#yet intrigued by the idea of it despite everything that should prove him otherwise

[hetagrammy]

I’m attached to the idea of Arthur being born post-Rome for migration/cultural reasons, but I’ve been thinking a lot about how that might have shaped him. I don’t think there’s much to add on the setting, most people are aware of England effectively being post-apocalyptic during late antiquity and the early middle ages. However, on top of that I think the memory of Rome imparted to him by others juxtaposed with that is really interesting. He’s not like his mother and siblings who lived directly in fear of Roman occupation and subjugation, but he’s effectively the villain in his bedtime stories. Even though he’s gone, the ghost of him remains in the British Isles family’s behaviors and experiences. Even after their mother’s death, they all hole up in mountains and monasteries to hide for ages until they get the courage to approach the sea again, finally believing there to be nothing beyond it to fear anymore.

And yet, Arthur walks around these abandoned baths and aqueducts and wonders how evil could he truly have been? He brought them these wonders from the Continent, surely there must have been a hint of kindness. Arthur’s naïveté obviously wears off and he trusts his mother’s words more, but I think that his musings linger. It’s his first lesson in empire, even if he doesn’t understand it yet: hide the imperial knife behind a cloak of benevolence, and one day their children will forget why they ever had cause to despise you. They may even aspire toward the ideal you put in place.

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 3

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

* 

“Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

Prior to becoming a romantic interest, Spike is everything I discussed in the last section. He is an id and a mirror for Buffy, he’s prone to both romantic exaggeration and cutting realism, and his liminality suggests ambiguity. But outside of “Lovers Walk”, the writing doesn’t actually delve too deeply into Spike’s nature as a romantic. If you stopped the canon at “Restless”, you’d probably think that Spike’s love for Drusilla was intriguing, but that the show hadn’t really gone anywhere with the implications of it, and for all you knew, that might not be an important part of his character anymore. So one of the most interesting things about season five to me, is that in this season in which the writers first consciously, deliberately decide to explore the sexual and romantic tension between Spike and Buffy, they also emphasize Spike’s romanticism more than ever. The choice to define Spike by his romanticism is a choice that follows naturally from everything established about his character, but it was also not an inevitable choice. Therefore, it’s a choice worth looking at in some detail.

Consider everything that “Fool For Love” establishes about Spike, especially the things that contradict what was supposedly canon at the time. It makes Drusilla his sire instead of Angel, meaning that he is sired by a romantic connection, and as a direct result of heartbreak. It makes him a poet living in the middle of the Victorian era, an age at odds with his previous ages of “barely 200” and “126”. Meaning that the writing specifically decides to ignore its canon in order to associate him with an era in which passions would have been repressed (rather than the Romantic era of the early 1800’s or the modern energy of the early 1900’s). Moreover, the episode reveals his entire aesthetic and personality to essentially be a construct. But most tellingly of all, it reveals him to be an idealist. Spike is not just a performance artist; he yearns for the “effulgent”, for something “glowing and glistening” that the “vulgarians” of the world don’t understand. In other words, he yearns for something bigger and more beautiful than life: something romantic. Later, he chases after “death, glory, and sod all else.” Spike may be a “fool for love”, who has a romantic view of romantic love specifically, but the episode is very clear about the fact that he is also a romantic more generally. When Drusilla turns him, she doesn’t tempt him by telling him she’ll love him forever. She tempts him by offering him “something…effulgent”. (Which, in typical Spike form, the episode immediately undercuts by having him say “ow” instead of swooning romantically). The fact that “Fool For Love”, Spike’s major backstory episode, is so determined to paint him as a romantic--and in particular, a disappointed, frustrated romantic--that it is willing to contradict canon to do so, tells you that this choice was important for framing Spike and his new, ongoing thematic role.

I’ve talked in the past about how season five is all about the tension between the mythical and the mortal--between big, grand, sweeping narratives, and the reality of being human. Buffy is the Slayer, but she’s also just a girl who loses her mother. Dawn is the key, but she’s also just a confused and hormonal fourteen-year-old. Willow is a powerful witch, but she also just wants her girlfriend to be okay. Glory is a god, but she’s also a human man named Ben, and finds herself increasingly weakened by his emotions. And Spike embodies this tension perfectly. He’s a soulless vampire with a lifetime of bloodshed behind him, but he’s also this silly, human man who wants to love and be loved. He wants big, grand things, but every time they are frustrated by a Victorian society, a rejection, a chip, a pratfall, or dying with an “ow”. Furthermore, his season five storyline is all about the tension between loving in an exalted, yet often selfish way, versus loving in a “real” or selfless way. 

There was a fascinating piece a ways back that discussed how Spike’s attempts to woo Buffy in season five almost perfectly match the romantic narratives of Courtly Love. In the words of the author:

The term "Courtly Love" is used to describe a certain kind of relationship common in romantic medieval literature. The Knight/Lover finds himself desperately and piteously enamored of a divinely beautiful but unobtainable woman. After a period of distressed introspection, he offers himself as her faithful servant and goes forth to perform brave deeds in her honor. His desire to impress her and to be found worthy of her gradually transforms and ennobles him; his sufferings -- inner turmoil, doubts as to the lady's care of him, as well as physical travails -- ultimately lends him wisdom, patience, and virtue and his acts themselves worldly renown.

You can see for yourself how well that description fits Spike’s arc. He fixates on the torturous, abject nature of his love, and has it in his head that he can perform deeds and demonstrate virtue, and this will prove to Buffy that he is worthy of her. But despite Spike’s gradual ennobling over the course of the season, I think it would be a mistake to see the season as using the Courtly Love narrative uncritically, or even just ironically. The same way it would be a mistake to see season two as using the Gothic uncritically. Spike is as much Don Quixote as he is Lancelot. He is a character that deliberately tries to act out romantic tropes, giving the writing an opportunity to satirize those tropes, including the tropes of chivalric romance. In particular, the writing criticizes Spike’s (very chivalric) fixation on love as a personal agony, something that is more about pain--and specifically, his pain--than building a real relationship. Over and over in season five, he is forced to abandon these sorts of flattering romantic mindsets in favor of a more complicated reality. 

So at first, Spike’s “deeds” tend to be shallow and vaguely transactional. He tries to help Buffy in “Checkpoint” even though she doesn’t want it (and insults her when she doesn’t appreciate it), he asks “what the hell does it take?” when Buffy is unimpressed by him not feeding on “bleeding disaster victims” in “Triangle”, he rants bitterly at a mannequin when Buffy fails to be grateful to him for taking her to Riley in “Into the Woods”, and he is angry and confused when Buffy is unmoved by his offer to stake Drusilla in “Crush”. While these attempts to symbolically reject his evilness are startling for a soulless vampire, and although Spike certainly feels like he is fundamentally altering himself for Buffy’s sake, none of it is based on understanding or supporting Buffy in a way that she would actually find substantial. Moreover, he lashes out when his gestures fail to win her attention or affection. He has an idea in his head of how their romantic scenes should play out, and reacts petulantly when reality fails to live up to it. 

But these incidents of self-interested narrativizing are also continuously contrasted with scenes in which Spike reacts with real generosity, or is surprised when he realizes he’s touched something emotionally genuine. When Buffy seeks him out in “Checkpoint”, his mannerisms instantly change when he realizes she actually needs real help (“You’re the only one strong enough to protect them”), rather than the performed help he offered at the beginning of the episode. At the end of “Fool For Love” he’s struck dumb by Buffy’s grief, and his antagonistic posturing all evening melts away. He abandons his romantic vision of their erotic, life-and-death rivalry in favor of real, awkward emotional intimacy. In “Forever” he tries to anonymously leave flowers for Joyce, and reacts angrily when he’s denied—but this time not because he wanted something from Buffy. Simply because he wanted to do something meaningful. 

This contradictory behavior comes to a head in “Intervention”, the episode in which Spike finally begins to understand the difference between real and transactional generosity. Up until that point, Spike has been reacting both selfishly and unselfishly, but he hasn’t been able to truly distinguish between them, which is why he keeps repeating the same mistakes. Although he touches something real at the end of “Fool For Love”, for instance, he goes on to rifle through Buffy’s intimates in the very next episode. And so “Intervention” has Spike go to extremes of fakeness and reality. He gives up on having the real Buffy, and seeks out an artificial substitute that lets him live out his cheesiest romance novel scripts. It’s important that the Buffybot isn’t just a sexbot, even if he does have sex with her. She’s a bot he plays out romantic scenarios with the way he played them with Harmony in “Crush”, allowing him to almost literally live within a fiction. But then he “gives up” on having Buffy in a way that’s actually real, by offering up his life. He lets himself be tortured, and potentially killed, for no other reason than that to do otherwise would cause Buffy pain. The focus is on her pain, not his. For the first time, he acts like the Knight he’s been trying to be all along. He performs a grand, heroic deed that causes the object of his affection to see him in a different light, and even grant him a kiss. Yet ironically, as part of learning the difference between real and fake, he ceases to press for Buffy’s reciprocation. Through the end of season five, Spike continues to act the selfless Knight, assisting Buffy in her heroism without asking for anything in return. Which culminates in his declaration that he knows Buffy “will never love him”, even after he’s promised her the deed of protecting Dawn, and even though she allows a kind of intimacy by letting him back in her house. He proves that he sees those gestures for what they are, rather than in a transactional light. The irony of the way Spike fulfills the narrative of chivalric romance, is that his ennobling involves letting aspects of that narrative go. 

In a Courtly Love narrative, the object of the Knight’s affection is fundamentally pedestalized. The Knight himself might be flawed, but the woman he pines after is not. She is “divinely beautiful” and “unobtainable”, something above him and almost more than human. This is why it’s so comic that in Don Quixote, which was a direct satire of chivalric romance, Alonso Quixano’s “lady love” is a vulgar peasant farmgirl who has no idea who he is. (Think of the way Spike asks if Buffy is tough in “School Hard” or threatens to “take her apart” despite “how brilliant she is” in “The Initiative”, followed by scenes where Buffy is acting like the teenage girl she is. Or how Giles in “Checkpoint” says that Buffy has “acquired a remarkable focus” before cutting to Buffy yawning.). Although it’s true that Buffy is beautiful, and supernatural, and profoundly moral, she is also very human, and the writing is very concerned with that humanity. Season five in particular, as I’ve mentioned, is preoccupied with the duality of Buffy’s mythic and mortal nature. Thus it becomes significant that Buffy is assigned such a heightened role in Spike’s chivalric narrative. Just Spike is at once Lancelot and Don Quixote, Buffy is at once Achilles, Dulcinea, and a coming-of-age protagonist. 

And part of the “lesson” of Spike’s arc is for him to see both sides of the roles they embody. One of my favorite things about the scene in Buffy’s house in “The Gift” is how adroitly it conveys the dualities of both Buffy and Spike with simple, but poetic imagery and language. Buffy stands above Spike on her steps, conveying her elevated role, and Spike honors the way her heroic status has inspired him by physically looking up to her as he explains that he expects nothing from her. But by expecting nothing from her, and promising to protect her sister, he also honors the fact that she is a real person with no obligation to him, and a younger sister she cares about more than anything. He also honors his own duality by at once making Knightly promises, and acknowledging that he sees through his former delusions: “I know that I’m a monster, but you treat me like a man.” In “Fool For Love” he tried to acknowledge the same duality of realism and romance, by declaring to Cecily that “I know I’m a bad poet, but I’m a good man.” But at the time, he was an innocent, whose desire to be seen, and whose romantic avoidance of “dark, ugly things”, left him unprepared to understand how Cecily really saw him (similar to Spike’s insistence in “Crush” that what he and Buffy have “isn’t pretty, but it’s real” just before Buffy locks him out). Spike is a character defined simultaneously by continuous disillusionment and dogged aspiration, which is why he makes perfect sense as a character to embody a season torn between the pain of being human, and the wonder of the gift of love.

Fittingly, the season ends with Spike’s most devastating loss of innocence of all. He fails to be the hero for Buffy or Dawn (note that Knightly language he uses on the tower: “I made a promise to a lady”), and he loses the woman he loves. He may have become more virtuous, but unlike in a chivalric romance, that virtue wins him neither Buffy, nor something flattering like “world reknown.” The climax of the “The Gift” is full of romance—a god, a troll hammer, a damsel on a tower, a heroic self-sacrifice, a vampire transformed into a Knight—but the end result is that Buffy is dead, in part because he wasn’t good enough, and all that he and the Scoobies can do is grieve. Stories got Spike nothing, even when reality finally lived up to them. It is a swan song to the myths of childhood, and on the other side of Glory’s portal, Spike and the other characters will have to confront a world where those myths have been left behind.

part 4: “But I can’t fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason.”: Buffy and Spike as a blended self

[chudleycanonficfest]

The Soul Truth

Day 2, Story #1 is by @honouraryweasley12

Title: The Soul Truth

Author: honouraryweasley12

Pairing: Ron x Hermione

Prompt: Soulmates

Rating: K+

TW: none

The ornate doors slid open and Hermione stepped out of the lift, her shoes clacking on the stone floor as she walked forward, head held high but movements stiff. She quickly found that it was best to give off a strong, confident air as she met with various ministries in her new capacity. 

She hadn't been in this part of the Ministry often and it was quite unfamiliar to her. All the more reason to keep her guard up.

"Greetings, Minister Granger-Weasley. Congratulations on your victory."

A wizened old man in heavy, dark robes welcomed her, limping forward and holding out a shaky gnarled hand. She took it and met his eyes, which were still sharp—despite his advanced age. A playful twinkle shone out from them, reminding her immediately of Dumbledore.

"Thank you."

He gave her a smile. "Welcome to Archive floor of the Department of Mysteries."

She looked around the cavernous space, taking everything in. She could practically feel the hum of ancient magic reverberating around the walls.

"And you are?"

"I am the Archivist."

"Oh, I meant your name."

He chuckled. "We don't use our given names in this department, just our titles. There is great power in names, as you no doubt know, and we don't want that to interfere with the work we are doing here."

"What should I call you?"

He thought for a moment, before looking up at her. "For today, you can call me… Dave."

She immediately relaxed and shook her head, her face incredulous. "Why Dave?"

"Ah, you see, the power of names. By picking something so simple and informal, your posture and tone changed completely. Had I picked something more formal, you would have responded in kind."

She smiled, immediately taking a liking to the mysterious old man. "Lead the way, Dave. I was told I would be receiving the grand tour."

The two walked slowly through the vast archives, the various rooms and chambers full of different experiments, mystical objects, and parchments.

"Where is everyone?" Hermione stopped to ask, noticing that they hadn't seen a single person, Unspeakable or otherwise, as she was shown around.

"Some of our greatest breakthroughs happen in the early morning or late evening. We encourage our members to work when it best suits them." He squinted at a battered gold watch that seemed to weigh heavily on his wrist. "Yes, 3:00 PM is usually the quietest time of the day down here."

"I see. I do some of my best work at odd times as well."

He nodded sagely. "The quiet mind is often the clearest."

They continued touring through, until they came to a small door tucked behind several suits of armour. It was so old and dark that Hermione wouldn't have even noticed it, had Dave not mentioned it.

"Most Ministers of Magic I've worked with seem to be worried about other objects down here that might help them, but I have something interesting which I think you'll appreciate."

He fished out a small key from within the folds in his robes and turned it in the lock. The heavy door creaked open to reveal a closet-sized space with a single pedestal. On top of it sat a thin, aged book.

"It's my understanding that you are an avid reader, Minister."

"Yes, how did you know?"

"It's my job to know," he added gravely, watching her eyes narrow. He waved his hand dismissively, grinning again. "No, no, I'm only joking. I happened to share a lift with Auror Weasley one Monday morning, and while I didn't mean to eavesdrop, he was complaining quite loudly to Auror Potter that he missed you, because you had your nose stuck in a book all weekend. I mean no offense, of course."

She blushed and rolled her eyes affectionately. "That sounds like Ron alright."

"That's why I thought this might be of interest to you," he continued, gesturing to the pedestal.

She couldn't help but be intrigued as she stared down at the frail old book, her voice dipping down to a whisper of reverence. "What is it?"

"It's called The Book of Souls—though it's just a single parchment. Yet, it's the most dangerous object down here."

Hermione stared at it, her face a mask of awe. "How so?"

"Legend has it that the parchment was created by a powerful young witch, who was being courted by a prince. She wasn't sure if he was her soulmate, for she sensed a darkness in him, so she invoked some very ancient magic to help reveal the truth."

"It worked?"

"Indeed, it did. The parchment was charmed to reveal a small note, riddle, and sometimes even a name to the reader, one that would help them understand who their soulmate was. Unfortunately for that witch, her soulmate was most decidedly not the prince. She rejected his proposal, and as was the case back then, disappeared under mysterious circumstances soon after."

"That's terrible. Then what happened?"

"As the story goes, rumour spread about the witch's parchment, and as with most powerful objects, the lure of it drew out many seekers. Though the object was made with good intentions, it soon led to a trail of darkness and bloodshed. Broken families, obsessions, blackmail, jealousy, and even death. Knowing that kind of unshakeable truth proved to be a valuable commodity, or a lifetime of heartbreak for those unable to meet their soulmate."

Hermione nodded. It sounded very much like the Elder Wand, but more subtle and insidious. One thing was puzzling her though. "I've never heard of this before, and I've studied many books about souls, both ancient and dark."

"Once the Ministry recovered it, they deemed it was too dangerous for this information to be out there, so they've removed all known references to it. Those who had known of it died off, and it was forgotten from memory."

"When was this?"

"Centuries ago. However, as Minister, you are privileged to learn certain pieces of information that the general population is not privy to."

"Fascinating," Hermione replied. She watched as he slowly reached a hand toward the weathered book. "Wait! What are you doing?"

"Every so often I check to make sure it's still under the cover, and since we're already in here, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. Does… does that mean you've looked at it?"

"Oh no, never. I always look away, as should you."

He lifted the corner for a second, and try as she might, Hermione couldn't help but open her eyes to see a word of blazing red ink, before he shut the cover again. Hermione felt the blood drain from her face, unable to comprehend the word she saw so very briefly.

"No, it couldn't be."

"What was that Minister? Did you say something?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Everything seems to be in order here. Shall we continue?"

Hermione nodded mutely, the word still burned in her thoughts.

~*~

She cancelled the rest of her meetings and went straight home after finishing with Dave, or whatever his real name was, needing time to collect her thoughts. How could she tell Ron, the love of her life, what she had seen?

She sat at their dining table, absentmindedly stirring a soothing cup of tea when he walked in.

"Hermione, I'm home."

He came bounding into the kitchen, a piece of parchment in each hand and a wide smile on his face. "Look, the kids wrote. Hugo promises he's already started studying for O.W.L.s, and Rosie is nervous, but excited, to captain her first match against Ravenclaw next week."

"That's great," she replied, her voice a dull monotone.

"They even said their classmates think it's cool that you were elected as the youngest Minister of Magic in history."

"Hmm."

Ron looked at her and frowned. "What's wrong? Tough day?"

Hermione pulled out the chair next to her and patted it. "Come sit down."

Ron scrutinized her again. "The last time you did that, it was to tell me you were pregnant with Hugo. Are you pregnant?"

She sighed. "No, please just come here, I need to tell you something, and I don't think you're going to like it."

He sat down, unsure of what was coming. She quickly told him about the Archivist, the tour, and the Book of Souls, before swearing him to secrecy.

"You saw something when he lifted the cover, didn't you?"

She nodded sadly. "I saw a word."

"What did it say?"

"I-I don't want to tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not true. Whatever it says, it's not true."

"C'mon Hermione, please tell me."

"It said… Krum."

Ron let out a laugh. "Oh, is that all?"

"What do you mean? Viktor Krum is my soulmate, and that's all you have to say!?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"That you're upset, that you care that I was destined to be with Viktor."

"Destined? We have two beautiful kids, an amazing family, and great careers. I don't care what some ruddy old book says, the charms are probably wonky anyway." He pointed to his chest. "I know that I love you with all of my heart, and you feel the same."

She slid into his lap and threw her arms around his neck. "I do, you know I do… but…but…"

"What?"

She suddenly burst into tears, burying her head in his neck as she sobbed. "I-I always had this idea in my head that we were real soulmates, if such a thing existed. We met when we were so young, and I've only truly ever loved you. I know it's silly, but I hate that it's not true. I didn't even like Viktor that much."

Ron ran his fingers through her hair and rubbed her back comfortingly. "Maybe it was a mistake or something. You said yourself you only saw one word."

Her breathing started calming down. "I-I suppose that's true."

"We know what happens when a charm or prophecy is misinterpreted."

She sniffled. "It would be nice to know."

Ron gave her a squeeze. "Maybe we should sneak in there tomorrow and take a look."

"We can't just sneak in there! I'm the Minister of Magic! Besides, there was a key to get into the room. I don't know how we're going to get it from the Archivist."

"You're the Minister of Magic. I'm sure you could come up with some reason to be there."

She gave him a dirty look. "I'm not abusing my position like that."

"I don't mind abusing my position, as you put it. Maybe I can say I'm researching something for a case."

"No, Ron. What if you get in trouble?"

"Who am I going to get in trouble with? Harry? You?"

"That's not the point. We swore we'd never take advantage of our roles for our own gain."

He sighed. "Fine, you're right. Sneaking in it is, then. It'll be like the good old days! A secret mission, breaking into places we have no business being in. An ill-formed plan. It'll be fun."

She smacked him on the arm. "Those days were terrible."

"Aren't you curious though, to find out the truth?"

"Of course I want to know the truth! I don't want to go through the rest of my life thinking Viktor was my soulmate, when it's clearly you."

"As sweet as that is, we clearly only have one choice."

Hermione shook her head. "Fine."

"Good, things like this are much easier when you're agreeable to them," he smirked, nudging her playfully. "You said 3:00 PM was when it was empty, right? Meet me in my office tomorrow at 2:55 PM, and we'll head down there. I'll just tell Harry we're going to a broom closet or something."

"Ron!" Hermione screeched. "You'll do no such thing."

"It's perfectly plausible. It's not like we haven't done that before."

She blushed, unable to count the number of times they'd had fun at the Ministry. "Alright, fine. 2:55PM at your office."

"Good. Now, I'm starving. I'll whip up one of your favourites. I bet I'm a better cook than ol' Vicky. What do Bulgarians even eat?"

"Not funny, Ron."

~*~

The next afternoon, Hermione was found pacing in front of Ron and Harry's office, much to the fear of the recruits who were stationed outside the door. It wasn't often the Minister of Magic would show up unannounced, muttering under their breath.

The door swung open and Ron sauntered out, his lips upturned in a smug smile. Harry's face had gone a shade of green from what he'd just heard from his best mate.

"Hi, er, Hermione," Harry greeted her awkwardly. "You two… um… have fun."

Mortified, Hermione could only return a quick wave before grabbing Ron's arm, hauling him toward the lifts before she was forced into any further interactions with Harry.

"I honestly can't believe you told him we were going to go shag."

"I literally told you I was going to say that."

"I didn't think you actually meant it." She let out an exasperated snort and pinched the bridge of her nose as they entered the lift. "What's the plan?"

"Plan?"

"You are the Head Strategist of the Auror department. Surely you must have thought of something!"

Ron shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "We'll make it up as we go. Seems to work best for us."

"I don't like this one bit."

The ding of the bell signalled they had arrived.

Ron clasped her hand, their fingers entwining. "Let's do this."

The doors opened and they were greeted with utter silence. It was as if the entire floor was abandoned, which it likely was.

They crept forward, trying to make as little noise as possible before finally reaching the same spot she had been the previous day.

Hermione turned the handle of the door, and to her surprise, it was unlocked.

"Hey, look at that!" Ron exclaimed loudly.

"Ron," she hissed. "Keep on the lookout."

He nodded and stood in front of the armour blocking the door, ensuring that Hermione couldn't be seen, in case they were interrupted.

Hermione took a deep breath, her heart pounding. Whatever it said under the cover wouldn't change anything between herself and Ron, but she needed to know for sure.

Her fingers paused for a second, lightly gripping the frail corner, her body tense. She delicately opened the book, the bright red ink bursting into view, almost glowing in the small, dark chamber.

Her greedy eyes flew over the words that were revealed.

"I knew it," she whispered.

Ron suddenly poked his head in. "Everything alright?"

"Perfect. Everything's perfect and wonderful!" Her giddiness couldn't be contained as she closed the ancient text.

"I guess this means you aren't going to chuck me?"

"Never."

"What's it say?"

Her pink cheeks were starting to hurt from her wide grin. "Your soulmate will first love, then hate, a Mr. Viktor Krum."

"That confirms it. See, nothing to worry about."

"Oh Ron, I'm so relieved. I knew it couldn't be true. This whole thing is ridiculous, but I'm still glad to know it's always been you."

Ron nodded. "Me too."

"We should leave before we get caught."

"Not so fast, it's my turn now."

"What?" Hermione asked sharply. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Might as well take a look while I'm here."

Hermione stepped back, biting at her bottom lip—a sure sign of anxiety. "But… but… what if—"

Ron cupped her cheeks in his large hands and gently kissed her. "It doesn't matter what it says, I love you and only you. Trust me."

She nodded, before resuming his place as the lookout.

After a moment, she heard him chuckle and close the door behind him.

Hermione whispered urgently. "What did it say?"

"It said my soulmate will be a nightmare."

Hermione let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Thank goodness. I don't think I would've been able to handle it if it wasn't me."

"It's always been you. I thought you'd have learned by now."

"I know, I never should have doubted it."

"Can you imagine if we'd learned this information when we were younger? We might have been able to get together much sooner," Ron remarked.

"Or we'd have made an even bigger mess of things."

"True. It doesn't matter in the end though, does it? We figured it out and we've done pretty damn well for ourselves."

"We have, Ron. I love you."

"Love you, too. We'd better get out of here before someone sees us."

The two quickly retreated to the lift, having successfully completed their mission. A minute after the doors had shut on the snogging couple, an old man slowly made his way toward the chamber and pulled a small key out of his robes, locking the heavy door.

As it's appointed guardian, he had vowed to never look in the book, and he had kept that oath. That didn't mean he couldn't use it's power in other ways. Past Ministers, those inquisitive few who had the intelligence to understand the book's worth, often revealed something in that moment when he checked the parchment, for good or ill. Usually it mattered little to him, but not in this case.

He paused for a moment, before extracting a small glass sphere from the same pocket as the key. A sphere he'd kept with him for many years, since he was a young man working with prophecies in the Department of Mysteries. Knowing Minister Granger-Weasley was coming to take a tour was the perfect opportunity to solve a mystery he'd been researching for the better part of seven decades.

He held it up to the light, the familiar swirls of mist dancing in the globe. He had long since memorized the prophecy, which had been made by a seer almost a hundred years earlier. His colleagues at the time had dismissed it, because like many visions, it was almost impossible to determine what the seer was referring to.

He had kept this one, for it always gave him hope. He never thought he'd actually solve it. Yet here he was, still alive and able to record this last surviving prophecy in the annals of history.

He turned it over in his hands, the glass still unblemished.

"Magic," he whispered, "such a wonderful tool."

He stared at it again, reciting for the last time the fates encompassed within.

"Two soulmates, brown and orange, will form a triangle with black to defeat evil. Through many trials the two will forge a love so strong it will be unbreakable, and their strength will reshape the world."

He let out a final chuckle, his long-held desire now confirmed by the soulmates themselves. He lifted the glass to his lips, his breath fogging up the shiny surface.

"Prophecy fulfilled."

The sphere melted away into nothing, the outcome recorded somewhere else in the archives. He shuffled away back to his office, his eyes sparkling, and his heart lifted with hope.

[salamoonder]

alright so i was talking about this the other day in the groupchat and i cannot get over how good for each other caleb and beau are?? like there’s something...i don’t know there is something absolutely next level about empire siblings. like. okay. (under a cut bc this got so FUCKING long, what the fuck. also i talk about essek for a bit and how i think he will change their relationship.)

i’ve said it a million times but i think beau had the best possible reaction to caleb’s backstory reveal. she didn’t discount it; she didn’t treat it like nothing. she basically went “that’s fucked up, man, but you can and will do better” which i think is exactly what he needed to hear. caleb has this tendency to wallow in guilt and when you wallow in guilt it’s very easy to fall into a trap of inaction or only wanting to focus on things that will make that guilt quiet down (i.e., working on the very dangerous and perhaps impossible task of going back in time to save his parents. it’s kind of like people who are intent on doing relief work in far off countries where “real” poverty exists but who don’t wanna help the homeless people living in their own city.) beau pushes him to take his focus off the guilt quieting plans and put his focus on things that will actually be doing good for the sake of doing good. i think that’s sometimes a very difficult distinction to make and tbh beau has a very good grasp on it.

i also think this plays into part of the reason caleb still hasn’t told jester (or cad?) like okay number one, he’s scared. number two, i literally don’t think he can handle the easy forgiveness he would get from them (especially jester) and i think it would send him into a spiral of “no you don’t get it i did a bad bad thing i’m a terrible person” that might be hard to pull out of. and beau is extremely critical in general. she sees a thing she doesn’t like, you don’t have to wonder about it. “well that’s fucked up” are going to be the first words out of her mouth. caleb doesn’t have to worry about her misunderstanding the heaviness of what he’s done the way i suspect he does with the others. beau is never going to diminish how bad he feels about doing a thing; all she’s going to do is say “okay, and what are you gonna do about it?” which is THE BEST. THING. action is the best thing for depressed people oh my god. anyway.

honestly like. ok my favorite thing about beau is that despite the social awkwardness/prickliness she is genuinely *really good at people*. she understands people. i literally still cannot get over how good she is at handling caleb’s panic attacks. i think a lot of people’s first instinct w handling panic attacks is to smother, or, worse, to get just as worked up as the person panicking trying to calm them down. beau is very detached, calm, and levelheaded. she provides physical comfort/stimulus, water, and someone to talk to, and she waits. ( @thedarklordsnicklefritz pointed out recently that she’d be a very good nurse.)

now, caleb to beau: he so clearly, so obviously values her opinions and what she has to say. for all that he is “the smart one”--for all that the wheels in his head are constantly turning and for all that he has a plan for everything--he sits quietly and listens to her whenever she has something to say. he asks her about herself. he wants to know her plans and her goals. not only does he treat her like an adult with agency and ambition and ideas worth hearing, he treats her as a colleage. as a fellow scholar. and i think that beau was sorely lacking that kind of respect, especially under zeenoth. i think it’s something that she craves. even when they are at each other’s throats, he doesn’t interrupt her arguments. he listens till she’s done, and then he speaks. even if he’s growling at her through clenched teeth. he still gives her that respect.

another thing about caleb is that he mirrors the kind of love that beau shows him right back at her. leaving molly’s grave? the shit in kamordah? hand on her shoulder. here is frumpkin. here is frumpkin again. and again. and again--here is some quiet show of support, some small comfort. nothing to embarrass her or cause undue awkwardness. just, there, always. they are each other’s constants and i will literally never be over this oh my god--

okay another thing is, and this is going to be a bit touchy and i might word wrong so please be patient with me and ask questions if you have them, there is something to be said about the friendship of two people who are fundamentally romantically and sexually incompatible. like there’s a reason why “gay best friend” is a trope and there is some not great stuff surrounding it. but i also think that there is a kind of value in a friendship where you never have to worry about romantic or sexual shit coming up. there’s a certain security there, a kind of...safety. there is a safety in "i have no interest in your sex life." there is a safety in beau being a lesbian. both of them have some real baggage/struggles surrounding relationships, and this is not to say that they will never have a meaningful or secure or safe romantic/sexual relationship again. it’s just that there are unique problems that both of those will bring to them--unique problems that i think may bring them each a unique beauty and growth in working through--but nevertheless, unique problems that neither of them have to worry about with each other. their friendship is safe from that.

alright, now onto essek: i am really worried/intrigued for what he will mean for their friendship when they get back to xhorhas and have to deal with him. i think they both see him very differently, and i can’t see them getting through...*waves hand* “punishment” and whatever that means, without another blowup fight and serious hurt feelings.

i think caleb quite clearly sees himself in essek; i don’t think i need to lay that comparison out for anyone, honestly the whole 97 speech sums it up pretty well. what i would like to say is i think caleb has found hope in essek, for essek, in a way that i don’t quite think he’s managed to do for himself yet. like he’s gotten a lot better, but i think a symptom of getting better is that you see your flaws more clearly, and i think that’s very much happening to him right now. i think he sees himself as the same (or possibly even worse), regardless of how far he’s come. (see “i am ruined” to fjord.) i think essek is a mirror for him in which he sees himself more clearly without even realizing that that’s what he’s doing. he sees a selfish person who has done selfish things and hurt people in the process. and he also sees someone with a conscience and empathy who is extremely capable of doing real good. he sees someone with potential. someone with kindness in his soul. someone who could take his guilt and turn it into action, maybe to soothe some of that guilt the way caleb started, and maybe to eventually leave that behind, and do good for the sake of doing good. he sees someone in pain who is in need of support and a friend like beau to nudge him in the right direction.

and beau sees someone who has done selfish things for selfish reasons and does not show nearly enough remorse for it. she sees someone who has caused death and pain out of carelessness and pride and misplaced judgement. she sees someone who values his own gains over the lives of others and justifies that to make himself feel better, and i think that’s exactly the kind of authority figure that beau hates most. she sees someone who better fucking prove that this remorse is real or so help me god i’ll show you what remorse is.

and i think caleb (unfortunately like so much of this fandom with various characters) has latched onto essek as this mirror of himself, and i think at this point any judgement that beau passes on essek will reflect unfortunately on caleb. and the worst part is, beau isn’t going to see that. she wasn’t there for the razor speech. i think to her it’s obvious what she thinks of caleb: he’s a person who’s done some fucked up shit, sure, but he is someone who cares deeply about getting better and has proven himself to be a kind, unwavering person over and over again. he’s more than alright in her book. whereas essek hasn’t really done anything to win him anywhere near the same kind of rapport with her. clearly, in her mind, they are different. why should they be otherwise?

but caleb is going to hear any criticism and, i think, just apply it straight on to himself. i think he thinks that he and essek are so similar that any cut towards essek is a cut towards him. i think he is going to be deeply hurt, i think it’s going to feel like a betrayal--like a revocation of the trust that beau has in him--and i think beau is going to have no idea.

[poliel]

Snaxsquatch

This is directly inspired by my in game experience in catching sight of the Snaxsquatch and then approaching it, thinking it was one of the villagers and then it melting into the ground before I could get a good look at it. I spent a while trying to get it to reappear and even now during my second play through, every time I'm in that area I look down into the alcove with my camera, hoping it's there. It sadly never is though. I decided to turn the fic into a Filbo/Buddy thing because why not?

~

Stepping out of the cave, Buddy looked up. … But alas, the sky was still crystal-clear blue. There were a couple wispy clouds but nothing that had much of a chance of yielding rain any time soon. Waiting around for it wasn’t the best use of their time but… it was the last snac they needed to document in Flavor Falls. Supposedly anyway, there could be more, the entire island was still largely unexplored after all. So there could easily be…

“Sandopede, sandopede, sandopede…”

Coming to a stop, their eyes naturally followed the sandopede as it crossed right in front of them in its seemingly never-ending loop. It was weird how so many snax resorted to running or flying around in a loop, almost like they wanted to be caught. Perhaps later Buddy should ask Floofty about…

Someone stood at the end of the little alcove they’d fallen in when first arriving upon the island. At this distance and with their back to Buddy it was hard to tell who it might be. But if they were out here it had to be for a reason.

Abandoning their prior path, Buddy jumped down to the lower level. They then crossed the stream and ascended the hill to the alcove, taking a breath great whoever it was. They didn’t get a single word out though because that was not a grumpus!

Its large googly eyes locked onto Buddy, sending a chill down their spine. Despite that they were already scrambling to lift their camera. They were too slow though, the thing disappeared, seemingly melting into the ground, before they could even get it in the view finder. … Dammit!

Their fur bristling with fear and anticipation, they glanced around, both hoping and fearing that it might’ve reappeared elsewhere. … But no, whatever that thing had been was gone now. Shaking it off, they held their camera at the ready, just in case, as they approached the spot it had been standing.

No trace of it remained, not even a single footprint. It was rock and grass so that made sense but was disappointing nonetheless. They hadn’t gotten a good look at it but it had definitely been grumpus shaped and perhaps made of bugsnax? It was hard to say for sure with how brief their glimpse had been.

There was a good chance it whatever it had been was the thing Beffica had seen that night a couple weeks ago. Buddy had already been intrigued by that mystery but now that they’d seen it themself, it was a whole other story. They had to document it, simply had to. And since bugsnax seemed to like to hang out in one place – and that was probably what it was given how no other native creatures had been spotted on the island – it was probably still around here somewhere, perhaps watching them. That thought made their fur prickle with fear again but… no matter. They wouldn’t rest until they’d found, scanned, and officially documented whatever it was.

A week or so later and back at Snaxburg

“Hey Gramble,” Filbo said as he poked his head into the barn. Gramble looked up from whatever bugsnax he was tending to, giving him a slightly suspicious look. It hurt a little but… it was understandable so Filbo continued. “Have you seen Buddy around lately?”

“Nope. They ain’t been by when I wasn’t around to drop off any new little ones for a while now neither.” Which meant they hadn’t been back to Snaxburg at all because they always had something to donate to Gramble’s barn every time they returned to town.

“They’ve never been gone this long before.” They hadn’t really been gone for a super long time but previously the longest they’d been away from town without returning for even a short while was like two or three days. And given how Liz and Eggabell were still missing after disappearing… “I’m starting to get a little worried.”

Gramble suddenly looked nervous too. “Well what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know. Help me go find them maybe?” Filbo didn’t exactly trust himself to find them on his own otherwise he’d have gone off to do so already.

“I would but… I can’t be away from my little ones that long. Someone would break in and eat them for sure.” That was unfortunately probably a fair point.

“Right, yeah, uh… I guess I’ll go ask the others for help then.” Buddy was friends with everyone here so surely getting a search party going wouldn’t be too hard.

-

It turned to Snorpy had placed a tracking device on them, making determining their location in Flavor Falls a breeze. But… “They didn’t respond when I tried to contact them earlier today for I too was starting to get worried. I was thinking of sending Chandlo out to go find them if they didn’t return by nightfall tonight.”

“No need for that. I can handle it,” Filbo said even though he was not at all confident that he could handle even that. But Flavor Falls was the least dangerous place on the island other than Snaxburg so he’d probably be fine. It’d be chance to possibly prove himself a little.

“Very well then,” Snorpy replied with nod. “I suppose I shall see both you later then. Be careful though, you never know what might be out there.” That sounded a bit forbidding but… Snorpy was just like that so Filbo wasn’t going to worry about it.

-

It wasn’t until he was halfway there that the realization that things might not be so safe hit him. Surely there had to be a reason Buddy had been gone for so long. It was possible something had attacked them and they were hurt or perhaps worse. What would he do if he when he found Buddy they were…

The distinct sound of a snaxscope snapping a picture made him jump a little and drew his gaze upward. Buddy stood atop a steep hill, looking down at him, their camera still raised. Oh thank grump, they were okay.

“Hey, Buddy.” He smiled, lifting a paw in a small wave to hide his relief.

“Hello, Filbo.” Buddy lowered their camera and jumped down off the hill with seemingly no concern for their own safety. “What are you doing out here?” As they approached it became hard to miss the heavy bags under bloodshot eyes. Clearly they hadn’t slept in a while.

“Looking for you. You’re been gone for a while and I was starting to get a bit worried.” And apparently, given their appearance, he’d had a right to be. “So… you okay?”

That gave Buddy pause as they opened their mouth as if to speak but said nothing for a solid few seconds before finally speaking, looking Filbo right in the eye as they did so. “You’re amazing and I would kill someone for you if you asked me to.”

Now it was Filbo’s turn to be taken aback. Who said that kind of thing in general but especially to someone like him? He wasn’t all that great or amazing and nobody should be killing anyone at his request. Also that was something he very much did not want. But before he could gather himself enough to say that or anything really…

“But anyway,” their tone now matter-of-fact as if they hadn’t just said something super weird, Buddy broke eye contact as they shifted their backpack around to start digging through it, “the reason I’ve been out here so long is I’m hunting what I’ve decided to call a Snaxsquatch. It’s shaped like a grumpus but made of smaller bugsnax… I think. I only saw it for a split second before it melted into the ground. Which is why I couldn’t get a picture of it. I’ve been trying to get to reappear or root out its hiding spot ever since. I may have gotten a bit wrapped up in. But I did capture what I think might be a footprint it left.” They pulled out their notebook, flipping it open and holding it out so Filbo could see.

On one page was some writing, repeating most of what Buddy had just said. Beneath it was a sketch of a shadowy grumpus shape with googly eyes much like the bugsnax’s but bigger. On the other page was a photo of a grassy patch that did indeed look kind of like something large had stepped there.

With a shiver, Filbo glanced all around them. Thankfully whatever it was didn’t seem to be around right now. “Surely if something like that was on the island, especially this part of it, we would’ve seen it by now, right?”

Buddy closed their journal and slipped it into their pack and shifted it around onto their back again. “We have seen it. Or at least Beffica and Gramble saw it. But I think this one’s smarter than most bugsnax. Which is why we haven’t seen it much. It’s hiding somewhere, probably watching us.” Their face and tone seemed to indicate that idea excited them somehow. “I’m going to find it though.” If anyone could, it was probably them, right? But…

“Maybe you should rest first though. You look pretty uh… tired.”

“I can rest after I find it.” They started to turn away, probably to return to their hunt it. Filbo couldn’t let them do that though, both for their sake as well as his own because returning to town alone knowing something could be out there watching him was not something he had any desire to do.

“It seems to be taking a long time though. And… and… what about Lizbert and Eggabell? You still haven’t found them yet. And what about the rest of the town too? We’re kind of uh, depending on you.” Probably more than was fair.

They froze before snapping back around to face Filbo again. “Shit, you’re right. After I got that quick glimpse of it I just go so excited to find another cryptid I guess I forgot about everything else. … Whoops, sorry. I’ll hunt it down afterfinding Lizbert.” They turned and started fast walking back towards town. “I’ll get back on that right now. Thanks for coming out here to find me.”

Filbo scrambled to catch up, almost having to run to keep up with their walking pace. “You’ll get some rest first though, right?” Because they looked like they needed it and because in general they didn’t seem to rest as much as they should. And if Filbo was already out here checking up on them he might as well also take the opportunity to encourage them to take care of themself too.

They turned their head to look at him. “If you insist, I suppose I could use a nap.”

“Awesome.” And for once in his life Filbo had actually succeeded at something. He’d found Buddy and was bringing him back to town and had convinced them to take another much needed rest. Not a grand achievement or anything but he’d take it.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 2

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1      Part 3     Part 4    Part 5

The Joker feels your hand searching around and he knows what you’re looking for: the yellow teddy bear.

“Here Pumpkin,” J gives you the toy that landed on the other side of the bed during the night; a couple minutes pass and his cheek is covered in soft kisses. He opens one eye and you instantly pretend to be asleep.

“I’m onto you, Y/N!” The King of Gotham sneers while you giggle at his affirmation. But as soon as he pecks the scar on your collarbone, your attitude changes.

“No…”, you whimper and cover your face with the sheets.

“I told you before I don’t care about scars,” The Joker tries to reason with you because it happens each time he touches the numerous stitch marks scattered all over your frame: some are deeper lacerations perfectly normal after the surgeries you sustained, others are cuts that might diminish in a few months. “Princess, are you listening?” J traces the lesion on your wrist.

Y/N is so stiff though he has to fight in order to pull the covers away from her.

“Hey…hey… See? I have scars too,” The Clown attempts to distract you. “Are you having a panic attack? No need to!”

You try to keep up with what he’s saying and it’s pretty difficult giving the circumstances; at least you do understand J is making you relax.

His cell phone starts vibrating on the nightstand and he reaches for it.

“Perfect timing, Frost!” The Joker takes his frustration on Jonny. “What do you want?!!”

The short conversation ends fast with The King yelling a bunch of angry stuff, including an interesting grand finale: “Next time you interrupt when I’m on a roll struggling to get laid, maybe you’d like to intervene and convince Y/N her scars don’t bother me!!!”

Why is he mad?...

You watch him toss the phone on the floor and crawl by him, intrigued.

“Upset?” you begin caressing his hair with the teddy bear’s paw.

“My throne won’t be ready until June, Princess! I requested that fancy chair for a reason and paid a fortune to have it customized! What am I supposed to use at the club?! I don’t like the old furniture anymore!!”

You already lost track of what he’s saying: something about not having a throne???… … …

Oh, there’s one really close by!

You grab The Joker’s arm and drag him out of bed towards the bathroom.

“Where are we going?” he inquires, confused.

You quickly guide him to the toilet, making J sit on the closed lid.

“Throne,” you point at the porcelain bowl and The King of Gotham frowns, immediately bursting into laughter afterwards.

“You’re brilliant, Pumpkin! Brilliant!” he praises your interpretation as you are pulled on his knees.

“Hm?”

“You’re a clever Kitten and whoever says otherwise is an idiot! Turns out I do have a throne,” he admits and gropes you.

Too much for your brain to decipher all his sentences, yet Mister J seems content and that’s enough for you.

“The plan for this morning is simple,” he continues. “We’ll have sex, then take a shower and whatnot, then eat breakfast. Later I have a meeting; you just stay here and wait for me, alright?”

“Mmm…” you hesitantly process the words coming out of his mouth, opting to agree for his sake. “Ok?”

“You naughty girl,” he pulls down on your tank top spaghetti strap. ”I know you hate me sometimes, but in the end can’t resist my charm.”

“No hate… Love,” you snuggle to J while he walks back into the bedroom carrying the sweet burden of his existence; of course he ignored your statement because why would he pay attention to nonsense?

*************

You’re outside the car and sulk when Alice sneaks on the passenger’s seat that literally belongs to The Queen.

“Stay here, Princess. I won’t be too long,” The Joker mutters.

“W-why?” you ask since you are not a fan of the idea of having your boyfriend’s ex riding alone with him.

“You get bored at meetings,” he explains. “Circle the property and let the boys know if you need anything,” J emphasizes and drives down the path leading to the gates, leaving a puzzled Y/N behind: you never liked Alice and that didn’t vanish after the accident.

“Bye, Y/N!” she shouts and you can’t make a lot of sense of what you’re feeling, still one detail is certain: it hurts.

How come you couldn’t go?! Why didn’t he give you a choice?! He always does.

If The Joker thinks you can’t put two and two together these days, he’s very wrong.

“Y/N recovered quite nicely,” Alice smirks.

The King of Gotham sighs and she fixes a rebel strand of green hair rebelliously flying over his ear.

“I was wondering if you’ll call me at one point. I missed you, babe.”

“Did ya’?” he scoffs at her bold confession; but she’s a direct person, one of the qualities J admired when they were an item.

“I can’t image how you two function; I mean… her unfortunate transformation, it must be hard for you to put up with someone fighting to comprehend the easiest tasks.”

“It’s not easy,” The Clown admits and gazes at her: Alice dolled up for their rendezvous. Everything he considers attractive is there: beautiful pair of legs popping from under the short skirt, his favorite perfume discretely lingering on her flawless skin, the tip of the purple lace bra she’s wearing casually showing each time the woman leans forward.

“I bet,” Alice pretends to sympathize with his problems. “A man like you has needs that I’m positive Y/N can’t even remember how to satisfy,” she pats his thigh, slowly working her way to his crotch.

The Joker chuckles, accomplice with her insinuations, also super annoyed when his phone rings.

“Yes?” he promptly answers.

“Sir,” Frost reports, ”we have a situation; Y/N is increasingly agitated and…”

“Deal with it!” he hangs up and strives to cruise straight despite the sexy distraction urging him to do otherwise.

“Why did we split?” she scoots closer to him, pouting.

“Beats me,” J purrs as she squeezes her fingers in his pants’ pocket.

“What’s this?” Alice rattles the small plastic pouch.

“Y/N’s anti-inflammatory drug; there’s not much that can be done now and this is helping with the blood clot pressing on her frontal lobe. The doctors say it will reabsorb; granted it won’t matter regarding her cognitive impairment.”

“Awww,” The Joker’s past flame pretends to be affected by his briefing. “That’s too bad, babe; probably the future is not too bright…” she shoves your pills in the glove compartment. “Why don’t we reconcile? You know I’d do anything for you,” the flirtatious tone makes J reply:

“Would you jump in front of a speeding car like Y/N did to save me?”

“Ha! I would,” she elbows him, snickering at his antiques.

“Prove it then,” J growls. “Get out of the vehicle and don’t flinch if I run you over. If you survive, I’ll take you back!”

Alice opens her mouth in amazement and the SUV halts before The King reprises driving.

“Got cha’!” he cracks up at her baffled reaction.

“For God’s sake, babe! You scared me!” she playfully pinches him and teases: “Are we going to our spot?”

“I was wondering when you’ll notice,” The Joker navigates the unpaved road guiding the automobile towards Clear Sky Summit.

“Pull over,” Alice urges him and he complies at once. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” she moans climbing on his lap. “I can tell you missed me too,” the woman grins at his body’s response.

“That’s my gun,” J buries his face in the revealing cleavage, firmly holding her waist.

“I bet it is, babe,” she winks while unbuttoning his silver shirt. “I love you!” she tries to bite him and he violently yanks her long hair, snarling.

“Is that why you tried to kill me?”

Alice cautiously exhales, a bit nervous at the switch in his demeanor.

“What are you talking about?!”

“Who was driving the car meant to hit me, huh? Tinted windows, no license plate.”

“Babe, you’re hurting me,” she winces in pain at his strong grip. “I swear I don’t know anything!”

“Are you sure?” J sniffs her scent.

“Yes I’m sure! I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize our…”

“Our what? What exactly our means in this context? We separated more than two years ago!” The Joker crushes her spine against the wheel.

“Babe, let go!” Alice wiggles in his tight embrace.

“Why did you do it? Were you jealous I found a new fling? Took me months to track the culprit!!!” J restricts her movement when she stretches to open the door. “You fucked up my girl!” his hands forcefully twist her neck and the snapping noise of fractured bone halts the argument.

The Joker pushes the corpse off him, numb to the murder he committed out of pure rage: what’s another name added to the list?

Yet… this was personal.

He keeps staring at the trees surrounding the trail without discerning their shape. 30 minutes pass and the phone’s alarm alerts him it’s time for your remedy: The Clown Prince of Crime is so out of it he doesn’t stop it until he’s on the main road.

He speeds up to ensure a timely arrival at the mansion where Y/N will definitely confront him after being abandoned in such fashion: the truth is he doesn’t mind.

What he does mind though is that no matter what happens, Y/N will never be her former self.

***************

The Joker parks in front of the villa and hops out of the car, barking instructions at the goons patrolling the area:

“I want this gone!” he gestures at the cadaver crammed under the front seat. “Where’s Y/N?”

“In the garage, boss” Frost indicates. “You should know that…”

“I got it! I got it!” J waves and sprints towards your destination.

Nothing prepared him for the carnage.

“Holy… … shit!!!” he inhales at the shocking landscape depicting all five of his most beloved vehicles mauled to pieces: broken windows, scraped paint, karoseri indents…a whole mess!

Bam!!! You smash the rearview mirror of his favorite Ferrari with the baseball bat.

“What are you doing, Pumpkin????!!!!” J screams, aggravated.

Oh, he’s back!

“Y-you like her??!!” The Queen redirects her wrath. “B-because she’s smart??!!”

“Who? Alice?” he quizzes for no reason whatsoever: The Joker’s aware of the reply.

“Wh-where did you go, hm?” you point the wood weapon at the man taking you for a fool; you try not to stutter but it’s impossible with the strained neurons firing up a storm inside an already troubled brain.

“Nowhere, I killed her.”

“Hm?”

“I killed Alice!” The Joker raises his voice and watches you squint your eyes, a clear hint you’re analyzing his disclosure. “Look what you did, Princess! Are you happy now??” he finds the perfect opportunity to divert the outcome of the mayhem he actually created: J repeatedly learned this is the best strategy.

“U-hum,” you serenely admit since you’re indeed pleased with the results of your rampage.

The two parties glare at each other in silence and The Joker grabs the yellow teddy bear resting on a nearby hood, proposing truce before you bash something else:

“I’ll trade you the fur ball for your bat.”

Yikes, you’re reluctant to his treaty: further distraction is required.

“My collection is destroyed, Pumpkin!” The Joker approaches with the toy he stole for you on your first date. “Who we’re gonna call on such short notice to fix all this crap?!!”

Oh, you know this one! You and Mister J watch the movie on a regular basis.

“Mmm… Ghost Busters?” Y/N innocently suggests.

He puckers his lips at the astonishing proposal and it takes a lot of effort not to laugh.

“That’s brilliant, Y/N! Best idea I heard all week!” The Joker proudly compliments your intuition. “You’re a clever Kitten and whoever says otherwise is a moron!” he swiftly snatches the baseball from your grasp and replaces it with the teddy bear.

He rolls the weapon by the closest tire, signaling you to follow.

“Come on, Pumpkin, it’s time for your med. Why are you limping? Is your knee hurting again?”

“U-hum.”

“Serves you right for going rogue!” he scolds. “Com’ere,” J lifts you up, placing your legs around his midsection. “I expect apologies by the way!”

“No,” you sniffle while dangling the toy with one arm.

“Pain in the ass!” he huffs and you kiss him. “This is not an apology!” The Joker spanks you butt.

“Mine,” you cuddle to his shoulder, totally blocking his grouchiness.

“Yeah, yeah, yours,” J grumbles heading for the elevator. “So this is how the rest of today will unfold, Y/N: I’ll be mad until evening time, then we’ll have makeup sex and dinner, the last two not necessarily in the same order. And you’re not going to freak out when I touch your scars, OK?”

“Mmm…OK?”

“Why is that a question?” The Joker continues bickering. “You have other prospects? Boyfriends I should know about? Are you even listening?”

“U-hum,” you poke J’s star tattoo. “No… freaking out.”

“Fair enough,” he compromises and lifts you higher on his hips when you cling to him: selective perception is infinitely better than none. “Is this Pink Blossoms?”

“Yes,” you nod at the familiar brand you use all the time.

The King of Gotham smells his favorite perfume in the air, reckoning he wouldn’t enjoy it if another woman wears it for him.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and Ao3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[too-many-baes]

That Couple

Pairing: fem!reader x Peter Maximoff

Warning(s): N/A

Word Count: 1.6K

Request: I just found your blog and read for stories in a row, you are so good xxx Can I please request a Peter Maximoff x fem!reader super fluff in which they have been going steady for years but they still behave like cute couples in the honeymoon phase and everybody else around is annoyed and ask for advices at the same time? xxx - by Anon

A/N: I hope this is fluffy enough for you Anon! Thank you for your request! (also I kinda loved writing squad convo’s with the X gang)

On a seperate note - it’s been brought to my attention that a lot of my works (mainly my Peter M. ones, but most of the work I’ve posted) do not show up under their tags. I would usually never ask, but on the off chance you read my work and happen to like it, a way you could help me out would be by reblogging my work. Otherwise there’s not really a way for my writing to reach other people. Obviously this is completely optional and you are absolutely not obligated to do so, but if you enjoyed it enough it would been a lot to little ole’ me. Hugs and kisses xxx

Masterlist     Requests Open

                                                      **********

The quiet hum of the television. The dim light of the fire. Peter’s strong arms snaked around your waist as you lean your head on his shoulder from your spot on his lap. This is how you wish you could spend all of your time, engulfed by the boy that makes everyday a new adventure. The boy who brightens up your life just by being at your side. When you were with Peter it felt like nobody else existed, it was just you and him and everything was perfect.

Without warning Peter starts tickling your waist. You are helpless to do anything but squirm and laugh as you’re totally trapped within his grip. You writhe and laugh, pleading with your boyfriend to stop.

“You guys, do you mind?” Scott’s voice prompted Peter to stop but not before giving your waist a final squeeze. You had almost forgotten Scott was even in the room. In fact, all of the young X-Men were. It was movie night which brought all of you down into the shared living space. Kurt was seated beside you on the couch, and although he was too polite to say anything, he had a clearly irritated look on his face from being kicked by your flailing feet.

“Sorry Scott, sorry Kurt.”

“You’re such a party pooper man.” You and Peter spoke in unison, showcasing your different dispositions. “They’re just jealous that they don’t have what we have babe.” He says into your ear, causing another giggle to bubble from your throat.

“Not deaf Peter.” Scott grumbles from his spot on the sofa neighbouring the two seater you and Peter were on. “I also have a girlfriend”, he says raising the hand joined with a less than interested Jean’s, “in case you forgot.”

You and Peter weren’t listening, having already retreated into your bubble again. Scott rolled his eyes at you both, not that you could tell through his glasses. Despite the teasing and the annoyance, Scott couldn’t help but admire what you two have. Looking at you no one would guess you’d been together for years. In fact, when you’d first gotten together your peers in the mansion had speculated amongst themselves that it would be a fling and nothing more.

“I dunno Ororo, it just feels like we’re always going to be like this” you remember musing to your friend. “That’s what they all say Y/N.” Despite all their doubt and bets on when you’d end you had proved them all wrong. You never stopped holding hands down the hallway. You never stopped placing kisses on the others cheeks whenever you could. Most importantly, you’d never left your honeymoon phase, every week passing feeling as though you were reliving your first week together over and over. Your friends were outwardly sarcastic and snide about your ‘too good to be true’ relationship, but inwardly they were happy for you, if not puzzled. How did you two do it?

“Am I sneaking in tonight?” You whisper to Peter as you make your way upstairs, the movie you had paid no attention to now over. “Of course. Give it an hour, Scott should be snoring by then.” You kiss his cheek closest to you, his cheeky grin making the apples of his cheek prominent. This has been your little habit of late. You’d wait until Scott was fast asleep, slink into bed to cuddle with Peter, and there you’d stay until the gentle morning rays awoke you with the reminder you’d have to return to your own room, lest you should be caught in the act.

You were smiling at yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth in the communal girl’s bathroom, already counting down the minutes until you’d be in Peter’s arms again. His head resting atop yours and his lips pressing light kisses on anywhere he could reach; the memories and anticipation causing butterflies to take flight in your stomach like a school girl with a crush. You guess in some ways you were. Was it lame to say you had a crush on your boyfriend? Maybe. But who cares? Certainly not you.

“Hey Y/N?” Jean’s voice pulls you out of your daydream. “Can I ask you something?” She queries as she washes her hands. Your nod prompts her to continue, “You and Peter... How do you do it?”

“What do you mean?” Your words barely make a coherent sentence past the toothbrush and toothpaste still in your mouth. “You know what I mean”, she’s reluctant to say what she’s thinking, the confused look on your face forcing her to, “how are you guys still so happy after so long?” She’s embarrassed, her eyes darting all around the bathroom. You spit out your toothpaste before answering, deeming a clear voice was probably necessary for this unexpected conversation.

“Are you and Scott-” “No no, we’re fine it’s not that”, she interrupts, “it’s just we’re still new. I want what you guys have when me and Scott have been together for that long.” The two were still a relatively fresh couple of the mansion, only having been dating five months by this stage. Honestly, you don’t know how to answer her question. You didn’t think you did anything, you were just happy. “I mean, there’s no magic rule we follow or anything...” you don’t know what to tell her without making her want to vomit in her mouth. “Just don’t take him for granted. Appreciate the other person for who they are and let yourself be happy. Don’t let little things get between you, that’s all we do”, you surmise with a shrug of your shoulders. The flush of a toilet and opening of a stall makes you realise that Ororo was in the room the whole time.

“Good thing I’m not lactose intolerant”, she says washing her hands, “otherwise I’d be even sicker than I already feel.” Despite her words there was a smile plastered on her face, making Jean snigger and you shrug. “Well consider yourself lucky”, you say as you exit, toothbrush in hand, “that was me going light on the cheese.”

Time tics by slowly as you wait, minutes seemingly taking hours as you wait for the small digital clock to flick it’s digits over to 11:00pm, the time that would ensure Scott and your roommate Ororo were both asleep. The soft breathing coming from the other side of the room indicates you were safe on your end, and when the clock finally ticked over you were gone, stepping softly and silently down the hallway to Peter’s room. You stealthily open and close the door without making a sound. The dark proves no obstacle as you make your way to his bed, having done it so many times now you’re sure you could make the journey blindfolded.

“What took you so long?” He’s made that joke enough times that you really shouldn’t laugh, yet you just can’t help yourself as you slide into his waiting arms. “Traffic was crazy”, you say as you snuggle down, his arms securing their permanent position around your waist as he kisses your shoulder blade. You and Peter loved to spoon. While sometimes Peter enjoyed being the little spoon, most of the time you happily took that position, just like tonight. You take a moment to enjoy the mere feeling of being snuggled next Peter, as you usually do, the butterflies still in flight within your stomach now mixed with the little exhilaration at the idea you could get caught.

“So Jean asked me an interesting question on the bathroom today.” You have your whispering down to a fine art. While you were sure that a bomb could go off and Scott’s snoring would still continue, it wasn’t a chance you overly wanted to take. You move your face to see his hovering over your shoulder, his eyebrow arched suggestively, earning a small flick upon his nose. “Nothing like that you pervert”, he rolls his eyes at your name calling, “she was asking how we were so happy”, you regale.

“That’s funny”, you widen your eyes a little in intrigue to prompt him on, “Kurt asked me the same thing in the guy’s bathroom.” You look at each other in the eyes, flicking back and forth between each pupil. You both crack at the same time, letting your shared giggles fill the air around you. You both encouraged the other to stop, but nothing quelled your laughs except time to let yourselves calm down. “What’d you tell him?” Your curiosity almost too much to bear. “Uh-uh”, he tsks, “ladies first.” You roll your eyes playfully yet oblige his request regardless, recounting every sentiment you had passed on to the girls. “Your turn.” You wriggle around in his arms to face him, eager to hear what he’d said.

“Nothing.” You furrow your brow in confusion. “Nothing”, you repeat in disbelief, “you had no advice for the poor guy?” He shakes his head at your misunderstanding. “I told him that when you find someone who makes you this happy”, he brushes his nose against yours briefly, “that there wasn’t anything you had to do. I do nothing every day and I reckon I’m the happiest guy under this roof.” You laugh, his words vacuous to some made your heart swell. He was right, you’d spent many a day doing nothing at all, yet you felt like you could have been a top the Eiffel Tower or in a gondola down the canals in Venice for how full and happy you felt.

“How did we become that couple?” You ponder out loud. Peter shrugs, his bottom lip slightly sticking out in wonder. “You like it don’t you?” The glint in his eyes tells you the answer before he even says it.

“Is it bad that I kind of love it?” His questions almost rhetorically.

“Not at all”, you bury yourself into his chest, ready to nod off in the secure hold he has around you before continuing, “I hope we’re always that couple.”

                                                    ************

Tagging:

@evanpeters-petermaximoff  (cause I know you’re still feigning mister Maximoff  😘)

[iluviella-cuthallian-101]

The End of All Ends - Argument

Note: Please do not repost or reblog unless permission is given. This is my WIP book as the title suggests this is just an argument section.

"Why are you here?" One of the Guardians demanded, as none other as Denarion entered. Usually Iluviella would have stopped her, but this time she didn't. It was because she didn't like the idea that others were fighting her for her, but some part of her knew Denarion wasn't just her or the Guardians' issue.

"I am here because the Guardians are not doing their job of supposedly protecting and defending the people." Came the harsh reply, spat at her and meant as an insult to wound. It failed.

"The Guardians are doing their job!" She protested; sounding almost like she were pleading with him to understand that we needed more time. "To defend. To protect. To bring Order where there is only Chaos. That is the Oaths we took."

"Then the Council will do ours if and when we see progress." He stood measuring up to her. He wanted her to falter. "Your oaths mean nothing to us."

"How dare you suggest...!" The Guardian spoke up.

"The Council and I are not ruled by you." He interrupted. "I will not bow to the Guardian Order, that was corrupt and vile and does not recognise the authority of its own council!" They were grasping onto an authority, he knew they didn't have and no longer existed and Iluviella merely held out her hand to calm the situation down, just as she believed Eru would have.

"If I wasn't mistaken, we are no longer bound to your rule, Denarion." Iluviella stated in her defense. "The Guardians..."

"...fell to the Chaos in the Beginning when you ventured into the Void yourself, how are we so sure that we are not being led to our demise through segregation and conflict within your own ranks?" He asked.

"There is none." The Guardian interjected. "Iluviella is our last and only hope, she will save us." She believed everything she said and her conviction meant he had a weapon against her.

"You are a fool, Guardian, for believing in false ideals." He began smoothly and Iluviella kept a raised hand but this time to prevent her from intervening.

He continued. "She is unfit to rule, she is a weapon and as such cannot be trusted, she exiled and should never take that place as Leader or otherwise again. By not eliminating the demon threat, she shows that the people are not safe under her banner." He gestured to Iluviella as his cold grey eyes became fixed in her direction, tongue poised ready to spout whatever poison he felt the need to use.

"People will die. That is inevitable. What matters is that I - that we all do our best to make sure there is as fewer deaths as possible." Iluviella stated calmly.

"Which you wont do by letting the demons have their sympathy." His words hit a wound and he smirked almost triumphantly. "Especially by keeping those, however few, by your side."

"Don't. Test. Me." she growled warningly.

He tutted in response. "You should know better to threaten us."

"It wasn't a threat." Iluviella stated plainly before she unsheathed her sword pointing it to his neck as he stood against the marble pillar. "I will not hestitate to do the right thing, even if that means slaughtering any and all opposition." she uttered and lowered her sword, remembering that this was what he wanted. A reaction from her.

"Good." He replied.

"But I will not condemn innocents to the same fate." she explained sheathing the blade.

"I hardly call the demons innocents."

"The animosity of Rune's demons is well known but there are those that do not agree and thus will perish at his hand." Indeed she knew that the job included saving the universe and not just one part of it. This is what Denarion needed to learn; that the Guardians, despite previous wars, believed in equality. "I will not leave them or my companions to die. I will not exterminate an entire race just because of the actions of one Demon Lord." her voice was raised angrily in defiance of his words.

"Who is leader of them all." he carefully reminded me, correcting my words.

"For now..." Iluviella turned ready to leave.

"Your anger and ill attitude will be the death of us all. The council will not stand for this. Neither will the universe. The demons need putting in their place and if you cannot tell me another way, then do not brand me a tyrant."

"So you will do nothing?" she stopped, turned asked, almost with tears in her eyes from being frustrated. "The universe was not created so that you may sit on the sidelines and do nothing!" she shouted.

"Neither was it created for you to play the supposed Saviour by offering up the universe to the supposed friends of yours."

"At least I act when even those who created this universe do nothing."

"We are acting."

"By butchering thousands of innocent lives every day?! Not all demons are the same and I hope to prove you that fact."

"If you believe in saving your people you will deem it right to stand down for the good of the universe."

"So that you can get away with murder?"

"I only kill those that-"

"That don't fit your ideals." she finished not waiting for another word to cone from his mouth. "Slaughtering them is not the way to handle such a situation. You forced their hand to defend themselves out of fear, and now as I try to piece it back together, you've sought to ruin me and the Guardians and allowed them access to pockets of our universe in the meantime and allowed Rune back."

"Eradication of demons is the way forward, I'm sorry, but I cannot see another way."

"Then let me do my duty."

"You are a weapon, Iluviella, you cannot be allowed this."

At that moment a figure appeared. "You have not heard the prophecy then."

"I did not come here to be lectured on myths and false prophets who claim she is the only one able to save us all."

"No, but she will succeed, she has to." the figure remained calm, precise, though he neglected to pull down the hood of his robes.

"She should be sent to the Void and yet here you are rewarding her with alliances and power when she has no right." Denarion paused before stepping close to her face and uttering with disdain, "You have no right."

"I have the only right." she told him as her fist tensed up at her side and looked him in the eyes as a challenge.

"Then why did the Guardians split in the first place, hmm?" he asked her almost smirking, even when he realised he was nearing his defeat in this verbal disagreement.

"Because most believed in her whilst the rest followed your ideals of a false claim that you could create a better world without us." The figure took on a persuasive tone that only irritated Denarion further.

"A better universe." he repeated still convinced that he was right all along.

"Why? What makes you think it will be better?"

"You are not the universe's only salvation." he spat back in rage at her. "For may years have the Council advised the higher powers. The Valar have more power than you in such matters." he raised his head almost triumphantly. "Why have they not done anything about it, hmm?"

"I do not know." came the curt response from Iluviella.

"Then why make it an issue at all?" he wondered aloud, sounding smug and proceeded to circle her, like a predator its prey. "Why not do nothing? Why should we trust them? Do you deny the way that Eru supposedly works?" Denarion knew his words would hit a nerve as soon as he mentioned Ilúvatar, for she was both duty and honour bound to their Creator.

"Indeed not, but then power is an illusion because after all, if it were really the Valar that held all of it then why do we believe that Kings possess power?" Iluviella asked, pausing to allow her question to make sense in his extremely hollow mind.

"Power can be earned and given then taken away within an instant. So who would you have us follow if not those whom we serve?” she asked. “I mean no disrespect or ill manner but if I am right; it is only when you lose everything that you realise you were blind to see the damage it causes.” she paused and the bowed. “But...I digress. Unions with the demons may mean your doom yet, here I thought that we were masters of our fate. Or are we really tied to the prophecies of the Powers of the world in this?” Iluviella paused allowing the weight of her meaning to sink in briefly. “We face a common enemy and if we do not stand as one, what hope does the rest of the universe have?”

"It is not our responsibility." his cool voice spoke once more in a simple reply as his shoulders deigned to shrug.

"Yet you and others hereby claim that the Valar have done enough, so why trust them to carry out another of their duties?" The hooded figure inquired, becoming intrigued as to what point Denarion was trying to portray.

"So we should believe you whose seen vague visions on a threat that we do not see?" "Just because I have seen something, it does not mean that we cannot alter the foundations of reality by changing the fabrications of future. You refuse to believe what you have seen, yes? But what happens if the universe falls because of one being believed that he had all the power, hmm? How would we be able to change such a miserable fate? Then whose responsibility is it? Ours or theirs? Would it still be theirs because they fell for one of Rune's deviances and machinations, which we allowed? Because that would only suggest that he is quite capable of fooling everyone in this entire universe. Or is it ours because we chose to stand aside and let darkness descend? Because we refused to stand together and hold hope in our hearts?” she posed the question to see whether he would explain his intentions. “If we do nothing to aid the citizens of this universe by refusing to work as one, not only have we forsaken our oaths but we would be just as bad as the Valar.” she spoke plainly in the last moment.




Iluviella felt sad that she would be seeing this happen, yet she desperately wanted to understand why there was such a hatred. Why there were lies, scheming and the illusions of supremacy, when clearly none would get anyone anywhere except the Void.

"What of Melkor? Why has he been someone whom you wished to forgive so naturally?"

“If we do not forgive ourselves and each other...” she briefly glanced in Mairon's direction and wished he would take what he could from this. “...then the darkness has already prevailed. Perfection is what many strive for, but in imperfection only will you begin to see the beauty of what is within. It is then, and only then, that you fully appreciate that beauty for what it is and you realise that perhaps forgiveness is what is best given.” she paused and turned her head to Denarion whom she now focused on.




“The demons aren’t perfect and perhaps maybe the Valar aren’t perfect, Melkor certainly isn’t, but does that mean we abandon the hope that somewhere the light will shine through and thus reveal that reverent beauty? For not all was imperfect in the beginning, even we were not so. Yet in order to see such beauty and love, we would have to save it.” she replied, a small and gentle genuine smile flickering over her lips. A gentle sigh escaped her as she dared to continue her speech, only wondering if it was wasted breath. "Right now, infighting is what they want because they are terrified to see this universe united under one banner and the power of our combined voices and weapons." she almost pleaded with him to change there and then, but regrettably he shook his head as the Guardian too tried reason.

"Don't you see? We are giving them what they want!"

The hooded figure stopped the Guardian and gestured for them to leave.




"I had hoped that we could show them who we are. That this universe was as defended as we all make it out to be, but..." Iluviella drew the attention back to her and she rubbed the bridge of her nose with her delicate forefinger and thumb. "...as you’ve made your decision, alas I cannot stop you.” she answered, as the smile became a wry one and her eyes focused away to the distance for a moment.




"You speak as though you have seen such love and light in another, perhaps that is what has illusioned you so." Denarion dared to state his observation clearly, and without remorse but a solemn sigh too escaped him as exhaustion took its toll.

"I speak as a voice of reason amongst a sea of doubt."

"No doubt you believe that."

Iluviella paused taking in that remark and thought carefully. "A wiser soul than I said: You are required to do nothing least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide, either way one's a fool. Believe what you will, however, for it is not I who decides." she explained.

"I am not sure what to believe." was what broke the silence.

"A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. Be always aware, or is it oblivious? I can never remember."

"Your point is?"

The hooded figure entered again but this time to leave and to offer his final words before he nodded his head in Iluviella's direction before she acknowledged it with a slight inclination of her own in return. "This threat is greater than you realise Denarion." he said in his departure.

"Ha! What do you mean it is greater than we realise?"

"Either the threat is more or you realise less. Or, perhaps, the threat is nothing. Or perhaps you realise nothing." her voice purred, now taking advantage of his pride and using her wisdom against him.

"That's absurd." he retaliated.

"That's life." she answered with a casual shrug of her own shoulders.

"This changes nothing." Denarion pointed out as he briskly walked out the door in which he had first walked through.

"Then you realise nothing." Iluviella uttered before marching off in the opposite direction. “We should stand together, against demons, not fight amongst ourselves.” she muttered under her breath as she continued walking to the meeting room to further plan her advance.

[branlovestowrite]

How Captain Hook Met Your Mother

Captain Hook recounts for his daughter Alice how he met her mother, Rapunzel

Author's Note: After watching the promo for OUAT 7x07, my muse came up with a little theory that it wouldn't let me forget: is Rapunzel the mother of Wish Hook's daughter? I resisted writing this for a day, on the fear that Raps will actually turn out to be his daughter (and not Alice), but the muse would not be quieted. I'm glad to see I'm not the only one with this theory, so hopefully I'm not proved too terribly wrong. This is my first speculative fiction, and borrows a bit from Tangled, with inspiration from the beautiful art posted by @flipperbrain.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little one shot. I'd love to hear your feedback via comments and PMs. This is also posted on ff.

"Daddy!" Alice cried out excitedly as he climbed through the window. He smiled to himself. Such a change from when he'd first encountered her in this tower. When she, a slight 6 year old, had nearly knocked him out with a frying pan. So like her mother, he thought with a chuckle.

"Hello Little Love!"

He gathered the girl in his arms. She was now 7, almost 8, and he'd brought a special present for her birthday. A new chess set. He'd taught her to play on the dilapidated board the nasty old witch left in this tower, and he'd been searching high and low for a better set. It needed to be sturdy and handsome, while still small enough to be hidden under the floorboards where Alice stored all her treasures. The one he'd found folded nicely and was just the right size. He couldn't wait to see her delight when she opened it.

As she snuggled closer and held onto his neck for dear life, his mood turned melancholic. He lamented his inability to rescue her from this tower. The witch had put a strong spell there, which prevented Alice from leaving the confines. He'd tried everything, but each time Alice got too close to the window she would experience blistering pain. Now he spent his days searching for a way to rescue her and his nights spending time with his little love.

Alice settled into his lap. "Have you brought me something?"

"Indeed I have. For I believe someone has a birthday coming up."

"My birthday is next week! I'm getting my present now?"

"Yes my sweet." He produced the box, wrapped in a scrap of floral muslin.

Alice frantically untied the ribbon and unfolded the layers of cloth. She saw the polished wood box and looked at him quizzically. "What is it?"

He laughed and picked the box up with his good hand. Setting it on the table, free of the wrapping, he unlatched the clasp. Inside were two velvet bags, one black, one white. He emptied their contents next to the board. With the bags clear, she saw the checkered game board and her face lit up.

"Daddy! A new chess set! I love it!" She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled into his embrace once more.

They set the board and she settled in the seat across from him as they began to play. Alice had a sharp mind, and was already a skilled player. As they settled into a rhythm, they began their nightly chat.

"Daddy, will you tell me about my mommy? I mean my real mommy, and not mean old Gothel."

"I will tell you what I know, little love, which sadly isn't much. I barely knew her."

"Did you love her?"

"I think I could have if I'd had a chance to know her better. But she gave me you, so I will always love her for that."

"How did you meet her?"

"I climbed into this tower to steal a magical golden flower. I was sent to retrieve it by an Evil Queen from another realm."

"There are other realms besides this one?"

"Oh yes, love, many more. Infinite realms, infinite possibilities."

"Why did the Evil Queen send you?"

"Because before I met your mommy, I was a bad man only focused on getting my revenge against someone who did me wrong. I would do anything to service my need for vengeance. It was an empty life."

"But you're not a bad man now!"

"I am trying to be a better man for you, my love. But your daddy spent a long time as a ruthless pirate and did many things I am not proud of."

"Well, I still love you," Alice said with a smile.

"Your love makes me a better person."

"What happened when you met my mommy?"

Hook smiled as he recounted the tale of his only encounter with Alice's mother, the enchanting Rapunzel.

A little less than nine years earlier…

Hook hauled himself over the ledge of the window and collapsed onto the floor of the tower. He'd been waiting all day for that witch to leave so he could climb up here and find the item he sought. He observed his surroundings. It was a small tower, but the space was laid out efficiently. There was a small kitchen area, a reading nook, a space for craft work, and stairs leading up to what looked like a bedroom. And the entire space was decorated with yards and yards of a braided, golden fabric.

No. He looked closer. Not fabric. Was that… hair? He stepped forward and heard a quiet, but sharp intake of breath. "Who's there?" He called out. The answered he received came in the form of a hard, heavy blow to the back of his head.

When he came too, he was tied to a chair. He struggled against the bonds, but could not get them to move.

"Struggling… struggling is pointless."

His head snapped up at the sound. Despite the warning, he continued to push against his bonds, but they just seemed to get tighter. He looked closer and realized he was bound with the same hair he'd noticed earlier. "What the devil is this?"

"I know who you are, and I'm not afraid of you," the voice continued. It was a woman. A young woman by the sounds of it.

"Love, I don't believe you do know who I am. And if you do, you may want to rethink your lack of fear in my presence."

"It doesn't matter who you are. You're not getting what you came for. I will not let you take me."

"Love, until a few minutes ago, I had no idea you were up here. I promise you, when Captain Hook takes a woman, she always goes willingly."

As they were talking, he'd been able to work the bonds on his chair free enough that he could slide out from under them. He spun and faced his captor.

"What? How did you…?" She was flabbergasted.

"Pirate, love. Now, who are you?"

"I'm Rapunzel."

Hook bowed ceremoniously. "Killian Jones, otherwise known as Captain Hook, at your service."

She stared at his hook, but did not seem offended or scared of it. Her expression was wary. "If you didn't come for me, why are you here?"

"A good pirate never reveals his true motives, but I will share that I followed that witch hoping she had a magical item in her possession that I am hoping to procure." Rapunzel tensed up at his last sentence. He could sense she withholding something, but he could not determine what. "Why are you here, love?"

"I live here, and I think you'd better go."

"Gladly. Is there a better way to get out than scaling the wall? I walked the perimeter below but couldn't find another entrance."

"The only way in or out is through that window."

"That must be a pain for you when you leave for the day. I don't mean to be judgmental, but have you thought of moving somewhere more convenient?"

"I've never left this tower. Mother forbids it. It's for my own safety."

"Truly? Has your mother convinced you that the world is so full of ruffians and thugs?"

"Isn't it? You look like quite the thug yourself."

"I prefer dashing rapscallion. And believe me, my dear. I am one of a kind." He gave her a wink.

Despite the tension hanging in the air, Rapunzel laughed. "I wish I could see more of the outside world."

Killian smiled at her. He had a mission he needed to complete, but this sweet, naive, yet tough lass intrigued him. "Come with me. I can show you some sights."

"Really?" Her face lit up, then immediately fell. "I can't. Mother would be crushed if I left."

"When does she return?"

"She said tomorrow afternoon."

"So you will return before she gets back. Come with me and have one night of pleasure before you return to this gilded cage."

Her cheeks turned a fetching shade of pink as she digested his words. "What type of pleasures?" He couldn't help his smirk. She was so naive.

"Only things you wish to do, my dear. I assure you that no harm will come to you while you are in my care."

"Okay," she said, extending her hand. "Let's do this."

He took her hand in his and shook it gently.

They descended the tower. Rapunzel lowered her braid, which spanned the entire height of the tower, and encouraged him to use it to climb down. Only once he was sure there would be no pain on her part did he agree. Pirate and scoundrel he may be, but Captain Hook did not torture women.

Alice's head was drooping as they finished their game.

"Okay little love, let's get you to bed."

"I don't want you to go, daddy."

"I wish I could stay, my darling. But if the witch finds me here, she is sure to curse me and prevent me from one day rescuing you. Don't lose hope, my dear. One day we will be together permanently, and we will travel the realms."

"Will you lay down with me, Daddy? Just for a little bit?"

"How can I say no to you?" He knew it was risky. Though he was usually a light sleeper, he slept more deeply with Alice by his side. He feared this vulnerability would lead to the witch finding them. But he loved his daughter, more than he thought possible, and would do anything to make her happy.

They ascended to her room. He detached his hook and lay it on the table. She hopped into bed and motioned for him to lay next to her. He awkwardly laid on the small mattress, his feet dangling off the side. Alice snuggled into him and was asleep a short while later. He watched as her breathing evened out. He wished for nothing more than the ability to free her from this prison. He knew he should go, but he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet.

The bed smelled of his little girl and, underneath that, the faint scent of her mother. The floral essence brought unbidden memories to the forefront of his mind.

They'd found a festival in a nearby town and she'd danced and enjoyed sweet pastries. He'd felt more alive with her than he had in years. Centuries, truly. For the first time in a while, Captain Hook was giving way to Killian Jones. He wondered if his single-minded focus on revenge was a worthwhile use of his life. He did not love Rapunzel, not like he'd loved Milah, but he couldn't deny the attraction he felt to the girl.

When they left the festival, she fell into his arms and planted a tentative kiss on his lips. She was obviously inexperienced and unsure, but he was struck by her boldness. He returned the kiss with more fervor, silently instructing her.

When he pulled away, she rubbed her hand through the hair peeking out at the top of his vest. "Will you… will you lay with me?"

He groaned. "Love, we shouldn't. This is not how you want your first time to be. You deserve to be with a man you love. A man you are married to."

" I don't think I'll ever have anything like that. Mother won't let me. When I go back, she'll lock me away forever."

"Don't go back."

"Where will I go? You won't take me with you."

"Rapunzel… love… "

"I'm not begging to accompany you. I may not have much experience, but I have read about love. I know that is not what we have. But I want to know what it feels like to lay with a man. Please, Killian."

Her resignation to her imprisonment hurt him. He knew what it was like to be captive to another's will. "I cannot take advantage of you, love. But you are welcome to come along with me. I will not take you back to that tower."

"You aren't taking advantage of me," she said as she captured his lips again with her own. She was a fast learner, her kiss holding less anxiety and more passion with each passing moment. His body reacted against his will. She slid her hand down and palmed his arousal through his leathers. "Please, Captain, take me."

It was not one of his prouder moments. He liked to think of himself as a gentleman, but that night he gave into his baser instincts and laid with the lass. Afterward, they settled down to sleep in a clearing in the woods. When he woke in the morning, she was gone.

He tried to find the tower, but he was no longer in possession of the map Regina had given him. Rapunzel must have taken it from him when he slept. Without the map, the tower was impossible to find. All sorts of magical enchantments kept it hidden.

He knew he could not return to Misthaven. The Evil Queen would kill him if he returned without the golden flower. And he felt he had a new mission now. He needed to find a way back to the tower and free Rapunzel. He may not love her, yet, but he could. And even if they never loved one another, she deserved her freedom.

He abandoned his ship to his crew and search the realm for a way back to the tower. When he finally found it, years had passed. He'd replaced his steadfast search for revenge with a resolution to free Rapunzel. He waited until he saw the witch leave and then ascended to the top. As soon as he stepped down from the ledge, he called out "Rapunzel!"

His cry was answered with a primal scream as a little blond terror launched herself at him, swinging a frying pan. He just nearly missed her crushing blow.

"How do you know my mommy?!" she yelled.

"Your mommy is Rapunzel?"

"Yes! How do you know her? Where is she?!"

"Calm down, little lass. I'm here to find her myself." He was restraining the girl with his right hand. With his hook he captured to handle of the frying pan and pulled it from her grasp. When she saw the hook, she immediately stopped struggling.

"Daddy?!" She cried.

"Pardon?"

"You're my daddy! Mommy said my daddy was a pirate with a hook for a hand."

"I'm… a father?"

"Yes!" she cried, jumping up and down. She launched herself at him once more and enveloped his midsection in a hug. "Have you come to rescue me, daddy?"

He was stunned, but immediately all his focus on rescuing Rapunzel turned toward the little girl currently clinging to him. "Aye, I believe I have. What is your name, little love?"

"My name is Alice."

[qutemag]

The movie guy reviews: Transformers -- The Last Knight

Article by Benjamin Harkin

Here we are. Every critic relishes this review, and many online have already let forth the torrent of bile that Transformers: The Last Knight deserves. Every Transformers movie I go in hoping I’ll be somewhat surprised that the movie reaches a baseline of ‘okay’, and bar maybe the third one which was brighter, more colourful and contained John Malkovich, every time I walk out frustrated and despairing. People say Michael Bay is an auteur – an auteur of what? Glorified tech demos? Showing off what the Industrial Light & Magic team can do? Because that’s all these movies have going for them. This is evident with the multiple aspect ratios, that’s right, IMDb records this movie showing three different aspect ratios, and another place thought the trailer had eight. You have black bars darting all around the image as the movie crops itself to fit around funky new cameras Michael Bay wants to toy with for the sponsorship. It is the weirdest, most distracting shit to see a movie switching aspect ratios all the way through for no discernible reason.

The film feels like six films meshed into one, or perhaps six plot threads focus-grouped into oblivion and smooshed together in a way that made some executive in a high-backed chair shift lazily in their seat to turn off the preview footage and say “fuck it, that’ll do” for the three editors to hastily clip together in something resembling a two and a half hour film. There’s the scene with a post-apocalyptic New York, ravaged after the climax of Transformers 4, with Transformers living in hiding of the anti-Transformers defense force set up to catch them, now that Optimus Prime is paralysed, orbiting the earth in a shell of his former self. Some foolhardy boys break into a ruined stadium with a giant jet engine ploughed into the field, saying self-aware bulldust like “we’re kids, we always get away with stuff!” Yes, that’s a fucking line in this movie. And not the worst by a mile. Then prowling the streets, looking under rubble, they run into a Transformer hiding itself under scrap. Couldn’t radar easily detect the hulking masses like Transformers for the military to destroy? Apparently fucking not, if a Transformer hides among some rubble, that’s a-okay. The kids then run into a girl, a strong-willed, adventurous-sounding 14-year-old who’s making her own way among the debris jungle and a close friend to this Transformer that gets mortally wounded by a fighter jet trying to save the kids. And do you think Bay uses this setup to anchor the film with a young heroine, make a movie that takes a U-turn on everything that the hypermasculine, Megan Fox-ass loving, dumb as a post joke-making crap that has defined his Transformers series? Fuck no, all the boys dialogue towards this girl is along the lines of “wow…she’s hot!” and “Are you single?” Fucking gross and sad is all I can say. Michael Bay can’t wait to get started on the explosions, objectification, and immaturity. The young girl doesn’t do anything of note in the movie, hell, I can’t even remember her name. She gets sidelined at the halfway point, literally left behind in a junkyard with her BB-8 rip-off robot. Michael Bay instead wheels out the contractually obliged Megan Fox stand-in to be the impetus for Mark Wahlberg to do something in the movie and crack a few lines about how single they both are. Wahlberg was probably given acting advice to approach the character by showing a face in deep thought over how utterly hot it would be if he and the Oxford tour-guide Megan Fox stand-in lady banged with the Transformers watching.

“Are you single?” proves to be a theme in this movie, more than any kind of motif or any of the half-mumbled prattling about values that Optimus Prime manages to heave out of this exhaustingly mind-numbing, overbloated movie. Characters are defined by whether they’re single or not, not whether they fight for honesty, or freedom, or love, or caring for friends, or whether they want to be friends with giant robots. Nah it’s the fact that Mark Wahlberg and Megan Fox stand-in in this movie are on steroids and the camera treats them like they’re perpetually posing for Tinder. Characters from earlier in the series, like John Turturro, make manically unintelligible appearances to rant about doomsday situations. A physics scientist gets laughed at when he tells the president the world will end in roughly three days. Optimus Prime manages to awake himself out of being basically a dead robot to shoot himself somehow across the galaxy onto his home planet of Cybertron, which he knows was destroyed but fuck it, why not go there for refuge? And why not fall back to earth if you’re a dead shell of a Transformer? Nah, the logic in this movie is adverse to science or plot logic, or continuity, or good filmmaking, his dead body can float across the galaxy instead! Cybertron is now run by some Sorceress Robot Woman who twists Optimus into getting Cybertron fixed as a planet by colliding it with earth to suck up the planet’s core. Fucking who knows. Cybertron somehow flies across the universe in the time it takes this movie to skim across five other unresolved plot threads, like why Mark Wahlberg has a spiderly amulet thing that’s super powerful and what he is actually supposed to do with it, or what the whole deal was with the three-headed dragon robot that appears at points throughout the film, or why Megatron wants to break out his mates Suicide Squad-style or why the humans are willing to work with Megatron who was the bane of everyone for the previous four movies, or why John Goodman’s cigar-chomping Transformer gets blown up by rockets and falls over, presumed dead as the camera cuts to a new scene, then he just randomly reappears later on, or why Bumblebee fought Nazis in WWII. And the location used for the scene of Nazis being blown to smithereens, full with Swastika banners draped over the looming building? That my friends is Winston Churchill’s house. I’m sure Britain’s favourite wartime leader, known for everything Hitler was not, span so hard in his grave he tunnelled to the earth’s core.

Stanley Tucci plays a drunk Merlin in a flashback to the Dark Ages, for reasons never fully explored, despite being another character in the present for the previous movie. The Great Tucci Retcon. Oh and there’s Anthony Hopkins too. A wisened masterclass of an actor, made remarkably awkward and a total caricature for a man who used to be Hannibal Lector. He’s in this, 110% for the paycheck. Bay makes him say ‘duuuude’ and ‘that’s a bitch-ass car!’ because it’s cool to make grandpa say hip things sometimes. He has a robot butler assistant who’s also a borderline homicidal maniac for reasons that are never explained. He also has a WWI tank Transformer who has ‘robot-dementia’ or whatever which is an interesting concept far too intriguing for a movie this unforgiveably terrible so the Transformer is yet another sidelined idea in a litany of focus-grouped half-baked brain farts.

The entire movie is unfunny, every joke (and there are heaps, all undercutting the otherwise dead-serious grit and aimed at the lowest denominator possible while conscious) hits like a fucking sledgehammer wielded by lemurs on crack, rushed in delivery, painfully without any semblance of cleverness or wit, the setup too predictable and the payoff so fucking moronic, with editing so poor in timing that a joke about the butler robot playing the sweeping Transformer themes on an organ to give the scene a gravitas was completely lost when Anthony Hopkins cranked his sad, demur grimace up to the butler so slow you could’ve gone to the bathroom and back and the joke would still be playing out. I’ve said it once after Pain & Gain and I’ll say it again: Michael Bay cannot direct comedy and he shouldn’t. For whatever reason the gift of a funny bone doesn’t materialise in the filmmaking process.

The fight scenes are meh. Every one lacks any weight because frankly you don’t give a fuck about any of this while watching. You don’t care which Transformer fights which because they’re all so underutilised and shallow that you could probably get more pizzazz in banging your stapler against the computer mouse on a slow day at the office. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how half these scenes of metal clunking against metal were storyboarded. And they don’t mean anything either, Transformers are rarely shown actually being killed, and yet the ones shown dying without any fights or lead-up (because the editing is god-awful and rushed) are full on bleeding weird green blood which is probably too violent for a young kid, which is where this gritty, dark-looking, yet oddly cartoonish spaghetti-works is squarely aimed.

I should probably end this review somewhere. This sounds like a good place. I could go on and honestly, part of me felt the usual catharsis of a critic tearing a big-budget Hollywood mess to shreds, and giving the finger to this kind of spiteful, audience-hating focus-grouped piss that flows through the summer action blockbuster gate from time to time, but another part of me doesn’t feel that catharsis. Instead, a part of me feels a silent rage, because I know this review, or any other review, or any of all the people who happen to see these movies for what I could only describe as sheer self-flagellation and tell everyone else it is complete garbage, it won’t stop Michael Bay making Transformers, and it sure as hell won’t stop the franchise. Somehow this is what gets bankrolled over those millions of other screenplays of what could be great action blockbusters. Michael Bay has said he’s stepping down from the Transformers franchise, but that’s what he always says. Paramount have two more Transformers movies lined up for the next two years, they see this as being able to grow out into yet another expanded universe franchise with Bumblebee getting a spin-off movie. I know this is useless, this review. It’s just words screamed into a void, a void of producers and executives running endless focus groups, workshopping the movies through too many editors and writers and camera lenses for maximum 3D so everyone can spend the biggest amount of dollars possible. Because this is the thing: Michael Bay doesn’t care. Mark Wahlberg doesn’t care. Anthony Hopkins doesn’t care. Maybe the digital effects people care. All the people involved in this production, they watch the finished product and I’m sure that no matter where they thought their part was going, they were a little deflated and depressed by it too, especially the fifth time around, but they can forget about their shame at the end of the day. Because they’re all getting their paycheck and a contract for Transformers 6, and you’re doing yourself out of the $20+ you spent to see this rotten film.

(Transformers: The Last Knight is currently showing.)