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bhaalsdeepbat · 10 months ago

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Little Wyll/Karlach/Astarion things

Astarion introducing people all, "This is my girlfriend, Karlach. This is her boyfriend, Wyll." gives him a little narrow eyed look, but Wyll is just like...buddy, my star, you were literally sleeping on my chest last night wtf are you on today.

UGH AND THEN the sun, moon, and stars embroidery. IMAGINE OK. Imagine that being for these three. Karlach and Wyll are the light of his day, and he is their light in the darkness of night. He makes a matching one for Wyll while the three are in Avernus together, but time feels less pressing as it did before. It feels like they suddenly have ALL the time in the world, despite Wyll and Karlach still being mortals. The end to their finite time is just not suddenly there on the horizon, waiting to cruelly separate them when they've had so little time together.

Karlach giving Ulder a piece of her mind and having Astarion drag her off bc he can tell Wyll does NOT want this confrontation happening. She's overheated, he can't even touch her bare skin without getting singed, and Wyll just is like. so struck by the fact that she cares so much about him that she refuses to let Ulder act like he didn't abandon his son. It wouldn't be anything bad, but it would be scathing, and end with how happy she is that Ulder and Wyll have been reunited bc Wyll's a REALLY great guy and if you abandon him like that again you'll be talking to me (and she pauses when she feels Astarion poke her to give her a look, and she can just read it) AND fangs

Astarion just crosses his arms and tries to look menacing...which, to his credit, the red eyes and teeth are creepy af, but mostly he just looks bitchy and like he might eat Ulder.

wyll practicing his dancing and inviting them both one night to dance around the campfire. Astarion sits off to the side, content to watch them. Karlach likes to dance, but not in the way Wyll does, so it's awkward at first, then after a few times where her big feet stomp on his toes, he decides to follow her lead instead. He's never danced like that before, but enjoyed every second of it. Before the evening ends, Astarion allows him one single dance just so he can show Karlach what he had been practicing. None of them talk about Astarion dancing with Wyll again. It's a treasured memory, but the two know that's a barred teasing topic (they bust his balls a lot and he just. begrudgingly accepts it, but some topics they KNOW to avoid)

wyll feeling suffocated by mizora one night and just. he's calm as hell, but Astarion notices him sulking first (I hc our resident vamp as the most perceptive at the camp bc of all i think he was doing for Caz). He tries to talk to wyll, but astarion isn't good at not bristling and it's one of those times where wyll just. he's being scathing. he's meeting astarion at astarion's petty level, and astarion is downright impressed.

he's like ????? like he's not even mad. he's just all "who knew the famed blade of frontiers had this nasty side" and he's smirking and it isn't a sexual comment at all but it accidentally does. and him being impressed rather than bristling is what leads to Astarion being the one to be like "ok now that we've had our dick measuring contest, just tell me wtf is going on"

Every time Mizora shows up, Astarion starts running his mouth like an attack chihuahua. Insults, barks, bared teeth, he does NOT like her. Karlach joins him, they play off each other a lot, actually. Like Karlach IS the attack dog, which makes Astarion feel a little more ballsy when he's mouthing off bc he knows any fight he cause WILL be ended with his beautiful gf knocking their ass out.

Wyll spends that night just. completely distraught. he can't even be with karlach and astarion, he asks for time alone to deal with his thoughts, and they respect it. Astarion keeps an eye from a distance, but he and Karlach allow him the space until he's ready for them, then they both move in to comfort him.

Karlach is great at hugs. She holds him and it's so comforting that Wyll finds himself believing it when Astarion is PROMISING that they'll figure it out. Astarion isn't soft in this moment, he certainly isn't kind while comforting Wyll, but he's genuine. Wyll knows Astarion means it when he promises that him and Karlach will be at Wyll's side to help him fight his battles, because like it or not, his battles are theirs to fight as well.

They'd go after Cazador first after Astarion is nearly (or successfully is) kidnapped. Karlach is PISSED, she's raging, ready to burn down the entire palace just to smoke Caz out. Wyll, equally angry, but actually comes up with a really, really good idea. Like he sits everyone down, goes through the battle plan, and Astarion is just so silent the entire time bc he cannot believe these two would rally so hard around him.

This is the point where every time someone is the least bit mean to Wyll, it is ON SIGHT for Astarion. Before, he'd butt in if someone crossed a line he felt shouldn't be crossed, or if it was Ulder or Mizora, but now it's ANYONE. Only he gets to insult his beloved Wyllyam.

Karlach on the docks, saying her goodbyes, holding her heart, her eyes welling with tears as she sees Wyll and Astarion look at her with just. the amount of grief in their eyes. She can't take it. it's the first chip in her resolve that allows them to swoop in and convince her to keep going.

Wyll moves first. Tells her she doesn't have to be alone, she'll have him AND astarion to watch her back. this isn't a convo any of them have had. astarion and wyll both know she'd rather die than go to avernus, but wyll KNOWS Astarion would go there in a heartbeat, and vise versa. they just know each other very very well at this point

So, Wyll is talking to her, Astarion is hiding under his cloak AND Wyll's bc the sun is threatening to burn him alive, but he can't leave Karlach alone. His own skin is cracking with the threat of turning to ash. Wyll holds onto Karlachs' hands, stares into her scared eyes, and she can SEE that he means the promise he makes to her. He will NOT let her be alone in Avernus, if she chooses to return.

Astarion, despite trying to hide from his own imminent death, gives his points. they're quick, not as nicely said as when he has a one on one with her bc he's also trying not to die, but he's more worried about her than he is himself.

Karlach, assured that the two men who vowed to love her to her dying breath, agrees to go to Avernus with them. They have one hell of a bloody time together. It's one of the best chapters in their life stories, after they get Karlach's heart fixed and they're all able to leave Avernus.

All three of them finally free of the bonds of servitude, they're able to explore the world. They're free to go where they wish, free to love who they wish, and free to finally choose their own paths and futures, though their choices will always involve being together.

#bat writes #fic idea #astarion #karlach #wyll #bg3 #wyllach #wyllachstarion #wyllstarion #bloodpact #hellspawn #this is actually what the whole doublet thing was tied into when i initially was thinking abt it #bc i'm fascinated by the idea of a dynamic between these three

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dangermousie · 2 years ago

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Ep 6

1. I totally forgot but they give Paula’s age in this ep and she is 5. Five!!!! That means her classmates are the same age - wtf kind of parent sends a 5 year old to a boarding school? One that doesn’t bother show up when bodies pile up and a nazi plague rages, I guess. (Side note - I was not spoiled for actual Nazis and remember !!! when we find out, but in retrospect, it all so made sense.)

2. I love every bit of progress between Maria and Ivan. When he thanks her for not giving him away as he hid in her room on one of the gang’s shenanigans and she smiles...(look at ep 1 and now btw, what a contrast in attitude!)

3.Yes, they find a bunch of kid corpses and the teacher’s corpse. At this point, I’d be begging my parents for a transfer anywhere, even juvvie, but mmv.

4. How much do I love that when Ivan sees Noiret, his first instinctive move is to look towards Maria for reassurance. The kid is a mess and a project but he has rock solid instincts and he really does respond to genuine care so well.

5. I have always found it so utterly sad that Noiret shipped him away as much as he could, hit him and broke his bones on the regular and never said a loving word his entire life and Ivan STILL kept looking and hoping for any crumb of affection - the way he lights up when Noiret pals around with him (because as we find out shortly, he is about to go on trial for abusing his girlfriend and needs Ivan to bear false witness) - oooooof. OOOF.

6. But much as he tries to lie to himself daddy really cares - the way he boasts the man will take him sailing in the summer etc, he knows this is all not true. The way he bristles when Carol points out Noiret just wants something is because he is smart and he knows she is right (Noiret is terrible at emotional manipulation; the only reason it works with Ivan is because Ivan is so desperate) is because he doesn’t want to believe and he’s deliberately lying to himself. But you see him try to get out of testifying - and the way he tries not to antagonize Noiret, making up some exam he has to take, and the way he crumbles quickly and backs away from it - just ooooof. Most characters in this show needed serious therapy, but he probably most of all.

7. I do love that Maria is his good angel. First, watch him voluntarily come find her to apologize for losing his temper.

But also, when she tells him not to lie during the trial, to prevent his father from continuing to abuse him and daddy’s various women (and the way she gives agency to Ivan, saying he has the power to end it) and he’s just quiet really...

8. This scene! Where he says he doesn’t want to lie and daddy says truth is relative and the woman had it coming (!!!!) and something in Ivan’s face just shatters as he asks “and I, did I have it coming?” and Noiret can’t even manage a lie of being sorry but just grabs his arm hard enough to bruise as he claims he changed. All Noiret can say is he’s his father and this isn’t done to one’s father (but you are not supposed to abuse your children either and yet this didn’t stop Noiret) and then does he want Noiret in jail and I start wondering how badly he beat up his ex (and in front of his son!) to get a jail term. And the way Ivan walks off defeated...the most he can come up with at the end of this season as a means of fighting back is to try to run away so as to avoid testifying. It’s quite a growth from this to his standing up to Noiret the way he does in latter seasons.

9. Points for the show having Hector go wtf at Ivan going in and out of Maria’s room and jumping to “she’s banging an underage kid” conclusion because that is something people WOULD think. (Sorry, Hector, you have a bunch of adults being creeps of that nature in this show, but Maria is not one of them.) And it ends in make outs mmmm!!!

Show was really pushing them hard early on. I hope they eventually get together after the story is over and Maria has time and space to grieve Fermin.

10. Carol wanting a relationship but Marcos saying he can’t because he needs to take Paula and leave. And that is a little preview for Carol about never coming first. (Also, girl, you barely know him and your chemistry is so-so, not sure where your fixation comes from, but whatever.) Also, none of this prevents them from sucking face and like BREAK UP WITH YOUR EXISTING BOYFRIEND FIRST, OMG, CAROL!!!!

And of course Ivan sees. (Yes, he totally takes her back after all of this in s2. That is so codependent.)

11. That’s our last shot of him for this season, which is a fair preview of Ivan’s entire purpose on this show - being tortured while hot. To be fair, he does it really really well.

12. And the season ends on the fact that a student body is found in the woods. The first but not the last, just saying!

First season remains my least fave but it’s still really really fun and sets up everything really well.

Off to s2.

#spanish tv #el internado #yon gonzalez #mousie rewatches el internado

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the-type-a · 2 years ago

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I just had some headcanons about their relationship & how some relationships are when there’s different cultures involved lololol I need more Courtney being involved with her Culture✨

Courtney is actually very superstitious, while Duncan loves horror he’s never really believe in the paranormal until he started living with her and some paranormal shit happens lmao she’s very calm about it, cleanses their space & says a prayer while he’s just shook because wtf

She gets him into the habit of having outdoor and indoor shoes 💀

Courtney gets nervous when she sees owls, Duncan doesn’t understand why. (they’re bad luck in my culture so I’m throwing this in there 🤣)

Courtney puts her broom away bristles up & while Duncan is confused he doesn’t question it.

The first time Duncan gets around Courtney’s family, one of her uncles gets drunk and does a Grito and because he doesn’t expect it, it spooks the shit outta him & makes him jump, Courtney can’t stop laughing.

Selena & La Bamba are household GEMS, don’t not damage or lose them, there will be hell to pay.

She makes her own medicines & home made remedies that her abuela taught her when they get sick which ends up working better than store bought medicine lol

Add on more if you like lolol

Yes to all of this! I’ll add a few more:

- Courtney has vapor rub in the bathroom cabinet. It doesn’t matter that it expired in 2007, it is a necessity and until it’s all gone she won’t buy a new one. Whenever Duncan isn’t feeling well she runs to get it. He hates the strong smell but starts to get use to it. Sometimes he tries to fake that he’s feeling okay, but Courtney can read him like a book.

- no hats are allowed inside the home. One time Geoff came over and she about had a heart attack that he wouldn’t take his cowboy hat off. He knows now and makes sure he hangs it up.

- absolutely no whistling allowed after the sun goes down. Courtney’s abuela has told her endless stories of how it attracts bad spirits and she doesn’t mess around with that.

- the egg. No explanation needed. Iykyk.

Now a little random Courtney’s family hcs

- whenever they go to a family get together Courtney stresses that they have to say hi and kiss everyone’s cheek or they will forever talk shit about you. Duncan absolutely hates this but does it anyway to not be disrespectful.

- Duncan always wants to leave the parties after a few hours but has to endure the never ending night.

- Courtney’s family makes fun of him for picking up a fork when they’re eating tortillas y frejoles.

- Courtney warns Duncan not to make eye contact with her drunk tias or they will pull him to the dance floor. He learns the hard way.

#total drama #td courtney #duncney #td duncan #total drama courtney #total drama duncan

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orbees · 2 years ago

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kitty: 13, 30, 57 elora: 21, 33, 38 vino: 46

kitty

13. what do they dislike about themself? why?

for all the problems she's had w/ her mom, she rly admires her leadership skills and often wishes she was as strong of a leader as she was. she always feels like she could be doing better and holds herself accountable for everything that's gone wrong tbh lmfao

30. what do they seek out from others?

kitty very much wants to be respected; to be seen as someone not to be trifled with. she wants to be acknowledged as someone competent, capable, and clever. so recognition & respect id say

57. what makes them angry?

kitty is Very Prideful, so obvious signs of disrespect rly make her bristle tho she tries not to show it. losing is also a BIG one kitty is the sorest loser ever, more so than elora & arahana and thats saying something LOL. kitty also has trust issues so she gets rly set off by her loved ones lying to her / keeping secrets from her.

elora:

21. do they follow their head, their heart, or their body?

elora's an impulsive seize the day kinda person, who likes to Have a Good Time so def her heart & body id say

33. what makes them cry?

LMFAOOO she'd hate this question she rly likes to give off this image of being Untouchable & Detached like haha she's always just havin a laff :P but shes pretty free with the tears when shes alone... however crying in front of others is like a nightmare scenario for her i bet she still thinks about how she cried in front of yuri, lasha, and solvin after she was rescued from the dreadvault and is embarrassed by it. its like girl you were literally just freed from mind prison wtf is wrong with you.

more seriously: elora loves to play Escape with her emotions, which is part of why shes always creating new identities and running away all the time. cause when it comes to Actually dealing w/ her emotions she sucks ass at it. the biggest thing that will get the water works going is feeling like she CANT do that. i think also the fact that her identity is very fractured, and different parts of her will want different things, and just all the internal noise from that also overwhelms her.

elora is also pretty jaded, and cynical, and thinks most people are assholes only out for themselves (like her lol) so i think. actual sincere care towards her, if you can actually get her to Believe it rly Gets to her lol which is how arahana got to see the Rare Elora Waterworks cause she was just so sincere. it was actually something that rly drew elora to arahana.

38. what do they smell like?

i was looking up fragrances of that time period and apparently violet perfumes were pretty common then which rly tickles me cause of the history of that flower among us gaydies so def that. when she was a pirate the scent of the sea would always cling to her but not as strongly now. she & arahana live close to the coast tho so it hasnt entirely gone away.

vino

46. what do they deprive themself of?

sleep lol vino hates sleeping. it can be very hard to make him go to bed even when he's obviously tired. doesnt help that hes prone to insomnia anyways, he's no stranger to all nighters. he gets wrapped up in his projects and Cannot be pulled away from them.

ty gay!!!

#oc posting #oc: elora #oc: vicente #oc: kitty

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officialleehadan · 4 years ago

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Crunch and Crack

Hello darlings! Today's story is brought to you by the wonderful L, who is amazing and awesome and never fails to make me laugh. Thank you so much darling!

The prompt was:

"Vree doing something unexpected in the same over-the-top-wtf style, catching his humans by surprise for a change."

It ended up a little fluffier than I planned, but I hope you won't mind. Here it is!

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“Are you…. blue?!”

Vree had dragged himself out of his cozy nest-bed to answer the insistent chiming of his door. The commander had approved his leave three days earlier, understanding of how these things could sometimes come on suddenly, and Vree did not want company.

Bad enough to be mostly furless and in shed, when he both looked and felt like a cub’s chew-toy, ragged and flat and thoroughly abused.

Now he had to try and explain it to his humans.

All five of his current human-pride were crowded into his door, but it was Human-Nerea who had spoken. Almost as she did, Human-Liara attempted, and failed to stifle her giggles. Human-Gruk kindly covered her mouth with his hand, but seemed an inch from chortling himself. Human-Matti and Human-Marsha, however, took one look at him and dissolved into immediate sympathy.

“Oh no,” Human-Matti said kindly, and ushered the others into Vree’s living-space without asking. “We didn’t know Ha’reeti had a seasonal shed. Do you have brushes?”

…what?

Vree tried to get his brain to work, and failed entirely as both of the were-bears ushered him back to his bed-nest, which was coated with shed fur and was nobody’s idea of nice. They didn’t seem to mind, though, as Human-Nerea stripped the bed and changed out the sheets, while Human-Liara helped straighten up Vree’s normally-tidy rooms.

Taking his silence as the confusion it was, Human-Marsha caught Human-Gruk’s eye. “Oi, Gruk. Go get the whalebone box under my bed. You know the one.”

“Aye. Be back soon,” Human-Gruk said and ducked back out the door through the swarm of his fellow humans.

“Vree, tell us what’s going on with you,” Human-Nerea said as she finished making up his bed, and prudently spread a top-sheet over it to try and contain the words of his shed. “We want to help, okay?”

“I’m in shed,” Vree said tiredly, and gave in to his humans’ prodding as they ushered him towards his nest. “Twice a year, I loose all my fur, and shed my skin.”

Silence echoed through the room and Vree, who was seriously considering resuming his status as ‘ball’, opened one eye to look up at them. Well, what of them he could see. “What?”

“You shed your skin too?” Human-Marsha said, with some horror and a good deal of sympathy together. “Oh Vree. You must be so itchy.”

“Yes, Human-Marsha. That is indeed the case. I also feel decidedly sore and not a little bit ill. Thank you for noticing.”

He didn’t mean to be snide, but he also felt terrible, and as fond as he was of his humans, he didn’t particularly want to explain Ha’reeti biology to them just now. Maybe when he was done with his shed, and felt better. Fortunately, they seemed not to mind, and instead meandered around his room, cleaning up, pouring him a glass of water, and murmuring to each other about meal-times.

The door hissed a few minutes later, and Vree, who bemused to note his humans piling into his nest with him, as humans sometimes did with pride-mates they were fond of, opened his eyes again. It was Human-Gruk with a medium-sized box in his hands. It was made of something white and polished, and he carried it as if it was fragile.

“Got ‘em,” he said and presented the box to Human-Marsha, who balanced it on the bed so Vree could see inside.

“Matti and I go through seasonal sheds,” she said sympathetically when he got a look at the heavy, soft-bristled brushes in the box, along with what looked like a wire brush of one kind or another. “The brushes really help to get all the shedding fur out. Will they bother your skin?”

“…No?” Vree said, confused. It sounded like she was offering to groom him, which was… actually touching. Generally, shed-grooming was reserved for family members. Mostly because nobody in shed was in a good mood and only family members were likely to put up with the tail-biting that generally went along with it. “Not the wire one. It’ll tear my old-skin up and I might not get a clean skin-shed.”

“Got it. Okay peeps, I have three soft brushes. One’s mine. Fight over the other two,” Human-Marsha said, and passed her box around. Vree started purring immediately when she began scrubbing the loose fur away from his ears, which itched like nothing else and were always the last holdouts during a shed. “Tell me if I find some that’s not ready to go yet.”

“It’s all ready to go,” Vree mumbled, and felt one of the other humans start working at the fur on his shoulders. “But you probably don’t want to be here for the skin-shed. It’s… not pleasant.”

And actually, it was also imminent, and he resisted the urge to claw at himself as his old-skin crunched noisily apart around his nose, over his head, and down his spine. It would take several hours to get the old-skin off, and to wash and dry the soft new fur that was presently plastered flat underneath the old-skin.

“Oh that is nasty,” Human-Gruk said approvingly, and the bed shifted as he settled in. “Vree, you want us to go or want us to stay? We kinda burst in on you.”

“Sheds are often communal,” Vree muttered, uncomfortable but unaccountably fond of the human-pride that surrounded him. “But the fur under is wet, and does not… smell especially good.”

It wasn’t embarrassing. Every Ha’reet had two sheds a year from infancy onward, but his humans didn’t, and might not find it so… bond-building as Ha’reeti did.

“If you don’t mind us, we don’t mind being here,” Human-Liara said kindly. “Biology is icky. We understand. Hey, at least you have fur underneath? Last I heard, the dragons shed, and all their scales drop off.”

“Some of the were-snakes and were-lizards shed too,” Human-Matti said from somewhere towards the foot of the bed. “Nothing like a Komodo-shifter halfway through shed. They’re already mean, but when they’re itchy, they’re just assholes.”

“So don’t worry, Vree,” Human-Nerea said. She was the one by his shoulders, Vree thought. Her hands were always a little cooler than the other humans. “What’s a pride for if not to be there when you don’t feel good, right? Hey Matti, let’s see if we can get the wall-screen to catch a holo-channel from Atlantica. I wanna see what’s happening in that stupid sit-com you got me hooked on.”

Vree, itchy, and still sick, couldn’t help but feel… loved, as he began the slow process of wiggling out of his old-skin as his humans talked around him, filling the quiet of his rooms with the unfamiliar feeling of family.

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HGE - UNconventional:

Vree really doesn’t know how he ended up being one of the premiere human specialists of the Galactic Alliance, but now everyone wants him to do presentations. Amir thinks the whole thing is hilarious, and insists on ‘helping’ whenever he can.

Firebursts (Subscriber Only!)

Hot and Cold

Splish Splash (Free on Patreon!)

Furnace Rumble (Subscriber Only!)

Aftermath (Subscriber Only!)

Much Better, Much Worse (Free on Patreon!)

Four More

Family Home (Free on Patreon!)

Ancient Pine

Match Unlit (Free on Patreon!)

Attack of Savages

Fine Wood Shavings

World Wide Web

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More Stories!

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#humans are insane #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are strange #humans are space australians #humans are space fae #humans are space orcs

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sigurdjarlson · 4 years ago

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Am I the only one who finds this article infuriating

https://comicbook.com/thewalkingdead/news/the-walking-dead-norman-reedus-daryl-carol-relationship-definitely-not-same-anymore/

And Norman’s takes here are seriously irritating me. She doesn’t care? She obviously feels guilty wtf lmao

Maybe it’s just the overprotective Carol fan in me but I’m bristling. Although of course he’s playing it up for drama’s sake because that’s what they’re supposed to do.

STILL

The “he was so pissed he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction” about her asking him to blame her irritated me because goddamn it DARYL HAS DONE THE SAME THING SEVERAL TIMES.

can they acknowledge that at some point?????? He’s actually being kind of hypocritical when he lectures her about revenge. Because Uh..do the events of S9 ring a bell? Negan?

What about his impulsive behavior that got Glenn killed, hm?

Daryl has been a huge liability multiple times because of his reckless behavior.

What about all the shit Rick has pulled? What about Negan?

Male characters can get away with literal murder but Carol is having a breakdown after losing four kids and she’s the damn devil.

She didn’t ask them to follow her.

Daryl explicitly sent them in after her. If it’s anyone’s fault? It’s Daryl’s.

Skdjkfifofkf I’m tired of double standards. Carol gets like no sympathy both in the show and from the writers and cast.

She apparently has to have some kind of full fledged redemption arc but male characters don’t even have to apologize half the time

She’s been reckless yes but she never asked anyone to follow her. Daryl kept choosing to do that again and again.

Do we have to deep dive into how traumatic losing s child is? Let alone FOUR children? In horribly traumatic ways? It’s honestly a testament to her strength that she’s only started to really snap now.

#twd blogging #im being a bit harsh with daryl i know but double standards man

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gwidhiel · 4 years ago

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Are you the same Author Gwidhel that did write “Promises Kept and Broken” on AO3? I think so for your name is very unique. I want to say that you are an excellent writer and I just finished your story. I loved it and I think it makes the show ending not so stupid! I also have a question about Arya in your story she isn’t there even in the last chapter. What will happen to Arya? Thank you for your story and if you can answer my question.

Oh wow, thank you very much for your kind note. I hope my response won’t be a disappointment.

First, it’s important to note that my story is specifically a continuation of the show - I don’t think that GRRM will need anyone to tie up dozens of loose threads or explain things like WTF Bran was supposed to have been doing during the Battle of Winterfell. (well, he won’t if he ever actually finishes the series. 😉)

Nor do I think he’ll be so cavalier with Arya’s story arc. Because, when it comes to Arya in the show, I became less and less interested in her charater in the latter seasons, once D&D started to use her as a sock puppet to try to manipulate the audience about other characters. In S7 and S8 Arya was kind of a cipher, to me. Her motive was ... revenge? Until it wasn’t. Because of some tedious dialogue with The Hound? OK, whatever.

In fact, I’d argue that the only Stark done worse by D&D was Bran (and nope, I don’t say that because Jon wasn’t really a Stark). D&D wanted to encourage the audience to be suspicious of Sansa in S7, even though there really wasn’t any reason to be suspicious of Sansa’s motives vis a vis Jon, Winterfell, and the North? Enter Arya bristling with suspicions. Until suddenly she wasn’t. Did they want us to be thrilled about who took down show-only villain, The Night King, even though it wasn’t Daenerys and her dragons, as they’d fully led us to expect (surprise!)? Enter Arya. Did they want to throw shippers a bone with a rushed and (IMHO) weird sex-scene in S8? Enter Arya (and Gendry). [<— Definitely a minority view]. Did they need the Dany stans who also claimed to Love Arya Because She Wasn’t Like Other Girls [=Sansa] to finally realize that their fave was actually the Main Villain? Enter Arya, through whose eyes we were shown Daenerys’s destruction of King’s Landing.

And then they just sent Arya off, on vague adventures. Family? 🤷🏻‍♀️ Duty? 🤷🏻‍♀️ She’d killed the Night King. She’d told Yara Greyjoy off. What more could anyone ask for? 🤷🏻‍♀️

There are soooo many Arya fans who were, I believe, pretty satisfied with how her character was translated from page to screen. I’m just not one of them. In writing Promises Kept and Broken I was determined to redeem Bran, Sansa, and Jon, and to see to it that Tyrion didn’t live long and prosper. Probably I didn’t do anything with Arya because I didn’t know what to do with her. As robotic as Bran was in the show, Arya was barely more human. I didn’t deliberately leave her out - she just never turned up as I was writing.

I suspect that’s not what you were looking for - I’m sorry. In my story I think Arya is out in the wide world, exploring and being very self-fulfilled. I just don’t know exactly what that entails, and it didn’t seem relevant to the story I was focused on.

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kuchee · 5 years ago

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a silly 5+1 ficlet for zutaraang week, day 1 ‘confession’, sokka confesses he doesn’t know wtf is going on 🌝. post-Heartlines. read it on ao3!

All things considered, Sokka would say he's a pretty shrewd guy. Sure, he might not be the most perceptive person in the world when it comes to people's feelings – his first kiss with Suki comes to mind - but he's had a lot of life lived, since then. He would know, for example, if something weird was going on in their little Team Avatar.

"I think Kuei is actually losing it," Toph remarks, once Sokka finishes recounting today's paper to her. Toph is practically the United Republic Council's unofficial sixth member, with the amount of time she spends after her shift here whenever Sokka is present, sharing noodles and news - owing to the terrible mush they serve at the police station canteen, according to her.

"Tell me about it. I know he doesn't have the best track record with this stuff, but I think twelve zeppelins full of bodyguards is a little excessive for a routine national tour."

Toph crosses her legs and rests her feet over the table in front of them, digging her chopsticks into her noodles. Sokka winces at what the other council members might think if they knew the furniture was being used this way. She nods, referring to the other headline today, "It's pretty cool what they're doing with healing in the Northern Water Tribe, though."

"I guess." Sokka cringes a little, even though he agrees. He doesn't know if he'd let anyone mess around inside his veins for any reason. Even if it was going to save his life. Even his own sister. "I'm just hoping I never get injured enough to need a bloodbending surgery." He shudders.

Toph makes a tutting sound. "Don't be such a baby. It's pretty amazing. I'm totally asking Katara if she can help me repel mosquitoes like that."

Sokka raises an eyebrow, his pride a little bruised at the comment. "Well, that would be after it bit you wouldn't it?"

Toph pauses. "Oh yeah. Well, whatever. Where is she, anyway? She said she'd meet us here at the council when she finished teaching today. She's been working overtime since her honeymoon."

Sokka nods around a bite of his seaweed rolls, "I wonder what Aang's still doing in the Fire Nation, too. He went back to the capital with Zuko after we left, right?"

Toph snickers. "I could guess what."

Sokka continues, not really understanding her comment. "Those jerks doing some kind of jerkbending training again?"

Toph cackles again, actually slapping the table this time. "Hah! Good one."

Weird. Sokka doesn't think it was that funny, but he'll take it.

Later that evening, they join Katara in her and Aang's apartment, since she ended up working late. Back on the topic of their recent trip, Sokka waggles his eyebrows at her, "All that time spent in the Fire Nation can't be good for him. You'd better make sure the Fire Lord isn't trying to steal your husband, Katara. You know what the rumours are in certain parts of the city."

Across from him, Katara gives him a withering stare. When Sokka whips his head around to Toph, her hand is pressed over her mouth in giggles.

Toph digs her elbow into him. "Way to be subtle about the new development."

Sokka doesn't get it. "What development?"

At his comment, both of them actually laugh, Katara's skittering into an uncharacteristically high pitch. Sokka finds this development worrying. It's as if they're having a secret conversation, Katara making amused, furtive glances at Toph, who simply stretches with a cocky languidness, and puts an arm around each of them, like she knows the answers to something very important.

Toph coughs. "Oh, nothing."

"You really don't know?" Katara seems flustered despite her laughter.

Toph is whistling, an irritating tune that makes Sokka bristle.

"Hey!" Sokka jumps in, defensively. The more amused the two of them get, the more he panics. He laughs lightly, mimicking them. "I totally know what you guys are talking about. Of course I know."

Sokka is on high alert for any odd behaviour the next time they're all together again. Is it something to do with Aang? Is he doing some top secret mission that involves Zuko in the Fire Nation? Maybe it's something that happened when the three of them were in the Earth Kingdom?

Well, they're in the Earth Kingdom again, so maybe something will give. Sokka's planning the rooms for the Liberation Day ceremony in Ba Sing Se. They get invited every year, being key players on the city's side in the war and all. It's not often that they all get to be in the same place at the same time so Sokka takes it upon himself to book them into the same hotel. A few late-night gatherings after the festivities sounds about perfect.

A nice apartment suite at the top of the Royal Earth Hotel does the trick (The Earth King's favour for the Avatar, of course). Katara and Aang get the big room, on account of being recently married. Toph - never a fan of Ba Sing Se - just scoffs and says she doesn't care as long as there aren't too many rules, so Sokka gives her the one farthest from the door, with a nice balcony so she doesn't feel too stifled. Sokka's happy to take the second nicest room with Suki.

He only learns at the very last minute, when they're heading home after the first day, that Zuko has ditched his royally uptight entourage and will be staying with them too.

"But we're all in one apartment," Sokka frowns. He doesn't want the poor guy to get left out.

"I think it'll be alright, Sokka," Zuko says. Oddly, he glances quickly at Katara on Sokka's other side for some kind of assurance and back again.

Sokka puts his chin in his hand, thinking. It's safe to say that it's so late at night they can't exactly go knocking for the Earth King and ask for a bigger suite. "Wait! We'll get Toph to earthbend another bed! Don't worry, Mr Fire Lord, we'll find you somewhere." He puts a friendly arm around Zuko.

"I– uh– actually I can-" Zuko, for some reason, looks deeply uncomfortable.

Toph interrupts, utterly gleeful. "Well, with recent developments," she emphasises, clearly aiming her words at Sokka, "this apartment's just the perfect size!"

Sokka laughs, trying not to sound alarmed. "Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" Everyone is looking at him; Zuko with his hand over his face, Katara, Toph and even Suki wearing matching looks of mischief.

He wishes Aang was here and not entertaining whatever big Earth Kingdom officials there were back at the festival. That kid would definitely have his back, and tell him what's going on.

"Sokka," Katara says, trying to sound firm, but Sokka can't help but scowl at the trace of amusement he detects in her voice. "It'll be fine. You don't have to worry about it."

It's almost midnight and Aang still isn't back. Sokka sits in the middle of his bedroom, racking his brain. Toph and Suki are hanging out in the common area, nursing dizzy heads and tea (there was more than enough alcohol back at the festival) but he needs to be away from the chatter. Think. What could possibly be going on that they all think it's so funny to hide from him? Zuko had almost told him back there.

That's it! He'll just ask Zuko straight. Maybe take him out to the balcony, under the pretence of having a hearty catch-up, man to man, over the ongoing fireworks.

Sokka marches to his destination, knowing he heard Zuko's voice in the kitchen earlier. He swings the door of the kitchen open, "Zuko, I thought you might– Katara?!"

Zuko is there. And so is his sister. And Katara's arms are around Zuko's neck, both of their cold teas forgotten on the counter. For a split second Sokka thinks he might just have caught them in the middle of a deep conversation. But no– he'd be fooling himself, it's as clear as day. Zuko's hands are wrapped around her waist, and his hair looks recently loosened from its style, and his expression is soft. Katara's hair is messy from where she was – and Sokka feels faint – pressed against the wall. Neither of them heard him, clearly. He looks down into his own cup in his hand to check it isn't cactus juice.

"I thought… you...might like to come out for the fireworks," he squeaks. And promptly leaves.

His mind is reeling. Suki or maybe Toph says something to him as he takes a seat in the common room, but Sokka doesn't hear it. He's going through a hundred different thoughts with every passing second. He swallows. What's he going to say to her? I want you to be happy? You know if something happened between you, I'd have to take your side. But do you really think it's fair to…?

"Sokka–?"

But you just got married and…

"Sokka!"

Sokka almost jumps off his seat. He turns. Oh, crap. It's Aang. He's back.

"What's up? Are you alright?" Aang's eyes widen, taking in his frazzled state.

Crap, crap, crap. What should he do. "Um," Sokka mumbles. "Katara– Zuko– kitchen?"

Aang's brows furrow minutely at his stuttering, but he clasps Sokka's shoulder and says, "Awesome," heading in that direction.

Suki and Toph are watching him intently. Is this what–? Is this what they were–? What is wrong with all of them? Aang returns a moment later with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. Calm as a summer breeze.

"Did you, are they– are you–" Sokka says, feeling sweat beading on his forehead.

Aang's about to open his mouth and answer (oh no) when his expression changes and Sokka whips his head around just to catch Suki making a no motion, waving her hand across her neck. Sokka's head is a jumble.

"What are they up to in there?" he squeaks, changing tack.

Aang laughs evasively, a hand scratching the back of his neck. "Oh, you know. Talking."

"Mhm," Sokka says. Next to him, Suki clasps his arm and gives it a squeeze. Good. He needs that.

Sokka's feeling a little calmer the next day. Mostly, he's tried to put it out of his mind and enjoy the festivities. But when they're all seated together in the vast courtyard in Ba Sing Se's palace, and Aang gets up to give an opening speech, he feels the guilt weigh in the pit of his stomach.

"Some of you may be aware I spent weeks this summer in Daoshu after the record-breaking earthquake. Witnessing the resilience of the Earth Kingdom's people, over and over again…"

Poor kid. Always so earnest. Sokka zones back when Aang is finishing up, once he manages to get his worry under control.

"...in this great country, of both happiness and hardship. It's been a crazy year, full of things both amazing and terrible. I want to hand over this ceremony to the mayor on one particular note. I've learnt so much through the years since the War and this year, in Daoshu. The thing about disaster is you never know when it'll hit, even when you've been safe and protected for so long. We can't control the strike of tragedy, but we can control what note we want it to leave us on.

"That's why there's nothing more crucial than knowing what's important– the people we love. Write to your mom and dad and tell them you miss them. Visit your grandparents, your grandkids. Tell your kids how proud you are. Hug your friends!" The crowd raises its voice in a string of whoops.

Aang leaves behind his solemn tone and fully grins right at their group, in the midst of the crowd. "And you better tell that particular person exactly how much they mean to you." An even bigger cheer shoots through the audience. Sokka feels Suki take a heartfelt sigh next to him at those words. He turns to her, curious. Her eyes are glittering with feeling from the whole speech, but the twist of her lip means she's thinking of something more specific than that. "Isn't it so great that it all worked out?"

Sokka could scream, if he wasn't in the middle of a captive audience. What?

He takes advantage of the ensuing applause to leans behind Suki and look at his row of friends. A few people are glancing at Katara; they're probably thinking about their recent wedding. But Katara is only looking at Zuko, beaming at him, her hands clutching his in his lap, and Zuko is absolutely, completely, without a doubt blushing. Even Toph can't help a small smile, patting Zuko's shoulder on his other side.

Again, what?

"Psst. Suki."

She cranes her head towards him to hear him over the crowd. "Yes?"

"Listen… I act like I know what's going on – with Zuko? And Aang? Katara? The three of them? But I'm not sure I have any clue at all."

Boy, does it pain him to admit it.

Suki draws her eyebrows together in consideration, and then raises them all too suddenly understanding."Sokka…" she starts, gently, trying not to laugh. "You really haven't realised, have you?"

+1.

He would not have guessed in a million years. Nope. Never. What a world, huh?

"When were you gonna tell me?"

Katara's patting his back in sympathy. It's nicer than the first five minutes she spent just laughing. "Toph thought it would be funny once… and your reaction was so hilarious, we just kept going with it."

Sokka scratches his head, still trying to put it all together. "Wait– how long?"

Katara stretches her arms out in front of her. They're sitting together far from the rest of the party, snatches of music and murmurs still audible in the night air. "Since we were in Daoshu."

"At least I got that part right."

He has a thousand questions running through his head - only some of them he actually wants to know the answer to – but only one surfaces. "Are you, you know, happy?"

Katara sits up straight, nodding, like she has to prove something to him. She doesn't, of course, but it makes Sokka's mood lift. Like, a lot.

"Yes. Oh, you don't even know."

"And Aang?"

Katara shifts into an affectionate smile. "Honestly, I think he's been in love with Zuko longer than I have."

Woah. That is very strange to hear. And hearing her talk so nonchalantly about her husband and the Fire Lord is different to– well, maybe his entire worldview. But he'll get over it.

"You know," Sokka says, once he's spent a few minutes digesting, "I don't know if it's him or Zuko who lucked out on this one, then."

"It's me," Katara says before he even finishes his sentence, a breathless grin on her face. "I'm the one who lucked out."

That's when Sokka knows he won't have to worry. And it maybe takes the edge off the humiliation he's endured. Still, the sting remains.

"Katara?"

"Yeah?"

"You have to help me get back at Toph."

#zutaraang #zutaraangweek #zutaraangweek2019 #heartlines #my fic

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godlydolans · 5 years ago

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50 questions

Tagged by: @atlas-of-a-human-soul

1. What color is your hairbrush?

All black with little accents of pink on the handle and the bristles (yes, I ran to my hair brush and took a good look at it before answering this.)

2. Name a food you never eat?

A lot of things, but beef is one that I will never eat.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?

Too cold. My hands and feet are always freezing.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Watching a video on youtube (Glossier's drugstore dupes).

5. What’s your favorite candy bar?

I love Kitkat!

6. Have you ever been to a professional sporting event?

No.

7. What was the last thing you said out loud?

"I love it!"

8. What’s your favorite ice cream

I love Blackcurrent and also Chocolate! And now I want both 😭

9. What was the last thing you drank?

Water. My skin has been really bad these days so I'm just chuggin it every chance I get (it's working!)

10. Do you like your wallet?

Eh, it's not as spacious as I would like but it does the job. It's got pink and black cheetah print all over it and it looks cute but I prefer something more elegant looking? I'm looking at this really cute blush pink one but it's a little out of my budget atm.

11. What was the last thing you ate?

Oranges.

12. Did you buy new clothes last week?

No 😔 I've been watching a lot of clothing hauls on youtube and it's making me crave some new clothes!

13. Last sporting event you watched?

Probably a cricket match a long time ago? I don't watch sporting events.

14. What’s your favorite flavor of popcorn?

Salted butter.

15. Who was the last person you sent a message to?

@atlas-of-a-human-soul

16. Ever go camping?

No. Imagine how fun it would be if the entire tumblr fandom could go camping 🤩

17. Do you take vitamins?

No.

18. Do you go to church every sunday?

I'm hindu so no. I've never been to church.

19. Do you have a tan?

Nah dude, I'm Casper the friendly ghost 🙄

20. Do you prefer chinese food or pizza?

CHINESE!!! I mean it depends on the mood, but its chinese food 95% of the time.

21. Do you drink soda with a straw?

The only time I drink soda is when I'm in a restaurant or something and they give you the straw so yes?

22. What color socks do you wear?

I'm not wearing any at the moment.

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit??

I don't have my driving licence so I don't drive.

24. What terrifies you?

Literally? Everything! But I'll tell you the saddest of them all. Dogs 🥺

25. Look to your left, what do you see?

An almirah.

26. What chore do you hate?

Manually washing my clothes. We don't have a washing machine in my hostel (WTF) so I have to wash my clothes by hand and I don't enjoy it one bit.

27. What do you think of when you hear an australian accent?

"That's an Australian accent." Close second is, "that's so hot."

28. What’s your favorite soda?

Coca-cola and I also love orange soda when I do drink it.

29. Do you go into fast food places or drive thru?

Fast food places because again, I don't drive.

30. Who was the last person you talked to?

Brother.

31. Favorite cut of beef?

Never ate beef.

32. Last song you listened to?

Agar tum saath ho (Tamasha)

33. Last book you read?

Still ongoing, Pritty Girls by Karin Slaughter.

34. Can you say the alphabet backwards?

I've never tried but I reckon I could. It would just take a lot of tries.

35. How you do like your coffee?

I don't like coffee.

36. Favorite pair of shoes?

My black pumps!

37. The time you usually go to bed?

You don't wanna know 👀 3 am, mostly.

38. The time you usually wake up?

I can't sleep later than 9am or my family would kill me.

39. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunset?

Sunset. I'm usually not awake to see the sunrise.

40. How many blankets are on your bed?

One.

41. Describe your kitchen plates?

They are stainless steel.

42. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink?

I've never tried any so I'll let you know when I do?

43. Do you play cards?

Yes! I love cards!

44. What color is your car?

I don't have one.

45. Can you change a tire?

I can't but I'll learn it when I learn to drive and actually own a car.

46. Your favorite province?

I don't understand this question I'm dumb sorry 😂

47. Favorite job you ever had?

Never had a job.

48. How did you get your biggest scar?

I was riding my bicycle and an old lady decided to run to the middle of the road(she was trying to cross the road). I swerved and face planted a wall, my glasses broke and a shard of glass cut open my brow bone.

49. Favourite day of the week?

Saturday.

50. What did you do today that made you happy?

Had a video chat with my baby cousins! Brightened up my day.

I tag whoever wants to do this, it's fun!

#questions #really really bored #😓

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sirius-archive · 6 years ago

Text

Chaos Theory Pt. 4

Warnings: Swearing, Underaged drinking.

Word Count: 6064 (holy Heck)

A/N: omg this is sooooo late I’m sorry guys. Like, really, I am. It’s been freaking insane and I’ve been literally going out of my god damn mind. Anyway, I finally got this finished so yay. Also, I could not find a translator that could properly communicate what I was trying to say so I’m sorry for people who actually speak Latin and read this and are like ....wtf???

Summary: While staying at the Burrow, Reader has an awkward interaction with Harry, and the Trio get into an argument of sorts. She thinks that things can’t get any worse until her father makes a surprise visit.

Chapter Four:

On a good day, Adrien Arden is an award-winning journalist.

The charismatic and charming editor-and-chief of the largest source of wizarding news in the world. A clever leader adored by his colleagues and friends. A winner of several accolades for his service to the wizarding community and a personal friend of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. He’s the handsome, brooding widower with eyes that have the ability to draw you in and a smile worth more than all the gold in Gringotts. During his years at Hogwarts, he had been destined for success; a Slytherin Prefect and Head Boy and was regarded fondly by peers and professors alike.

On a bad day, Adrien Arden is a father.

A perfectionist with standards higher than a crowd of rowdy teenagers at a Weird Sisters concert. A workaholic and a ghost who drifts in and out of your life like the tide; pulling you in when he thinks it’s necessary and pushing you away when he realizes it isn’t.

Sometimes, you pity Adrien Arden.

It must be such a lonely existence; to work and work without receiving a reward. To have such ravenous ambition that has consumed every aspect of your being, pushing you further and further until you reach the edge. To realize that he’s repelled all the people who matter away, to not realize that all those galleons that sparkle and glitter in the family vault are worthless compared to the love and respect of his two children.

And it’s this pity that motivates you to keep a calm and level-head. It’s this pity that compels you to be the good little daughter for the sake of relative peace. And it’s this pity that helps you realize that family is the only way to keep your mother’s wishes alive, even though she isn’t.

Luke, however, is not so forgiving.

You don’t think there was ever a time where Luke got along with your father. Perhaps they are too similar, and for this reason, they clash. Whatever the reason is, though, it’s clear that Luke hates Adrien with every cell in his being, and if anyone ever doubts that, then all they had to do is step into the Weasley’s kitchen and glimpse at the razor-sharp glare Luke is giving your father right now.

A heavy tension blankets the room in uncomfortable warmth, grating against your skin like sandpaper, and you fiddle with your bracelet to expel the nervous energy tickling your fingertips. You can almost feel the anger igniting the air around Luke, stiffening his spine, sharpening the edges of his jaw, curling his hands into fists.

Mrs Weasley must sense it, too, because she rolls her sleeves up and flashes a dimpled smile, “I’ll let you three spend some quality time together.”

Luke scoffs but doesn’t say anything more, most likely out of respect for Mrs Weasley. Mrs Weasley hurries off as your father draws a carefully guarded smile across his lips. It’s polished and professional, much like he is.

“I’m so relieved that you’re all okay,” Adrien says, and for a moment you actually believe him.

“Took you a while to remember we exist,” Luke spits, indignantly. The insult bounces off Adrien’s layers like a Protego spell.

“I’ve been...busy at work,” he says, calmly, “I’m sure you can understand.”

A derisive scoff issues from the back of Luke’s throat.

“It’s okay, father,” you say, trying to keep your tone reassuring, “We know that you’re busy.”

“Too busy to be a father,” Luke mutters, darkly, not meeting his eye.

Adrien ignores the comment, “I don’t have a lot of time but I just wanted to check in and see how you’re both going. Did you have fun at the World Cup anyway?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “it was nice. I mean, before all of the chaos it was actually a really lovely night.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Adrien smiles fondly.

“Oh, Mr Arden,” says a familiar voice from behind you, and a shy, blushing Hermione steps forward. Ron and Harry follow behind her.

“Hello Hermione,” Adrien flashes her a smile and nods at Ron and Harry, “Hullo boys. Good to see you three again. How are you all?”

Harry shrugs, “We’re good, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well, considering the night we just had we’re not exactly going to be prancing around picking flowers and shooting rainbows out of our asses,” Luke snaps, coldly, and Adrien narrows his eyes on him, working his jaw, grinding back whatever he wants to say.

A loud, obnoxious beeping startles you, and Adrien glances down at his screeching watch.

“That’s all I have time for, for now. I have to head back to the office and submit some papers.”

“Glad you could fit us into your tight schedule,” Luke scowls, “Just leave. No one wants you here anyway.”

Your father clears his throat and bends down to embrace you awkwardly. You wrap your arms lightly around his neck, wondering whether its normal for a fatherly embrace to feel like you’re hugging a pole. He pulls away quickly and straightens, moving toward Luke. Luke folds his arms across his chest and steps away, refusing to look at his father. Adrien heaves a heavy sigh.

“I’ll see you...later,” he says and he gives your friends a weary smile, “I’ll send you an owl.”

Adrien walks into the kitchen, thanks a blushing Mrs Weasley for her hospitality, and leaves. You turn to Luke.

“Well that was...” you trail off, silenced by the expression on Luke’s face. His mouth is screwed shut and his eyes are glaring daggers in the direction where your father left, “Luke?”

Luke isn’t listening, though. Instead, he charges forward, nearly knocking you aside, and strides toward the door.

“Luke!” You call out, but Luke reaches for the door knob, yanks it open and slams it shut in your face. You push it open and peek through the crack.

“Why did you really come?” Luke demands, storming up to his father, “You don’t just decide to pop in after weeks of not seeing us!”

Adrien sighs, exasperated, “It’s as I said; I really was concerned for your wellbeing. Both you and your sister.”

Luke lurches forward and for a moment, you think that he’s going to tackle Adrien to the ground in a fit of fury. Instead, he rises up to his father, spine straightened in deadly determination. “Keep my sister out of your rotten mouth.”

Adrien narrows his eyes coldly on your brother, like a sniper taking aim, “Is that a threat, boy? Because if it is, you’d better follow through with it. I did not raise a coward.”

Luke bristles, “You have no right to think of her as your daughter when I was the one who raised her. I looked after her and protected her and held her as she mourned. I was the one who took her to Diagon Alley, bought her her first wand and school robes. I did the job you were supposed to do while you wallowed in self-pity and abandoned us as though your own children were a burden, stopping you from your precious work.”

Adrien steels, a dark expression falling over his sharp features, “Lukas Adrien Arden, if you ever doubt my responsibilities as a father again, I will personally ensure that it is the last thing you do.”

Luke steps back from the looming figure of his father, “You’re up to something, I know it. And I’ll find out, I always do.”

Adrien’s entire demeanour shifts and an amused ghost of a smile teases the corners of his lips, “I don’t doubt that. You are my son after all.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Luke spits, venomously.

“Oh but you are,” Adrien clamps a hand on Luke’s shoulder. Luke struggles under Adrien’s grip, but his grasp is like a vice, locking Luke into submission, “And when the day comes that you realise you are, you’ll regret every bad word you’ve ever said to me.”

You stare as Luke jerks away from Adrien’s grip and staggers backwards. The tension is stifling, like an ominous cloud of thick fog creeping over you, and you have to physically step back from the door to remember how to breathe again.

It’s sort of distressing, seeing Luke so riled up when he’s usually so smooth and refined. He looks and acts like a completely different person like someone has hijacked Luke’s body and is puppeteering his words and actions. It’s a persona that emerges whenever your father is around, a defence mechanism Luke has carefully honed after years of loathing and disgust.

It’s...unhealthy. Unnatural. Worrying.

Stepping away from the door, you turn and start toward Luke’s room, hoping you’ll be able to chat with him later. You doubt you’ll have any luck but he needs to know that you’ll be there for him in all the ways he was for you. Before you can make it up the stairs, though, you walk into a nervous-looking Harry.

“Hey,” he says, tearing a hand through his hair.

“Hey,” you echo, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I...wanted to apologise-” Harry starts, but you cut him off with a raised hand.

“-You seem to be apologising a lot, lately,” You say, and Harry’s lips quirk into a sheepish smile. You mimic it as you continue, “I don’t know what’s going on, and if you don’t want to tell me then I respect that. I just...I want you to know that you can talk to me. I’m here for you, I always have and I always will be.”

Harry hesitates for a moment, his mouth moving around silent words, as though he’s carefully stringing them together. Laughter echoes from the backyard, ringing through the silence. You’re just about to say something when Harry beats you to it, his voice low, “Follow me.”

Intrigued and a little surprised, you watch as Harry scales the winding stairs, the sound of the floorboards groaning in protest filling the growing distance between the two of you. You start to follow him until you reach his and Rons shared room and he pushes the door open, inviting you in. You climb onto his bed and Harry closes the door behind you, fidgeting nervously with his glasses. Something in his expression seems hesitant, as though he’s debating on what to say. You wait patiently.

“It’s my scar,” he finally murmurs, “It’s been hurting lately and– I think it may be connected to the attack at the World Cup.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to swallow back the distant ache throbbing in your throat, “Oh, Harry. This is...this is serious. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was going to tell you,” Harry says, quickly, the words flying from his lips like a practised excuse, “In the Forrest when we were looking for the Portkey. But then...then Cedric came and I didn’t get a chance to talk to you alone.”

You study Harry for a long moment, eyes sweeping over his fidgeting form. He seems unsettled, a little nervous, perhaps hesitant, like he’s trying to tackle something on his tongue back into his throat. You figure it could just be his nerves, but you can’t help but wonder if he wants to say more.

“Is that what you guys were arguing about this afternoon?” You ask and Harry nods, “Why was Luke there?”

Harry blinks at you, “What?”

“Why was Luke there?” You reiterate, calmly, “I heard him arguing with you.”

Before he can answer, there is a tentative knock at the door and a moment later, Ginny’s head pokes out from behind it. A small blush blossoms beneath her freckled cheeks when she notices Harry but then her eyes drift toward you and she raises a sharp brow.

“Mum says dinner is ready,” she says, her voice soft.

“Okay,” you and Harry blurt at the same time and Ginny nods as she closes the door.

You slide off Harry’s bed and straighten, “I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

Harry chortles, his smile loose, relieved “Yeah, I could really go for some roast chicken right about now.”

You smile at Harry, “Thanks for telling me.”

Harry nods and gives a half-hearted smile, “Thanks for listening.”

As you descend the staircase, chatting lightly and smiling easily, a sense of nostalgia overcomes you like a wave of warm sepia and it almost feels like old times without all the secrecy and nervous energy. It almost feels like, for a fleeting moment, it is just you and Harry and nothing between the two of you.

Almost.

***

After a delicious dinner and a scrumptious dessert, you and Hermione sit in front of the fireplace, Hermione in the armchair and you sitting crossed-leg on the floor. Your Quidditch World Cup article sits in your lap as your eyes scan the parchment, reading and re-reading.

“Is Luke okay?” Hermione suddenly asks, not even trying to clip the worry from her voice, “He wasn’t himself at dinner.”

You look up from your work, pushing your hair off your face, “He always gets like that around my dad,” you admit with a small shrug, pretending that it doesn’t bother you, “He just needs his space.”

Hermione nods, though there is an expression of worry creeping over her face and you study her, noting her features carefully. Before you can question her, Fred sidles up to the two of you, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Hey you two,” he greets, smirking wolfishly, “We’ve got a couple bottles of booze and absolutely no regrets. Wanna join us?”

“Please tell me this isn’t a giant orgy or something,” you retort and Hermione blushes furiously.

“Nah,” Fred shakes his head with a grin, “Though I’m open for persuasion.”

You snort and shake your head, smiling, “Only in my nightmares.”

Fred clutches his chest in mock hurt, “Aw, we could have been something special.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“And what exactly are we going to do?” Hermione asks, her brows raised expectantly. Fred straightens importantly.

“Get pissed.”

“She was only asking,” you quip and Fred rolls his eyes.

“Get sloshed. Buzzed. Wasted. Inebriated. Intoxicated,” he narrows his eyes pointedly at you, “Drunk. What else are you supposed to do with fire whiskey? Bathe in it? Because we’ve tried and it’s not…good.”

“But we’re underage?” Hermione says, eying Fred suspiciously.

“So?” Fred shrugs, “You’ve already broken the law by helping a wanted fugitive escape, not to mention several hundred school rules. What’s another stupid law?”

A pale pink blush tickles the apples of her cheeks and Hermione averts her gaze, “Right.”

“Come on guys,” Fred whines, imploring you with large, pleading eyes, “You’re always putting yourselves in constant danger. Why not relax for the night?”

“He’s got a point,” you shrug, turning to Hermione. She chews her bottom lip thoughtfully, giving Fred an appraising look. Finally, she glances at you and gives a small nod.

“Alright,” she says, lifting her chin slightly, more confidently, “but I’m filling my own glass. I don’t want you pouring me a drink.”

“Why? Don’t you trust us?” Fred asks, grinning wickedly.

“You don’t want me to answer that question.”

Fred shakes his head, forlornly, “All you young whipper-snappers going around and breaking an old man’s heart.”

“As (Y/N) said, ‘You’ll get over it.’”

You bark a laugh and high-five Hermione. Fred wipes an imaginary tear away and pouts exaggeratedly.

“We’re meeting at 11pm,” Fred leans in and lowers his voice to a not-so-quiet whisper, “That way, mum and dad will be asleep, and they won’t get suspicious.”

With a smirk and a wink, Fred whirls off and saunters out of the room. You watch him leave, nibbling your bottom lip, twirling and twisting your bracelet between your nimble fingers. Somehow, for some reason, you have a feeling that the night isn’t going to go as smoothly as Fred thinks.

***

At ten to eleven, you, Hermione and Ginny tip-toe out of her bedroom and make a slow start to the stairs.

The corridor looks odd like this; cloaked in darkness and completely void of sound or movement. The Burrow has always felt alive, pulsing with life as though it were a heart pumping blood through the veins of the house. Come night time, that heart seems to falter to a stop, leaving the house eerily quiet. You shiver.

“This is weird,” you whisper, “It’s so quiet. I feel like I’m walking through a graveyard.”

Ginny shudders, and in the pale light of your wand, you see her face contort into a scowl, “Thanks for the commentary. Now I feel paranoid in my own house.”

“It’s okay,” Hermione murmurs, softly, “Mrs Weasley and Mr Weasley are here, too, don’t forget.”

“That makes me feel even better,” Ginny drawls, sardonically, “If a murderer doesn’t leap out and slaughter me where I stand, my mum will.”

“No one is going to kill anyone–”

A loud groan interrupts Hermione mid-speech and you all jump, spinning around to face the source of the noise. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you muffle your shriek as Hermione gasps and staggers backwards toward the railing and Ginny fumbles with her wand. It slips from between her fingers like a stick of butter and clatters on the ground. Heart racing, you raise your wand and heave a sigh of relief.

Harry and Ron both stare at the three of you, eyes wide, faces flushed and chests heaving. Harry bends down and grabs Ginny’s wand, handing it to her with a gentle smile. Ginny squeaks a breathless ‘Thank you,’ and darts back to your side. Ron gawks at you, his expression somewhere between bemusement and frustration.

“Bloody hell,” Ron curses under his breath, “It’s just us.”

“Well don’t sneak up on us!” you hiss, “You nearly scared us to death!”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, sheepishly, “Let’s just go before we get caught.”

You start toward the stairs and begin descending the creaking staircase.

Somehow, every step you make seems to amplify, ringing through the house like a blaring siren, as though the house is designed to alert Mr and Mrs Weasley that their children are sneaking out after curfew. Trying to balance on the tips of your toes, you slowly descend the never-ending staircase, contemplating whether it was such a good idea to leave the comfort of your bed in the first place.

“Luke seemed kind of off at dinner tonight,” Harry mutters leaning forward, “Is he…y’know?”

“He just hates my dad,” You whisper back, surprised that Harry noticed. You’re about to make a joke out of it but Hermione shushes you into silence from over her shoulder. As she turns back, though, she misses a step and stumbles forward.

“Hermione–!” Ron gasps from behind you and you listen for a loud thump, but it never comes. You direct your wand to the end of the staircase and find Hermione lying in someone’s arms.

“Oh, Luke,” Hermione murmurs, flustered, several shades of red rippling across her face, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he smiles softly at her and she straightens, brushing down her clothes and combing a finger through her hair.

You all reach the bottom of the staircase and playfully punch Luke in the shoulder, “Looks like she fell for you.”

To your surprise, Luke doesn’t respond to your terrible joke. He just scowls and shakes his head, moving toward the back door. You blink at him and follow.

“C’mon, really? Nothing?” you ask as he pushes the door open, “No ‘I thought you were better than corny puns?’”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Luke murmurs, stalking through the backyard and toward the tree house.

“Is he going to be okay?” Hermione asks beside you, watching him with concern in her eyes.

You chew your bottom lip nervously, “I–I don’t know…”

The tree house is actually a lot safer than it looks, which is oddly ironic since Fred and George give no consideration to safety whatsoever.

Thick planks of wood are nailed to a gap in the large tree as though they are sitting in its palm, branches stretching like fingers around it. There is a wooden railing that surrounds the platform, fairy lights intertwined around it. Alternative pop music plays on low, the sound prevented from leaving the treehouse by the silencing charm Fred had cast, containing it in a bubble of sorts. There are light bulbs, all different shapes and sizes, strung together and hanging from the branches overhead that act as a roof. Right in the centre of the ‘roof’ is a large hole that brags a beautiful view of the midnight sky, freckled with stars.

It’s actually kind of beautiful. Serene, almost.

You down the rest of the drink and raise your chin to the stars, lost in their beauty. You can almost feel the stardust raining down on you, sinking into your skin, filling you up with a beautiful, ethereal light, like there is an entire galaxy bursting to life inside of you. You’re not sure if it’s the fire whiskey humming in your veins or not but you feel like you could just step off the balcony of the treehouse and float away.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” a familiar voice says from beside you, and you turn to find George Weasley gazing up at the stars with you, an expression of awe painted across his face, “Do you know who else is beautiful?”

“Please, don’t finish that sentence and ruin this beautiful moment,” you murmur and George snorts.

“You don’t like hearing compliments about yourself?”

“I don’t like cheesy pickup lines.”

George shrugs, “That’s fair. Though I was going to say that I was beautiful but never mind.”

You chortle, shaking your head and grinning broadly at him. He echoes it, lips curving into a grin you may never get tired of seeing, “You really know how to cheer a girl up, don’t you?”

“Only the ones I like,” George smiles softly, softer than anything you’ve ever seen him wear.

“Well, I’m grateful anyhow.”

George drapes an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to his side protectively, provoking a laugh to burst boisterously from your lips.

“So, are you and Cedric…?”

You flush, cheeks burning, “I–I don’t really know…”

“Well, just so you know, he talks about you a lot,” George says, “Our friend, Juniper Cross. You know Juniper?” You nod, recalling the beautiful Hufflepuff in George’s year, “Anyway, she says he talks about you like you ‘put the stars in the sky.’ His words, not mine.”

An odd, sort of airy feeling circles around you and floods you like helium, lighter than air, ascending the five layers of the atmospheres and disappearing into the universe.

The moment is broken by Fred, who yanks another bottle of fire whiskey from a crate and holds it over his head.

“Who’s up for a game of ‘Never have I Ever?”

“What’s that?” Hermione asks and Fred blinks at her.

“You’ve never played ‘Never Have I Ever?’” George asks, bewildered, “Hermione, what have you been doing with your life?”

“Never Have I Ever is a classic drinking game,” Luke says, sitting beside Hermione, “Basically, you have to say something that you’ve never done and everyone who has done said thing has to drink. For instance, if I say ‘Never have I ever… snogged a girl from France’–”

“–We would call you a liar,” Fred interjects, and Luke rolls his eyes.

“–Everyone who has snogged a girl from France would have to take a drink.”

“And we would call them liars,” George sniggers and you snort, bumping his fist with your own.

“The person with the most alcohol left in their glass wins,” Luke continues, ignoring the snickering Weasley twins.

“And if you say a ‘Never have I ever’ and no one else has done it either, you have to drink from everyone’s glass,” Fred smirks deviously, and Hermione raises her brows, her fingers finding the hem of her sleeves.

Luke studies her with benevolent eyes, his past frustration melting off his shoulders like ice in the early spring, “If you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to play.”

A gentle shade of soft pink flourishes on the apples of Hermione’s cheeks and her lips quirk into an awkward smile, “No, it’s okay. I’ll play.”

“Are you sure? We’re all friends here, and we want you to be comfortable,” Luke smiles, reassuringly.

Hermione nods, and George claps a brotherly hand on Luke’s shoulder, “Ever the gentleman. If I wasn’t in an exclusive relationship with myself, I would totally date you, man. Like, put out and everything.”

Luke just gives a half-hearted smile and a modest shrug. He looks like such a different person to the Luke you saw earlier that day, seething threats at his own father and brewing in a venomous mood. Even when you met him in the kitchen earlier that night, Luke had seemed guarded and brooding and nothing like the sweet, considerate and boyishly charming man he is with Hermione.

You all sit crossed-leg on the ground in a circle and, with a looming sense of doom, you find yourself sitting between Fred and George, an unsavoury position for anyone to be in. Before you can escape to the other side of the circle, Fred and George begin filling up several glasses and hand them around the group. Fred pauses in front of Ginny, sculling her fire whiskey with a wince and filling her glass with chocolate milk. Ginny folds her arms across her chest, glaring dangerously at her brother.

“No alcohol for anyone under 14,” Fred says, wagging a finger at Ginny, “It rots your brain.”

“Good thing you don’t have one, then,” Ginny grumbles, rolling her eyes and snatching the glass of milk out of her brothers’ hand. Once everyone has their glass, the game begins. Unsurprisingly, George volunteers to go first.

“Never have I ever…met a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon called ‘Norbert’, tried to smuggle Norbert out of Hogwarts but got caught in the process and consequently lost Gryffindor one hundred points,” he says before adding, “Oh, and got sent to detention, too.”

You, Hermione, and Harry exchange guilty glances and take a swig of your drinks. The fiery liquid surges down your throat like molten lava and pools delightfully in your lower belly, the alcohol crackling in your veins.

“Technically, I wasn’t there when they tried to smuggle Norbert out,” Ron argues, raising his arm to reveal the thin scar knitted into his skin, “Norbert bit me, so I was in the Hospital wing.”

“You still met him,” George points out and Ron’s confident expression falls, grumbling as he takes a sip from his cup.

“Alright, Harry, you’re up next,” Fred grins, pointing at Harry with his glass.

Harry’s brows furrow as he thinks, the tip of his tongue poking out between the soft cushions of his lips. Once again, Harry seems so…relaxed. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, or the company, or both, but it’s a relief to see him so unguarded and it shows in how easily he’s smiling, how warm and inviting his gaze is. And when he catches your eye, his lips quirk up into a small smile and it feels…nostalgic.

It feels like it used to.

“Never have I ever…been kicked out of a bar?”

Fred and George groan in unison and take a swig of their drinks. To everyone’s surprise, Ginny does, too. While the rest of the group gapes at Ginny, their jaws slack and eyes wide in disbelief, Ginny gives a nonchalant shrug, her eyes glistening in the low light as she recalls the moment.

“I may or may not have hexed a certain, misogynistic Ravenclaw who was getting on my nerves,” she gives a sharp, cat-like smirk, resembling her rebellious, older brothers “I don’t regret anything.”

Fred and George pretend to sob tears of pride as they slap Ginny on the back, “Look at how far our precious, little sister has come. We taught you well.”

The game moves around the circle, jokes and laughter thick in the summer air as your drinks slowly begin to dwindle.

When it finally reaches Fred, he flashes a scheming grin, and he raises a confident brow, “Never have I ever…had a crush on Cedric Diggory…”

Everyone narrows their eyes on you expectantly. You sigh, rolling your eyes as Fred sniggers devilishly.

“Fuck you, Fred!” you snip, throwing the rest of your drink back. Your head spins in languid circles as try not to splutter, and in the warm ambience of the room, your eyes find Harry’s; gazes colliding for a long, lingering moment. Harry doesn’t shy away, in fact, he’s the boldest you’ve seen him since the World Cup, and something hooks around your lower belly, yanking it up into your throat.

“Okay, (Y/N), your turn,” Fred juts his chin at your glass and eyes you hopefully. You heave a sigh.

“Alright. Um…” you pause thoughtfully, and then your lips pull into a grin when you catch Ginny’s eyes, “Never have I ever…had a crush on someone in this room.”

Fred and George stare at Ginny and she sighs, taking a swig of her chocolate milk. She pokes her tongue out at you playfully and you give her an apologetic look. She shrugs nonchalantly, though she doesn’t seem entirely bothered. Strange, you think, she must be getting over Harry. You never really anticipated that.

You never anticipated Hermione and Harry taking a nervous sip from their drinks, either.

“Woah,” George says, eyes flitting between the two of them, “What’s going on here?”

They seem hesitant in their answer, weighing their options, gauging each other for a response like they’re dancing tentatively around the subject. You and Ron exchange a surprised look, the tips of Ron’s ears an odd shade of red. Something tight and nasty coils inside of you like a sleeping snake.

Hermione and Harry exchange a look, and Harry shrugs “Nothing. We’re just answering the question.”

You blink at Harry, then at Hermione. They seem to be avoiding your gaze, eyes darting around the room like they’re trying to pull excuses from the air around them. Is that what all the secrecy is about? Are they…?

“So you both have had a crush on someone in this room?”

“Er…” Harry flicks a glance at Hermione and then sweeps his gaze to you before hastily averting your gawking stare, “…yes? Why?”

“Huh,” Fred shrugs, “No reason.”

Hermione frowns, “What? It’s not like we like each other.”

“Whatever you say, Hermione.”

Hermione’s mouth twists into a thin frown and Harry furrows his brows at Fred’s blatant, off-handed remark. Tension has steeled his spine like an iron rod and he fidgets uncomfortably, his nervous mannerisms unspooling as time seems to drag by. The sepia-stained nostalgia that you had so willingly embraced begins to crumble the more he glances between Hermione and Ron, and the needlepoint sting of hurt pricks the inside of your wrist.

“Um, I think it’s your turn, George,” Ron says, quickly, nervously glancing at Harry. Does Ron know something–?

George nods importantly and continues the game, but you’re still rooted in time. As everyone else takes their turn, your eyes continue to stray to Harry, studying, observing, realising, that this is so much more than his scar. His cheeks are rosy, flushed pink from the alcohol and embarrassment, his eyes a startling shade of green against the sun-kissed skin of his face and the electric shock of dishevelled, black hair and as you study him, your head begins to spin.

You take a long swig of your drink, gulping back your anxiety, wishing that you had trusted your gut in the first place.

***

Somehow, you make it back to your room without making a complete fool of yourself.

Hermione’s avoided you for most of the night, though you can tell that she’s nervous by the way she chews her bottom lip; it’s red and raw, the moon-crescent bite marks curved into the delicate skin of her lower lip. You want to talk to her, to ask about the secrecy, but your head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton and your eyes are like heavy golf balls stuck into your skull and you really just want to sleep–

You pull your camisole over the top of your head and rip your bra off, an envelope falling out from its grasp.

“Oh,” you say, to no one in particular, “My letter.”

Between the visit from your dad and the Weasley’s drinking game, you had completely forgotten about it. Bending down, you scoop it off the ground and study the envelope. Your name and address are writing in elegant curlicue cursive to the point where it’s nearly unreadable. You squint, following the loops and curls, and turn the envelope over. No return address. Odd. You open it anyway, unfold the letter…

And gasp.

It doesn’t make sense.

Your stomach is twisted into a tight, thick knot, heavy in your abdomen, weighing like an anchor plummeting to the ocean floor. Ice gushes through the deltas of your veins as though it were blood pulsing through the arteries of a cold-blooded monster, freezing your spine, paralysing you.

You can’t tear your eyes away.

You stare down at a photo of you and Cedric at the World Cup, stained in shades of black and grey, frozen in time, smiles fixed onto your faces. And it would have been a beautiful photo, it really had, if it weren’t for the blood-red insignia scarring the back of the photo; a snake eating itself, circling around what looks like a cross between a Scarab and a skull moth.

And, beneath it, eight words strung together, bleeding into the paper like a wound.

Mus uni non habeat fiduciam autem serpens esuriit

A mouse does not trust a hungry snake

Suddenly, you wish you were drunk again.

@marauderskeeper @weaselby418 @acciorinn @hervench @harrvjpotter @depressed-octopods-art (i’m sorry i didn’t tage you before!! i just realised you replied to one of the posts!) @romanofftasha @moonpeachs

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chibipika · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 36 Retrospective

“The Lugia Chapter” is a chapter that’s been in LC almost since the beginning. In the original, it was because Lugia had appeared to Jade several times throughout the course of the story, and it was her destiny to catch it or whatever. Then sometime in 2003, I changed all the Legendary captures into humans being chosen by them instead. Again, still destiny, and also Lugia was an entirely different character back then. I might post that version someday, just know that it looks nothing at all like the current version.

Then, somehow, in 2006, I came up with Jade and Lugia’s current dynamic, with their first meeting resulting in capture/torture, and Lugia’s personality becoming sharp-tongued and irritable. I’m not really sure how I came up with it—it seems to have sprung fully formed from the aether. It might have been because that was around the time I was trying to think of ways to deconstruct the usual Chosen One tropes, (as the chapter itself bears a lot of hallmarks of that.) I’m not sure if I wrote the Lugia chapter before or after I wrote the attack on Viridian in that version of the fic. If it was after, that would technically make this the 2007 version of the Lugia chapter? Well, either way, the ideas came together in 2006. That would make this part of Revision 9.

This version is strikingly similar to the final version that was eventually rewritten for NaNo 2015, (and published in 2019). The writing is primitive, and several plot elements are outdated, but the general feel of it is spot-on, and a lot of dialogue actually made it into the final version.

[Oh yeah, should go without saying, but SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 36.]

<I’m afraid you’re not going down to the stadium,> a voice within my mind said.

I stopped suddenly upon hearing those words, wondering if I had just imagined them. Searching for the source, I turned to see a small, pale rose feline hovering in the middle of my room, her long tail swirling around in the air.

“Mew,” I gasped, both surprised and relieved. “What are you doing here? And what did you mean by that?”

<You’re not going down to the stadium,> she repeated solemnly. <At least, not right now...>

A shiver ran down my spine when I heard her say that. She kept staring downward, refusing to look me in the eye. What was going on?

“Mew...?” I said cautiously, feeling both puzzled and apprehensive.

Finally the cat-like creature lifted her head and gazed long and hard at me with her large, bright sapphire eyes. She looked concerned, with a shadow of guilt mixed into her expression.

“What is it, is there something going on with the Legendaries? Why’d you come to me and not Ajia?” I asked, my heart beating faster from growing anxiety. Why was she acting like this?

<Your test...> Mew spoke so faintly that I could barely make it out.

“My...test...?” I uttered blankly.

Since this chapter was sort of written out of thin air, without any of the preceding chapters leading up to it, the intro to this scene is, as expected, pretty random and abrupt. I was fully expecting to change all of this once I had a better idea of the lead-up events. Note is that Jade is still at Indigo, and the Moltres attack hasn’t happened yet.

<The time has come,> she concluded, raising a paw and glowing with a blue aura. Suddenly, my entire body was enveloped within the same color of light.

“Mew!” I exclaimed as I was lifted off the floor psychically. A flash of light suddenly filled the room, blocking out my vision, and before I could say anything, she was gone.

“MEW!!!” I shouted, but it was too late. The glow vanished and I fell to the floor.

It took me a few seconds to realize that I had fallen not onto the carpeted floor of my room, but onto a hard rock surface. At first I couldn’t see anything, but that was only because there wasn’t much to see. It looked like I was inside a cave of some sort, enclosed on all sides by jagged rock walls and partially filled with water on one end. I rubbed my arms as my senses returned and I felt how incredibly cold it was in the chamber.

“Mew teleported me…” I whispered to myself. “…but where to?” I stood to my feet and glanced around, seeing no possible exit. The cavern was dimly lit, but the light didn’t seem to be coming from any visible source. It occurred to me that the water probably flowed in here from the outside, but I had no idea how deep it went, and I didn’t have any Pokémon that could swim long distances.

“I’m trapped,” I muttered in disbelief. “She’s trapped me here alone with no way out...”

And then a voice resounded in reply, <I wouldn’t say that you’re alone.>

It felt as though my entire body went numb, but not from the cold. The voice was telepathic, but I could easily tell that it most definitely was not from Mew. It was chillingly bitter, with a domineering edge to it that stuck within my head. It was the voice that haunted all my nightmares since that day—one that I had hoped to never hear again.

In the darkest corner of the cave, two eyes, radiating blue, peered out of the shadows with an icy stare that seemed to bore right through me. The glow slightly illuminated the creature’s face, revealing a sleek avian head with a mouth curled into a smirk.

<Welcome, human. Are you ready to face the consequences of that day so long ago? >

Man, though, despite being written in 2006/07 this is pretty-spot on. I can see why I didn’t change much.

My breathing was shallow and my heart was pounding. I couldn’t move; it was like I was frozen on the spot, barely even able to think.

Lugia called me here to kill me.

There was no other explanation. But why now? Why after so long? This couldn’t be happening, there was no way.

I clenched my fists, swallowing hard. It was just like last time. This wasn’t like the Rocket conflicts, with a struggle for survival. There was nothing I could do; I might as well have already been dead. But…Mew…why…?

Man, you can just tell I was having so much fun dunking on Chosen One clichés. Summoned by a Legendary? Grand, awe-inspiring, and important? Nope! Friggin’ terrifying!

Lugia raised an eyebrow. <No response? You’re quite pitiful, always letting fear control you.>

I bristled. Had to do something, anything. I clutched at a Poké Ball and held it up, my arm shaking. I’d battle. Yeah, that was it. I’d battle, and I’d win, and then we’d find some way out. Any way out. We had to. I was only vaguely aware of how unrealistic that plan was, but still threw the ball forward, releasing Chibi in a flash of black.

I glared at the Legendary. Chibi turned toward me with a stunned and disbelieving expression.

“*Jade, what’s going on? Where the hell are we, and,”—he glanced at Lugia—“why is…don’t tell me you’re…*”

“It doesn’t matter, just use Thunderbolt, hurry!” My voice felt dry and hollow.

“*What?*” he asked, clearly confused. All of the old Rocket situations had gotten him used to having to react immediately, even when released in odd situations, but this was too much.

“I said, use Thunderbolt,” I demanded.

He gave me an incredulous glare. “*No. Tell—me—what—is—going—on.*”

Lugia smirked tauntingly. <Even the half-legend won’t obey you. Is he tired of keeping you alive?>

Chibi whirled around to face her, strings of lightning leaping off his fur involuntarily. Some of his electricity hit Lugia, who recoiled slightly, eyes narrowed. <Oh…touchy, are we?>

The scene breaks here, as I couldn’t really figure out where I was going with the whole Chibi bit, so I just skipped to writing the next part. I do like the idea of Jade instinctively going for a battle (which is why I kept it for the final one), but actually sitting down to write the battle always bored me to tears (a pretty sure sign that it needed to be cut).

“Well, what is it?” I demanded brashly, angered at how she was toying with me. “You had Mew call me down here in order to get revenge, right? Are you gonna taunt me some more or just kill me outright since it didn’t work last time?”

For a while, she gave no sign that she had heard me, and I kept waiting for her to say something and break the unnerving silence that filled the chamber.

<Are you under the impression,> Lugia began slowly and menacingly, <that I tried and yet failed to kill you on that day?>

You’ll notice that Lugia is female in this version. All the Legendaries had genders. It wasn’t until 2015 that I finally made them properly genderless. At the time, I was sure I was never going to get used to it, and I accidentally used the wrong pronouns constantly. But now? It’s finally the other way around. Going back and seeing female pronouns for Lugia is like, “wat, ew, stop.” Then again, that’s kinda how these things go irl, isn’t it?

But yes, please don’t let this impact your view of Lugia now, as Revision 12 Lugia is quite thoroughly “wtf is a gender.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, as she had sounded almost offended by my words. Had Ajia been right? Had Lugia really spared me?

“I…I didn’t think—” I started.

“I know that!” I exclaimed, frustrated at how she flaunted that fact. It was like talking to someone who had a knife to your throat. “And after today, what does it matter?!” I was trembling despite trying to seem unmoved by my complete lack of control over the situation.

With a very reserved tone of voice, the dragon-bird replied, <If you must know, I had Mew call you here today because I wished to speak with you in private.>

I relaxed slightly upon hearing that, but still had to wonder why Mew had looked so regretful about sending me here.

<Still, I can’t help but notice...you speak of that day as though it would have been my fault. As if to make me feel guilty for the situation. Do you see what I did as unjustified?>

Unjustified? Had I deserved it? My immediate thought

Another bit where I got stuck, went “uhhh, I don’t know where this is going,” and then skipped ahead to the next part.

“What events?” I asked.

The dragon-bird raised an eyebrow, as though surprised at my ignorance. <I was told you had read the words inscribed upon the shrine of Midnight Island. Or did they slip your mind?>

“What, you mean that thing with the Legendaries allying themselves with eight humans? What’s that got to do with this?”

Oh right, there were eight chosen before Revision 12. I actually made this mistake a couple times in the current Serebii thread until I finally got used to the idea that there were only seven.

With eyes slightly narrowed, Lugia replied, <Ignorance, human. You don’t realize the magnitude of what will happen in mere months. This is beyond prophecies now…we have seen it with our eyes, the actions of the so-called Team Rocket. Their strides toward power have paved the way for things to come. Even now, it is apparent… The eight would cause themselves to be linked with the legends by connecting themselves with those fulfilling them. And so at the same time, linked with each other.>

I really, really loved making Lugia say “ignorance, human” in the 2007 version. Although it is important to note that modern day Lugia still doesn’t ever refer to Jade by name. This is intentional.

It took me several seconds to understand what she was implying. Team Rocket’s Legendary captures were fulfilling the legends…which meant that none of the eight Chosen were predestined. It had seemed like that from the way Ajia described how she had become Mew’s Chosen, but I always figured that the legends had to involve some complex destiny.

But why was she telling me this?

Unless…

I stared long and hard at her, unwilling to believe it…it couldn’t be possible. It couldn’t be…

“So…so you’re saying…” I swallowed hard and continued, “that…I’m Chosen? Even after what I did?”

<Perhaps more so because of what you did, and other things among that. You have connected yourself with the Legendaries as few others of that rebellion have,> the dragon-bird answered.

I really like this bit, which is why it made it into the rewrite almost unscathed. I love that the big chosen reveal is treated as something horrifying and terrible rather than “aww yeah, I was ~Chosen by a Legendary.~”

“Because of it? Why in the…how—” I struggled, overwhelmed at the significance of what I had just been told.

Lugia closed her eyes in frustration and said, <Let me explain this as simply as I can. I understand that you have read the Midnight Island legend.>

“Yeah, and the Dark Crystal legend,” I added.

She paused slightly when I said that, but then overlooked it. <Then you know that the Midnight legend tells of the Eight Guardians and the Crystal legend is just that—about the trio of crystals. You are an interloper. You have no inherent significance in the legends whatsoever, yet your interference in the matters concerning the balance of power between human and Legendary as well as the fact that you know about the legends has forced you to become a part of them. Fate is nothing; action is everything. The Eight Guardians of the Order of Legends are obligated to seek out those interlopers deemed to have the strongest connection to the legends and the conflict at hand.

I can’t believe the “Fate is nothing; action is everything” dates back to this. What started out as just a fun way to dunk on Chosen One clichés turned into one of the core themes of the entire fic.

I didn’t have to be told who that was referring to.

oh no spoilers (…not really, pretty much everyone has guessed that’s what he’s going for.)

<No one truly knows what the new age shall bring, or how this conflict shall be resolved. One thing is for certain—once the alliance has served its purpose, it shall be as though it never was, and the turmoil of the Revolution and the legacy of the Crystals shall reign supreme,> Lugia concluded solemnly.

“Wait, wait…you’re saying this alliance doesn’t even matter that much?” I asked incredulously. “All it’ll do is just bide time in this stupid Team Rocket conflict until the real trouble begins?”

I should point out here that while this is still true, it has not come up in the current version. (Notice that Lugia didn’t mention the Orb or any the writings around it at all in the current version.)

“Do you Legendaries, like, spend all your time memorizing the legends and then interpreting them?” I asked, my tone slightly annoyed and slightly sarcastic.

I really loved this quip of Jade’s back when I wrote it. :V

Lugia was unimpressed with my insolent remark, and I could tell immediately that I had crossed the line. <Let me tell you something, human. The words of your little half-legend were not what swayed my decision that day. Grabbed my attention, yes, but you are alive right now because you fit this role. It is an honor. Were it not for our constant ‘interpretation’ of the legends…> here she paused, unsure of how to continue. Finally she sighed and glanced down. I thought I’d never see a Legendary show any sign of weakness, at least not before a human.

Wait, what? At first, I couldn’t figure out what she meant, but then I realized it. Neither side could survive without the other. Then a rather stupid grin crossed my face as I said, “You Legendaries need help? From humans?”

This line too. :P

It really was quite obvious that they did, seeing as many more of them would have been captured were it not for The Rebellion—yet another fact that made Stalker’s plans rather paradoxical. Lugia scowled, more insulted by the way I had said it than by the fact that it was true. I let the moment of immaturity drop and said, “Look, I’m honored, I really am, but…”—I sighed—“I told myself that I wouldn’t have anything more to do with Team Rocket. I’m not even on the Resistance…why not choose someone who is?”

Lugia didn’t answer, but rather shifted her wings and gazed at me peculiarly. I continued, “I’m tired of risking both my life and the lives of my friends.”

<Either way, you do realize of course that you’re connected to the Team Rocket matter whether you like it or not. This is simply to determine whether you shall be a part of the deeper legendary matter at hand,> Lugia explained simply.

I really didn’t want to reply, seeing as the whole point of my training for the past year had been as a sort of escape from the Rocket mess…while the members of the Resistance continued to keep the team in check. I leaned against the rough cave wall and stared downward, unsure of what to do.

I really was sure that the Resistance was out and about doing important things, despite having no idea how. The decision to have the Resistance be disbanded in the current version was a pretty spur-of-the-moment one fueled by the realization that I really just didn’t know what I was doing with them. The fic’s a lot better off for it.

I glanced over my shoulder and looked the seabird in the eye for quite a while, reflecting upon everything she had told me. I felt as though pure guilt would end up winning me over—guilt that I was hiding from a struggle over the control of the planet, one that many of my friends had an active role in. The last thought to occur to me, however, was what had gone through my mind that day when I had used the Master Ball cannon on Lugia: the bizarre fascination with Legendaries combined with the urge to wield that incredible power.

This is such a weird sentiment. It really doesn’t fit Jade’s current characterization at all.

Yeah, that was it…

“I’ll do it,” I said slowly after quite a while, my voice shaking.

Lugia nodded slowly with an odd relief in her eyes, looking genuinely glad that I had agreed. She motioned to me to step forward, and I did. Outstretching a wing, the avian dragon touched a feather to my palm and closed her eyes in concentration. An aura began to glow around her wing, slowly brightening and focusing itself around my hand.

Suddenly, a sharp jolt of pain shot through my arm. I recoiled back and gripped my wrist, not expecting that. I could see that my hand was still glowing, however, and slowly, the light formed into a symbol—an outline of Lugia’s head surrounded by rolling waves. I stared at the inscription, transfixed with awe.

I always was unsatisfied with how understated this was. This was supposed to be a major turning point for the fic, and it was over in two sentences with a tiny jolt of pain. NaNo 2015 was when I got the idea to expand this to be the culmination of all the pain and trauma that Jade has endured so far.

<You are marked,> Lugia said. <With you bearing my seal, the two of us, Legend and human, are linked. With this privilege comes much responsibility. You will find that we can communicate now, regardless of distance. Likewise, if you are in grave danger, you may summon me to aid you, if and only if you have done everything in your power to ensure that doing so will not expose us. But you must never call me somewhere simply for the sake of it…the consequences of such will be severe,> she added, narrowing her eyes.

I’m not sure why that last bit was necessary. I would think that if you’re trusting a human enough to be your partner, it would go without saying that they’re not going to summon you for a random battle or whatever.

Notice I said “summon.” In old LC canon, the chosen were able to summon their patrons to their side. This is outdated. While Mew can teleport to Ajia’s side, even if it’s somewhere she hasn’t been previously, that’s just because she could already teleport anyway.

I winced slightly, remembering the Psychic attack that I had endured before. Still, I nodded understandingly just as I had for her other rules.

<Most importantly of all, however…you cannot tell anyone about this. The Order��s rules are yours to follow as well. Do not betray the pact,> Lugia reinforced threateningly.

Unable to come up with any other manner of response, I nodded again. But then something occurred to me and I suddenly asked, “What about Ajia? Can I tell her?”

Lugia paused long and hard, as though unsure of what to say. After contemplating her answer, she finally replied, <I…suppose… The Chosen are supposed to remain a secret, even from the others, until the time is right, but…as you already know she is Chosen, it couldn’t hurt…>

This is silly. Why should the chosen be a secret from each other. Aren’t they supposed to help each other? And what does “the time is right” even mean.

I brightened up slightly upon hearing that—at least I wouldn’t have to keep it all to myself. “So then the fact that I knew about her and Mew had to have played a part in why you picked me, right?”

Lugia glanced away slightly, as though she had been hoping I wouldn’t say that. <Yes, yes it did… When Mew told me that you not only knew her Chosen, but also knew everything about the legends concerning them, I knew that there was no going back.>

“No…going back?” I echoed. “Why?”

She didn’t make eye contact and simply said, <Anyone with that much knowledge would be a threat. You would either have to join us of your own will, or die. If you had decided against becoming Chosen, I would have had to kill you.>

I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. But finally I knew why Mew had looked so worried when she had sent me here. She couldn’t say anything about it without my decision becoming forced.

Another detail that is surprisingly on point with the current version. The chosen pact requiring hard consent, where any guilting or pressuring would render that consent void, was pretty important, even back then.

Lugia nodded, knowing what I was thinking. <Mew was afraid that you would decline, given your past refusal to further involve yourself in the Team Rocket conflict.> She then turned toward the ceiling and let out a high-pitched cry in Pokéspeech. “*Mew! It is finished!*”

I knew that the Legendary communication had a very long range, and sure enough, there was an immediate flash of light as Mew teleported into the cavern. The cat-like Pokémon glanced around frantically, her eyes falling on me.

<She has agreed?> Mew questioned, looking both surprised and relieved.

<The pact is complete...she is marked with my seal,> Lugia answered with a reserved tone. But then the slightest trace of a grin crossed her face—similar to Mewtwo’s in that it looked forced, and yet oddly fitting just the same.

Mew let out a great sigh of relief. <I honestly wasn’t sure if sending you here would be condemning you to death, but…we really had no choice.>

That didn’t really make me feel better about the whole situation, but as the danger had passed, I didn’t care. I only nodded understandingly. She was right…I hadn’t wanted to agree, but hadn’t known that my life rested on that decision, so it was still of my own will.

All because of that capture… What had I gotten myself into?

Mew motioned to me and said, <I’ll take you back to your room now.>

“Oh, right…thanks…” I said, walking over. I took one last glance around the cavern before asking Lugia, “Where is this, anyway?”

<Underneath the Whirl Islands in Johto,> Lugia replied. <I suppose it could be considered my home.>

Mew raised a paw and the two of us glowed blue. The last thing I saw was everything dissolving, and then a bright flash of light. Suddenly, we were back in the stadium hotel room. The catlike Legendary nodded to me and then disappeared once more.

Aaaand, that’s it! The chapter went on a bit after that, but it gets into stuff that’ll come up in Chapter 37, so I’ll cut it here.

#LC #writing #pokemon fanfiction

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