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ethanredotter · 4 years ago

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My ideas for Zootopia 2

Ah, Zootopia. It broke the record for the biggest opening weekend for an animated film, went on to be Disney Animation’s third most profitable film ever, became the second highest grossing original film of all time, and was nominated for and won innumerable awards including many for best animated picture, and rightfully so. It introduced us to a beautiful, creative, and lovable world populated by amazing characters, and had a poignant message that was conveyed, in my humble opinion, in the best possible way. I liked it a lot when it first came out, but after recently getting into stuff with a similar concept (Beastars), and being subsequently recommended various fan content on YT (Savage Company, Return to Zootopia), I got back into the film again and absolutely fell in love with it to the point that it’s joined my top three films alongside Coco, and The Land Before Time.

Which is why I am really, really craving a followup of some kind.

Seriously, of all of Disney Animation’s recent films (or heck, films in general), I feel like this one has the greatest potential for a sequel. The setting oozes creativity from its every pore, has so many nooks and crannies that we didn’t manage to explore in the film, its two main leads were perfect and I really feel still have plenty of room to grow, and there are still so many ideas old and new that can be explored. So far we’ve received a few tie-in books, a hidden object game which is no longer available, a few comics, including a series about stories from Nick and Judy’s childhoods, a very large and intricate land expansion under construction in Shanghai Disneyland and a game starring Nick and Judy in Epcot, and a Disney+ original series focusing on various characters from around the city. All of these are fantastic, but four years after the film’s release, we’ve received no official confirmation of a proper continuation to Nick and Judy’s story like a sequel or TV series, just a few rumors here and there.

We’ll get some kind of proper followup eventually, that’s for sure, but what could it do? What kinds of places could they take us to? What ideas could it explore? What could happen to our leads, and what kinds of new characters could they befriend or combat? Well, I’m gonna give my ideas right here; buckle up, because I have a lot.

The City

Let me start off with the City itself. I mean… It’s marvelous. The architecture, like the Oasis Casino, central station, first precinct, the various neighborhoods. The accommodations like the sprinklers, water tubes, Little Rodentia, and the climate wall! The city of Zootopia is a star in and of itself with just how much care, attention, and creativity was put into its every crevice, and we barely got to see half of what it has to offer, as we only got a proper look at five of its twelve districts. They’ve revealed a few other districts via some maps and books (Meadowlands, Outback Island, Canal District) but there are a bunch of others yet to be revealed, and plenty unexplored.

Let’s start with what could be done with the ones already revealed. The Canal District could accommodate the city’s highly aquatic residents like hippos, otters, muskrats, beavers and manatees, and also be one of the city’s primary trade hubs. In terms of layout, it could be like Venice meets the Mekong Delta on steroids where the citizens live and make their living either in boats, or in buildings whose entrances are right on the water. There could be some walkways for less aquatic animals, but most of the transportation is through the water; either via swimming, or via motorboats, riverboats, jet skis, and ferries. And indeed, this is possibly what they had in mind judging by the concept art of the canals. I hope to see them implement something like this in the future; this stuff is just insanely cool! In terms of infrastructure, alongside the various docks and warehouses, I’m thinking that it could be a place for aquaculture where all manner of freshwater seafood are raised, as well as plenty of touristy stuff like river cruises. Maybe we could have a boat chase here, or perhaps just a relaxing moment between our leads, or maybe both.

The meadowlands would be a place for more temperate grazers like sheep, horses, bison, and various kinds of deer. It could be akin to a massive park district with plenty of recreation and places to enjoy a bit of fresh air, and its buildings could possibly be like hobbit holes and built into the hills. I’m thinking it could also be a place with a lot of mills to process both food and textiles, and its overall atmosphere could be quite agricultural and country while being in the middle of a city and not having much in the way of crops.

Now on to potential districts

Credit to @florenze

The one that I and many others have thought of the most is a nocturnal cave district. This would be located beneath the rest of the city, and would, of course, have little to no light in order to accommodate its main inhabitants such as moles, mole rats, and bats. This place could have homes on the ceiling and walls for the bats, with various cranes and elevators for the non-bats to get around both to visit, and do maintenance. I imagine bat homes could be quite atypical compared to other species since they’d likely sleep upside down and crawl on walls a fair bit, and if they need to get anywhere they can just fly, so much like the canals, they might not have much in the way of front yards and instead just have elevators and sheer drops on their front doors. Likewise, the less residential buildings could have entrances at higher floors for the bats as well. Entrances to the district could be drive-in cave mouths, as well as big openings for the bats to just fly straight out of to see the other districts at night.

As an opposite to that, I was thinking that a central mountain district would also be cool to see. This would accommodate mountain sheep and goats, takins, pikas, llamas, as well as snow leopards, brown bears, and other mammals who like high and rocky locales. This place could be even more vertical than the cave district, and require either elevators, stairways, or surefootedness to get around, as well as perhaps some oxygen tanks depending on how high it goes. Therefore, cars would be nowhere to be seen, and if anyone wants to get in, they’ll need to park outside, or better yet just take public transportation to allow room for residents’ vehicles. Buildings could possibly be carved out from the stone, and the overall atmosphere could be a mix of the Himalayas and the Andes, and also a bit of the Rockies and Urals.

Regardless of what districts they show us, I would like to see a few more angles to the city than just a bright and clean middle class. Show off its dirty underbelly too, and I don’t just mean more of the street hustlers and thieves like Nick, Finnick, and Weaselton. The first film did an excellent job of showing us that Zootopia wasn’t some perfect society with its discrimination and criminals, and while we did get a nice glimpse of its dirtier side, I want to see more of the run down neighborhoods and their residents. Heck, maybe make poverty an aspect of the plot and a motivator for the villain. Although, they also could also easily cover it with Nick due to the fact that his family was struggling back in the day. Alongside that, I’d like to see high society too, especially the oasis casino that they really wanted to show off, but couldn't find a way to. Show us just how both lavish and run down this city can be.

New Characters

Of all the things I love the film for, its characters and their arcs are probably the biggest things, especially those of the leads. This film has a very diverse cast from a big old cape buffalo to a tiny little fennec fox, and they’re all quite memorable and fun. Now I know what some of you are thinking, “why are you covering new characters before the old ones”? Mostly because I have fewer ideas, but also because the ideas I have for some of the old characters are quite big.

Firstly, I’d like to talk about Nick’s family, starting with his mother. Yes, Mrs. Wilde is already an established character, but I’m still putting her in here since I want to talk about Nick’s family in the same section, and she’s gotten very little characterization; heck, we don't even know her name. She seems like a very nice and supportive vixen from what we saw from the flashback, there was a tweet from Rich Moore that we can infer a fair bit from, and the end of a comic that showed her being a very nice mother and a massive fan of a rock band made of rabbits. Nick is seemingly an only child since no siblings are mentioned anywhere, and they certainly seemed to be financially struggling at some point since he said that his mom “scraped up” the money for the scout uniform, and in the comics he was always extremely short on money and didn’t even have an allowance. Rich referring to her as “Mrs. Wilde” as opposed to “Ms. Wilde” shows that she was/is married and that the husband was probably Nick’s father. The last line of the tweet highly indicates that she and Nick are in contact and on speaking terms (although it really begs the question of where she was during his graduation as there’s not a fox in sight (although there were plenty of seats out of sight and obscured)), and also potentially hints at, uh… Things we’ll get to later. Unfortunately, we don’t know anything more about her. Did she know about Nick’s bad behavior? Did Nick even tell her about the incident with the scouts? Was she ever estranged from him? I’d like for it to be talked about, preferably with her present. I don’t want her to just show up in a call or something, I want her to actually have a scene with her son, and I’d love for her to meet Judy as well.

At least we know a thing or two about her, but we don’t know a thing about Nick’s father that has been confirmed. In one of the original cuts of the film, Mr. Wilde was a tailor who wanted to start up a company with his son called Wilde and Son’s Suitopia and give his kit the best future he could possibly have. Unfortunately, after many attempts at getting a loan to start it up, Nick tried to stop some lemming bankers from denying their loan by trying to grab the stamp from them, was spotted by a guard, and was forcibly and permanently separated from his dad because the city in that cut was was a horrible place full of horrible prey who thought that predators were nothing but horrible monsters ready to blow at any time to the point that they were forced to wear shock collars that would zap them whenever they got even remotely excited. Seriously, screw this setting, it made Beastars look like a freaking paradise. Anyway, back on track. Nick only mentions his mom, so where is his dad? Again, a fair bit can be inferred from the sources on his mother. The simple fact that he wasn’t mentioned in the flashback or the comics seems to indicate that he was out of their lives at that point in Nick’s childhood. Go figure, fans have gone nuts with the possibilities. I’ve seen depictions of him ranging from dead, to estranged, to a genuinely good dad who’s back in their lives now, and a psychotic criminal mastermind who wants Nick to be his heir… Yeah. Out of all those depictions, the loving father one is my favorite. Sure, Rich didn’t mention him in the tweet, but that could have been a simple omission since the question was about Mrs. Wilde. I’ll be honest, my perfect version of this idea is from the fan comic It Should Have Been Me, in which which his backstory and character is almost exactly what it was in the original cut: he was a fabric worker who moved to Zootopia with his wife and son in order to make it big on a tailor business, as he strongly believed in the ideals of the city and wanted to show Nick what a fox could become. He was repeatedly denied a loan, and eventually his obsession with making the business made his wife leave with Nick. After some time, he finally realized that being a role model was not the same as being a father and returned to them. I adore this interpretation for how it shows a family that struggled to stay together for reasons mostly within their control, but still managed to, and are now seemingly happier than ever, something I can’t recall seeing at all in any of Disney Animation’s films (if you know any examples, please list them), and also the fact that Mr. Wilde is a great, likable, and kind of complex character here who is a good man who just messed up as opposed to a simple deadbeat dad I've often seen him depicted as. I want to see something like this out of his father in an official follow-up, but even if he is still separated from his wife, I’d like to see him, and if he’s dead, still give us something; I want to know who this guy is and where he is now, and if there’s anyone else in the Wilde family, I’d love to meet them too, and I want to know how they feel about Nick turning his life around and bucking expectations and stereotypes. His mother is probably exceedingly proud of him, and his dad probably is too if my preferred version is used. Either way, give us a lovely father, mother and son scene (or just mother and son scene, because you know, she’s the only one confirmed to still be around).

On to the villain! The villain should be as opposite to Bellwether as possible; big, male, predator, and not trying to fool anyone into believing that he’s not the mastermind behind anything. We’ll know, at least partially, who this guy is from the moment he’s introduced and what his motivations are early on. Unlike Bellwether, we’ll dive into his character more and more as the film goes on and see what makes him tick. So, what could he want? The idea I’ve conjured up was that he could be a segregationist extremist who sees the founding principles of Zootopia as foolish, believes that this all mammal society is unsustainable, and that all species should completely separate from each other. Perhaps he just wants to get back at the city that he believes wronged him and/or his kind, or perhaps he wants to go back to the wild square one where it’s every species for themselves, and perhaps he thinks that will genuinely be better for everyone. Regardless, I think that this idea would be an interesting continuation of the first film’s ideas of prejudice and living in peace with your neighbor, where this villain would want to bring down the city because he hates prejudice, wants to bring down what he sees as a hypocritical city, and wants mammals to be better off by being separate and under harm. Also, unlike Bellwether who was a power hungry sociopath, this guy will be far more genuine in his pursuit and see himself as a liberator. But as I said, he could very well just be using it all as an excuse for petty vengeance and lashing out at the world in a spiteful rage.

Despite what I said before, I do think that there should be an air of mystery around him. Since he’ll see himself as a demagogue for all animal’s “liberation”, he could conceal himself in shadows during his broadcasts, and also cover himself from head to toe in feature hiding clothes such as a helmet/mask, and specially designed gloves and shoes that hide what his hands and feet look like in order to not show off what species he is. Basically, he could be a twist on the twist villain; he’ll be all mysterious and some could think that he may be a character that we’ve met, but in reality he’s the same character we’ve known all along. As for what species he could be, I was thinking that he could be a less looked at member of a well known family of animals. My best bet would be a smaller and less predatory species of bear like an American black bear, sloth bear, or a sun bear since we saw so many brown and polar bears in the film, and while he’d be small by bear standards, he’d still be quite large, and heck, maybe they could make him particularly large and scary for his species of bear. Also, since he would be a kind of bear whose protein historically consisted entirely of insects (especially in the case of the latter two), he could have extra reason to be angry with society since his kind never wronged prey (although again not quite the case with American black bears since they will sometimes eat fawns and even fully grown deer), but yet he was lumped in with the brown and polar bears. Of the three species I listed, I think the sloth bear would work the best since their protein entirely consists of insects, but, despite their small size and goofy appearance, they’re one of the most aggressive species of bear and have been known to charge at elephants and rhinos at the drop of a hat, and this could play into his characterization as bear Kratos. I think there could be some hints to his species throughout the story, despite how well he may try to hide it. For instance, American black bears when scared tend to do things such as pulsing and clapping their jaws together, while the south Asian bears tend to rear up and stretch their chests out to expose their white stripe. Perhaps he could unconsciously do things like that when particularly agitated or under pressure.

What exactly could make him want all of this? I was thinking that much like our favorite fox cop, he could have experienced much discrimination throughout his life, only far worse, and been downright spiteful instead of rolling with the punches like Nick did. And again, it could have been more pronounced on him since the discrimination was due to “Sins of the cousins” and his kind had nothing to do with any of what they accused him of. A tipping point could have been the Night Howler Crisis, which could have either personally affected him, or just confirmed his beliefs and made him want to go through with his plans to try and tear Zootopia down, and now, about a year or so after that Crisis, his plans can finally go into motion. As for how he’ll go about things, well, he’d go for the hearts, minds and the infrastructure of the city. Perhaps he could broadcast all over to spread his propaganda and instill doubts in in the population (notably in his fellow preds by reminding them what happened not long ago), and also strike fear in those who oppose him. Other than that, he’ll of course go straight for the city’s infrastructure via sabotage and kidnappings. One victim could be the mayor, who this time could actually be a good person and politician, or, as one official comic showed, Lionheart again… Was this an error, or was he seriously canonically reinstated after the shady crap he got up to!?

Anyway, expanding on the idea of the concealing outfit, I’m thinking that his followers (who I’ll just call The Cell for now) could do the same thing with tail hiders, stilts, and padding which would be especially effective for bigger animals to possibly lean over and look like something shorter and fatter in order to make themselves appear roughly the same as to make themselves not see each other as another species for the duration of this insane operation (it also has the added effect of making them harder to differentiate and track). This will eventually be their downfall for reasons you may have surmised, but I’ll explain that later.

Speaking of more villainous characters, I'd like to see a bit more of the criminal syndicates and mobs throughout the city. I'd like to learn who rules what parts of the city, how far their reach goes, and how they operate. Although, we’ll probably only get a glimpse in the film, but we could see the criminal organizations focused on more in a TV series or official comic book, because I think a film would be about a much larger and complex threat that could change the city and characters as we know them.

What about more heroic characters? Well, perhaps we could see the return of concepts from the original pitch of the film like secret agents. Considering that the villain’s plot could be citywide and insidious, I think it would make sense. It could be cool to see conceptual characters such as Skye developed and implemented, and have them helping our leads with the case (or perhaps they could just be a cameo in a movie theater, I dunno, they had a billion other ideas when conceptualizing). I’d like to see her come back because she seemed like quite an interesting concept of a mechanic and badass secret agent (Also, look at that concept art; she's flipping adorable). Perhaps she could be undercover in The Cell, and Nick and Judy could meet her after being ambushed by them. As they’re driving away, Nick gets shot in the shoulder with a dart, but when they reach safety, he realizes that he’s fine. He pulls the dart out and finds that it’s hollow and clear and has a note inside it. They read the note and it includes an apology and directions to a garage in the meadowlands. Later they go to the address and find a light tan fox working on a car. She introduces herself, apologizes further to Nick for shooting him, and then brings them into a safehouse where she gives them vital info on The Cell, and gives them a number to call her at and a few special signals and monikers to help out.

If I were to describe the character I imagine her having, it would be extremely enthusiastic, friendly, and possibly coming off as a little childish, but also intelligent, savvy, and consummately professional and well trained. Basically, a quintessential bunny ears lawyer.

Some people have wanted her to have some kind of past affiliation with Nick, but I’m not sure. I mean, it would be interesting and a good callback to the cut where she was his sidekick, but in this version him knowing someone who just so happens to also be a secret agent would seem a little odd. Then again, he knows everybody. Maybe she’s that mysterious Lady Friend mentioned by Finnick…? (she is a mechanic after all, and he loves his van).

Other than that, I’d love to see the ZPD itself expanded and characterized a heck of a lot more. Maybe we could actually get to know Nick and Judy’s fellow officers like McHorn, Pennington, and Wolfard, and finally see some actual detectives as opposed to just patrolmen, and also get to see the city’s other precincts. I’d love to see the folks at first precinct all working with and respecting our leads, and for all of their strengths to be shown to the max. As in, I want to see them in full SWAT gear conducting a raid; Bogo and the big boys breaching doors, the wolves and cats on marksman duty, and Nick and Judy doing infiltration.

Returning Characters

Let’s start with everyone’s favorite tiny fox, shall we? Finnick wasn’t in the film all that much and only said a total of 37 words (yes I counted), but despite this, he still left a shockingly large impact on audiences for his in your face attitude and vocal dissonance of being a little fennec fox played by a giant former pro wrestler, Tommy Lister Jr (may he rest in peace). And honestly, I flipping adored him too. The creators also liked him a lot and have featured him extensively in newer material such as Zootopia Crime Files, which had him heavily involved in a case and really managed to flesh out his character and specify what his relationship with Nick was like (which is to say, they are genuinely friends), and he even appears as a playable character in Disney Heroes: Battle Mode, and they have said that they wanted to feature him more in a sequel. So what could he do in a follow up? I’m thinking that he could become a major supporting character. I’d like to see him having some genuine friendly times and conversations with Nick and Judy such as going out to eat with them, and also get them out of some scrapes; perhaps by going nuts on a perp that’s threatening them and/or driving them out of a sticky situation. Perhaps he could also help the investigation by acting like an informant or mole (but as I said, in this cut that could already be taken by someone else). Or perhaps he’s gone or will go relatively straight and operate a totally legitimate ice cream shop instead of running a complex hustle. Perhaps he could also act as a shippe- again something we’ll get to later. I’d also like to learn more about him as a person; did he get into the hustling life because of some kind of discrimination like Nick, or is he just a roughhouser who genuinely likes what he does and wouldn’t have it any other way? Who’s this lady friend he mentions? Does he harbor any resentment for Nick for getting off the street and into the force? Obviously it’s not too strong if he’s still giving him Pawpcicles and interacting with him in a cordial way, but is there any there? I’d really like to see. Also, what's his real name? The directors said that Finnick isn't his real name, so what is it? Maybe tell us, maybe don't. As for who could replace Zeus, I’m thinking Kevin Michael Richardson. Whoever they get, I hope he does him justice.

Leave Bellwether out of this; she's served her purpose.

I wouldn’t be mad at seeing Mr. Big return, but I don’t really have any ideas for him. That said, I think that Fru-Fru could be a nice inclusion as a good friend of Judy. Perhaps Judy could hang out with her and do a few things like a little bit of Godmothering for the little shrew bearing her name.

Flash… If he shows up at all, make it a minor appearance, maybe even a cameo.

Bogo was technically the tritagonist of the last film, and I’d like him to remain in a prominent role. I loved his character and evolution in the last film; he starts off barely giving Judy the time of day and repeatedly gets really pissed off at her antics, and also blows off Nick on the simple basis of him being a fox. But he’s an extremely principled and just fellow, and in my opinion, an example of what a good police chief should be, especially since he gets over his prejudices and comes to respect our leads as much as his other officers (which is to say, a LOT). And it’s that respect that I really want to see in a follow up. I want him to send Nick and Judy out on important missions, I want him to trust them with their conduct and intel, and most of all, I want him to protect them and treat them like valuable members of the force. For instance we could see him chew out another officer for talking badly of them, and also risk his life to keep them alive. Speaking of, I also want to see him in action, not just in his office playing with apps (although I certainly wouldn’t complain if we saw him messing around) or showing up after the fact to arrest a perp; I want to see this big bull kicking tail and taking names. Again that prospective swat raid. Other than that, I’d like to learn a bit more about him as a person outside his job, and maybe get a full name.

Benjamin Clawhauser… I don’t have much in the way of new ideas for him other than seeing him interact with Nick. I and many others think that the two of them would be great friends with some awesome banter (and in the Tame Collar cut he was supposed to be one of Nick’s employees at Wilde Times, so they’ve got some of their dynamic figured out already). If I were to imagine Nick's nickname (or I guess we could say Nick Name) for him, it may be Chomps. Other than that, for the third time, flesh him and his backstory out a bit more; he’s a likable guy and I’d like to know more about him. I also absolutely think that he’d be yet another shi- Oh yeah, the main characters!

Nick and Judy

And finally, the part that I’ve wanted to talk about the most; Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps. These two are incredible. I know I’ve already gushed about every last little thing this film has done even remotely right, but these two are genuinely just plain perfection. They’re my favorite cinematic duo ever, and some of my favorite fictional characters ever. Their dynamic, their chemistry, their dedication and adoration of each other, the way they grow because of each other, it’s all just wonderful. If you want more details as to why they’re so wonderful (especially together), check out @beastars-takes post on their relationship and why it’s so darn awesome; there is not an off word in there, offers a lot of insight into the hidden depths that you may not have noticed, and helped me understand these two and the film all the better and gave me the intense love I have for it. Buckle up, these two are the longest part of the essay, because they were the best and biggest part of the movie, and thus I’ve got the most to say.

Honestly, my favorite parts with them were in the last 20 minutes of the film where they are just a perfect buddy cop duo (and ironically enough, weren’t even cops at this point) who clearly had an unbelievable amount of love for each other and even faith in each other while kicking serious butt, and seeing Nick give off that extremely genuine smile upon finally being able to live up to the oath he made as a kid at his graduation was absolutely heartwarming. I want to see more of THIS duo in the next film; a duo of true companions absolutely brimming with charm and endearment who you want to be on screen as much as possible. These two had such good chemistry by the end of the film that many people wondered whether there was something more between them than mere friendship. Were they… Romantically involved? If not, should they be in the future? Many people have been against this idea because they either don’t interpret their relationship that way, and/or they feel that a romance would be cliched and/or forced. What’s my opinion on this whole thing? We’ll get to that soon, for now, let's talk about character focus and development!

I think that Nick should be in the protagonist seat this time, and Judy should be switched to deuteragonist, although she’ll be more in focus than Nick was last time. I want to see how Nick feels about his new life as an officer, his past and connections, his home (does he live in a leaky pipe ridden apartment and sleep in a drawer like in this concept art, or does he live in a better place?), him kicking but with his new training, and as said previously, his family. I want to see him being truly happy and fulfilled for the first time in his adult life, and how it affects him. I want to see the full weight of everything that he’s gained and will continue to have at the forefront of his story arc, and likewise with Judy. I want to see him open up to people more, and I want to see him continue to prove to the world that a fox can be more than a shyster, and heck, maybe he and Judy are becoming something of celebrities from their adventures and maybe the two of them are using their status to help their communities in ways other than police work. Maybe the two of them will visit schools, more run down neighborhoods and communities of stereotyped animals to tell their story and show them what they can become if they believe in themselves and in others. I also want a big emotional scene from him, or at least an adult big emotional scene. While we did see plenty of big emotional scenes from him and certainly saw the depths of what he’s been through, it was Judy who really brought out the most emotion. This time around, I want to see Nick carry the most emotional scene, tears and all. My choice would be him realizing the weight of what he has gained and how much he doesn’t want to lose it. For instance, perhaps they could have a party at the station in honor of their promotions (I'd guess detective given their skill sets) with him, his fellow officers, his parents, and even his and her civilian friends such as Finnick. He’ll sit down next to Judy and his folks with a plate and a cup, and they’ll start conversing. Suddenly, officer McHorn comes up and commends him and Judy for their great work in their short time on the force, and how they deserve to be detectives after all the cases big and small that they've solved. Nick will look at him with a smile as he’s talking, and then notice something: all of the most important people in his world are right there in that room, and each and every one loves, respects, and appreciates him. His parents, his friends, and most importantly his brothers in arms, and especially the one who brought him into the fold and changed his life forever. The realization that he’s achieved the camaraderie he wanted and fulfilled the promise he made in his youth, how he's made people see him for who he is and not what he is, and how whole his life has become from this job and how it will get even better from this promotion hit him like a train and he starts shedding tears. His parents, Judy and McHorn notice. He tries to play it off initially, but he realizes that he has nothing to hide anymore and explains everything. McHorn says he really meant what he said and that he’s an integral part of the PD, and Judy and his folks begin comforting him and eventually Judy says “Oh you foxes, you're so emotional”. Nick gets a big smile on his face and gives her a tight hug, and then chooses to get up on a table and say a big speech of thanks and cheers to his family, friends, his fellow officers, and especially to the greatest gal he’s ever known.

Speaking of the sly bunny, I want to see how the events of the last film have affected her and have shaped her into a wiser person and more effective officer. Much like with Nick, I want to see her continue to buck other’s expectations of her and prove that rabbits can be far more than just meek farmers. I want to see her grow even more street smart, wise, and a better problem solver from seeing all that Zootopia has to offer and from her proximity with Nick. I want her to see more of the world’s complicated problems and for her to start to understand the bad parts of it even more, but at the same time continuing to see plenty of good as well (sometimes, a bit of both). Also, there’s a lot of Zootopia as a city that she still hasn’t seen; species, districts, holidays, you name it. I want a big part of her story to also be her experiencing everything the city has to offer, preferably with Nick at her side, and the wonder on her face. That said, I want the wonder to be shared. I want to see Nick enjoying this city like never before since he can look at it in a whole new light, and do so with the one who made it all possible. And likewise, Judy would feel the same in regards to being able to explore it with the one who changed her for the better, helped her keep her career, learn more about herself, and has continued to be there for her. And again like Nick, I want her to really feel what she’s gained: a great career, comrades who respect her, the ability to help others, and fulfillment of the dream she’s wanted since childhood, and an amazing partner who helped her achieve it all and got all the same things because of her.

And all that of course brings us to the big question. How should their relationship evolve? Well, uh… I think… You see, I… I uh… Well...

This is on the bookshelf in my room

And this is one of my most viewed images on furaffinity (credit to RelaxableFur)

Of important note; I’m not someone who casually ships characters. I may consider the idea of them being a couple when they’re together on screen and have good chemistry, but I’m never like “Oh my god, they need to get together!” (in fact, I was neutral about the idea of WildeHopps until last year when I dived back into the movie), and I’m especially not one of those people who ships characters who obviously have no chance in hell of being romantically involved. I only really get on a ship if I think there’s a strong precedent for it in terms of character plausibility and storytelling potential (and it also helps if they’re absolutely adorable on screen). And in the case of these two, I absolutely think that they hit all three categories.

Now, let’s get into details. Do I think they’re just friends at the end of the film? Not necessarily. Do I think they’re romantically involved? Again, not necessarily. I think their relationship is complicated. As I said, they trust, respect, and care for each other to such an incredible degree that they were willing to do THIS all for the sake of milking the scene and keeping up appearances to keep the bad guy talking (and as you may or may not have noticed, Judy’s nose didn’t move even a bit during the entire act until Nick was right on top of her, whereas before at even the slightest sign of distress it would twitch like crazy), and then just casually laugh about the whole thing while holding each other. Speaking of which, they are clearly very comfortable with physical contact; Judy comforts Nick with some arm caresses

Nick let Judy cry into him and wrapped his tail around her when making up (how else would she step on it)

The two of them share the aforementioned very nice embrace when gloating to Bellwether (yes, Judy had a wounded leg, but the way they’re holding each other and how comfortable they are indicates way more than just physical support)

And there was also this part in the concert…

Y’all thought that was just a hip check, didn’t you!?

There’s also the fact that, while it’s obviously a rather playful exchange, they just casually threw the big, big L out there in their last conversation, and not only that, but the whole thing is delivered in a kind of longing fashion, and depending on the translation the wording gets either more or less explicitly romantic.

As myself and Beastars Takes have stated, they are perfect kindred spirits who have irrevocably changed each other’s lives for the better, and they believed in each other when no one else would. For those reasons they have grown closer to each other than anyone else and can’t get enough of each other. They made each other’s dreams come true, they’re the greatest things that have happened to each other, and they will continue to be so, especially now that they’re together nearly every day of the year since they’re now on the job together. To me, that’s not a will they get together, that’s a when will they get together, and I’d find it more forced if they didn’t become an item (unless their sexualities don’t match, but I doubt that, because again all of their dialogue and physical closeness)

And this officially licensed merch…

And these park character interactions.

And honestly, I think that many mammals will probably think the same way. As I almost said throughout, I think plenty of folks like Clawhauser and Finnick will see the spark between them and be Shippers on Deck. I could imagine Finnick teasing their obvious affection for each other, and Clawhauser could just be his usual self and just make little squees and mental notes whenever he sees them interacting, and there could be a few rumors about them floating around the PD.

So how should their romance develop, and how should their couple dynamic be? Subtly, and not too much of a change from how they already are, respectively. As I said, these two already think the world of and can’t get enough of each other, and I really think that there’s already a romantic spark between them that they just need to think through and expose. I give them half a year on the force before they’re all over each other, a year at most. I don’t think that they’ll even have to make any real confession of love to each other, I think they’ll just have to have the right moment to properly figure out that their relationship already is romantic and/or that it really would be able to work out between them, and actually cement it right there and then. That said, don’t drag the hookup out. Don’t have their entire arc be about them getting together. Don’t have them magically be together at the start of the story, but certainly don’t drag for the whole time. Give us time for them to be the slightly better than best friends we saw at the end of the last film while building up some extra tension, and then have them properly hook up in the second act. But as I said, their dynamic shouldn’t change too much. Again, it’d be more of a realization than a decision since they already have an unbelievably high opinion of and affection towards each other (and they seemingly already know that there’s something between them), and it’d be an enhancement of what they already have as opposed to a change; they’ll continue to be the best friends that they’ve been, just with an extra openly romantic component. Have them be even more willing to show affection both physical (hand holding, cuddling, and kissing) and verbal (more flirtation, and some I love yous). I want this romance to be sweet and unique with a lot more friendly banter, discussion and enjoying more platonic fun stuff (like playing games and joking together), and way less lubby dubby crap. I want their trust and love and respect for each other to be extremely apparent; continue to have it be clear that they think the world of each other and show the reasons for it, and don’t have them be too doting, or at least not that often. That said, absolutely feature some powerful romantic moments like a little dance, or the hookup stated before.

As I said before, I also really get on to a ship if I believe that it can add to the story, and in this case, I really do think it can. I think that their relationship could bring up and/or amplify a lot of strong themes that would complement the first film’s message perfectly. For instance, friendship, love and family not knowing the boundaries of species.

Now, it’s clear that interspecies relationships and marriages are a thing in this city: the directors talked a bit about how society could see their relationship and how Zootopia is probably open to the idea; the first couple that Judy meets in Zootopia are her neighbors Bucky and Pronk Oryx-Antlerson, who are a greater kudu and a gemsbok (they’re also same sex, so that indicates even more societal openness)

There was also an official comic about Flash trying to ask Priscilla out on a date to a movie, but he was too slow and lost out to a Hyena, so that indicates that even predator-prey relationships aren’t widely looked down upon.

However, as the first film showed, Zootopia’s not a perfect society, so they absolutely could receive some nasty stares and insults in the city, and Bunnyburrow Seems to be less open on the whole. Yes, I’m bringing up the ever so popular “Nick meets Judy’s parents after their hookup” idea that hundreds of people have written stories about, but I genuinely think it’s a fun idea, and I’d like to see their reaction to Nick if he’s romantically involved with their daughter, and Nick trying to get used to country life and bonding with a new family. We saw in the last film that Bonnie and Stu are opening up to foxes, and I would imagine that they met Nick around the time of the concert in the credits, but how could they feel about their daughter being with a non-bunny? That could be a fantastic storyline to cover, and it could be a fantastic way to explore that theme of interspecies bonds, and also of families being built on love. That being said, them visiting Bunnyburrow (AKA my hometown in upstate NY: we seem to have an infestation of rabbits here), would be best for a TV series arc or a comic as opposed to a theatrical release, but they could still have the Hopps family visit Zootopia in the film and have many similar things go down. Another scenario could be from Nick’s family. Remember what Rich said about his mother waiting for a grandkit? Does this mean that she actually wants him to continue the family line, or does it mean that she just wants another little tyke to help raise? Either way, she could be an interesting addition to this idea since the creators have specified that they normally fall back on what is scientifically plausible for the film, meaning that Nick and Judy probably wouldn't be able to conceive a child, so they could introduce some hesitance or vice versa into the story through her.

With my previous villain idea, the theme of bonds beyond species could come up quite often. Nick and Judy could become targets of The Cell from the beginning for their friendship, but they could perhaps become more of targets once it becomes clearer to The Cell that they may be more (and because they’re likely foiling their plans). If the villain actually saw proof up close that they were together, he could absolutely lose it and just try to tear them limb from limb. But of course, their bond could also be used to their advantage alongside the villains’ hypocrisy and foolishness. For instance, in a final confrontation. Here’s my prospective scene: Nick, Judy and possibly other characters are surrounded by Cell members who are armed to the teeth and pointing all they have right at them. Everyone in the room is weary from all that’s happened over the course of the film, and are hesitant to start fighting again. Then, Nick speaks up and asks The Cell why they’re still fighting. He brings up the fact that they’re all fighting for the downfall of Zootopia and the separation of all species since they believe that animals only see each other for what they are and are cruel because of it, and that they’re going as far as to hide their species from their comrades to not see each other as separate, but only until the job is done, and then they'll go their separate ways. Of course, why should they see each other as one only for now? They’ve all bonded and seen each other as comrades all this time while not knowing each other’s species; why should knowing what they are be any different? This would result in some taking the plunge and removing their helmets, which would then result in the others seeing what they are. Our leads would tell them that they have not known each other's species this long and yet they’ve bonded together as brothers in arms; why would they want to break that because of stupid differences, and why would they want to use those differences to separate themselves? Some folks can tear and digest meat, some can clip and digest grass; what difference should that make? If they want things to be better, then they must be better, and show those who hate them that things can be better (and for extra effect, Nick and Judy could show off the bond that they’ve gained despite being not just two different species, but predator and prey). One member throws his mask out, then another, and another. More and more continue to throw away their masks and even suits, either because they were convinced or because they see the cause as hopeless, and within a minute the floor is littered with masks and discarded body suits, and the members of the once mighty Cell walk out of the room, many with their arms around one another, and some holding hands, and soon it’s just the leader and the officers alone.

Conclusion

So those were my ideas for a Zootopia sequel. To recap, I want to see even more of the city’s districts and more of its socio-economic angles. I want to see new characters both brand new and from old drafts, and I want an interesting and fresh villain who we can gain a bit of sympathy for. I want to see all of our favorite supporting characters from the first film continue to be great and have expanded roles. And above all, I want our leads to continue to grow themselves and their bond into something even more wonderful. I want to see Nick grow as a person and officer, and I want to see Judy grow alongside him. I want to see Nick’s family and connections, I want how his new life is affecting him, and I want to see him open up emotionally with himself and with those he loves, and I want Judy to continue to grow wiser about the world and everything ugly and beautiful about it, and how being on the force, and with the one she cares about most no less, shapes her into an even more effective problem solver.

So when could we see a sequel? Well, we may have to wait a while longer. While it’s very clear that the franchise isn’t dead, we’ve heard absolutely nothing official on a sequel, and current events at Disney Animation Studios are making it seem like we may have to wait more for one to come. The director and mastermind behind the film, Byron Howard, and the co-director and screenwriter, Jared Bush, are currently working on a musical film currently called Encanto which is set to release in November. Why did they do this instead of going straight for Zootopia 2? Rich Moore, the other head director, had to scramble back to work on Ralph Breaks The Internet after leaving it for a year and a half, and that pretty much left the team in pieces. Considering how much he seemed to want to be a part of the development of a sequel and how they said that they didn’t want to rush it, the other guys seem to have started Encanto to do something new while Rich was busy, and of course shake up their creative juices. However, Rich left the studio in 2019 to join Sony Animation, although he said he left the studio in good hands, and I certainly hope that’s true. Considering that Disney tends to announce films around two years before release, and also tends to have directors work on films released two years apart, 2023 seems like a likely release year, but 2024 would work better for getting a bit more development time into it, get some test screening done and to iron out any possible issues.

That said, the extra year may not be totally necessary. Considering how well developed the first film’s world and characters were, and how much they conceptualized during its production, I don’t think they’ll have to conceptualize quite as hard, and most of what they’ll have to create from scratch will be storylines, themes, character development, and brand new characters, as well as possibly a few districts and species designs. But again, there was so much that they have already made that they just need to show us, as well as so many concepts to fall back on with developing brand new content that even in the conceptual stage that it may have be in they’ll have a relatively easy time coming up with incredible new content; unlike Frozen II & Ralph Breaks the Internet where they had to make up totally new locations, concepts, and everything in between. I’m of the opinion that with all the time that it’s likely been in partial production that the relatively little new stuff that they've had to come up with has probably already been quite refined, and by the time Encanto is done, they may well have something extremely robust and just need to refine it, and then make models and animate it, and give us Disney Animation's best sequel ever. But then again, that extra year may be good for it. But then again, I'm not a filmmaker, so I don't know crap.

And after that, we could end up getting a TV series with further adventures of Nick and Judy, and also flesh out the world even more by showing us districts, criminal groups, precincts, and all manner of other things. Perhaps it could be a police procedural with our leads taking on whatever the city has to offer as well as de showing off more about them and other characters than the films could, and also potentially be a bit of a Segway into the next film (why yes, I think a Zootopia trilogy could be amazing). Thankfully the majority of the cast is made up of accomplished TV actors, so they’ll probably be able to get almost everyone back (but I am hoping for Jason Bateman the most since he IS Nick Wilde and no one can replace him (the same applies to Ginnifer Goodwin with Judy to a very slightly lesser extent)). My hope is that it'll be a D+ original, and thus have an extra good budget that'll hopefully bring in a great cast, and excellent animation and writing.

But anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed my ideas. Was there anything you'd like to add, or anything you didn't quite agree with (or any mistakes I didn't notice while proofreading)? Well then please do discuss them. Until next time, may your battles be won and your day be blessed, and may you be excellent to all those you meet!

#zootopia #zootopia 2 #nick wilde #judy hopps #clawhauser #benjamin clawhauser #finnick #chief bogo #film speculation #film theorizing #disney #disney animation #walt disney animation #wdas #movie essay #wildehopps

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 4 years ago

Note

today i astral project giant, curious merboy w/ frightened researcher into your mind. tomorrow? who knows

Tomorrow is when you get your request filled you babey boi

“E-easy now, l-let’s ju-woah! Hey!”

It was too late for Stella’s squirming to do her any good as long, clammy fingers tightened themselves around her already battered body to lift her much higher than she would have appreciated. She couldn’t help a small wince when she felt her arms be uncomfortably squeezed against her ribs, the left side of which was undoubtably bruised from her topple earlier. The grip only pressed more at her pathetic struggles, forcing out her exhale much rougher than intended.

“Pl-lease,” she gasped, practically immobile in the creature’s hold which seemed to be the desired affect, “y-you’re hur-hurting me...!”

And just like that, the pressure that had once been constricting her disappeared. Even more wonderfully, solid ground seemed to return under her shaky legs which she was grateful to collapse. Or so she thought. A couple inhales sucked in to clear the splotches that pulsed in the corner of her vision revealed she had merely been traded from one hand to the other, trapped high above in an open palm as opposed to a clenched fist. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, she supposed.

Or fish, she supposed again.

With a shaky sigh, Stella forced her eyes up (and up and up) until they met with wide ones, blinking down at its tiny capture. She couldn’t keep up the staring contest very long, however, not with how unnerving those black scleras were. Instead, she found her gaze shifting towards its mouth that could certainly fit her inside in one bite, perhaps even a rowboat if it tried. At that moment, it chirped at her, something loud and grating and immediately making her cover her ears for protection, but not without getting a glimpse of those jagged fangs.

From a scientific standpoint, this was one of the most stunning discoveries in her career, hell, in anyone’s career in the history of marine biology. A genuine mermaid...er, man, if she were to assume based purely on physical observation. A dozen questions ran through her mind focused on understand how on earth each component of his body functioned. Respiratory, circulatory, vision, hearing, homeostasis, smell, bone structure and density, muscle to fat ratio, everything and more!

Unfortunately, she doubted those inquiries would be answered anytime soon, if ever.

The monster chittered again much more quietly, practically a rumble in his throat as his other hand hovered closer. Try as she might to flinch away, there was really no where else to go besides down into the icy waters below. She watched the thick claws adorning each finger inch closer, bracing for the sensation of being flayed like some sort of sick vengeance for all his seafood brethren she had ever eaten. Actually, given his size and muscular build alone, there was no way this thing was a vegetarian, so there better not be any judgement on that front!

Surprisingly enough, the claws just missed nicking any part of her skin in favor for the pad of his finger to rub against the top of her head, slowly, hesitantly even. Stella grimaced at the action but let it be, holding still as best her trembling form was able to while his petting built up more confidence, now sliding from her crown to where the coils ended at her shoulders. She let out a yip when he yanked her hair in an attempt to rub the foreign texture between his thumb and forefinger, immediately releasing the frizzy locks at the sound of her distress.

His curiosity didn’t stop there, however. She was well aware of the irony of the situation--the researcher being studied by the subject and all that (at least, she hoped that’s what he was doing rather than sizing her up for a meal). Considering this was her first time ever encountering a merperson during one of her weekend escapades along the coastline, it wouldn’t be too hard to imagine this was his first time meeting a strangely sized hybrid species as well. Maybe those local legends about sea monsters and sirens held a little bit of truth after all, he was certainly as destructive as the stories foretold of these deadly creatures.

And, the scientist side of her couldn’t help but reason with the merman. She was, after all, encroaching on his natural territory in a foreign vessel, was it truly so unexpected for it to attack? ‘Attack’ was perhaps too strong of a word. Investigate was more like it, the way it grabbed and shook her tiny boat in an effort to see what was inside this weird, floating habitat until she came tumbling out on deck. On the bright side, at least Lorelei coming down with strep the night before saved her research partner from meeting the same fate as her right now. On the downside, she was going to meet said fate alone, her true ending forever a mystery outside of these waters.

The question was: what the hell was her fate meant to be? The way his fingers and touches roamed her body continued to reassure her that she probably wasn’t going to be a menu speciality for another few moments, but beyond eating her, what other uses could he have for her? He pinched her legs and arms to bend at the joints, especially fascinated at how articulate her lower half was in comparison to his own. It was almost like he was looking for a tail where one should obviously be, trying to piece together how these two split fins could work together as one. His fingers brushed against her waist and trailing up to her neck. Gill placement, maybe? From just how close his nails were coming to her jugular, Stella feared she might just get a few extra breathing slits if she so much as hiccuped.

It was all well and good until the fingers glided back down over her chest, pushing past the soaked lapels of her coat to the swell of her cleavage, his claw eagerly slipping under the buttons of her blouse to pop a few off. Stella turned bright red, her body heating up so much that she was sure he could feel it against the cool flesh of his palm where she sat. With an indignant shriek, she slapped the digit away from her body, quickly covering herself with her lab coat as best she could.

“No, thank you!” She scolded, leveling a glare with the creature. “Don’t do that!”

She didn’t even have time to register what consequences might befall her actions of threat displaying a massive sea predator, not with how his ear fins flattened against his head and he jerked his hand away as if she had burned him with her touch. In his defense, he did look rather guilty, rumbling again in his throat like he was offering an apology. He tilted his head at her, repeating the noise and it was then she realized he probably didn’t actually know what was wrong, rather he was asking why it was wrong. Oh, yeah. Different species, different cultures, different takes on reproductive accessories.

“You just, y-you don’t touch people like that, okay?” He grumbled something at her and though she didn’t understand it, she knew that tone well enough to roll her eyes. “Because I said so. Why d-”

Stella froze. The monster was still pouting at her reply, but her lengthy pause paired with her suddenly shocked expression made him chirp again in question. She searched his eyes, now well aware of the deep blue iris hidden within the inky abyss around it.

“You...c-can you understand me...?”

He furrowed his eyebrows before giving a single nod. Uh, yeah, duh? I’ve been responding to you this entire time, haven’t I? is what the expression conveyed.

“Holy shit...” she whispered. A smile was quick to tug at her cheeks, looking back at him with twinkling brown eyes. “Holy shit! You can understand me! Y-you’re...you’re intelligent!”

The creature narrowed his gaze and she quickly held up her hands in a placating motion. “I-I mean, obviously, you were always intelligent, just i-in terms of, like...you know, whatever, let’s just start over, um...” She ran a hand through her newly tangled mess of curls, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh my god, I don’t even know where to begin!”

A quick look down at her capsized boat had her reconsider. Stella wondered how much of her research and equipment inside was totally trashed as a result of being broken or waterlogged. Oh well. Literally none of that mattered right now, not when filters could be replaced and notes reprinted and one of the greatest specimens of her lifetime was three inches in front of her.

Biting her lip, she glanced between the boat and the merman. “Actually, do you, um, think m-maybe you could fix...that? And maybe put m-me down while you’re at it...?”

For a moment, he only blinked at her, silently debating her request. It was long enough to make her start to shift nervously, wondering if she had managed to misread the entire situation and was foolish to make such demands when she was still considered a food source. Thankfully, he complied and righted her boat with ease, gently depositing her on the slick deck. The rocking of the sea still caused her to slip and fall ass first on the ground, though it mattered little to her with the way her legs still felt like jelly.

A shadow engulfed her, trilling ringing in her ears from above which made her groan. “I’m fine, just...give me a minute here.” Slowly, Stella sat back up and pulled her legs towards herself until she could sit criss-cross, digging her (thankfully) waterproof handheld from her pocket to pop out the stylus, tapping and scribbling on the screen. The creature lowered himself deeper into the water until only his shoulders and above were visible, swimming around to the edge of the boat to try and see what she was doing on the tiny device. He braced his hands on the side of the hull, nearly capsizing it again, which was probably what he did the first time when she had been down in the cabin, and only letting go when Stella cried out at being toppled for the umpteenth time.

When the boat ceased most of its swaying, she fixed another sharp glare at the creature who hunched a little further into the salty waters. “Okay, rule number one, no more touching this boat. Got it?” She was half tempted to add or me in there, but...well, they could cross that bridge if something came up about that later. Regardless, he nodded at her and she sighed, repositioning herself to lean against the cabin door for a little extra stability.

“So, ever play twenty questions?”

#g/t #g/t writing #g/t fluff #my writing #giant/tiny #gianttiny #macro/micro #ask #ratpaps #mermen babyyyyyyyyy #another story in which i name my characters after my favorite students lmaooooo #send more prompts this is fun :D #yes i specifcally called you baby to piss you off nerd #also yes i spelt specifically wrong but i dont feel like deleting and rewriting the tag

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saynotoshityouhate · 4 years ago

Text

Chaos

Summary: Everyone was convinced you’d never meet your match. That was, until you got the literal kick to the head of a lifetime.

Word Count: 1726

Tags/Warnings: alcohol, possible concussion, slight illegal behavior, just a little smutty

I’m feeling chaotic, let’s go dancing. Who’s in?

Your friends were used to you starting craziness as soon as you clocked out on Friday afternoon. You were sure they all got your text and rolled their eyes, but they were stuck with you at this point.

You got all ready - glam but also comfortable - you never knew where the night was going to go. Last time you went out, you ended up dancing until 2am, and then watching the sunrise from the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse. You weren’t sure how many of these weekends you had left - your friends had started settling down and were less enthusiastic about joining you in your shenanigans. They all had tried (and failed) to set you up with their boyfriend’s friends - unable to find someone who could match your energy. But at the same time, you loved your life. You could do anything you wanted, whenever you wanted. You were financially stable, had a good job, a nice apartment...you weren’t really looking for anyone or anything to come in and change things.

You met the girls at the club, wearing the dress that made you feel most confident, paired with your worn in Converse high tops. “HEY BITCHES!” You gave each friend big sloppy kisses on both cheeks. They handed you a drink - you were last to arrive, as usual. “Y/N, I was just telling the girls about the engagement party my future mother-in-law is planning. You wouldn’t believe how tacky it is going to be! The invitations alone…” You cut her off after pounding your drink, and pointed to the dance floor. “I’m gonna go there now. Bye!” Setting your empty glass on the nearest table, you ran over to the middle of the dance floor.

You loved the feeling of the stereo bass pumping in your chest. The ringing in your ears blocking out your inhibitions as you moved your body without care, your skin lit up in colors and sparkles. Here, in this moment, you were truly happy. Not a care in the world. No thoughts in your head saying you were unworthy of the love your friends had found. Complete and full contentment at the life you had chosen for yourself. And it was then that you received a swift kick to the side of your head.

A few seconds later, you opened your eyes to see the hazel eyes of a wild haired, sweaty man. “Fuuucking hell, kid! I thought for sure you were dead. Are you alright?” You blinked up at him and nodded, unsure how you got to be flat on your back in the first place. “I’m so sorry, I was carrying my best lesbian friend on my shoulders, and when we spun around, her fucking foot hit you in the head.” He wipes his hand down his shirt before handing it to you, helping you up off the floor. The man was tall, dressed in a hilarious mismatch of clothes, with a mop of brown hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead, partially covering his eyes. He sported a patchy moustache/goatee combo which brought your attention to his plush, pink lips.

He leaned down to look you directly in your eyes, examining them closely. “I don’t think you have a concussion...are you sure you’re alright?” You took a deep breath. “Yes. Totally. Super duper alright. All good.” He chuckled a deep laugh, showing off his imperfectly perfect teeth. “Awesome. I’m Adam - we’re going to go find shit to throw off the overpass. Wanna come?” You nodded enthusiastically, never having been this lost for words in your life. He grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the bar, barely giving you the chance to smile or wave at your friends as you exited.

Adam and his friends brought you all across the city. Finding items to keep or to toss, literally, off of the highway overpass. Your group steadily dwindled as you explored the city’s hidden pockets, eventually leaving you, Adam, and a reusable grocery bag full of spare car parts and rotten vegetables alone on the pedestrian bridge that crossed the city’s busiest highway. Standing together, you looked upon the city skyline, standing proudly against a dark sky that was littered with stars. It was your favorite view. Feeling Adam’s gaze on you, you turned to look up at him. “Everything okay?” you asked, unsure why he was making such a face. “Yeah, kid, just making sure you’re not gonna have a seizure or somethin’ dumb.” He chewed the inside of his cheek as he resumed looking at the city.

With the early morning hour, there wasn’t a ton of good targets to toss your garbage at. “Wanna split a pizza?” You asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Adam smiled and nodded, giving you the chance get him back for earlier, to grab his hand and run. You took the long way, zig zagging through dark alleys, running up and down stairs, eventually landing at your favorite, hole in the wall 24-hour pizza parlor. “Jimmy!!!!” You squealed are the shop owner, waving at him and jumping up and down. The proprietor groaned, pushing himself out of his chair and walked up to the window. “What can I getcha, y/n...and friend?” Adam smiled at Jimmy, and then you, and then Jimmy again. Nervously laughing and still trying to catch his breath, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Anything but fucking green peppers,” you both said, almost simultaneously. Jimmy rolled his eyes and headed back to the kitchen.

“Jimmy’s the best. He almost single handedly fed me all through my senior year of college. I was building this Trojan Horse out of Amazon boxes inside my apartment and I couldn’t access my kitchen because it was full of boxes so…” Adam grabbed your face, pulling you in for a rough kiss, his pillowy lips absorbing the blow. Your eyes were wide open, arms limp at your side. Sensing you weren’t reciprocating, Adam pulled back, hands still on your face. “I’m building a boat in my apartment right now, gonna sail down the Hudson. I’ve never met anyone like you before, like me - someone who could keep up with me and not be some fucking loser.” Adam looked deep into your eyes. “We were meant to meet tonight, Y/N. I was supposed to hit you in the head with my best lesbian friend.” Adam squeezed his large hands together, smooshing your face. “Fuck the pizza, come see my boat.”

Jimmy walked up at that moment, pizza box in tow. “No, no fucking my pizza. Here - on the house - now get out of here. And y/n, I don’t want to find this pizza on some roof or in a tree or whatever the fuck you’re planning on doing tonight.” You turned your head towards Jimmy, with Adam’s help, and said through your smooshed face “Fanks Jummy.” Grabbing the pizza, you looked back up at Adam. Adam moved your head up and down, speaking in a high pitched voice “Yes, Adam, I’d love to see your boat!” Looking down at you with a cheesy grin, you started to laugh. “Fwine, but wet go uf my fwace.” Adam flailed his arms into the air. “Well let’s fucking go, kid!”

Adam wasn’t kidding, he really was building a boat in his living room. It was the coolest thing you’ve ever seen. “Are these old pallets? Is that a fisherman’s knot? Did you repurpose 2x4s from…” “Whoa whoa y/n don’t get a lady boner over my awesome ass boat!” Your eyes were sparkling, climbing over piles of wood and fabric and an overused power strip. “When is she going to be ready to sail?” you asked, your voice giving away your excitement. “Why,” Adam stalked towards you, backing you up against the mast, “wanna be my sexy first mate?” Your heart was beating through your chest. This wasn’t your average one night stand, this was different - you could tell. This wasn’t the plan. But you couldn’t deny that he was your match. He was right, you were meant to meet tonight. You took a deep, shaky breath, looking into Adam’s eyes. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Adam growled, wrapping his arms underneath your bottom and lifting you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, squealing in surprise. He slammed your body harder against the boat’s mast, shoving his tongue into your mouth and squeezing your ass as he ground his rock hard erection into your pelvis. You lifted one hand from his neck, reaching down to unbutton his jeans, the slightest graze of your fingers causing Adam’s hips to thrust. The energy of that motion cracked the fragile integrity of the mast, causing Adam to fall forwards, landing on top of you, the broken splinters of wood scratched along your back.

You both groaned. “Fuck, kid, you ok? How’s your head?” Opening up to the same concerned, hazel gaze from earlier in the evening, you replied “Yep. Super duper.” That was good enough for Adam, who stood up quickly, ripping his jeans and underwear down, kicking his legs for assistance. You lifted your hips to shimmy your own panties down to your ankles. Adam returned to his place between your legs. Looking up at him with a grin, you laughed “ahoy, matey. shiver me timbers.” Adam grunted - “you’re so fucking weird, and so fucking wet,” he ran two fingers through your slick, “and just for me.” You whined, moving your hips to meet his hand. “Gotta make sure you’re ready for me. Gunna drop anchor in this hot cunt.”

Adam spent the rest of the night straddled over your back, where you laid on your stomach on his bed. Using a tweezer, he removed the hundreds of tiny splinters that had embedded themselves into your skin. You sighed contentedly, taking a large sip of milk, unsure what the future held. But for the first time, in a long time, the thought of sharing that future with someone didn’t make you sick to your stomach. You turned your head to take a look at him, wearing lab safety goggles “in case one flew out at him.” Smiling, you rested your head on his pillow, before falling asleep and dreaming of sailing down the Hudson together.

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #chaos #saynotoshityouhate #adam driver character universe #adam driver #adcu fic rec #adcu #adcu community

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roselightfairy · 4 years ago

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This isn’t revised but I want to fill the void in my soul with something so I’m just going to put it up: I finally wrote a third behind-the-scenes movie fic! Now I have one for each installment, which means I might clean them up and put them on the archive for easier reading...one of these days.

For now, though, have a little fic inspired by the behind-the-scenes interview about Orlando Bloom and John Rhys-Davies’s boat capsizing.

...

“You need not hold it so firmly!”

A hand came down over Legolas’s where he clutched the paddle for the tiny Lórien canoe – so short and flimsy-feeling that he almost feared it would be swept away. He flinched at the touch, and the elf who had leaned over to assist him withdrew, laughing. “Nor need you growl at me so! You will be bathing in the Silverlode if you are not more careful, cousin!”

Legolas set his teeth in his lower lip to hold back from making any comment – either on the teasing or the epithet. He was kin to the elves here, distantly – kin twice over, he supposed, although the few Silvan elves who remained had been long separated from his own kind, and his Sindarin ancestry was scarcely a whisper – but still the familiarity grated on him. He had been treated less as a kinsman than as a curiosity in their sojourn here, and the lighthearted teasing was at odds with his own heart, which –

He did not yearn to stay, not exactly. This wood was not home, not truly, but it – it seemed to whisper to him of the home that his own might have been, had they been graced with the same protection and power. And that whisper awoke newer, darker ones which only grew stronger with each step they took away from the woods, where for a time he had felt so safe and untroubled, wandering the woods with Gimli at his side –

“Please,” cut in a second voice, lower and more resonant than the lilting laughter. Gimli, his feet still firmly planted on the riverbank, eyeing the boat with distrust. “If you can spare us a bath in the Silverlode, I would be most grateful.”

The sound of that voice, the sight of his baleful look, eased some of the tight clench in Legolas’s heart. Here was one who had won the right to tease him over shared struggle and shared understanding, and –

And at least he would not be parting from Gimli now. At least some of the gifts the Golden Wood had given them would remain with him in their travels to come. And at least he bore enough trust in Legolas not to submerge them both, even if no one else here did.

It was enough to allow him to laugh as well, to loosen his clenching grip on his paddle. “I shall do my utmost, Master Gimli,” he promised. “I am accounted a fair enough hand on the oar in my own land; I will endeavor not to disappoint.” But the Silverlode was different from the Forest River – slower, lighter, the current more a suggestion than a command. In the boats at home, a strong hand was needed, a will to match the river itself, and a knowledge of the pockets of safety between ferocious current and sharp rocks. Here, the slightest nudge could send the boat in an unexpected direction.

At least here the consequences of an unexpected bath would not be so severe.

Still, he twitched away from the elf who reached out to adjust his grip, sending his boat drifting out towards the middle of the river. But his reflexes, at least, did not fail him, and he corrected his course quickly with a stroke of the other paddle, bringing his boat sliding back in line behind Aragorn’s.

Aragorn, of course, sat his boat and wielded his paddles with perfect ease. Perhaps he had rowed this river before, or perhaps it was the effortlessness of his perfection. Either way, no elves hovered about him, and his boat bore the Ringbearer.

Boromir, at least, seemed to be having similar troubles – Legolas could console himself that he would not make the worst showing of himself.

And the rhythm of the river was not so hard to understand, not once he had listened to his song, swayed back and forth in his boat to test the balance. “I see,” he said at last, sending his boat out into the middle and then back again, tilting and correcting. It was not like riding a horse, for the river could not hear his own song in return – what did it care who navigated its waters? – but it was a similar balance, a similar self-acquainting with a new rhythm. And the boats of Lórien were well-suited to these waters, flimsy as they seemed. “Do you deem me suitable?”

He did not know to whom he spoke – mockingly, to the elves who would impugn his skill, or teasingly, to Gimli, with an undercurrent of deeper question. Would their friendship last beyond the strange magic of these borders? Would they be able to hold onto the trust they had begun to build, more delicate and more beautiful than these leaflike canoes?

“You’ll do,” Gimli said, and when Legolas reached out a hand to help him from the bank into the boat, he took it.

How was it that such pressure could feel fonder than the light touch of their elven companions? Legolas’s arm trembled as Gimli lifted one foot, bracing himself on Legolas, his weight transferring down his arm and through their grasp as he began to lever himself over the edge; the boat tilted, and Legolas stroked to correct it with his free hand, stabilizing it –

And then something went wrong: a tremor in the grip of their hands or a stumble in Gimli’s balance or a ripple that struck at just the wrong moment – a wobble passed through their joined hands again, a jerk – and Gimli was in the boat, his rear striking the seat with a heavy, uneven thud, a jingle of mail; the boat tilted again and a wall of water rose up, and Legolas had only one paddle in the wrong hand –

For a moment it was as though they were poised on a precipice, watching disaster below but still yet to tumble – and then they went over all at once, sky and river reversing as the boat flipped in a single, irreversible motion, and they were underwater.

In the first instant of submerging, for a moment all Legolas could register was peace. His ears were filled with the burble of the water, his body refreshed by the chill, all sight obscured in a watery blur. The water was deep this close to the bank, he noted, and found some relief in that, for nothing would strike the bottom –

Something would. Gimli’s chain mail. Gimli!

He broke the surface with a great gasp, river water streaming out of his eyes as he blinked them clear, head jerking around frantically to find – there, a bubble where his friend had gone under; the elves of Lórien were reaching for their boat, and he could hear shouting in Westron, but none of it resolved itself into words yet – kicking with his legs to keep himself upright, he plunged his arms into the spot where Gimli had vanished, seized hold of something, and yanked –

He was lighter in the water, but only slightly: the coat of metal he wore dragged him towards the bottom. But it seemed Legolas’s tug was what he had needed: spluttering, Gimli’s head broke the surface and he began to tread water as well, gasping for air as Legolas kicked them to the side where they could haul themselves back ashore.

His body practically thrummed; he did not know whether the chill in his blood was from the water or from the energy rushing through his veins – but finally the roaring in his ears subsided enough that he could hear the others laughing.

The elves of Lórien had fished their boat from the river and pulled it in; luckily, they had not yet loaded it with their packs. They laughed heartily, tossing teasing insults in Silvan Legolas’s way, and he wondered if they had forgotten he could speak their tongue, or if they merely did not care. But he supposed it mattered not, for the Fellowship was laughing at them, too, Aragorn not the least.

But that was of less concern than Gimli. “Are you all right?” he asked his friend, his hands hovering uselessly over Gimli’s sodden hair, his dripping armor. “I did not mean” –

“Suitable, you said!” cried Gimli. “Never have I been so mistaken in my life! Pity the fool Gimli, son of Glóin, for believing a wood-elf familiar with rivers might steer a boat!”

Heat rushed into Legolas’s cheeks all at once – a reminder of their old animosity, that hard-won thread of trust threatening to break. “I do not think I am solely at fault here,” he protested. “Unless it is for thinking you could step into a boat without capsizing it!”

“And this is why we began with a trial.” Aragorn’s words were calm, but he was not succeeding in smothering a smile. “Need we alter the boat arrangements, gentlemen? Or can you handle yourselves henceforth?”

Legolas did not know whether he meant in the boat, or without arguing – but all the heat faded from his temper at the thought of switching boats, of truly betraying that trust and losing that companionship that had become so dear to him. “No,” he said, “I mean – yes. It will not happen again. Do you trust me?”

He addressed the words to Aragorn, but he spoke to Gimli, and his heart leaped into his throat when the dwarf paused – would he say no? Would he insist they change their arrangements? But finally he looked back at Legolas, flushed himself and dripping, but with the same resignation.

“I do,” he said. “Though it may mean my death.” He heaved himself up with a sigh. “Well, if we are to run a trial, let us continue – and hope we may fare better once we are both in the boat.”

“We will,” Legolas said fiercely, and he leaped to his feet as well. He wondered if he had ever meant anything so much. “I promise.”

#my fic #legolas x gimli #legolas and gimli

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cherryrogers · 4 years ago

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when dusk falls {2}

DYING LIGHT

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | royal au

warnings: mentions of death, angst — reader is in her sad hours :/

summary: As you arrive in Hydra, you reluctantly begin to adjust to your new life.

a/n: i can’t express how excited i am to get into this story. i’m so impatient i was mad that this is only chapter 2 bc i want to get deep into the plot so bad :( for now, i offer you a part that should be titled ‘rambling about random story aspects that add nothing to the plot’..... enjoy !!

series masterlist

The journey from Taria was everything but pleasant.

As the carriage was pulled further and further away from your beloved palace, you made sure to consume every ounce of green expanse before you reached the land borders, refusing to let the gorgeous greenery of your home fade from your mind in years to come.

Brock nattered endlessly in his seat beside you, almost pressed against you in the small space. You didn’t hear a word of it, tuning out the unnerving rasp of his voice, only focusing on the vibrancy through the window.

Passing cosy villages, and brilliant gardens, and glimmering lakes, you concluded that Taria would be a hard place for anyone to forget, nevermind it’s own princess. You noticed the smiling faces and giggling children as you passed through the Roseleaf village, one of the larger residential areas on the east of the land. The carefully tended front gardens filled with an array of rainbow hues, the young couples walking hand in hand along the paved road, the little red robins flitting from tree to tree — you took it all in.

You were sitting in that carriage for Taria; its people, its nature, its values. Being sent away to a bitter nightmare of a land for the sake of your kingdom’s safety and happiness. Because that’s what a princess would do for her land. Protect it with her life.

The promise of its safety was the sole thing stopping you from breaking down into sobs next to Brock. There was no choice, there never would be between your freedom and your people.

The last bearable moment of your journey ended when the carriage reached the end of Taria, and the beginning of the Heartlen Ocean — the body of water that connected Taria and Hydra.

You’d been transferred onto a large sailing boat, one significantly bigger than the rowing boats scattered along the docks. In a tiny cabin below the main deck of the ship, you were escorted to and told to rest, as the voyage across the sea would be long and the waters would only be calm for another few hours. Of course, the seas around Hydra were vicious and rough, but you refused to sleep under their watch. You couldn’t if you wanted to. Every emotion under the sun was coursing through your veins; fear, anger, despair. Putting your mind at rest was impossible. It was as if they’d disregarded the fact they’d practically kidnapped you, and were complicit in the agreement that was forcing you into sudden marriage with the son of a cruel dictator.

You feared you’d never sleep peacefully again.

It took seven hours to arrive at Hydra. During that time, you’d remained under the deck, quiet as a mouse. Staring at the divots in the dark wood of the ship, knees tucked tightly to your chest, bare feet almost numb from the drop in temperature as you entered Hydra’s vicinity.

Thinking about Sharon, how adamant she was on getting you out of Taria before you could be taken. About Steve, who’d been burdened with the knowledge of the agreement and sworn to secrecy. About your parents, who entirely blamed themselves for the ordeal, even while having no other choice.

Perhaps if they’d sailed back a little earlier, noticed the signs of early labour quicker, or just not been so foolish as to seek help from the most selfish man on the planet, their daughter would be safe at home. Their princess. And she’d be free, happy.

But it was too late. It’d been too late from the moment their little rowing boat left the docks twenty years prior.

Seven hours, and you’d ended up in the bitter Kingdom of Hydra. Two soldiers escorted you off the boat, rushing you towards another black carriage identical to the one you’d been taken in at the palace. The sky had fallen significantly darker, a thick grey mist shielding the ground below from the sun’s warmth. Icy air bit at your skin, had your teeth chattering and lips numb the second you rose from below the ship’s deck.

Those around you remained unfazed, used to the freezing climate. To the dull skies and unsaturated expanse. Taria was to them what Hydra was to you — an entirely different reality.

Brock noticed you shivering in the carriage beside him, chuckling mockingly at your discomfort. Ignoring him, your eyes burned holes in the fabric of your dress in your lap. You didn’t want to let your gaze wander outside, seeing a cold, monotonous space rather than the colourful liveliness you adored back home.

Again, you passed through villages. Villages that were anything but reflections of those in Taria. The houses were much smaller, more compact than cozy. No quaint plants and shrubs complimenting the open front of the house, no bouncing children or chirping birds. Each house appeared identical, and not a soul was in sight. Likely huddling up in their homes, out of the cutting wind that’d soon transform into a bustling blizzard.

You caught sight of a figure in the window of the last home along the lane, only for a moment. A child, a boy. His high cheekbones and pin-straight nose stuck out to you. A frown played on his lips as he observed the carriage travel by, the same one he’d seen the day before, led by the same dark horses that sent shivers down his spine.

Cheering up the children back home seemed to be a gift you possessed. Not that they often weren’t baring toothy smiles, but when they wandered the palace garden and the markets with a solemn expression for whatever reason that day, it was instinct for you to lift their spirits. A box of red velvet cupcakes or some children’s books that’d been sitting in your library for years seemed to do the trick, and each and every time, it was heartwarming to watch the light reappear in their doe eyes.

Yet that boy, along with the thousands of other children living day-to-day under King Alexander’s rule — their happiness wasn’t something you could provide them with. Not when the man was stripping you of your own joy. When you were losing the light you were always eager to share with those who needed it.

If Taria was the planet’s garden, then Hydra was it’s graveyard. A place where dreams died before they could even begin to flourish. Where nobody desired to live, where too many people were forced into a meagre existence. And you were simply another soul Hydra had stolen for itself.

Another couple of hours passed again until the castle finally came into sight, only barely among the cloudiness of the night. The castle you’d only heard horror stories about, where too much blood had been shed and lives lost. And it was where you were going to live for the rest of your days. The thought alone put a deep frown on your lips.

You were exhausted. It’d been an early rise for you that morning; up and ready by eight o’clock, you took a trip to the markets before it was busy and stock was selling fast. You were to be back by nine for breakfast with your parents, but one of the merchants had been insisting you tried one of her cinnamon sugar pretzels, doused with golden syrup, which were usually sold out within hours of the stall opening. The sweet treat was delicious, you’d found, and you’d bought three more to bring back to Sharon and your parents.

A simple, lovely morning. And how quickly the day turned sour.

The urge to sleep was tugging at your eyelids, but you suppressed the need, nipping at your wrist to keep yourself awake. You’d have to succumb to sleep eventually, but you’d do it in the comfort of a bed far away from any soldiers, far away from Brock. Still, the thought of falling into such a vulnerable state, in the castle appearing more and more enormous as the carriage approached it, was indeed unnerving.

It looked like something out of a story book. Dark grey brick, looming towers with tall turrets atop them, an unnecessarily large gate guarding the inside — the image of a villain’s abode.

All underneath a shadow black sky, without a star in sight. No light, no hope. Only darkness.

The carriage continued along a winding, rubble path, it’s destination being the towering gate where six soldiers stood guard. With every yard you grew closer, your heart only pounded harder against your ribs. You’d truly fallen into a never ending nightmare; reaching the castle was only the beginning of it.

It was so cold. The thin dress and lack of any footing was certainly not helping your cause. As the carriage came to a final stop, your legs only barely allowed you to climb out of the transport without slipping to your knees. A soldier remained by your side, silent and still, while Brock ordered the remaining men to take the horses back to the stables.

Upon spying their commander, the soldiers stood guard ordered for the portcullis to be lifted, and soon an echoing clanging noise filled your ears.

While you weren’t eager to enter, the cold had already numbed your fingers and toes. You feared you’d fall ill if you were outside any longer, not that you imagined the inside of such a menacing castle would be any more comfortable.

“Inform the king of our arrival as soon as he wakes.” Brock called out to the lone soldier, who nodded curtly before marching away, into the darkness of the castle corridors.

Like a baby deer, you were left shivering in the cold, eyes wide and legs stiff. Brock took his sweet time striding over to you, before his lips curled into a condescending smile.

“Welcome home, Princess,” He teased, making a gesture towards the enigma of a building behind him. “Allow me to escort you to your chambers.”

With reluctance, you followed him into the castle, wincing at the clang of the gate beginning to shut again behind you.

The stone pavement of the castle was hard against the soles of your feet, as you paced quickly to keep up with Brock’s stalk. Lanterns scattered along the thick brick walls illuminated what would be the pitch black hall he walked you down, a faint smoky scent in the air.

For what felt like hours, you winded around corners and through halls, wondering if you’d ever make it to your chambers. Brock talked, asking silly, mocking questions that you didn’t waste your breath answering, arms crossed firmly over your chest.

Until he said something that made your blood boil a little hotter in your freezing body.

“I’m in shock of your compliance, Princess,” He smirked over his shoulder as he guided you up a dark staircase. “Already accepting the King’s plans for you?”

A scowl pulled at your lips. “I haven’t accepted anything. This isn’t compliance, this is me being here to protect my own.”

“Ah, she speaks!” Brock chuckled grimly, the sound bouncing off the walls of the narrow stairway. “Can she put a smile on, too?”

You ignored him. He laughed again, expecting it.

At the top of the stairs, a long corridor presented itself, identical to the hundred you’d already walked through. It was only at the very end of it that you finally stood still, eyes landing on an old wooden door, deep brown with no pattern etched into it. So plain, so dull — you’d never seen a castle so ancient with so little life.

“This room has been assigned to you until you and the prince are wed,” Brock spoke, pressing a rough hand to the door handle and pushing it open. “A maid will arrive when you wake to prepare you for the morning.”

“The morning?” You raised a brow.

“When you are to meet the king,” A grin tugged at his lips. “He is indeed eager to meet his future daughter-in-law.”

The feeling isn’t mutual, you thought, but kept it to yourself as you shuffled through the open door.

A singular lantern to your left enlightened the space before you.

Dreary like the rest of the castle, the room almost blended into the deep sky through the large window straight ahead of you. Translucent navy drapes hung from the chestnut bed frame, the singular bed topped with a sheet of similar colouring tucked into the corner of the room. A tall closet opposed it, likely filled with dresses that the maids had tailored to your size (however they learned that information). The hardwood flooring pressed into your feet; you already missed the soft crimson carpet that covered the expanse of your bedroom back home. There was a door off to the left, presumably leading into a small bathing room, and a long silver mirror on the other wall reflected its dark presence against the smoky grey brick.

And that was all. No books, no chestnut desk to sit at and swipe red on your lips or rose on your cheeks. Nothing to simply pass the time of waiting for a wedding you were utterly dreading.

Brock grinned a goodnight from the corridor, and you couldn’t even turn around before the echo of his boots filled the narrow, empty space.

A frown immediately pulled at your lips, as you gently closed the door behind you, the click of the lock prompting tears to form in the corners of your eyes.

As you tenderly removed your dress, hanging it up in the back of the wardrobe, you bit your lip to keep your emotions at bay. The braclets you’d slipped on at home remained on your wrist, a reminder of where you truly belonged. You played with them as you blew out the candle light, stealing the only spec of warmth from the room.

The nightdress you’d been given was thin, the creamy linen not doing much to shield you from the icy air that managed to nip at you in every corner of the castle. Sighing, you padded over to the bed, climbing under the fresh sheets, and that’s when the first tear fell. Burning hot as it trickled down your cool cheek.

That bitter night, you weren’t blessed with the pleasure of a long slumber. One salty tear turned into two, and two into many, many more.

And so, your most disconcerting nightmare began.

* * *

Dreams were deadly; you soon learned that after waking from your first night of sleep in the grand castle situated at the very bottom of Hydra’s land.

Perhaps a nightmare would’ve been easier on your mind. It certainly would’ve prepared you for the daunting reality you’d wake up to in a few mere hours. Because you dreamt that you were back in Taria. That Hydra’s soldiers didn’t step foot on your home land, that you’d finished that chapter of your enthralling novel, that Sharon returned to the library with a steaming cup of chamomile tea, and the two of you rested there for the remainder of the day. Uninterrupted, safe.

A soft but urgent knock on your bedroom door woke you from the sweet dream that morning, and upon recognising the drab setting you were in — still dark, the sun rays being rejected rudely by the thick heavy clouds encompassing the land — the harsh reality of your new life came flooding back.

Creaking quietly, the bedroom door opened ajar, an unfamiliar figure peeking through into the room. A woman, a girl even. She couldn’t have been older than eighteen. Her eyes widened as they drifted to the corner of the room, spying you still clutching the navy bed sheets to your chin.

“Forgive me, I didn't mean to wake you; I was told to come here at ten on the dot. My name is Wanda, I was happy to learn I’ve been assigned as your maid, Princess.”

Blinking, your vision became a little clearer. Clear enough to assess the girl frozen in her place in the doorway. Strawberry blonde hair cascaded down her back, pulled back loosely at her neck with a burgundy ribbon. As you propped yourself against the headboard of the bed, her doe eyes got impossibly wider. Brushing out the creases of her moss green skirt, she stood taller, pressing her lips into a thin line.

So nervous in your presence, she seemed. You wondered if the treatment she received from the royals of Hydra had something to do with it.

“It’s— It’s quite alright.” You swallowed, possibly more anxious than she was. If you weren’t so exhausted from the journey to the castle, you likely wouldn’t have slipped into a slumber so easily. That was after you’d sobbed until air could no longer be snatched from your lungs, and you drifted off with a sore throat and tear tracks staining your cheeks.

You’d fallen asleep between the same walls as one of the most ruthless kings to date, as well as an army of remorseless soldiers ready to comply with his every order. The thought made you shudder; that, and the sheets falling from your shoulders, exposing your skin to the cool room.

Wanda crinkled her brows, picking up on your discomfort. Slowly, as if not to cause you any more distress, she slipped between the open door and closed it behind her.

“I’ll run a hot bath for you, Your Highness. I’m afraid it’ll have to be quick; King Alexander would like you escorted to the throne room within the hour.”

You remained quiet. Still barely awake, still barely able to comprehend the situation you’d so quickly fallen into.

The maid clasped her hands in front of her, considering her next words carefully before offering the tip of her lips. “I understand that you only arrived here a mere several hours ago, Your Highness — I think a warm bath will only do you good, if I may say.”

It would have certainly been nice, considering the climate you’d been forced into abruptly. You’d picked up on some of Brock’s ramblings in the carriage the night before; he’d said something about a blizzard being on its way. Judging by the thick fog and the chill already bringing goosebumps to your skin, he was right. You weren’t looking forward to the process of adapting to the weather.

As soon you gave Wanda the faintest hint of a nod, the girl rushed towards the adjoining bathing room you had yet to familiarise yourself with, and soon enough the harsh streaming of water began to fully wake you for the morning.

Lavender swarmed your senses as you stepped into the small room, observing Wanda as she swirled oil into the warm water with a delicate hand. Throwing a smile over her shoulder, the maid shook off her hand before wiping it quickly on her skirt.

“I hand-picked the lavender and made the oil myself this morning. I’ll be honest, I’m not meant to leave the castle unless I’m ordered to do so, but with a storm brewing, I was eager to collect as many herbs and flowers as possible before my duties for the day started,” A soft chuckle left her lips, before she shook her head, a rosy tint pooling in her cheeks. “Forgive me, I— I haven’t served a lady in several years. I can’t imagine my rambling would amuse the men of the castle.”

If your mood hadn’t been so sour, perhaps you would have smiled at her excitement. The happiness others radiated you tended to absorb; no wonder every moment on Taria was an enjoyable one.

It astounded you how bubbly the strawberry blonde appeared. A delicate daisy in a daunting forest — she bloomed without sunlight. Of course, it could’ve been an act in front of the prince's bride-to-be, but there was a certain spark to her that felt genuine. Maybe it really was because of the presence of another woman.

King Alexander’s wife — the former queen of Hydra — had died almost a decade earlier. Being so young and out of the loop with politics and the states of other kingdoms, you hadn’t heard much about her at all. Even if you were older, you’d likely not hear anything more. If she ever engaged in politics, attended balls or kept in touch with other queens across the seas, she was very quiet in doing so. Queen Mara of Hydra — the only time you heard her name spoken was when she passed. As a child, when the severity of death and its impact on kingdoms was so foreign to you.

You assumed Wanda used to serve the late queen; perhaps she was more pleasant than her husband. For Wanda’s sake, you could only have hoped so.

“Thank you, Wanda.” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper. The maid wouldn’t have heard you if she was standing any further away.

But she did, and she curtsied in return. “Of course, Your Highness.”

The bath was nice, you’d admit. Like a warm hug after a long day. Except your day had barely started, and as soon as you were to step out of the heavenly hot water, you’d be pulling on a dress that wasn’t sewed by the dressmakers you’d known since childhood, making your way down to a throne room you were completely unfamiliar with, and meeting a king that you had no interest in ever crossing paths with.

And soon enough, that was where you were.

Stood in the centre of a cold room, face to face with a man you’d only heard terrible stories of.

Wanda had picked out a garnet red dress for the morning. You hadn’t owned many red dresses back on Taria, preferring cooler tones like emerald green and the royal blue attire you’d arrived in Hydra with. And that dress seemed to be the only one that actually fit, your new one pinching tight at the waist. Though when Wanda was only offering you compliments as she combed out your hair and polished your shoes, you weren’t about to complain.

It wasn’t the dress that was stealing the breath from your lungs, however. It was the monarch who sat proudly in his dark throne before you.

Four soldiers either side of the throne stared straight past you, as the king himself stared at you. Sandy blond hair laced with grey fell over his forehead, and he wore a solemn expression as he eyed the new arrival to his kingdom.

“Princess _____ of Taria,” Alexander spoke, the rasp in his voice bringing goosebumps to your skin. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance.”

You remained stoic, refusing to meet the eyes of a king who was more monster than man. As you looked to the right of the throne, you spied Brock among the soldiers too, observing you with interest.

The king soon realised that you were immensely uncomfortable; it wasn’t like he’d expected you to act any different.

He glanced over his shoulder, silently calling Brock over. The commander was at his side almost immediately. So cocky in front of you, and so obedient to the king — typical.

“Take the soldiers outside,” He ordered calmly, before leaning forward to murmur something inaudible to Brock, who nodded firmly, then making a swift exit with the ever-submissive soldiers behind him.

Soon enough, you and the king were left alone. The silence was deafening as you awaited his next words, both reluctantly and with anticipation.

The throne room was so large, so intimidating. Walls scattered with grand portraits of previous monarchs, small square windows barely letting any sunlight pour through; not to mention how your hands were almost numb. It was difficult not to miss the beaming sun in Taria, how it would seep through the curtains on a bright morning, how the warmth would dance across your skin and the light would reflect in your eyes.

It was almost as if Hydra completely blocked it out.

The king exhaled, clasping his hands in his lap as he leaned back in his seat. “If you have anything you would like to say, by all means, don’t keep quiet on my account.”

Considering him for a moment, you tightened your jaw. It was like he could sense the hundreds of questions swarming your mind. While you worried that he wouldn’t be so impressed with what you wanted to say to him, he couldn’t reprimand you for anything. Not when you were to marry his son. Anything you said wouldn’t matter once you left the room; he’d had your fate in his hands since the moment you were born.

Your eyes flit to his, tears burning at the back of them. “My parents were desperate for your help—”

“And I helped them.” He commented nonchalantly; his disinterest feeling like a slap to the face.

“You took advantage of them,” You corrected him, not appreciating the interruption. “They wouldn’t have accepted your deal if my mother’s life wasn’t at stake.”

Idly fiddling with the rings encircling his fingers, Alexander sighed. “Things have a certain way of falling into place, I believe. I’m not sure it’s a coincidence that your mother happened to go into labour on the same day that her and your father decided to sail across the Heartlen Ocean, stray further from Taria than they ever had before, leaving Hydra’s help as their own hope.”

“This was never meant to happen, I refuse to believe that.” You shook your head. Taria was the only place you’d ever belong. Only selfish men like the king had a true place in Hydra.

“You were born here, Princess. You took your first breath of air in this castle. It was inevitable that you would find your way back.”

“I am not here by choice,” You insisted, resisting the urge to yell, to scream about how much you hated the man in front of you for snatching your life away right before your eyes. “Hydra has allies, with kings and queens that would be more than glad to arrange a marriage between their daughters and your son, yet you chose Taria’s princess before I was even born — why?”

Hydra’s group of allies were certainly limited, but they weren’t the only kingdom that idealised a dictatorship and control over every aspect of their land. The king could have made strong connections with them, people who shared his mentality, his brutal methods. But he didn’t. He did the complete opposite, and that was extremely odd.

The king contemplated answering the question, he truly did. Words hanging from the tip of his tongue. But instead, he waved you off with a steady hand. “The answer to that will be clear in due time.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to protest, but you were soon interrupted by his booming voice unexpectedly.

“Bring in the Asset.”

His stare diverted, until it was focused on something behind you. Heavy footsteps clambered outside the room, along the echoey hall until they reached the doors of the throne room. They opened with an eerie creak, and upon throwing a look over your shoulder, your breath immediately hitched.

Three soldiers stood either side of, well, another soldier. But he wasn’t like them, not at all. His presence managed to freeze you in your stance, unable to fully turn around.

He was tall, a great deal taller than the other soldiers. Dark, untamed locks fell around his angular face, framing his sharp jaw and chiselled cheekbones. And he was so broad. The soldier attire almost looked more fitting on him, with his wide shoulders and muscular thighs. Protecting his shoulders were the same metal plates, with that same red star imprinted on the left side. A gasp almost escaped your lips when you noticed his arm, shimmering silver even in the dull light. The man, he couldn’t be another mere soldier. And he wasn’t — they called him the Asset.

For some reason, they wanted you to meet him.

With a proud expression, Brock met your eyes as he led the soldier in your direction, stopping only a foot away before he stepped to the side.

You swallowed, forcing your body to turn around, and you were met with perhaps the only splash of bright colour in the castle.

Azure blue eyes pierced into yours, making your palms clam and your knees weak. Unlike the other soldiers, he didn’t just stare past you; he stared through you, with eyes that were so blue yet so dim. His features remained blank, but even then his eyes burning into you made you feel small, almost too seen.

“I understand that you never took on a personal guard in Taria,” The king spoke from behind you. “I won’t be as foolish as your parents to leave you without one here.”

He gave a nod to Brock, who stepped towards you and the soldier, waving the other soldiers away with a hand. A grin tugged at his lips as he turned back to you. “The Asset is the best soldier we have. His only mission is to protect your life at all costs.”

Your brows pinched, and you just about managed to pull your eyes from the soldier’s to Brock’s. “Am I in such a state where I need a guard with that sole mission? Your best soldier, at that?”

“There are some cruel people living in Hydra, Princess. We wouldn’t want any of them getting their hands on you.” The man answered, practically smirked, knowing you’d already fallen into such hands.

But he was right, in a sense. Hydra’s royals weren’t exactly immune to danger. Rebellions were rare, but another one at any given time wasn’t an impossibility. Especially if the rebels believed your parents had chosen for you to marry into Hydra’s kingdom — you were fresh blood, and that made you an easy target for them.

If it wasn’t the rebels trying to hurt you, it’d be those that could simply for the fun of it. Because crime was so normalised there; everyone was constantly on edge, scared for their safety when night fell and silent shadows began to rome the unprotected villages. It was no way to live.

“He’ll be at your side at all times,” He continued. “Day and night; he’ll only rest when he must. Refer to him as ‘soldier’ and nothing else; he’s a guard, not your friend.”

You wouldn’t have expected anything else.

The king perked up from behind you, almost making you flinch. “Soldier, take the princess back to her chambers. A maid will arrive shortly with a meal for her.”

Huffing quietly, you glared over your shoulder. Apparently they weren’t stripping you of your freedom gradually, but completely all at once. Wonderful.

His expression remained nonchalant as he tipped his head at you. “I’m afraid my son is dealing with political affairs out of the kingdom today; he won’t be in attendance tonight. You’re to meet Isaac at breakfast tomorrow. I can assure you, he is looking forward to the pleasure of your company.”

If only you could say the same.

Your eyes turned back to the soldier, who had already spun around and was ready to comply with the king’s order. Soon enough, he was leading you out of the grand room, back to your sombre chambers.

The walk was silent; he wouldn’t talk to you, of course — it wasn’t in his job nature to do so. Even him, a tall, cold-eyed, man who was more muscle than anything else, was so obedient. Too obedient. So compliant that his expression never changed, he wouldn’t speak to you because he’d been strictly ordered not to, and his sole purpose was deemed to be the protection of your life. And he didn’t bat an eye. You wondered why. Why they were all soldiers first and humans not even second, but never at all.

You thought about the truth behind the soldier’s cold exterior for the rest of the dreary day.

Back in the throne room, seconds after he saw you wind around the corner into the dark corridor with your guard, Brock approached his king with a questioning crinkle in his brow.

“Your Highness, while I would never doubt your methods, I’m concerned that without a routine mind-wipe, we may begin to lose control over the Asset.”

Alexander considered his words. “Truthfully, I believe his brain has been tampered with enough to permanently erase his past from his mind. Alas, if he begins to show signs that his memory is recovering, you’ll know what to do.

As long as the princess doesn’t get any foolish ideas, the Asset shouldn’t pose a problem to us at all.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes au

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years ago

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GF - How A Star Is Born. ch.VI

A Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.V - ch.VII

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

The little sailboat gently glided along the river that would eventually pool into the sea. There, just as the river touched the vast salty body of water, there was a harbor that began the huge troublesome town of Thebes.

“Wow,” Dipper awed as he tied up the boat. “Is that all one town?”

“One town, a million troubles.” Stan quipped as he walked along the dock and his student hurried to catch up. “The Big Olive herself: Thebes. They say if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.”

“Cool!” Dipper said as they entered the city. Never before had the farmboy seen so many temples and buildings clumped together, so many people in one place, so many speeding carts and horses and stray cats and the occasional mice that kept the cats fat and happy.

“Stick with me, kid,” Stan warned as they stopped with a group of people waiting to cross the street. “This place is dangerous.”

The horse-pulled carts came to a stop and some guy turned a red-hand vase so it showed a green walking man. They began to cross, but one cart sped by them and Stan had to dive on top of Dipper to push them both out of the way in time.

“Watch where you’re doing!”

“HEY I’M WALKING HERE!” Stan screamed back and made a rude gesture and he got up from Dipper, somehow miraculously getting a slight hint of a Latin accent. “See what I mean? Knuckleheads, all of them.”

“Then you should feel right at home.” Dipper sneered playfully, earning him a firm punch on the shoulder as they walked on.

A few minutes into town, after passing a shady conman that Stan saw right-through, a cute lady at a corner asking if anyone was wanting a good time, and a naked guy singing about accepting yourself, loving yourself, while waving around a dead chicken, the two men walked up to a fountain, taking notice of a group of people talking woefully.

“It was horrible.” A whiny troll-looking guy said as he rinsed his cap into the fountain, trying to get the soot off his clothes. “I lost everything in the fire. All of my beautiful vases and stone tablets.”

“Now were the fires before or after the earthquakes?” A big red-haired guy asked.

“They were after the fires.” A red-haired girl a few years older than Dipper answered with. “But before the flood.”

“Not to mention the crime-rate.” A skinny guy with a small mustache added in. “Seems every time I turn around, there’s some new monster running havoc!”

“1220 has got to be the worst year I’ve ever heard of.” The red-haired woman said as she kicked a rock harshly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Can’t we just move to Sparta, Dad?”

The entire time the locals were complaining, Stan was elbowing Dipper encouragingly and gesturing for him to go ahead. Dipper cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me.” When all the eyes were on him, he felt a little nervous, but he went ahead. “It seems to me that what you need is a hero.” He said confidently and puffed his chest out with his hands on his hips.

The crowd did not look impressed. “Yeah,” The big guy snorted. “And who are you?”

“Um, I’m Dipper.” The young man said, trying to keep his confidence up, but was failing. “But I happen to be a hero, and…”

The four laughed at him and Stan narrowed his eyes as the townsfolk had their doubts if this young man could possibly help them.

“Have you ever saved a town before?” The small troll-like man asked.

“Uh… n-no, not yet…”

“Or reversed a natural disaster?” The big guy asked.

“Uh… n-n-no, but…”

“Ugh,” The red-haired woman groaned. “He’s just another chariot chaser.”

“Don’t you knuckleheads get it!” Stan yelled, placing a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “This kid’s the genuine article!”

The little ugly man narrowed his eyes and adjusted his thick glasses to get a good look at the old man. “Hey… isn’t that the fallen god that trained Achelles?”

Stan’s whole face turned red and he began to shake with anger. “Watch it, pal.” He growled like an angry dog.

“Stan…”

“Hey, you’re right, Toby.” The big guy said and laughed harshly. “Oh boy! I needed this! Some amateur hero trained by the worst god of existence!”

Stan let go of Dipper and began cracking his knuckles. “You wanna go, buddy, c’mon…”

“Stan, Stan!” Dipper had to use his god-like strength to hold his teacher back as it looked like he was going to pounce on the big guy who looked like he could rip a tree out from the ground if he wanted to. “He’s not worth it, let’s just go.”

Stan, still growing, allowed Dipper to lead him to a large set of stairs while the four walked away. Soon Stan swatted Dipper’s hands off of him and they sat to try to think.

Dipper, meanwhile, was thinking about what that guy had said. A fallen god? That may very well have only been a cheap insult for the Trainer of Heroes, but Dipper had first-hand experience in the matter. Gods can fall. Was it possible that someone who had practically raised him and trained him to be a hero so he could be a god again knew exactly what it felt like to be someone you’re not?

“Stan, wh-what those guys were saying…”

“Listen, kid,” Stan said tiredly and held his head. “You’re gonna hear some really bad stuff about me in this town, and some of it is true, but I need you to trust that everything I’ve ever done has been so that family sticks together, okay? I’m gonna get you to your twin, okay? I’m gonna help you become a true hero if it’s the last thing I do, okay? All I ask is that you trust me. Please.” And he looked up at the teenager heavily.

Dipper swallowed as he saw a million and one emotions in his eyes. After everything this guy has done for him and planned to do for him, Dipper decided that trusting him was the least he could do, so the younger of the two nodded, but their moment was interrupted by a cry for help.

“Help! Help, please! Help!”

“Pacifica?” Dipper muttered as he saw a lush amount of blonde hair try to make its way through the crowd. “Pacifica!” He stood and hurried to her as her eyes lit up at the sight of him and hurried.

“Wonderboy… Dipper, thank goodness! Outside of town, by the sea, this little boy was playing and there was a horrible rockslide! He’s trapped!”

“Quick, show me where he’s at!”

Pacifica grabbed Dipper’s hand, making his whole face turn red, and she led the way through town back towards the sea, north of the harbor and just below a mountain that led to Thebes’ Temple of the Gods. Stan quickly followed behind them and a few townsfolk decided to keep an eye for entertainment purposes mostly.

On the damp sand there was a rocky wall side from where the tide often comes in and forms a wall, separating the town from the ocean. Dipper could hear a boy’s cries coming from behind a rock and he hurried across the beach, leaving Pacifica, Stan, and the townsfolk on the sidewalk.

“Help! I can’t breathe!” The boy coughed and desperately pleaded, “Somebody call I-X-I-I!”

Dipper stood by the big boulder and said calmly, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you out.”

“Hurry, please!”

Dipper looked up at the giant boulder and took in a deep breath. This rock was huge, one of the biggest things he had ever had to lift, but if he could accidentally destroy half of his hometown, he can lift a boulder. Right?

He grabbed on from the bottom and struggled for a moment, but with gritted, deep breaths, and sheer determination (Stan’s calls of encouragement also helped tremendously), Dipper was able to slowly lift the boulder up from the tiny cave in which the white haired boy was trapped behind.

The boy ran out quickly and Dipper asked in a strained voice, “Y-You okay?”

“Yeah… J-Jeepers, mister.” The boy awed. “You’re really strong!”

Dipper smiled and said after he threw the boulder into the ocean, “Just try to be a little more careful, okay?”

“I sure will!” The boy replied as he ran off into the town.

Stan cheered and hollered, only stopping when he was coughing and he bent over a little to cough sharply into his fist. The townsfolk gave a small applause for him, only a little impressed, as the boy climbed up the side of the mountain and went into the mouth of a large cave, where he was met with Bill in his throne, sipping on live worms, and Pacifica, who sat with her legs dangling over the edge.

“Jeepers? Mister?” Pacifica sneered.

“I was going for innocence.” Gideon said as she changed back into his older self and sat next to Pacifica to watch the show.

“You both did good.” Bill said coldly. “I was really moved by your performances. Great opening act.”

Meanwhile, Stan was at Dipper’s side and patted him hardly on the back. “Great job, kid! They even applauded! Sorta, but still!”

Dipper heard something and turned to look out at the dark and dreary sea. Bubbles. “I-I don’t think that’s applause, Stan.”

Stan looked out at the ocean and saw a shadow form under the bubbles, and soon they were shocked to find a big green head emerge from the water with sharp teeth and small eyes, followed by a long neck and a fat body, the monster roaring like a horrible siren.

“St-Stan! What the heck is that!?” Dipper asked his mentor.

“The Gobblewonker!” Stan yelled as he pointed at the monster. He pulled out Dipper’s sword from his scabbard, put it in his hand, and ran back to the screaming crowd for safety.

“Let’s get ready to rumble!” Gideon cheered and Bill snapped his fingers to make a ringing bell appeared.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford and Mabel were sitting on the front steps of their temple, having tea, as the young muse happily chatted and the aged god happily listened, but they were interrupted by Fiddleford’s wind-breaking running as he hurried up to his dearest friends and was short of breath.

“St-St-Stanford! It’s Mason! He’s battlin’ the Gobblewonker on the beach o’Thebes!”

Ford choked on his tea and had to spit it out. “WHAT?!”

Mabel punched the air. “Alright! He can take down that big dummy! I wanna see him do it!” And the young muse got up and started to run out of Olympus.

“Wait!” Ford called as he and his best friend ran after her. “Mabel, wait!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper slowly watched as the Gobblewonker’s neck positioned itself for attack, like an angry snake. This was no different than those garden snakes at the orphanage, right? The monster attempted to strike, but Dipper dodged swiftly on the beach. Again, and another dodge. Again, another dodge.

“That’s it,” Stan coached. “That’s it, kid, dance around, look for an opening.”

The Gobblewonker struck again, digging it’s sharp teeth into the sand, and Dipper was almost hit, but managed to spit out some sand and stand strong, unfortunately realizing a second too late that his sword was no longer in his hand, but lying behind him. Now having to multitask running the opposite direction and dodging a monster, as if this battle wasn’t difficult enough.

To distract it and buy some time, Dipper used his super strength and threw a huge rock at the Gobblewonker, who crushed it in his jaws while Dipper retrieved his weapon. He stood proud and ready to strike, but in one instant the monster engulfed the hero in it’s mouth and held its head up high to swallow Dipper like he was a pill.

Pacifica held her throat and cringed as the Gobblewonker licked his chops, but soon it was wincing, like it was in pain, and a gruesome scene of Dipper cutting the monster’s neck from the inside appeared before the audience and the Gobblewonker’s head and half its neck flew into the ocean, leaving red in the water and on his body.

“YES! THAT’S MY BOY, THAT’S MY BOY!” Stan cheered as the Gobblewonker’s body fell onto the beach with a loud splash and the dizzy hero fell to his knees. Stan was right by Dipper’s side and helped him up, lightly tapping his face. “Good job, kid, good job. C’mon, let’s getcha cleaned up.” And the old man helped his student get on his feet and shake away his dizziness from the acid that had been in the neck.

Up in the cave, Bill was turning red and shaking. Pacifica smiled, ready to see Gideon be burned to a crisp, but the young man was still, miraculously, perfectly calm.

“Gideon, your plan…”

“Bill, Bill buddy, relax.” Gideon rested his hands behind his neck as rain started to trickle down on the mortal world. “It’s only half time.”

The Gobblewonker’s body twitched behind the two men. They both turned and were very disturbed to find it standing up on its own and suddenly three heads emerged from the opened neck, ready to attack the hero again.

“HOLY HERA!” Stan yelled and ran aside to give the hero his chance.

Dipper backed away until his back was against the rocks, smiling. “Ha! You’re trapped in water, huh?”

The three-headed-Gobblewonker must have understood the young man and decided to prove him wrong, because the sea monsters climbed up out of the water and onto the same to better attack the human.

“Oh, jeez.” Dipper groaned before letting instincts take over and he chopped an incoming head off to dodge and get out of being cornered against the rocky wall.

Dipper allowed his adrenaline to take over and soon he was swinging at anything that came towards him. This, of course, was a bad idea and soon Dipper stood with his back to the sea at a thirty-headed-Gobblewonker, bigger and meaner and more powerful than ever before.

“WILL YOU FORGET THE HEAD-SLICING THING?!” Stan yelled from the sidelines.

Dipper swallowed as a clawed-flipper scooped him up and pinned him against the mountain side, all thirty heads getting closer and closer and ready to rip him apart limb from limb.

“C’mon, kid!” Stan cheered. “Use that big head of yours! C’mon!”

Dipper did some quick thinking, looking up at the mountain, and without a second to lose, he pounded his combined fists against the mountain on his left side, causing an avalanche. One by one the heads were crushed and more red stained the rainy beach, leaving only a fisted-up claw in the clear, unnoticed by the audience.

“NO!” Stan screamed and hurried to the rockpile. “C’mon, c’mon kid, stay with me. Stay with me!” The old man fell to his knees and started to move rocks out of the way, trying to find his student. “No, no, no! Please!”

Meanwhile, Gideon and Bill were smiling twisted smiles. “Hm, nice job, kiddo.” Bill said to Gideon. “You’ve redeemed yourself.”

“Told you it would work.” Gideon said calmly.

Pacifica looked down at the old man trying to get the young hero back with sad blue eyes.

“I… I can’t…” Stan panted under his breath. “I can’t lose…” But then he heard something that made him stop digging.

The fist was wiggling, finally noticed. The townsfolk were worried it was the Gobblewonker, still alive, and Stan stood ready to die trying to kill the monster that took his kid away, but everyone who was watching was beyond surprised to find Dipper priding the monster’s dead fingers off of him and standing tiredly with his clothes in rags.

Cheer erupted, everyone deaf to the yells of anger from Bill and the yells of pain from Gideon, or the dark cloud that appeared by the small cave as the three vanished.

The townsfolk yelled and celebrated and ran down to Dipper and Stan, but Stan was the first to congratulate the new hero, holding him in his arms and giving him noogies and yelling to the top of his lungs. “YOU DID IT, KID! YOU WON BY A LANDSLIDE! HAHA!”

And there, up in the dark rainy clouds, Fiddleford danced with Mabel cheerfully for Dipper’s first victory, leaving Ford standing there, mouth open, speechless with pride. “I… I can’t believe it… my boy… he…”

“I told you!” Mabel cheered and punched her uncle on the shoulder. “I was right, you were wrong! Looks like somebody has to sing the Ford Was Wrong Song!”

Ford chuckled and smiled down proudly at his nephew, who was now being carried away by the other humans. To congratulate him, Ford threw down joyous lightning bolts to dance among the jubilant rain.

Dipper caught the lightning striking the ocean and he smiled to himself, daring to believe that his family might be proud of him.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the Underworld, Gideon was on his hands and knees, weak from pain and whimpering. This was the fifth time he was being punished, and Bill wasn’t done. The young white-haired man looked up at his boss and pleaded. “Bill, I…”

With a snap of the triangle’s fingers, Gideon’s tongue burst into flame and the teenager cried out and clawed at his mouth. Bill glared maliciously as he snapped his fingers again and Gideon’s whole body was suffocated in flames. Again.

Soon a sad pile of burning flesh was at Bill’s feet slowly healing again. “First you couldn’t even turn both twins into mortals. Then the one left mortal you let live. And now he lives and kills off one of my most powerful allies for taking this dimension!” Bill snapped his fingers again, burning Gideon alive again, sentencing him to pain that would kill a mortal.

Halfway through healing again, Gideon whimpered through tears, “I can still kill him. He’s still mortal. He got lucky.”

“You better.” Bill said coldly. “You’ve got one year to kill Pinetree, and every time you fail, I’ll kill you again until either he’s dead or you wish you could stay dead.” And the triangle left his minion alone to cry on the floor and think of how he was going to kill the man destined to defeat Bill.

#GF #gift #fanfiction #gravity falls au #dipper pines #pacifica northwest #bill cipher #gideon gleeful #stan pines #ford pines #mabel pines #Fiddleford McGucket

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boxoftheskyking · 5 years ago

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Something Good, Part Five

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four.

In which there are water ghouls.

---

There are water ghouls in Caiyi Town. This is apparently not a new phenomenon, and dealing with them is common enough that the senior disciples can use it as a test of sorts. Lan Wangji has also decided it will be an educational experience for the junior disciples to observe. In reality this is an end-of-the-first-month test for Wei Wuxian called “Herd eleven children down a mountain for two hours.”

They are tired. They are thirsty. Lan Feifei has lost her shoes. Ouyang Zizhen got an extra turn on Wen Ning’s back and it’s not fair. Lan Ting is allergic to some kind of leaves, but will not stop touching all of the leaves. Lan Jingyi is… consistently Jingyi.

Wei Wuxian does not believe in having favorite children—he and his siblings suffered enough under their parents’ favoritism and expectations. And, anyway, these children are far too different to compare. Zizhen is sweet and asks for adventure stories every night and looks at Wei Wuxian like he created the heavens and earth. Lan Feifei has her head in the clouds and the cutest little dreamy smile right before she falls asleep. But Jingyi is truly a child after Wei Wuxian’s own heart.

He’s not the only orphan left after the ambush that Wei Wuxian was blamed for, but he’s the youngest by far and still wakes up crying in the middle of the night. Wei Wuxian rearranged the dormitory so Jingyi now sleeps cuddled up with Lan Sizhui, which seems to help a bit. Wei Wuxian isn’t sure what Sizhui’s story is—he assumes the kid is also an orphan, but occasionally he spends extra time with Lan Wangji that’s never been explained. Perhaps he’s a close nephew or cousin.

But Jingyi is the most un-Lan Lan child of the bunch, and Wei Wuxian is very invested in keeping him that way. He doesn’t remember being four—his memories are fuzzy before life on the streets of Yunmeng, and even that is more images and impressions than any full events. Except for the dogs. But he thinks that four-year-old Wei Ying must have been like this child—excited, curious, incapable of looking before he leaps (off a table, off a step, into the underbrush, into a puddle), only taking a break from asking “Why?” in order to ask “Why not?”

Wei Wuxian loves it, and it drives him nearly off the ledge. Knowing Lan Jingyi as he knows himself, he spent an evening hand stitching extra ribbons into the back of Jingyi’s robes, reinforced around the waist so it doesn’t tear or pull or pinch when he grabs them. Far from being offended or annoyed the first time Wei Wuxian yanked him back on track by his handy leash, Jingyi simply crowed “I’m a horse!” and threw his whole weight forward against Wei Wuxian’s grip, little boots scuffing uselessly against the dirt.

Without a golden core and after months in the Qishan prison he’s felt weak, scrawny and uncentered in his body. But lately, arms full of laundry and children, hands calloused from work instead of swordplay and more often than not tucked into scruffs of necks or latching onto misbehaving elbows, he’s starting to feel like a person again. Something solid, ground for building on.

Right now, Sizhui is on his shoulders, absently patting little fingers along his hairline, and Jingyi is being dragged along behind him like a dead fish.

“A-Yi, are you going to walk at any point today?” Wei Wuxian sighs.

Jingyi holds on to the leashes and flips himself around so he can look upwards. “Can I run?”

“No you cannot.”

“Then no.”

“Lan Jingyi!” Sizhui calls down from his perch, swatting a low-hanging branch out of his face. “You should behave better. You’ll be all dirty when we get to town and you will get in trouble!”

Wei Wuxian squeezes his chubby knees and turns around to wave the older kids forward.

“Wen Ning! Come here my friend, take this bag of turnips into Caiyi Town. Try to get a good price for it.” He swings Jingyi over and Wen Ning hauls him over his shoulder

Jingyi smiles as he bounces along upside down, singing, “Turnip turnip turnip” to himself all the way down the mountain.

Before they enter the town proper Wei Wuxian does his best to line them up properly and pick stray leaves out of hair.

“Now, young masters and ladies, remember you are representing the GusuLan Sect. Yes? Heads up, hands to yourselves.” The kids shuffle mostly into position. “The Lan Sect is very important to Caiyi Town. You understand? The town depends upon Lan cultivators to take care of problems like these water ghouls. So when the people see you, you want them to be confident in your abilities, yes? We are proud of where we come from. Lan Hua! Eyes front. You’re not just representing your humble Wei-qianbei, you know. You are representing our Hanguang Jun!” At that, shoulders snap back and grumbling ceases. Wei Wuxian feels a rush of fondness and gives them a grinning salute. “Very good! We want Hanguang Jun to be proud of us, yes?”

“Yes, Wei-qianbei!”

“Very good! On we go!”

Wei Wuxian feels like a mother goose, wrapped in grey servants’ robes and leading his white flock through the streets, Wen Ning bringing up the rear. Sizhui holds onto his hand, hopping every third step to keep up. Normally, Wei Wuxian would happily pick him up, but today is about being dignified. He’s glad for the firm little grip on his fingers, though. It’s been a lifetime since he’s been out of Cloud Recesses, and part of him expects the townspeople to spit at his feet. No one recognizes him, though. Passersby stop to watch the procession pass, bowing respectfully to the disciples. Wei Wuxian feels an odd warm pride unfurl in his chest, and when a mother in the crowd meets his eyes and gives him a knowing eyebrow raise, he lets himself laugh. Feast your eyes, everyone! Eleven children!

By the time they reach the edge of the lake, the senior disciples are already out on their boats near the center with Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, having flown down on their swords earlier. Nothing exciting seems to be happening so far, but there’s a tense hush in the air that can be felt even at the shoreline. It’s just Wei Wuxian and the children at the water’s edge, townsfolk having decided it’s not worth the risk even to get a good look at cultivators in action. Wei Wuxian arranges the children around an ancient tree, roots and branches gnarled and grasping towards the water, so they can rest their tired legs and still have a decent view. Sizhui tugs on his robes until he lifts him back up on his shoulders.

“What’s happening, Wei-qianbei?” Lan Feifei pipes up from beside him.

“Hmm. It looks like Hanguang-Jun and the senior disciples are waiting for the water ghouls to appear. Perhaps they’re seeing something moving in the water.” He wiggles his fingers and puts on his most dramatic voice, and Feifei gasps appropriately.

When it happens, it’s sudden and almost anticlimactic. A boat flips, tossing one of the senior disciples into the air and the other straight into the water. Lan Wangji flies over immediately, hauling the first into a waiting boat and grabbing onto the other’s arms before he’s pulled completely under the surface. Almost immediately there’s a great rumbling sound and the surface of the lake starts to roil.

Wen Ning runs to the edge of the water. “Wei-qianbei! Someone needs to help Hanguang Jun!”

“This isn’t just ghouls,” Wei Wuxian mutters to himself, though he can see some of the creatures moving, just breaking the surface like sentient seaweed, swirling closer and closer to Lan Wangji’s hovering form. “It’s an Abyss.”

If he’s seen it, then certainly the two Jades have as well. He can’t tell what they’re doing from here, but the remaining boats seem to be regrouping, pulling away from the forming whirlpool. Lan Wangji and the drowning disciple are swept up in the tide, pulling closer to the shore where the juniors stand frozen, hands over tiny, terrified mouths. Bit by bit, Lan Wangji is starting to rise from the water, arm now locked around the disciple’s chest. His normally pristine hair and robes swirl around him, soaked nearly all the way through. The walls of water rise and fall around their bodies as the whirlpool increases in size and intensity. Suddenly, a dark tendrilous form rises from the wall of water, reaching towards the men from behind. Before it can make contact, the water whisks it away, but others begin to rise in its place.

“Wei-qianbei!” Wen Ning calls. “The ghouls!”

Wei Wuxian sets Sizhui down and hurries to the water’s edge. “Hanguang Jun!” he yells, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Lan Wangji, get your sword up!”

Whether he’s unheard or ignored, he’s not sure, but Lan Wangji does not react.

“Lan Zhan!” he shouts, and he can feel the children behind him gasp as Lan Wangji’s head whips around towards him, just in time to duck another ghoul. There appears to be three of them whirling around, closing in little by little as the whirlpool increases in ferocity. From the corner of his eye, Wei Wuxian can see action from the other boats, Zewu Jun leading the disciples in a spell that makes energy crackle across the misty air. But he only has eyes for Lan Wangji and the ghouls.

“Wei-qianbei, do something!” Yao Hualing cries, grabbing onto his sleeve.

Wei Wuxian shakes her off and grabs his talismans out of his robe. Time doesn’t slow, exactly, but he feels his brain sharpen and focus. He bites at a hangnail on his thumb, ripping into the skin, and brushes a few hurried characters of negation in blood along two of the talismans—one meant to repair broken objects and one to put out fires. If he had his golden core he’d only need a few gestures—or, better yet, he’d have a sword and could fly into the fray—but this will have to do.

Lan Wangji ducks another ghoul, and Wei Wuxian rethinks his plan. He rips his talismans into three and opens his cut further, drawing out more blood to repeat his characters on each torn piece. Then he pushes them away from him in a burst of energy, directed at the low-hanging tree branch to his right.

With a great crack the branch shatters into three pieces, all of which burst into flame and arc through the air to collide with each ghoul. There is a series of terrible screams and a smell of burnt grasses, and the ghouls sink below the surface. Lan Wangji rises up out of the water, the now-unconscious disciple wrapped in his arms. As he hovers, the whirlpool suddenly moves back across the lake, seeming to be pulled by a great force.

Wei Wuxian misses whatever Zewu Jun is doing to address the Abyss. He probably should be paying attention to explain it to the children, but the gaping emptiness in his gut feels no smaller than the whirlpool Abyss itself. He finds himself on the ground, hands holding his body up, gasping in the wake of spiritual power. All humans have a reserve of some power naturally, but without a golden core to focus and grow it, it’s like a spark that never catches tinder.

He feels a collection of little hands on his back, in his hair, a buzz of worry surrounding him as he coughs up blood. He’s just getting his breath back when one of the children screams, then another, then there’s a mighty roar that shakes the ground and almost forces out the rest of his breath. He shoves himself back onto his heels to see a wall of black-green water, taller than the tree beside him and advancing like a storm.

“RUN!” he screams, shoving whoever he can reach behind him, picking up Sizhui by the back of his robes and throwing him at Ouyang Zizhen. He manages a step forward, arms held out in front of him, but there’s nothing inside him. No power, no fire, no anything. Even if he could get a spare talisman out, it’s nothing against the mass of water. He reaches instinctively for any resentful energy in the area, whistling out a tune of power and spitting out blood. But it’s not enough. Not even close.

Every town has a certain amount of latent energy—both spiritual and resentful—due to generations of living and dying on the same patch of land. But it’s not enough, barely anything, a few wisps of black smoke that he desperately weaves into the thinnest barrier, a blanket unable to keep out the cold. It’s not enough.

If this is how it happens, he thinks, his mind sinking into calm, at least I tried.

The last time he almost died, his mind was shrieking, desperate, clawing at the world and trying to hold on. But now, all he thinks about is the children. Run, please, run. And then, from nowhere, Lan Zhan, I’m sorry, I tried.

He closes his eyes and braces for impact.

It doesn’t come.

He feels a cold spray against his face and the skin of his chest where his robes have pulled open. When he opens his eyes, the water has subsided and Lan Wangji is standing in front of him, guqin hovering in the air before him and humming with an undeniable power.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes, struggling to his feet.

Lan Wangji turns to him. “What did you call me?”

“Hanguang Jun. I—”

“How dare you summon resentful energy in Gusu.”

Wei Wuxian’s hero worship dies down as his hackles raise. “What was I supposed to do? Let the children drown? Not even try?”

Lan Wangji glares at him, a muscle in his jaw twitching so violently Wei Wuxian is reminded of Jiang Cheng.

“I don’t think anyone saw,” Lan Wangji says, finally, turning back to the lake.

“What?”

“My brother and the others. I don’t think they saw you.”

“I—”

But he’s gone, sailing out over the lake to the boats at the center, white robes flapping behind him like the wings of a swan.

“Fucking—” Wei Wuxian mutters, but he cuts himself off and wipes his face on his sleeve before turning back to the children.

“My disciples!” he shouts cheerfully, pasting on a smile and holding out his arms. “How brave you all are!”

---

They commandeer an entire inn for the night. It’s been a long day; the children are exhausted, and a storm has been gathering at the edge of the horizon that promises lightning and torrential rain. The children packed into a few rooms upstairs, senior disciples on the ground floor, and Wei Wuxian has ended up with his own small pallet in what was probably once a storage closed. After the children are fed and sent to sleep, he wanders back down to the dining room.

He won’t sleep tonight. He’s tossed between so many emotions—thrill from the adventure, fear for the children, triumph at his successful talismans. But above all, the ache, the emptiness.

Useless, useless, useless echoes inside him, screams into the dark canyon under his ribs. Completely useless.

It’s one thing to give up puppet armies, raising spirits and casting bolts of dark energy into a battle. It’s another to encounter himself at the moment of crisis, the moment he is truly needed, and to find himself just another man. Mediocre. To face the imminent death of the children he’s grown to adore so entirely. To stand with empty hands before the deluge.

I’m completely useless.

The innkeeper is leaning against the bar, absently reading over a scroll.

“Sir?” Wei Wuxian asks politely. “Can I trouble you for some wine?”

“Indeed, young master!” the man crows, jumping to attention. “Some Emperor’s Smile? The finest liquor in all of Gusu. No, in all the world!”

Wei Wuxian smiles slightly, not quite bitterly, remembering a night on a roof under a clear moonlit sky. The taste of sweet liquor and the smell of sandalwood.

“Ah, I’m just a simple servant. Whatever you have that is cheap will do me just fine.”

The innkeeper narrows his eyes, looks over his damp and rumpled appearance. “Were you with those cultivators that banished our water ghouls today?”

“I was— Yes, I was with them.”

The innkeeper grins, showing three shining gold teeth. “In that case, the drink is on the house. Please, enjoy with our gratitude.” He holds out two delicate white jugs tied with lace ribbon.

I don’t deserve it. I did nothing.

Wei Wuxian grins. “Your generosity will not be forgotten!” He bows and takes the wine back to his closet.

Useless.

With a rumble of thunder that shakes the foundation of the inn, the sky opens above him.

Part Six

#assorted writings #the untamed #something good #Favorite things comes next obv

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wingedquill · 4 years ago

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starlight and seasalt, chapter 1

@geraltwhumpweek

Title: Starlight and Seasalt

Ships: Geralt/Jaskier

Prompt: Day 6, Monster

Medium: Netflix

Warnings: Chronic pain for this chapter. For the whole fic, mutilation and manipulation of a child.

Word count: 2642

Summary: Ever since the trials, Geralt's legs have hurt. An ache that never quite leaves him, an ache that flares into a blistering pain on bad days. Ever since the trials, the smell of saltwater has made Geralt want to scream, and sob, and go back home .Ever since the trials, Geralt has felt wrong in a way he can't explain. (Geralt wasn't quite human, before the trials. He's just been made to forget that.)

Author’s note: This is chapter one of the mer!geralt fic that I’ll be posting over on my AO3. Enjoy!

Geralt can’t really remember a time in his life that he wasn’t in pain. He must have been free of it once, before the trials, when he was still a child playing knights with his mother. But those memories are distant, faded as an old dream, replaced by the crush of his real life and a persistent throbbing in his legs.

Other witchers don’t feel the same kind of pain. He asks Eskel about it, only to be met with a confused and sympathetic smile. He asks Vesemir about it, only to be met with a shuddering sigh and a shaken head.

“Probably a side-effect of the extra mutations,” he says. “I—I’m sorry, Geralt, we can try giving you some herbs for the pain?”

The herbs never really work. The sharp, stabbing pain in his legs accompanies him all through his training, and will continue to accompany him for years yet. Some days it fades down to a dull throb, but other days it feels like he’s on fire, like someone has jabbed a thousand needles into his kneecaps.

He learns to ignore it. He has to. If he dwells on it, if he falters and winces every time it flares up, it could very easily be the end of him. Just one lucky shot from a monster would be enough. Just one second.

***

When he becomes a witcher, his Path meanders closer and closer to the ocean. He’s always wanted to see it after all, has heard plenty of older witchers talk about its endless horizons and glimmering waves and soft, warm beaches. His heart tugs when he hears those stories, an ache building and burning in his chest. A yearning.

And now that he’s free and directionless, he figures he might as well head there. So he takes contracts as he heads towards the sea, easy monsters for a young witcher, ghouls and drowners and the odd wraith. Maybe his first big fight will be against a kraken of some sort, that would be interesting.

He could slay some giant ship-eater, earn a big sack of coin, and travel down the coast. Charter a boat and make his way to the islands. Do whatever he wants.

He nudges his horse into a gallop as soon as the sharp scent of salt fills the air, excitement mounting in his chest as he flies up a hill and towards the faint sound of crashing waves. It sounds like soft thunder rolling through the air after a summer storm. It sounds like destiny.

The hill reaches its peak and he sees the ocean.

It spreads out and out and out in all directions, a wide green blanket broken only by tiny bursts of white seafoam. Gulls scream in the sky overhead, wheeling down towards the water and snatching up fish from the surface. Wind whips against Geralt’s face, peeling his hair away from his sweaty neck.

It’s beautiful. It’s awe-inspiring, it’s everything the older witchers said it would be, and—

And his heart hurts. It aches like someone he loves has died, like something important has been taken from him, like a childhood dream has crumbled into ash. A sob breaks out of his throat and he claps a hand over his mouth. Witchers don’t show their emotions. They can’t show their emotions. Remember that.

But there are no humans around to judge him so he lets himself slide from Roach’s back, hitting the ground with a yelp as his legs flare with pain. He staggers over to a scraggly, twisting tree growing out of the sandy soil and slumps down against it, breathing heavy. Tears burn in his eyes, clog up his nose. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to be.

Why is he so upset—he doesn’t—he doesn’t understand—

He feels like he’s missing something, something important, something that would explain why he’s crying like a child at the mere sight of the ocean. But as soon as he has that thought, as soon as he tries to grab on to it and think, it slips out of his mind, leaving him confused and shuddering as the sobs roll over him like waves.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths in and out. Control yourself.

He picks himself up and stumbles back over to Roach, each step feeling like he’s treading on shattered glass. He doesn’t let himself turn to look at the ocean again, no matter how much it tugs at him. Just swings Roach’s head back around and heads inland again. Riding away from the ache.

***

He doesn’t come back to the sea for another seventy years.

***

He tells Jaskier about the pain a few years into their friendship and a few months into their relationship, when he wakes up one morning and can’t move his legs. Every little shift sends a wave of fire up his body, and he has to bite into the pillow to stop himself from screaming.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks, stirring beside him. Even the faint movement of the mattress has Geralt biting down harder. Jaskier’s voice is thick with sleep but rapidly clearing, worry threading through his words. “Geralt, hey, what’s wrong? ‘S the kikimora bite acting up?”

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Legs,” he groans.

“Your legs are hurt?” Jaskier says, and the worry is bleeding through his voice now, infecting every part of his being.

“Mmhmm,” he says, and his lungs are getting tighter and tighter, seizing with the pain.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Jaskier gasps and he’s up with a flash, yanking back the covers from Geralt’s bare legs. He shivers as the air hits his skin. It feels wrong in a way he can’t articulate.

“Did the kikimora land on you funny?” he asks, running his hands down Geralt’s legs as he feels for contusions, broken bones, misaligned tendons. Geralt shudders at the feeling of his too-warm, too rough fingers, burying his head further in the pillow. Normally Jaskier’s touch is soothing in situations like this, but now it just compounds the burning.

“Stop,” he grunts, and Jaskier’s snatches his fingers back instantly.

“Not the kikimora,” he manages to say, dragging the air through his aching lungs. “Just—legs get like this sometimes.”

Jaskier makes a soft sympathetic sound.

“What can I do to help then?” he asks. “Potion, herbs, anything?”

Geralt shakes his head.

“Doesn’t work. Just keep the blankets off. Pressure makes it worse.”

“Okay. Alright” The bed shifts as Jaskier crawls back up and settles next to Geralt’s head. His fingers find their way into Geralt’s hair, soft and hesitant, gently stroking over the crown of his head.

“Is this alright?” Jaskier asks and, loathe though Geralt is to admit it, the external stimuli does drag his mind away from the pain, if only a little.

“Mmhmm.”

“Good. Just—focus on me and try and go back to sleep, if you can.”

“M’kay.” Gods, he sounds like a child.

Jaskier starts humming under his breath and Geralt focuses all his attention on him, on the sound of the melody, on the gentle, consistent strokes running through his hair. The pain still burns through him but his legs feel like distant, unimportant parts of himself.

Lovolulu, genevoga.

“Rest, Geralt,” Jaskier murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

***

Jaskier is always ready to help him after that, to take his mind off the pain with gentle words and touches, to let Geralt lean on his shoulders sometimes, when they’re walking back into town after particularly difficult hunts. He even stops protesting when Geralt doesn’t let him take turns on Roach, seemingly understanding that Geralt’s insistence on riding her isn’t born from possessiveness.

Geralt is grateful to him, in an aching, nameless way. No one in his life has taken his pain seriously. Even Vesemir gave up on helping him, when the herbs didn’t work. He was left to stumble through it alone, to gnash his teeth together and keep walking when his knees were full of needles, to sob silently into pillows in shitty inns when the pain kept him from sleeping.

“My sister had a bad arm, growing up,” Jaskier tells Geralt once, as they sit quietly together in an inn, eating their fill after a contract. The pain is building in Geralt’s calves, cramping his muscles and making his skin feel like tightened leather. “Twisted it wrong in a fall and it never quite worked the same again. She always said warm water helped. Didn’t make the pain go away entirely, but it lessened it, somewhat. Loosened up her muscles a bit. Do you think—?”

“I’m willing to try,” Geralt says with a shrug. He’s willing to try practically anything.

They finish their meal and Jaskier slips out of the room, heading downstairs to order a bath. Geralt hobbles over to the bed and sinks into it, staring up at the ceiling and feeling, for a reason that he can’t put his finger on, that it’s wrong somehow. That he shouldn’t be here.

He shakes the feeling away. Too much time camping recently, if he thinks being indoors is wrong.

Jaskier comes in with a few servants, lugging a tub and several buckets of hot water, and Geralt sits up and does his best to look like his legs aren’t on fire. Based on the concerned looks Jaskier keeps shooting him, he doesn’t think he’s succeeding.

The tub is filled and the servants thanked in a matter of minutes, and then Jaskier is offering him an arm.

“Come on,” he says, his brow pinched. “Lean on my shoulder, there you go, dear heart.”

Geralt leans against him and breathes. The air is hot and dry and wrong.They stumble over to the tub, and each step feels like a mile.

“You’re doing so well,” Jaskier says, brushing his fingers over Geralt’s arm. “So good.”

The praise would send a bolt of heat rushing through him in any other context, but right now Jaskier just sounds worried, and the pain building and rolling through him makes it difficult to think of other things.

“Sit down, yeah on the edge of the tub, just like that.”

Jaskier’s hands flutter over him, tugging off Geralt’s shirt, boots. When he starts working at Geralt’s pants, Geralt turns his head away, biting his lip to stop himself from cursing. The feeling of the fabric moving and scraping against him sends jolts of lightning racing up his spine.

“Just a moment, darling,” Jaskier says, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s jaw as he works. “Just a moment, can you lift your hips for me?”

Geralt lifts his hips. Stars explode behind his eyes.

Jaskier pulls his trousers and smalls down, and then rests a hand against Geralt’s heaving back.

“Into the tub now, that’s it, there you go.”

Jaskier guides him down, settles him in the warm water. Geralt closes his eyes. For a moment, the pain recedes, pulling back like a retreating wave. Gods, Jaskier is a genius.

And then.

Like a tidal wave.

The pain slams back into him, worse than he’s ever felt in his life. His legs are on fire, blistering and burning and surely they must be dissolving, had the servants put something in the water? Some kind of potion to melt away his flesh? Surely that’s the only explanation for the agony.

He screams.

Jaskier’s hands are on him, and his voice is in his ear, high and strained, but Geralt can’t pick out the individual words. He doesn’t—he doesn’t speak—

“La mevoga lu!” he hollers, thrashing frantically in the water. “La mevoga lu, la—la zebevoga!”

There are hands on him, hoisting and grabbing and twisting, tearing him in half, tugging his tail apart.

Lovolu looks frantically down at where they’re tugging at him and sees smooth skin and feet and—

He screams again.

***

Everything is floating around him. He’s drifting on his back in a calm bay, watching the stars, flicking his fins back and forth to keep him afloat. This is his first time seeing the surface, and he can hardly breathe for how beautiful the sky is.

***

“Geralt?”

Geralt’s head pounds like he’s been chugging Cat all night, and he buries his head deeper into the pillow, letting out a groan that sounds pathetic even to himself.

“Geralt, love, please wake up.”

Jaskier. His voice is all raspy and watery, like he’s been crying for a long, long time. Geralt’s eyes flick open immediately, and his hands press down on the mattress, trying to heave himself into a seated position. What happened? What’s wrong with Jaskier?

His arms tremble and give out immediately, sending him crashing back down into the mattress. A jolt of pain shoots through him, from his fingers to his toes, and he gasps, trying to curl in on himself.

What’s wrong with him?

“Don’t try to move,” Jaskier says, and he’s still crying, Geralt can tell from the hitch in his voice. He ignores Jaskier’s order to roll onto his side, twisting his neck so that he can see him. He looks dreadful, all red eyes and dark circles, hair sticking up in a dozen different directions.

“Hey,” he croaks. Gods, his throat is as dry as a desert and as prickly as a thornbush.

“Hey,” Jaskier replies with a watery laugh. He reaches down and runs his fingers through Geralt’s hair, smoothing it back ever-so-gently. “You gave me quite a scare.”

“What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Hmm we were. Eating. Dinner, right? After that contract for the ghouls?”

Jaskier’s fingers spasm against his skin, but he doesn’t pause in his stroking. A purr rumbles in Geralt’s chest, and a smile cracks over Jaskier’s face when he hears it.

“Yes, we were,” he says. “But then—your legs were flaring up, do you remember that?”

“A bit. Were just a bit achy.”

“Just—” Jaskier rubs at his face. “Right. It—it got worse. Quite a bit worse, you couldn’t really walk all that well. So I suggested putting you in a bath, do you remember that?”

Geralt shakes his head.

“Okay. That’s—that’s probably for the best, you—you started seizing, almost as soon as you were in the water. Or—that’s what it looked like at least, you were thrashing around a lot. And screaming.”

That would certainly explain the pain in his throat. But it doesn’t explain why he doesn’t remember a lick of it. Unease creeps over his neck. He doesn’t like the idea of losing time like that.

Jaskier bites his lip.

“You were shouting something,” he says. “In—do you speak another language, Geralt?”

“Bit of Nilfgaardian,” he mumbles, testing out his arms again. This time they hold, and he carefully levers himself into a seated position. “For when I need to take contracts down south.”

But why the fuck would he be screaming in Nilfgaardian?”

“Right, yeah, that makes sense. But um—you weren’t speaking Nilfgaardian. Or Common. Or Elder. I don’t know what it was, but it definitely wasn’t any of those.”

The unease swells into dread.

“I was speaking a language I don’t even know?”

Jaskier nods. He reaches down and takes Geralt’s hand. Geralt squeezes back, as tight as he can with his still trembly muscles.

“I—I’d like to bring you to a mage,” Jaskier says. “See if we can figure out what’s going on, okay? With your memory and—and maybe with your pain as well. Alright?”

He’s never visited a mage, in all these years. Not after being told by the mages at Kaer Morhen that there was nothing that they could do for him.

But speaking an unknown language…that scares him. Losing time scares him.

Scaring Jaskier scares him.

“Alright,” he says. He brings Jaskier’s hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss across the skin. “Alright. We’ll go to a mage.”

#geraltwhumpweek #the witcher #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #geraskier #My writing #starlight and seasalt

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sherrybaby14 · 5 years ago

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Winds Of Winter (1/2)

This is my entry for @youngmoneymilla 15k challenge (Congrats lady)

Prompt: The Winds of Winter – Ramin Djawadi (Game of Thrones)

Summary: A stranger from a rival kingdom comes to your throne for a favor. (Fantasy AU)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None in this chapter. Part two is gonna have some war/death and smut.

A/N: You don’t need to have seen Game of Thrones to follow this. It’s not GOT fanfic, just fantasy, but heavily inspired by the mythology.

Words: 3k

The stranger’s footsteps echoed across the throne room and you held your chin high as he approached. Stranger wasn’t the right term, though you’d never set eyes on the man you knew who he was the second his presence was announced.

When he arrived in front of you, his blue eyes scanned your face before he dropped to a knee, the coat and wardrobe he wore not nearly enough to survive the raging winter outside your castle’s door.

“Your majesty,” Steve Rogers began speaking but you felt your jaw tighten at the formal title.

“What do you want?” It wasn’t very regal of you to interrupt but being treated this way by someone whose people referred to you as Queen-of-nothing was almost disrespectful.

“My name is Steven Rogers.” He stood.

“I know who you are.” You gave up trying to hold your tongue. “I didn’t ask your name. I asked what you wanted.”

“You know who I am?” He looked shocked.

“I am well within my rights to have you beheaded for showing your face here. Neither you, nor your people are allowed beyond my gates.” You rolled your shoulders back. “After all, it was your ancestors who banished mine here.”

Steve bit his lip. He was choosing his words wisely.

“The banishment of your family, your people.” He shook his head. “I took no part. I wasn’t born, even a thought yet.”

“Neither were any of the people who reside here.” You rose from your throne. “Yet, we honor the treaty. We do not cross into your lands and you keep out of ours.”

It was a prison of ice. The sentence passed on for your grandfather’s rebellion against the crown. Everyone knew the story. Everyone expected your family to wither and die in the harsh north, but instead you’d survived. Your people tougher, stronger because of it.

“I will ask you one more time before I summon an executioner.” You took a step toward him. “Why are you here?”

“I need your help.” The look of defeat on his face made it clear you were his last choice. “The kingdom is at war, its chaos. My home is occupied by an enemy.”

“Yes, a lesser house than your own. Correct? House Rumlow. I heard they murdered your family in a revolt.” You walked to the window. “And that the crown supports them. Who sits on the throne in the South now? House Romanov? House Stark? House Quill? Or is it House Parker now? I can hardly keep up the way you fight each other.”

“I don’t care about the throne.” Steve’s desperation started to show. “I don’t care about any of that. I care about my people, my lands, the ones I am warden too. Rumlow will see them tortured, murdered with glee. He is dangerous.”

“You say you care nothing about the throne, but who is your allegiance to?” You spun to face him, your sky blue cloak sliding against the stone floor. “Because it certainly is not to me.”

“I understand ancient grudges. But you seem well versed in the present times, more so than expected. My home, the estate of Brooklyn, is the farthest North of the great houses. You think he won’t want to expand his lands? Come for you? Maybe not be as lenient about your spies passing through our towns?” Steve’s voice echoed across the walls.

“You expect this Rumlow to expand into my, what do you Southerners call it, wasteland?” You folded your arms. “What I think, is I should sit it out. Watch all of you destroy each other. Do my part to contribute by ending your life right here.”

“You won’t.” Steve pushed out his chest.

“What has you so sure of that?” You did not like him questioning your authority.

“Because there are rumors of you. The Queen beyond the kingdoms. Who has aided her people, grown them in numbers, united other banished here. Stories of kindness, and love for her people. A stunning beauty who would…”

“STOP!” You held your hand up, not wanting to hear any more flatteries or acknowledge the rush of adrenaline. “I do love my people. I love them so much I will not consider sending them to their deaths for a fight that is not theirs.”

There was only five thousand living under your command, though all were trained fighters and stronger than ten southern. Even the youngest.

“I am not asking for your people’s assistance.” Steve gulped and rang his hands in front of him.

“Oh?” You smirked. “Well I suppose you never answered my original inquiry. What do you want?”

“There’s other rumors.” He glanced around the hall, your guards still at the door. “I saw the red comet in the sky, I remember it vividly. Four years ago.”

“Celestial matters bare no influence on my decisions.” You walked back to your throne.

“I know what that means. Your bloodline, your family. Stories, pictures of what once was. They’ve returned. To you.” Steve kept his eyes on you.

A laugh left your mouth as you sat in the chair and shook your head.

“Whatever you’re implying, you are mistaken.” You leaned back.

“I believe. I believe enough I came here alone, unarmed, knowing fully well you could chop my head off.” Steve took a step forward and your guards reacted.

You held a palm up and shook your head. This man was no threat.

“Because I have faith. I have faith that you are as kind and noble as the rumors say. That something unbelieve, magical is happening in your land, and that you are good and just and will not let any more innocent lives be lost.” Steve dropped down to his knees. “Please. Help me. I have an army of two thousand, going to take on an army double that size. I need you. I will welcome you and your people into my kingdom in return.”

“As a guest?” You rolled your eyes.

“No.” Steve brought his hands in front of him. “As a Queen. I have dropped to my knee twice before you. Once you help us win back Brooklyn, I will do so again. In front of all my people, and recognize you as the one true leader. Then I will help you get what you really want.”

“And what is that?” The promise made your blood pressure rise.

“The throne.” He stood up again. “You are correct in the waring houses. The Kingdom needs unity. The North will support your claim.”

“The North?” You snapped as you stood up from the chair. “You think you’re the North? You know nothing about the dangers my people endure. The harsh conditions. Winter, snow, ice.”

“Then accept my offer.” Steve watched as you walked back toward the window. “Take them to your ancestral home. Away from here.”

“I intend to.” You spun on your heels. “Without your assistance. My original plan still stands. I’m going to let you kill each other. Once you’re all a sea of graveyards we will return home, without shedding a drop of blood.”

“Tomorrow.” Steve’s eyes danced on your face, taking you in, making your skin crawl. “The battle is set for dawn.”

“Tomorrow?” You smiled. “What makes you think for a moment I could assist you in that amount of time. Assembling my troops, readying the horses, making the travel.”

“I’m not asking for your troops.” His eyes flashed. “I believe you will help me. Because you know it is right, and my offer is fair.”

“Trusting your people’s offers is what landed my people here.” Steve started to back away. “I will not make the same mistakes as my ancestors.”

“That is what I am counting on.” He bowed. “Dawn.”

“You will be severely disappointed.” Part of you wanted to chase after the Southerner, enjoying your argument more than you had realized.

“I have faith.” He stood again. “In you.”

The words made you unsettled. So much so that you did not get another word out before he left the throne room. Your guards escorting him out. Maybe you should have decapitated him, it would have aided with the pain in the back of your neck he had caused.

Steve left the stone building and looked behind him. That was their castle, it was barely a quarter the size of his own. The rest of the buildings in the tiny town were made from wood. They looked more like huts than houses.

His eyes scanned the people. They wore rich, heavy furs. Of course, they were for protection from the elements, not fashion statement.

Every one of them stopped what they were doing to gawk at him. His way of dress made him stand out, but that wasn’t it. Steve had always prided himself on being tough, strong like his father. But these people, even the youngest were much stronger, faster, harder.

He saw a little girl no more than ten stare at him, a look on her face angry enough he thought she might try to slit his throat.

None of these people had done anything wrong, none rebelled, none fought wars, but they lived here in the frozen lands because of choices their earlier generations had made. The banishment was meant as an extinction, but somehow by some chance they’d survived.

“Pity I was really hoping the Queen was going to chop your head off.” One of the guards shoved his shoulder as they neared his boat.

“Aye.” The other shoved his back. “This one has some meat on him, would’ve made for a fine stew.”

“Stew?” Steve looked over his shoulder.

Both men started laughing, their shoulders bouncing up and down with each chuckle.

“That’s right pretty boy.” The just got a foot in the boat when hard hands hit his back, his shin caught, and he fell forward into the wood. “We eat each up out here. Raw and bloodied.”

The man flashed his teeth at Steve and made a crunching noise.

“Tell your friends.” The other brought his boot up on the boat and kicked him off into the water. “You pretty Kingdom folk our are favorite dinner guests.”

Both men chuckled as they licked their lips. Steve knew they were joking, or at least hoped as much. He picked up his oar and began to row across the sea.

Soon the village vanished from view. Steve tried not to think about the icy waters below him, the danger in the small boat breaking, drowning into the cold abyss. He knew coming out here was a risk, but he had no other option.

That was his first time seeing the ice-queen. He’d heard her described as exotic, plain, short, tall, feminine, manish, dark, light and every other possible descriptor. Nobody south of here had ever really laid eyes on her. The warring descriptions were an enigma. She was an enigma.

He saw the red comet, he knew what it had meant. Nobody believed him and insisted it was folk lore. But Steve was always a believer.

She may have rolled her eyes, chuckled a little, but she wasn’t on the floor in hysterics at his suggestion. That comet meant something that night.

By the time he reached the other side of the water, the rise in temperature was noticeable. His horse remained untouched. Steve didn’t bother dragging the boat, the weight would slow them down too much and it was still a several hour ride to his encampment.

“I have faith.” He rubbed his horse’s neck as he untied her from the tree. “She will help us.”

“The pansy boy is gone.” Bucky, your guard and second in command came back into the room.

“You’re not really considering giving him aid?” Sam, your guard and third was close behind him. “The nerve of him, walking in here like the two of you are equals.”

“I’m no better than anyone else.” You crossed your arms. “His proposal was interesting.”

“You look beautiful by the way.” Sam looked you up and down. “Like a true queen.”

“It was my mother’s.” You smoothed down the thick light blue gown, the matching cloak over your shoulders. “I should change.”

Your scouts spotted the visitor long before his arrival. You wanted to look the regal part but were much more used to dressing in the same manner as everyone else.

“You should have killed him.” Bucky was never one for pleasantries. “I would’ve done it. Taken his head back to his men myself.”

“We’re not barbarians.” You smiled at your men. “Besides, he let some rumors slip. If we are going to take back the kingdom we may need ally’s.”

“That’s not the plan.” Bucky made a fist. “We let them battle each other. Swoop in and take out the tired victor. It’s days away. All the troops are ready.”

“Did that man strike you as an oppressor?” You walked toward the door. “One who wishes to keep us locked up here?”

“He struck me as desperate.” Sam added. “And a bit delusional.”

When the winter winds hit you, you tightened the cloak. Bucky and Sam walked behind as your greeted a few of your people on your walk.

“You look stunning!” A little girl yelled. “A true queen!”

“Delusional?” You waved and shook some hands. “What makes you say that?”

You arrived at the ice cliff that protected your village from further elements, walking around the edge to the opening in the mountain side.

“The promises he made. Does he really think his people will bend the knee to you? Recognize you as their leader? It would never be that simple.” Sam and Bucky followed you into the darkness of the cave.

“Thor? Loki? Hela?” You walked further. “It’s alright. You can come out now.”

You stopped walking, deep enough it was pitch black.

“No. It wouldn’t.” You sighed. “But he confirmed they know we’re plotting our return.”

The dark began to fade as red filled the area, the crawling almost shaking the mountain.

“I am so sorry you had to hide.” You went toward the giant head, putting your hand on Thor’s nose when he came into view. “It seems more people are aware of your existence than I imagined. But that’s alright. I think it’s time we introduced you three to the world.”

There was a low screech from Hela as a shot of fire came out of her mouth. You saw Bucky and Sam in the glow, getting better at hiding their terror, but not so much you couldn’t see it on their faces.

“Just think.” You walked around to Thor’s back, climbing on board as he dipped his wing. “You two look that scared and they’re on our side. Just imagine what the enemy will face.”

“Scared?” Sam sounded shocked.

“Me? Scared?” Bucky scoffed. “Never.”

“Right.” You leaned down to Thor as he began to crawl forward.

You were certain Steve Rogers was out of view. Thor raced through the cave until the daylight came and then moved to flight. You held on as he took you up, up, up. Loki and Hela right behind you.

Your people were used to seeing the dragons and paid no attention to your little flight.

You’d always planned on taking your them south, but forever envisioned it as a hostile trip. Never once anticipating an invitation, let alone the opportunity to be seen as a savior.

Thor dipped down into an ice cavern, flying along the frozen rivers. Loki and Hela screeched at each other behind you.

The dragons, your people, you, none knew what it felt like to feel warmth surround them. Always living in the snow and ice. You wanted more for them. Maybe Steve Roger’s welcoming was the start.

Thor shot up in the air and you held on tighter, bracing yourself to his back as he flew up the side of a glacier.

Then again, maybe Bucky was right. You were heading down either way. Who was Steve Rogers to deserve your trust?

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marvel au #avengers au #dragons #fantasy #steve rogers au

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