!” Genie said as he disappeared.

“So you've got two wishes left? Better use them carefully,” you said.

“I've got to get back to the palace somehow. But with all these Heartless...” Aladdin said. 

“Hey, guys. We’re headed that way too, so why don’t we go with Aladdin?” Goofy said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Sora said.

“That would be great! Thanks a lot!” Aladdin said. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy followed Aladdin and Genie towards the palace.

“So, uh, why are you going to the palace, Aladdin?” Goofy asked.

“That no good royal vizier, Jafar. He tricked me into getting this magic lamp from the Cave of Wonders. The cave was crawling with Heartless. I'm lucky I made it back to Agrabah in one piece!” Aladdin said.

“Wasn't there anyone else there to help you out? This Jafar guy's got some nerve giving such dangerous orders,” you said. 

“I know how you feel, Master. People have been ordering me around for 10,000 years. And what help do I get? I keep wishin' someone will wish me outta this gig. But go figure the odds on that,” Genie said.

“Well, how 'bout I use my third wish to set you free?”

“Doth my pointy ears deceive me? Master, you'd do that for me? You're not just pullin' my topknot now, are you?”

“I promise, Genie. Anyway, there's only one thing I really want.”

“Then we'll just have to DO something about that, Al! Can I call you Al? So, what'll it be? Fame? Fortune? A herd of luxury camels to call your very own?”

“Well, there's this girl. Her name is Jasmine. She's princess of Agrabah. And...that's the problem. It's hard for a "street rat" like me to get a chance to see her. That's how this all started. I thought if I went to the Cave of Wonders, I could get the treasure, and maybe then Jasmine would want to meet me.”

“Sounds like your wish should be that you can see Jasmine anytime you want, huh?” Sora asked. 

“Well, I've got just the package for you! You'll not only meet the lady, you'll go in style... ...as PRINCE ALI! How d'ya like the sound of that, Al?” Genie said.

“Me, a prince! Can you really do that?” Aladdin said. 

“In an Agrabah minute!” Genie said.

“I guess the legends were true after all. C'mon, let's get to the palace!” You and the others left for the palace. You and the group entered a small alley, and you all noticed something down below.

“Wak! Look at that!” Donald said. 

“Who is that...?” Aladdin asked. Down below, Jasmine was on the ground and surrounded by Heartless.

“It’s Jasmine!” Aladdin said. 

“She needs our help!” Goofy said. 

“We'll never make it in time!” you said. 

“Then I've no choice. Genie, I wish for you to save Jasmine!” Aladdin said. 

“Can do! CHAAARGE!” Genie said. Genie wagged his finger, and the Heartless disappeared. You and the group joined Jasmine at the bottom of the alley.

“Jasmine!” Aladdin said. 

“We're lucky! She fainted, but it looks like she's okay,” Goofy said. 

“But now you've only got one wish left,” Sora said. More Heartless suddenly appeared. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy prepared for battle.

“Not again! Sorry, Genie. But you're the only one who can---” Aladdin said. 

“Wait! This is your last wish! Don't waste it. This time, let US handle the wish-granting!” Sora said. You and the trio defeated the Heartless. 

“See? We didn't need Genie this time,” you said. 

“Thanks, guys. But I'm still down to my last wish...” Aladdin said. Suddenly, there was a flash of light. 

“What---” Sora asked. 

“Wak! What’s happening?” Donald asked. 

“Oh, no! The lamp! It's gone!” Aladdin said. He felt around for the lamp. Meanwhile, Jafar and Iago were on the ledge above.

“Hmm, it seems my plans have gone amiss. I was certain you'd waste your last wish... ...what with poor Jasmine in distress and these delightful creatures to deal with. But no matter. At last the lamp and its genie are mine to command!” Jafar said. 

“Why are you doing this, Jafar? You've got the lamp! What more do you want?” Aladdin said. 

“Such an interesting question. You see, I knew you were going to use the lamp to try and win Jasmine's heart. But we can't have that, now, can we? Because I am the one Jasmine will marry!” 

“You?!” you and Sora asked. 

“Certainly you realize that if I marry the Princess, then nothing can stop me from becoming Sultan! You're nothing more than a pawn in my game, street rat! Genie! My first wish! Deliver Jasmine to me!” Jafar said. Genie appeared, holding Jasmine in his hands.

“Genie! What are you doing?!” Aladdin asked. 

“Sorry, Al. My hands are tied on this one. I gotta obey whoever has his mitts on the lamp,” Genie said. 

“Precisely. Farewell, Aladdin...you fool!” Jafar said as him and Genie left. Aladdin put his head down in failure.

“Great. Now I've lost Jasmine AND the lamp,” he said. 

“You can feel bad about it some other time! If you don't pull yourself together, you'll never see Jasmine again! You lost the lamp. So what? You can still save her on your own! Losing someone you care about is bad, but not as bad as never getting them back!” Sora said. 

“Sora... You're right. I can't give up now! I've gotta save Jasmine!” 

“But Jafar's got the lamp. We can't just walk up to him and expect to win...” Donald said. 

“Maybe we can. I've got an idea. Listen up!” Aladdin said. 

~Le Time Skip~

You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy engaged Jafar at the palace gates.

“What's this? Has Aladdin given up on his precious Jasmine already? Well, I'm not going to waste a wish on the likes of you four. I'll deal with you myself!” Jafar said. 

“Aladdin, now!” you said. Aladdin jumped off from a nearby stand.

“What? You! Genie, seize him!” Jafar said. Aladdin ran to Jafar but Genie appeared in his way.

“Al, forgive me!” Genie said. 

“Gr..” Aladdin said. Genie knocked Aladdin out of the way. 

“You fell for it, Jafar!” Aladdin said. 

“What do you mean?!” Jafar asked. 

“He means that you just blew your second wish! Only one left!” you said. 

“Go ahead, use it to win Jasmine's heart. You'll still have us to deal with!” Aladdin said. 

“Oh, NOW I get it. Al, you are so clever!” Genie said. 

“Well, well. The cunning of a rat. But unfortunately, you can't see beyond the bait. Your little ploy changes nothing! I can crush you once and for all AND make Jasmine my own! Genie! My last wish! Transform me into an all- powerful genie!” Genie looked down and snapped his fingers. Red smoke had enveloped Jafar. He then glowed and released energy which exploded in mid-air. You and Sora were transported to an area with rising blocks and lava. Jafar rose out of the lava in genie form.

“It's so hot! Jafar must be doing this...” Sora said. Iago flew by, carrying a lamp. You and Sora defeated Jafar by destroying the lamp. Later, you, Sora, Donald, Goofy, Aladdin, and Genie met back at the palace gates.

“We rescued Jasmine AND we got the lamp back!” Donald said. 

“You still have one wish left, Aladdin,” Goofy said. 

“He sure does. Time for me to make a prince outta this guy! Course, I'd like to be free, but like they always say, genies can't be choosers. You're probably miffed about that whole puppet-of-Jafar thing, anyway. Go on, Al. Wish for what's really in your heart. Be a prince. Get the girl,” Genie said. 

“Okay, here goes. Genie, I wish for your freedom!” Aladdin said. 

“But Al...!” Genie started to glow and he grew legs.

“Now no one like Jafar can use you for evil again. Genie, you're free!” Aladdin said. 

“Al, I'll never forget this. But what about Jasmine? What are you gonna do?” Genie said. 

“I was wrong, Genie. If I used your help to win Jasmine... ...I'd be no better than Jafar. Jasmine means the world to me. I want to show her the real me.” 

“That’s the spirit!” you said. 

“Thanks, and good luck to you, too.” 

“What for?” Sora asked. 

“I was ready to give up back there, but what you said really kept me going. That's when it hit me. You two must be looking for someone you care about, too.”

“Yeah...” you and Sora said. 

“Listen, Genie...” 

“Say no more, little pal! I know JUST what you're thinking. Here you go, you two!” Genie created a card of himself and gave it to you and Sora, and the two of you put it in your pockets.

“Whenever you need me, just call. That okay with you, Al?” Genie said. 

“Of course!” Aladdin said. 

“Are you sure?” Sora asked. 

“Anytime at all. Hey, without you guys, I might never have been able to ditch that lamp! And I think Aladdin will be fine without me for at least a little while,” Genie said. 

“I see. Thanks!” 

“Let's hope both our wishes come true, then. Take care, guys!” Aladdin and Genie left and you and the trio left Agrabah. You and the trio entered the Fifth Floor Exit Hall.

“Sora, (Y/N), is there anything else you remember about that other girl?” Donald asked. 

“Hmmm...just bits and pieces,” Sora said. 

“Maybe you could try tellin' us some more stuff about her. Who knows? It might even help ya remember other things,” Goofy said. 

“Well, uhh...” Sora said. As the two of you talked, memories played in your heads. 

“She was quiet...and always drawing. When we'd go to the beach, she'd draw a picture instead of swimming. Sometimes she'd draw us, too! She was really good,” you said.

“I remember Riku, (Y/N), and I fighting over who she'd draw next. But one day, she was gone, just like that. I think the grown-ups knew the reason. They might even have tried to explain some of it to me. But (Y/N) and I were little. I probably didn't understand what was happening. I remember crying after she was gone,” Sora chuckled. 

“Me too.” The memories came to an end.

“But...that's all. I still don't remember her name,” you said. 

“Neither do I,” Sora said.

“Oh, I bet you'll remember it in no time!” Donald said. You and Sora smiled and nodded. Jiminy popped out and sighed.

“I must point out. Sora keeps remembering things instead of forgetting them. It seems to me forgetting things may be the only way---to reach the memories buried deeper down inside each of us,” Jiminy said. 

“So we should forget in order to remember?” Goofy asked. 

“Like those guys said... ‘Our most precious memories lie so deep in our hearts, that they're out of reach.’ All that stuff about finding being losing and losing being finding... I didn't get it at first, but maybe this is what they meant,” you said.

“Maybe,” Sora said. 

“Gawrsh, you two, I think I'm a little jealous of ya. How come me and Donald and Jiminy aren't rememberin' more of the stuff from our memories?” Goofy said. 

“Come on, Goofy! Let's get going. We've got to forget things faster,” Donald said. Goofy nodded. You, Sora and the gang left the Exit Hall. Meanwhile, Axel and Larxene were looking at the crystal ballroom in the castle.

“Just as we intended,” Larxene said. 

“We'll continue with our plan. Let's see how far this group will go,” Axel said. 

“You had your fun on the first floor. So this time, it's my turn.” Axel tossed her two cards. She kissed them and giggled. She then walked over to Axel and touched his face.

“I'm not going to just give it to them,” she said. 

“Don't break them,” Axel said. 

“Well... Do I detect a soft spot? I'm not going to break the toys. I'm not dumb.” 

“Don't forget. Sora and (Y/N) are the keys. We need them if we're going to take over the Organization.” Larxene touched Axel’s lip. 

“I know that you're in on it, too... But keep it under your hood at least until the time is right,” she said. She waved goodbye and vanished. Axel smiled

“You would have been wise to have done the same, Larxene,” he said. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy had entered the Sixth Floor.

“So, Sora, (Y/N), did anything back there help ya remember your friend's name?” Goofy asked.

“Uhhh... Her name's the only thing I can't seem to remember,” Sora said. 

“Same here,” you said. 

“You gotta try! Hurry up and remember it!” Donald said. 

“Hehe...” Sora said, smiling weakly. You and Sora held up the last cards at the Sixth Floor world entrance, and entered to the next world.

To be continued...