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talkingharrystyles · 2 years

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🌌I should clarified that the “grab them and risk it” wasn’t pertaining to the stunt. That small portion of his life will revert back. The stunt will end. It has a deadline, which will be met, as agreed. It’s akin to when you’re doing a group project- that’s what the stunt is. A project in lieu of marketing. The “grab them and take the risk” was directed to his own life and personal growth.

Some still are asking why stunt, I explained this to Luna and another awhile ago - stunting is less cost effective compared to marketing. Pap pics, “blinds” “fan sights”, and articles are cheap. She shows up and fans on both sides talk about her. She colludes with a few gossip sites, plants some accounts with content, and people talk. Ironically, people also talk about their scandalous “meeting” which brings the conversation back into the *tada* the film she and him are in. Thus, weaving the film’s marketing into their tabloid drama. That is how you can tell the difference between hers and Harry’s team articles. Olivia is the meant to carry the weight of marketing DWD- not Harry or Florence or any other cast member. That’s why you’re always going to see DWD mentioned when Harry is mentioned in her articles because she’s reminding the audience of her film (marketing). Same with Ted lasso when she and Jason are printing press of them. Harry’s articles lack the significant DWD promo. But that’s made up for with his his family bizarre behavior. They’re participating because, as suspected, Harry and his team are in on the backend deal, as I discussed with Luna back in March. Were they acting like this with Dunkirk? My Policeman? Did they do this with ICarly episode? They only act like this when they’re wanting something of his or Gemma’s to financially succeed. There’s proud but then there’s the temptation of greed. Doesn’t mean he’s this wicked, soulless creature from hell. If he was, believe it he would go full throttle and do the very things some fear. It just means that he’s human and falls into temptations. As said, not much is needed with stunting. It also comes with immediate ROI, which is paid directly to Harry and his team. It is work for them, after all. Which one of them wants to work for free? Other than a few brand promotions, Olivia compensation is the press (attention). DWD would had, in the right hands, been great. The spec script was pleasant (we all told people it was a rip off Westworld meets Stepford meets Truman meets get out), the cast was talented (Dakota. Shia too despite the side issues). The crew was equipped. All Olivia needed to have done was shut the frick up and follow agreed directions. But no, she got too power hungry once Harry joined and decided to go off tangent. She underestimated his fans and the GP by thinking “okay I can do PR with him and his fans will love me and believe it’s real because they’re young and naive and believe everything he says or does and I’ll get attention for both the film and I’ll get more money”. Yeah, okay. The same fandom that has people with the skills of Anonymous. You can totally recycle literally every PR move he’s previously done and think all his fans will believe it without question. For some shippers, you really can’t fault them. They truly do care about him, as a dear friend of mines said earlier. Those are the ones now realizing the truth, as they’re looking at the evidence and asking the right questions which aren’t being met with clear answers.

You all have been seeing that DWD’s official marketing was substituted for the stunt. Consider how “cheap” the quality of the film advertisements are. That’s not what it should be. Usually film’s posters are suppose to be an entirely different photo shoot, or, at least, an high quality image that perfectly captures the films message. Remember Twilight and the cast photo shoot prior to premiere? The first film budget was incredibly low yet Hardwicke managed to allocate the funds for ads.

Harry going down on Florence doesn’t tell people what DWD is about. Neither them in the bed. You know what would had? If she coordinated for them to be pictured together with one image mirroring perfection and the next dysfunction. Alluding to all is not what it seems.

“Live the life you deserve”.

Moron, the tagline is a play on the title. Not some IG coffee mug quote.

Something eerie like “Don’t worry darling, you’ll be alright” or “Don’t worry darling, we’re together forever” should had been used. Something. Seriously, this is why crew and Dakota left because Olivia is an idiot who swears she’s right. Like damn, I honestly do want to host a debate with this woman on certain issues just to see the depths of her ignorance.

Not to mention the absent of a film, of this anticipated caliber, as said last year, trailer shown on tv. I live in America and regularly watch channels Warner Bros own or affiliated with…. I’ve yet to see DWD official trailer, or it’s teaser aired at all. Maybe I’ve missed it. But it’s odd that the film, itself, isn’t being marketed as films like it are right now.

The less money paid for official marketing lowers the overall budget. Thus, allowing for Olivia to earn more of the backend deal. Marketing is separate from film budgeting. Which is why Marvel’s cost is usually in the millions. Olivia, Harry and Warner bros have long accepted it won’t be much which is why they’ve forfeited official marketing that a film like DWD should have. Instead settling for mediocrity. I mean, the discombobulated trailer wouldn’t had been released if Warner Bros had high hopes for DWD. It’s all to keep the cost low so she and others can take home whatever exceeds the budget. Just because the budget increased, the studio’s insurance policy is covering the unexpected cost due to unforeseen circumstances (COVID). Not sure why some are thinking she’s responsible for those issues. That’s not true. It’s the cost invested into the film that she’s responsible for gaining and exceeding.As long as DWD exceeds the budget invested into making the film, Olivia gets a portion of the contracted backend deal. If it remains below the cost invested, then she doesn’t. Whatever exceeds the budget is hers and will be divided amongst Harry, his team, and whomever else is in on the deal (I’m betting Katie).

I’m going to leave this here just in case anyone wants to read more of film marketing: https://www.nfi.edu/film-marketing/

🌌

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itsmoonpeaches · 3 years

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Raya and the Last Dragon: The Importance of Water in Southeast Asia

Disclaimer: The following is from the perspective of a Filipino SEA. Please feel free to add or edit from other perspectives. There are *spoilers* below.

Though Raya and the Last Dragon has its flaws, what it did well, it did really well. Out of every cultural reference that I spotted in this film, the one that stood out the most was the portrayal of water.

In the end credits song, Lead the Way, originally sung in English by Jhené Aiko, there is one lyric that stands out as a nod to this culture of water:

There's an energy in the water There is magic deep in our heart There's a legacy that we honor When we bring the light to the dark Whatever brings us together Can nevеr tear us apart We becomе stronger than ever

There are beautiful views of bodies of water in the movie, and scenes that deliberately look over them. But, it’s much more than that.

The geography of SEA is already so rooted with water. The lands that make up the region are either located on a peninsula and cut through with rivers, or made up of hundreds of islands in the middle of the ocean.

So, let’s talk about water in SEA and in this movie. Below is an in-depth analysis of the cultural significance of water whether it is rain, rivers, oceans, or mythological aspects alluded to in the film.

Nagas and other myths

Let’s start with mythology because this is the basis of much of Raya and the Last Dragon. I want to first point out that this is not an opinion post, so I will not be touching much on my opinions on how the dragons looked like. (TLDR: Disney could’ve done better.)

So many myths in SEA are connected to water besides the dragons, but let’s focus on those.

I did mention briefly about naga and water dragons in my long analysis post on the final international trailer. However, I will go in a little deeper here.

Naga The dragons in this movie are based on the SEA version of a dragon. More specifically a sea serpent or a water serpent. They don’t breathe fire. In fact, they have nothing to do with fire. Their powers all influence water (and sometimes create earthquakes). Their powers include typical influence over water, creating rain, causing winds, and shape-shifting. They are incredibly powerful and revered. Sometimes they are even seen as deities like the Bakunawa in the Philippines. In RATLD, these nagas have a long horn at the front most prominent in Thai and Laotian versions of nagas. They are scaly and might have a kind of crown on their head, or gold jewelry around them. In most portions of SEA, nagas don’t have legs. It looks like the dragons here were partially inspired by an East Asian dragon or maybe the Vietnamese dragon. Other depictions can have them with multiple heads. Nagas also appear in South Asian culture. Here’s a quote from my initial long analysis post to add to this:

Naga are so important within SEA cultures that we have multiple places (and a river) named after them all over SEA and particularly a few times in the Philippines.

What I can tell you is mostly the Philippine version, but a naga is a serpentine creature that lives deep in the ocean, and are often associated with water. Sometimes they are depicted as having the upper half of a woman.

...

In the southern islands of the Philippines, depictions of naga are seen carved throughout buildings, particularly on roofs. A typical dance movement where you keep your hands curved and your fingers bent toward yourself is called “naga hands” and is supposed to be reminiscent of a naga’s graceful claws.

Bakunawa Just to highlight why nagas are so revered, I’m going further into the myth of Bakunawa. Specifically, the Bakunawa story comes from around the Visayas and Bicol regions of the Philippines which is south of the main island of Luzon. Bakunawa is said to be a giant sea dragon with a mouth as large as a lake. It lives deep in the ocean and has influence over the sea and earthquakes, in the depths of the underworld. There are a few versions of the story including that the Bakunawa is a naga that was enthralled by the beauty of the 7 moons and ate them until there was only 1 left. In some versions the god Bathala stopped Bakunawa from devouring the last moon. In other versions, the people down below made loud noises with pots and pans to scare Bakunawa from eating it. There are also another version in which the Bakunawa was once a beautiful goddess. It is also known as a man-eater in other tales. There are similar versions of a giant serpent or dragon-like bird causing eclipses (whether lunar or solar) in other parts of the Philippines.

Rain

I can’t tell you how important rain is in SEA. It’s not that it never rains, but that it rains a lot. Much of SEA is rainforests, which is an attribute that contributes so the rich biodiversity.

In RATLD, rain is depicted as a positive event...because it is. Raya and her friends are shown happy and laughing when Sisu makes rain. Sure, rain can be bad. Too much of it comes with typhoons and floods, but rain means a lot more than the bad things.

But enough rain means that the rivers aren’t dried out. Take the desert region of Kumandra for example. Raya goes there to the end of a dried up river. At the end when the dragons all come back, rain falls and the river is alive again. The people in that region can prosper again.

Rain symbolizes new life Now, this story I’m about to tell you is completely from oral tradition and was passed down to me by a culture bearer from from the island of Mindanao in the Philippines. This person said that when they were young, they did not have to worry about buying food because it was always available around them. If it rained, that was a good thing because it meant that the next day when the grass was damp, there would be mushrooms sprouting that they could pick. (There is an umbrella dance coming from this region that depicts mushrooms popping up after a storm.) If it was windy from the rain, it meant that there were fruit that would shake out of the trees. Rain also means food will grow. Staples like rice need a lot of water. Rice paddies need to be to be constantly flooded so that they can grow, and water means food whether it is in the form of rain, rivers, or the ocean. It means fresh drinking water and abundance.

Nagas and rain Remember how above I said that nagas can influence rainfall? Well, Sisu does just that in this movie. She says that one of her siblings originally had this power, and Sisu gained it because she came into contact with a piece of the dragon gem. This adds to the positivity of rain because nagas are already so revered because of the magic they can do in the movie (and in mythology), that the people that witness it are in absolute awe.

Rivers

Besides the ocean, rivers are the heart of SEA. From the Mekong River that runs through 5 SEA countries including Vietnam, Myanmar, Laos, Thailand, and Cambodia, to the UNESCO site of the underground river in Palawan, Philippines...rivers are just part of the lay of the land.

They are shown to be all of those things in RATLD. There are streams and tributaries that flow into mountains and underground where the dragon gem was originally hidden in Heart. Additionally, there is the incredibly long river that separates the land in the shape of a dragon that flows through all the regions of Kumandra, reminiscent of the Mekong. Rivers are so important that there is even a region in the Philippines called Pampanga that is named after the Tagalog translation of the word “river” seen in the first part of the region’s name, “pampang.” They are the people of the river.

There are whole fishing villages throughout SEA that are built on a river. In fact, there’s one in RATLD.

Rivers are a source of many things, including food and drinking water. When there is a flood during wet season, the land will be full of silt, making the land prime for planting.

I don’t have to tell you how important a water dragon is at this point, but the fact that the movie chose to have that be the shape of the river is significant because nagas live in rivers too.

Transportation This should be a no-brainer, but in case you forgot, rivers mean boats. Boats mean people will want to get around and trade. And, boat culture is so important in SEA. There are all kinds of boats in the region from the huge deep-water kind, to the fishing boats, to thin canoe-like ones, to coracles. You can see them especially showcased in the river town in Tail in Kumandra.

Oceans

Honestly, there wasn’t much about the sea in RATLD, but it’s important to note because nagas in and of themselves have origins in the ocean as well.

The sea is another very important core of SEA culture. Its waters are more unforgiving than rivers, and more unpredictable. Magical, mythological sea creatures tend to be more violent here, and will only be kind to those who are kind first.

In island nations like the Philippines and Indonesia, the people rely on the ocean for so many things. Especially if they live right on the water, some can be fantastic swimmers and can dive and fish for their own food. The ocean is respected, and it is feared.

Though there is no explicit ocean in RATLD, there are elements from port cities and towns that exist including the deep-water boats. In the movie and in SEA, seafood is important.

There’s a scene where Raya and Sisu meet Boun and he offers them shrimp congee. Shrimp is a popular food in SEA, and can be seen in many dishes besides congee or any rice-based dishes.

In the river town, we also see elements of passing fish baskets through the water after a day of fishing, and eating and buying fresh foods to cook later in a water-side market.

Irrigation

It’s pretty obvious that water is needed for irrigation, but just think about how earlier I pointed out how deeply water is utilized. Much of the food in SEA needs water to survive, a lot more than in landlocked countries.

Rice terraces Remember rice? It needs a heck ton of irrigation in order to survive. This means a lot of rain and a lot of soil cultivating. If you take a look at the rice terraces that surround Fang, and even the picture of more overgrown terraces next to the river in the transportation section of this analysis, you can see that rice paddies are supposed to be flooded. Rice terraces are all over Asia, but there are so many of them in SEA that are ancient and still work including the Tagalalang rice terraces in Bali, Indonesia and the Banaue rice terraces in Banaue, Philippines. Honestly I could talk about the importance of rice and water for ages. Sure, rice is a staple in all of Asia, not just in SEA, but in East Asia as well. However, I would argue that it is even more of a staple in SEA. Sure, there are noodle dishes, and bread, but rice is so ridiculously important that in the Philippines, it’s not considered a real meal if there is no rice. There is even a word for food eaten with rice, “ulam.” In fact, in the entire movie, I don’t think I can recall one eating scene in which the characters are not also eating rice with their food. Unless of course, it’s just a snack like fruit. (Maybe there was a stew only scene?) There is a scene towards the beginning of the movie when Raya asks Namaari, “Stew or rice?” when asking which she would prefer. Namaari never answers the question, but she says that it is her first time eating rice in a while. Though it’s never explicitly said, it could be implied that it is because they did not have as much rainwater for irrigation at the time.

Protection

I’ve talked about rivers and the ocean, but I haven’t talked about water as a barrier. Though water as a barrier isn’t an infallible one, it is still important to note.

Protecting from intruders SEA is separated by water. It is also a region that had wars within their own countries in pre-colonial times, and of course, when they were colonized. (Though shout out to Thailand for being lucky in that regard. It remains the only country in SEA not colonized by Europeans.) There were wars between chiefs in the Philippines, and often they had to traverse the ocean or cross bodies of waters to get to the lands they needed to fight on. It ended up becoming a process with a lot of planning. Though SEAs are people of the water, they obviously can’t breathe under it. Nagas here are also important because in RATLD they are seen as powerful, respected protectors. And of course, they are borne of the water.

If you take a look at the picture above, it shows that part of the movie when the water starts disappearing because Sisu disappears. As the last water dragon, her connection to the water was keeping the land alive. With Sisu gone, so was the water, and therefore the protection for the people. The Druun spirit came in with no more hindrances because there was no water to stop them.

The power of the water and the magical energy of the water dragon really showcased itself here.

Interconnectedness

SEA used to be an interconnected region that traded with each other. Of course, not that SEA countries don’t trade now, but it isn’t at the same level as before. The borders now were created after centuries of colonialization.

Water is what connected all the countries of SEA.

Just take a look at the map of SEA above (in red). There is no other region of the world that’s quite like this, except maybe Oceania and around the Mediterranean. It’s relatively easy for these countries and people to trade and share cultures and traditions with one another. Manila, Philippines and the Tondo region was once one of the most frequented ports in SEA. Trade was done with China, India, Africa, and the Middle East. The same kind of trade occurred in other SEA countries as well.

Because of the history of trade over water that is rich in its pre-colonial past, SEA shares many similar cultural aspects and even similar words in languages. Though of course, though there are similarities, there are a lot of differences as well. SEA is not a monolith.

If you want to think of it this way...that Korea, China, and Japan share so many things with each other including having a history of being able to share Chinese characters (the different names including hanzi, kanji, hanja), but that each country and culture is very different...that is what SEA is too.

This aspect of interconnectedness, yet with differences is emulated in RATLD. In the lore for Kumandra, the movie notes that all the regions were once one, but were separated after something broke them (that something being the malice of the Druun spirit). Yet, if they worked together they could become Kumandra once again.

It is shown in RATLD that the best way to make the spicy stew that is pops up multiple times, is to add all the spices and ingredients from all the regions of the land that was once Kumandra. This showcases that just like SEA, Kumandra was once a land of incredible interconnected communication and trade.

Kumandra wasn’t colonized, but it was separated by 500 years of land. The people didn’t use the water the same way. SEA was colonized (and actually, 500 years to the date on March 15, 1521 to March 15, 2021—the Philippines was “discovered” by the Spaniards so I wonder if that was a conscious choice on Disney’s part), and broken apart. I’m sure that without European colonialization, SEA could’ve been one huge interconnected country. Or bigger countries with different dialects.

Spirituality

Lastly, let’s talk about the spirituality of water. In RATLD, there are no other spirits besides the Druun which is made of discord and malice created from human malcontent. Yet, the Druun cannot go near water. I don’t know the exact reason for why it can’t or if it was inspired by a piece of mythology from an SEA country, but that is significant. (If you do know the reasoning behind this, please feel free to add onto this.)

SEA is full to the brim with myths and legends of nature spirits. From spirits that live in trees, to spirits that live in the water. And yes, they are spirits. They can be spirits of ancestors too. The way Chief Benja pours a bowl of water on Raya’s head as beads of it float into the air...it is a great touch to highlight the energy that water just inherently has in any SEA tradition.

Though it’s probably a little reaching to point this out, the fact that Sisu was said to be washed to the end of a river is so interesting when Raya is looking for her. This is because in some SEA myths the river takes your spirit to the underworld. Raya finds Sisu at the end of a river and she is made of stone, her spirit stolen until her power is unleashed again with the dragon gem.

Floating flowers Perhaps the most beautiful aspect of the movie and as it relates to water is the fact that the animators made a conscious choice to show so much imagery of characters making flowers float upon water. And of course, to use floating flowers as decoration. Characters like Raya, Boun, and Sisu float flowers that look like orchids or jasmine flowers to remember their lost loved ones. The choice of flowers is significant too. These are flowers that are native to SEA. There are flowers everywhere and that is so pretty and so accurate. To have them used as decoration floating in pools is also so nice too, because it is something that is done in households and not just in a palace. You can float a gardenia flower in a bowl of water to make the scent spread in a room, and it makes the flower last longer.

End

I’m sure there is a lot more I missed or things I got wrong. If you see anything you want to add or fix, please feel free to write it in any future reblogs!

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holykillercake · 3 years

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Red String

𝕊ℍ𝔸ℕ𝕂𝕊 𝕏 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕖!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

word count: 2.8k

summary: You had any place in the world to moor, a stable and safe summer paradise somewhere in the South Blue, or you could visit the winter island where cherry blossoms painted the freezing horizon pink. The world was on the menu, and yet you chose to break into a Yonko territory.

highlight: ¨What about you, Y/N? Will you try to put your hands on me?¨

warning: Look out for your arm, it might melt with the fluff.

notes: Hi, guys! This was an anon request for Shanks x Marine Reader. I was given the freedom to write whatever I wanted, so I hope you guys like it! <3 Dear, anon, I apologize for the time it took and I hope you read it!

𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤, 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖!

¨I have to say, not a usual place for a Vice Admiral to enjoy a vacation.¨ a smirk bent your lips as you heard the playful voice of the man who courted you with another drink.

¨Well, I´m no usual Vice Admiral.¨

¨No one doubts that.¨ He put the sword on the table and pulled a chair, sitting close to you. ¨You have grown, Y/N.¨

¨You have aged.¨

¨Oi, not very nice. You hurt my feelings.¨ the red-haired placed the hand on his chest, over the heart, faking an offended tone.

¨Mission accomplished.¨

You stared at each other for about four seconds before breaking into laughter. As always, Shanks was louder, banging his fist on the wooden table and vocalizing his amusement to anyone who had ears to hear.

¨It´s been a long time, Y/N.¨ he wheezed, still recovering from his overreaction.

¨Yes, it has, Red hair.¨

¨Red hair? Really? I mean, you tried to kill me way too many times already. You gotta call me by my name.¨ You chuckled, sipping your drink. ¨Especially when you´re at my house.¨

You grinned, shaking your head and biting your lip. Of course, the bastard would not let this opportunity slip.

After years of non-stop hard work, you received a few weeks off duty. That meant that the world could split open, the moons could fall into the atmosphere followed by the sun, and you would not have to move a single finger.

Issho-san would handle that better in any way.

You had any place in the world to moor, a stable and safe summer paradise somewhere in the South Blue, or you could visit the winter island where cherry blossoms painted the freezing horizon pink. The world was on the menu, and yet you chose to break into a Yonko territory.

However, the Yonko in question was more than just an Emperor of the Sea. Your lives entangled at a very young age when the Pirate King was still alive, and Garp had melanin left in his hair.

You were just two snotty brats fighting your Captains´ battles.

¨Anyway,¨ he chugged his drink and asked for another one. ¨I missed you in Marineford.¨

¨Well, I guess I missed Marineford myself. Had a good view, though.¨ you answered nonchalantly.

¨What do you mean?¨

¨I had an underling transmit me the whole thing.¨

¨Isn´t that handy?¨

You tried not to laugh. It was stupid, but every time you had Shanks and hand in the same sentence, you felt the urge to laugh.

¨I wanted to see Luffy.¨ you said.

¨Why not go there, then?¨

¨Duty called somewhere else.¨ you shrugged. ¨Besides, I would have been no help for him.¨

¨You´re saying you wouldn´t help him?¨ Shanks carried a suspicious tone in his voice.

¨Of course I wouldn't help him.¨ You took a sip of your drink. ¨But thanks... for stopping that madness.¨

The man casually stretched his arms above his head, tilting his head back, enjoying the warm sun.

¨No biggie. You owe me another one, and we should be fine.¨ he smiled.

¨Who´s counting?¨

¨I am.¨

¨I already stopped hunting you, Shanks. Isn´t that enough?¨

¨Not on my book, Y/N.¨

For a long portion of your life, you had a personal mission to give the Red Hair the same fate as his Captain. Whenever his crew was located, you would be the one hunting them. No one dared to tell you otherwise.

By that time, you had no significant position. Maybe a Lieutenant, Captain tops. But being related to the Hero of the Marines, well, that granted you some free passes, and as long as you could hand Shanks´head in a tray, a little nepotism didn´t bother you.

Actually, although everyone saw you as Garp´s relative, you were just his first protegé, his first rescued dog. Apparently, the highly ranked officers were going through boring times and decided to pay their dues by doing charity.

The only one you got to know was Sengoku´s kid. Rosinante was his name. To this very day, you could not think of him without the twist in your heart.

Even you didn´t know how to describe it, and honestly, you didn´t care. Was the job done at the end of the day? Good.

That was all that mattered until another pawn entered the game, a very troublesome one, by the way. Slept like a rock and ate all your food. You couldn´t help but fall in love with little Monkey D. Luffy.

He was the one to give you the answer you had stopped looking for a while ago.

In order to be his older sister, you had to be Garp´s granddaughter. Everyone loved the idea, except for the man himself.

You were as keen as Garp to make Luffy become a great Marine. You bought him tailor-made marine onesies and shared stories about the seas. Whenever he spotted you approaching with the leather book in your hands, he would get restless.

The onesies, however, those never lasted. They were thrown in a boiling dumpster altogether with your dream of him joining you in a job one day.

The sun was about to set, and you had just returned from a long and intricate mission when you received a call from Makino saying that Luffy had gotten into some trouble.

Not only that, The Red Hair Pirates were somehow involved. It was all you heard before hanging off the den den mushi and hopping in a Marine ship, headed to Foosha Village.

The idea of Shanks causing Luffy any pain or just giving him a hard time made you turn into a beast. But your bloodshot eyes were washed clean by the image of your brother, safe and sound, hanging out with Red Hair, who seemed rather... different.

¨Why would you do that?! What do you want, Red Hair?!¨

A lot of things went through your head, but none of them could explain why a pirate, why him, would sacrifice his arm to save Luffy. There was no way he didn´t know about your little brother´s connections.

¨I want to pay you a drink. But only if you stop yelling.¨

With a swing of his hand and a smile, Makino appeared with a jug of beer before you could spit fire on him again.

¨They´ve been really good at keeping Luffy entertained this past year, Y/N-san.¨ she said, kind as usual, before leaving.

You sighed and took a seat by his side.

¨Why did you do that?¨

¨I bet on his life. Just that. Why is that a problem? You don´t want to feel grateful for a pirate?¨

Your grip tightened around the cold glass, teeth clenching and knuckles turning white.

¨No.¨

Gratitude was never the problem. You would be grateful to anyone who risked their lives for Luffy, but he... you needed to hate him. But no matter how much you tried, you couldn´t get yourself to do it.

¨I don´t want you thinking that I owe you anything.¨

¨You don´t have to owe me anything, Y/N. But we´ve known each other for a while now, so... we both know that you will.¨

His lips turned into an honest smile, no teasing behind it, and you wished not to have your heart beating faster for it.

¨You don´t kn-¨

¨Y/N!¨ Luffy entered the bar, running to you with the brightest of the smiles on his face.¨Are you done? I have to show you something!¨ he asked, pulling the fabric of your coat.

¨Oi, behave Luffy, I´ll be done in-¨

¨Nooo!¨ he pouted before turning to the opposite side and pulling one of his impish grins ¨Look what I can do! Gomu gomu no...¨

His tiny hand balled into a fist, which you watched stretch all the way to the opposite side of the room before coming back and hitting him in the face.

Did his arm just...

The air froze in the room. You blinked a couple of times, hearing a few gasps around the bar, your gaze fixed in the same place his hand was seconds ago.

¨Luffy-kun, why don´t you come outside with me?¨ Makino extended her hand for him to take. ¨I´ll bring some meat.¨

The kid screamed in excitement and followed her, drool dripping down his chin.

So close, Shanks. So close. He thought, lowering his head on the counter and waiting to get chewed up. However, after a few unscathed seconds, the red-haired lifted his head, almost not believe his eyes.

That was the first and last time you bowed to a pirate.

Of course, later on, you punched him for letting Luffy eat a Devil Fruit.

You swore to leave him and his crew alone, as long as they did not cause bigger problems, which they eventually did, but you had a debt you could never pay, and you ended up focusing on other things.

Those things made it difficult for you to visit Luffy as much as you wanted, but since Garp had sent him to live with Dadan, you could sleep with a clean consciousness.

Whenever you paid him visits, he would tell you about these other kids, whom he considered brothers. One you got to meet, Sabo, smart and polite. The other, however, ran from you like you were a freaking plague.

Ace, another one with whom you had an inestimable debt.

¨Humor me, Y/N. If not Foosha, why here?¨

You shrugged.

¨I was passing by, and the place seemed quite enjoyable.¨

¨Hm.¨ the wind blew stronger, turning the gentle swishing of the palm trees into a harsher rustling. ¨Should I get my men ready for a conflict?¨

¨Relax, Shanks. Right now, this is the safest place on earth.¨

¨What do you mean?¨ he asked, genuinely curious.

¨Oh, come on.¨ you scoffed. ¨Not even the World Government will try to put their hands on you, and I´ll kill anyone who dares to ruin my vacation.¨

¨What about you, Y/N? Will you try to put your hands on me?¨

His gaze was heavy on you, conquering aura filling the place. You looked at him with narrowed eyes and a smirk growing on your lips.

This guy...

You harnessed the moment to take in his features, a lot more mature than you remembered. Although the scars were deeper and he seemed more tired, his hair shone like fresh blood, and his eyes... you were afraid to drown in them.

¨What would you do if I decided to put my hands on you?¨ you bit your lip. ¨I heard you´ve been terrorizing some kids lately.¨

¨Gotta give them a run for their bounties, right?¨ He laughed. ¨But I also heard some interesting things about you, Y/N.¨

You raised your eyebrows as if you were encouraging him to tell you more.

¨Apparently, I´m not the only one spending recreational time with young pirates. And there I thought Marines weren´t supposed to hunt Warlords of the Sea.¨

A shiver ran down your body, already aware of the subject he was about to bring up.

¨Well, I have no idea what you´re talking about.¨ You said, giving him your best oblivious eyelash bat.

¨Oh yeah? Because it was brought to my attention that you made some business with... what´s his name again?¨ he pretended exaggeratedly to think about it ¨Ah, Trafalgar Law.¨

¨Only time I spoke to him, he was a Warlord as well. And I just wanted to thank him for helping Luffy in Marineford.¨

¨You´re gonna start lying to me at this point of our relationship?¨ Shanks teased to eager a bit of the tension, and a scoff left your mouth.

¨First, you´re delusional. Second, you´re too nosey for your own good.¨

The two of you laughed along like you were not natural enemies.

¨Did you get to meet Luffy in Dressrosa? Heard they made an alliance.¨

¨Hm, yeah. But no, couldn´t get myself to do it.¨

You frowned, hurting for have had your little brother so close but not being brave enough to approach him. Good thing he had no idea about your presence in the scene, and you could trust Law´s discretion to keep it that way.

¨He doesn´t hate you, you know.¨

¨Yeah, I know...¨

That was true. Luffy didn´t hate you for not helping him in Marienford, just like he didn´t hate Garp for standing in his way. He had too big of a heart for that.

Shanks let you have your time in silence, empathizing with your feelings. He too had to make sacrifices by standing his ground before.

¨What now?¨ he asked.

¨What now?¨

¨Garp is retired. Joker is down. What´s holding you back?¨

The air got stuck in your lungs. The reality you had been running from, the question for which you postponed to find an answer.

When Garp took you in, the alternatives available for you were restricted, to say the very least. It was either accept the kindness of a stranger or die. He taught you his trade and molded you into one of the best-skilled marines.

As the time passed and you learned the ugly truth behind the World Government, the disgust and disbelief made you want to leave. Fortunately, your life was not stained by the passage of a Celestial Dragon, but how were you supposed to protect them, aware of the atrocities they afflicted to people?

At the same time, how could you leave Garp after everything he did for you? Of course, he would survive if you disappointed him that much, but you owed him your life.

What made you stay, however, was something much less pleasant than a lifetime debt. Thirteen years ago, evil prevailed, and you lost something really important. Or rather, someone.

Commander Donquixote Rosinante. Marine code 01746.

He had a sense of justice like no one else. He was strong, honest, and fair. Did he make you want to pull your hair out every time he lit himself on fire? Yes. Did it bother you to have stains on your tatami because he dropped hot tea on it? Yes. He possessed the ability to get you on your nerves, but he was your family.

You were supposed to be the greatest.

Long story short, that night, at Swallow Island, you left with more than just his dead body. You inherited his will.

You swore to take down the man responsible for shortening his life, and hopefully, in a later day, you could meet the little boy about whom he spoke so highly.

It took you thirteen years. No more ties of the past, no more strings on you.

Well, just one, if you were to be entirely honest with yourself. A string of a stupid tale, a nonsense legend, a foolish myth. The Thread of Destiny, supposed to connect two people together. They say the thread may stretch or tangle, but it shall never break.

Bullshit. There´s no such a thing.

But assuming that there was, why did you feel that if you pulled it to its very end, what you would find would be red as well?

Red as the vest Luffy wore diligently; red as the nose of a cranky apprentice; red as the pompous sails of the Oro Jackson; red as the locks of the man capable of stopping wars with words.

Would you dare to be anything else? Could you step out of your own life like this? Could you abandon everything you fought for all these years?

¨You know, I´ve said it in the past, but I´ll say it again. We could use someone like you in our crew.¨

You gave him a two-second smirky scoff before frowning again.

Were you worthy enough to owe yourself the chance to choose? What did it mean, the justice coat of a Vice Admiral you carried so proud on your shoulders?

If piracy took a lot from you in the past, could piracy, or a pirate, give you everything back?

¨Y/N?¨

¨Hm?¨ You hummed, gaze locked on the lethargic view.

Hot puffs of air played with your hair and involved your skin in a warm hug. You could hear the gentle sound of the waves crashing on the shore, coastal birds cooing and the wind whistling over the rocks.

¨Do you think, maybe, one day... I could ask you out?¨

No matter how many times you rewound the tape, you couldn´t find a different answer, a plausible reason for the burning feeling you held for him, whatever that meant.

From the first time you put your eyes on each other, a contract was opened without even a handshake. A deal was set without your acknowledgment. An ironic fate tied you to the same string.

¨Yeah... maybe.¨

#one piece #opfanfic #shanks #red hair shanks #yonko #emperors of the sea #Marines #vice admiral #monkey d luffy #op

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yelena-bellova · 4 years

Text

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Six: Little Damerons

Series Masterlist

Plot: Poe and Y/n take a trip for Poe’s birthday.

Warnings: extreme fluff, so much fluff, chocolate dipped cotton candy with sprinkles kind of fluff

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Life has been kicking my ass these past few weeks so writing has been on the back burner. It’s still insane but I found time to finish this one. It felt like the series deserved a nice piece of fluff consider it’s so intense 😂 Please forgive any typos, I’m lazy and tired and my brain is basically mush right now...

————

The first sound I heard upon waking up made me smile before I’d even opened my eyes. Bee’s beeps and squeals were moving around the room at a frantic pace.

“Thank you, Bee,” I groaned, “I got it from here.”  As it was every morning, Poe’s arms were locked tightly around my waist. It was of great difficulty turning myself around so I could face him. He hadn’t moved a muscle through Bee’s wake-up call and didn’t show any sign of changing that. I rolled over onto his torso and finally got a groggy moan out of him.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” I greeted him in a singsong tone, propping my chin up on his chest.

Poe rubbed a hand over his face and opened his bleary eyes, focusing them on me. “What if the birthday boy wanted to sleep?”

“As willing as I am to grant any and all wishes today, that one is a no-go,” I replied sweetly, tapping him on the nose lightly, “We’ve gotta haul ass if we’re going to make the most of a rare day off.”

I began to roll towards the edge of the bed but was apprehended. Poe pulled me back into his arms and maneuvered me to straddle him in one smooth motion. His hands found their way up his shirt I was wearing and rubbed circles into my back, sending a shiver through my body.  “I’ve actually got other plans for our asses at the moment,” he said, his gruff morning voice and suggestively raised brow making it nearly impossible to deny him, “Ten minutes tops.”

“You and I both know neither of us does ��ten minutes tops’, Dameron,” I said, trying my best to ignore his hands wandering south and failing as a soft moan escaped me. “But I did say I was granting wishes today.”  Poe lazily smiled up at me as I slid my hands up his smooth chest and lowered my lips to his. He took me by surprise and flipped me over so I was trapped underneath him, the two us laughing into the kisses that followed…

————

A significant amount of time more than ten minutes later, Poe and I were far from Ajan Kloss in the cockpit of his new X-Wing. Ever since we’d planned where to spend his birthday, I’d been dreading the destination we were fast approaching. But there was no chance of me ruining the day with ghosts from the past.

“Coming out of hyperspace,” Poe reported as he performed the action, bringing us face to face with the planet. A shiver of panic ran through me as my blood ran cold. The blue waters only reminded me of blue blades clashing in a fit of desperation and rage. “You sure you’re okay with this?”  “Yeah,” I said firmly, trying to feel as confidant as I sounded, “I’ll be fine, there’s no way I’d miss this.”  Poe hummed in disbelief but kept us on course, steering us towards a greener portion of the menacing planet. I tried to center myself, I wanted to be fully in the moment for the day. It was too important to Poe and I’d been looking forward to it ever since we’d started dating. Anxiety ran through me again as we flew above the greenery, memories of wandering aimlessly above trees flooding my mind. As we got closer to our destination though, my stress began to lessen as the excitement set in.

Eventually, we were landing in a large clearing of land near a small house. I was the first to pop out of the cockpit and make it down the ladder with Poe following close behind. Our feet had barely touched the ground before a figure emerged out the front door of the house and made a gentle sprint towards us. Poe left my side to jog over to meet him, the two of them embracing upon collision and laughing joyfully. I watched from a distance, beaming as I watched the reunion between father and son.

Poe kept an arm on Kes as he gestured for me to come join them, “Dad, this is Y/n.”  Kes Dameron was, I had a feeling, the spitting image of Poe in thirty years. They could have passed for brothers with a significant age difference. As soon as I made it over, I was pulled into a warm hug. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to finally meet you, Y/n,” he said over my shoulder, “I’ve heard so much about you.”  “You as well,” I returned as we pulled back to get a look at each other, “Poe’s told me such wonderful things about you.”  “However many times he’s brought me up, I can promise you,” Kes said, his eyes flicking to his son briefly, “It’s nothing close to the number of times I’ve heard about the captivating Y/n Solo.”  I smirked and turned around to face a very pink cheeked Poe, “Captivating, huh?”  He stammered, “I mean, I may have used it once…”

Kes’ chest rumbled with laughter as he patted my back, “Come inside and I promise to embarrass him some more.”

He pulled me under one arm and his son under the other and we made our way into the Dameron homestead. It seemed that I stood to finally leave Yavin 4 with some pleasant memories…

————

We’d spent our day catching Kes up on our lives, it had been a while since Poe had last visited so there was a lot to fill him in on. The former comrade of my family gave me his sincerest condolences over the losses of Dad and Uncle Luke. It was so strange to think of my family and Poe’s having known each other, like there’d been a decades old string connecting the two of us together. Kes regaled us with stories from his days as a soldier and we told him a few of ours. I shared more than Poe, it was clear he didn’t want to worry his father too much with his particular brand of reckless. Kes eventually caught the lightsaber hooked to my belt and asked about my training.   “Before you leave, you have to go out to the backyard,” he said, “Your uncle gifted us with a Force after the war, someone like you needs to experience it.”  Once the skies darkened and we sat around the dinner table, Kes made good on his promise to embarrass my loving boyfriend.  “So Shara and I come running into the backyard and there he is,” Kes slapped his son’s shoulder, “Cockpit closed, lifting the damn ship into the air!”  I had my napkin covering my mouth as I laughed uncontrollably, the image of Poe as a child giving his parents a heart attack was completely believable. “Had he ever been up before?”  “Only with Shara and she never let him touch the controls,” Kes replied with a laugh, “He’d watched her enough times to know how to get it off the ground.”  Poe was a sport about each story from his early years, defending himself occasionally, though very few of them left him with an opportunity to do so. He’d been just as much trouble as a kid as he was now.

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” I chuckled, “My dad never let me touch a thing on the Falcon until I was thirteen. And I didn’t fly her on my own for much longer.”  “Keep up, Solo,” Poe teased from across the table, “Some of us are doers.”  I smiled and shook my head at him, “I think you broke enough rules for the both of us in your younger days.”  “You calling me old?” Poe asked with a palm thrown over his heart in mock pain.  “Are you calling thirty three young?” I quipped back, swirling my wine in its glass, “I saw a couple gray hairs the other morning I didn’t tell you about.”

Poe’s cocky expression faltered briefly as his eyes widened before returning to normal, “You’re lying.”  Kes and I caught each other’s eye and shared a sly smile, both choosing to take a sip of our alcohol and leave Poe in suspicion. His confident exterior was broken by the tentative hand that ran through his jet black curls.

I’d convinced the two Dameron men to let me clean up after dinner so that they could spend some uninterrupted time together. They didn’t get to talk as much as either of them wished, that was a reality of war. Some went months without speaking to their loved ones. I felt unbelievably lucky that my mother was only a few minutes away at any given time of the day.

As I’d finished, Kes and Poe entered the kitchen. Seeing them side by side, it truly was astonishing how similar they looked.

“I think I’m going to head to bed and let you two have some time to yourself,” Kes announced, patting Poe on the back before making his way over to me, “I’ll be up early tomorrow so I can see you off.”

He wrapped me in a fatherly hug and I sunk into it, I couldn’t remember someone as quick to welcome me into their life as Kes Dameron. In a single day he had practically initiated me into the family as one of his own. Though nothing could ever replace the holes left by the fathers I’d lost, it was comforting to be around a dad again.

We bid our goodnights and with Bee charging in our room, it was just Poe and I left. He slung an arm around my neck and I laced my fingers with his as we walked back to the living room.

“So have you had a good birthday?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Poe laughed under his breath, “Are you kidding? This whole day has been perfect. And Dad loves you…”  “I love him,” I replied as we made our way to the sofa, “But I feel bad for him.”  “What do you mean?”  “Judging from his stories, the poor man has spent every day worrying about you since you were in diapers,” I answered as Poe fell back on the couch, keeping our hands locked.

“Every parent worries,” Poe stated plainly, “Are you saying you never worried Leia and your dad as a kid?”  “I didn’t pull half the shit that you did,” I chuckled, “I hope that particular Dameron gene doesn’t carry over to our kids.”  As soon as the words had left me, I wished I could have retracted them. Poe’s eyes eyebrows lifted in surprise as he gripped my hand. “Our whats?”  “Our…nothings,” I scrambled for a sufficient denial, “I said nothing.”

“No, you said-“  “No I didn’t,” I faked a yawn and attempted to pull my hand away, “It’s late and we have to leave early so we should get to bed.”

Poe tugged me by the hand so that I had no choice but to land next to him on the couch, “Oh no, I want to hear about these kids we’re having.”   My cheeks felt red hot to the touch as I rubbed my free hand over them and groaned. While I’d thought of mine and Poe’s future in daydreams, we’d never actually talked about it. Why should we? We’d only been together for five months. Even if we’d practically been a couple before that, it felt like a conversation for further down the line.  “It’s nothing, really.”  Poe pulled me closer and wrapped an arm around me, I settled against his chest and prayed that he let the subject go. “Well, if it’s nothing then it shouldn’t be so hard to talk about.”  “I just think about what our lives might look like after the war sometimes,” I explained timidly, fiddling with a loose thread on the sweater I wore, “We could retire somewhere like here, build a house…”  “Sounds nice," Poe said, “We’re married in this scenario, right?”

I looked up at him and caught the mischievous gleam in his eye, “I don’t know, are we?”  Poe shut his eyes and nodded, “Oh, definitely.”

“Alright,” I smiled, trying to hide my glee at the thought, “We’re married, living in our house on a planet we’ll decide on later and the war is over.”

“Sounds perfect,” he replied, rubbing his thumb back and forth against my shoulder, “And our army of kids are wrecking all sorts of havoc in the backyard.”  My body shot up at his words and I stared down at him, “Who said anything about an army?”

“I think we should have at least ten,” Poe answered so straight faced that I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, “We could totally handle it.”

“Says the man who’s job in the child making process takes ten minutes. Who do you think’s giving birth to these ten children?” I shrieked, sending him clutching his chest and into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, fine,” he finally said after regaining his composure, “Ten’s not the magic number. But can we agree that it’s higher than two?”

I grabbed the two fingers he was holding up and settled back against his chest, “Agreed.”  “So we have an undetermined number of kids waving around lightsabers and trying to fly their old man’s X-Wing.”

“No,” I strongly objected, “No lightsabers or piloting till they’re old enough.”  “C’mon, we both know that at least one of them is going to be a Jedi considering your family. Might as well start them young.”

Of course there was no guarantee but it was safe to assume that yes, at least one of our kids would probably be Force sensitive. “Well, I hope at least one of them takes after you. I don’t think I could handle more than one little Padawan running around using the Force to throw things at their sibling’s heads.”  Poe snorted, “Knowing us, they’ll be a handful. But they’ll be great.”  “Damn right they will,” I agreed, rubbing a hand over Poe’s chest as I tried to conjure up an image of our children in my mind, “They’ll probably have your hair.”  “And your y/e/c eyes.”  “They’ll run their mouths like you.”  “But be the first to protect their family like you.”  “They’ll be reckless.”  “They’ll be stubborn,” Poe stated before inhaling deeply, “The galaxy better watch out, the Solo-Dameron-Organa-Kenobi kids will be unstoppable.”

“Okay, we’re definitely gonna have to drop a few names,” I made note of.

“I disagree, I think it conveys strength,” Poe objected, stroking a hand up and down my arm, “Hey, I’ve got a question.”  I hummed for him to continue, “How come you don’t add Kenobi to your name?”

We’d had so many conversations about my fateful visit to Ahch-To, but my family’s name was a sore spot that I hadn’t talked to him about yet. I had no way of finding out my father’s last name or if my grandmother had given my mother her last name of Kryze. Kenobi was the only name I could claim. “I thought about it but it’s not safe,” I answered quietly, “If it got out that I was the granddaughter of Obi-Wan, everyone in the galaxy would be after me even more than they already are. Believe me, I wish I could but it’s not realistic.”  

Poe squeezed me tighter on hearing my explanation, not saying a word because there was really nothing to say. Neither of us could change the fact that I was a wanted woman. Nevertheless, it killed a part of me to not be able to take pride in bearing both of my family’s names.

“So I’m guessing you’ve thought about our future too considering how many details you’ve been providing?” I asked in an attempt to lighten the mood of the conversation.

“Maybe once in a while…” he teased, “On long fights back to base or sometimes before falling asleep at night. It gives me something extra to fight for on the tough days.”  I traced the sharp outline of his jaw as I watched him speak. The thought of Poe flying his X-Wing with one of our kids on his lap or me teaching one of them how to levitate objects made my heart beat fast in excitement. But for every dream I had, there was an equal amount of doubt. I knew that the reality of our lives were that even after the war, we’d probably never have a peaceful existence. And if I shifted the focus to myself, I held my own fears about raising children.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s even a good idea though…” I admitted, lowering my gaze, “I’ve never had any sense of normalcy in my life, I doubt I’d know how to provide it for our kids.”

“Normal is overrated, and are you kidding me? You’d be the best mom in the galaxy,” Poe said, pecking my hair softly before stroking his hand over it, “We’ll make all of it happen, might take a while but the Damerons will have their day.”  “The Damerons…” I repeated back to him, a smile spreading across my face, “I like that.”  We laid there in the quiet a while longer, soaking in the peaceful silence before our lives descended back into chaos. The one day leave for Poe’s birthday had been a gift to both of us, a 24 hour oasis in the midst of the raging storm we were caught in. We spent our days strategizing, fighting in the skies and undergoing intense training. But here we could just be…soft. We could be what we would’ve been had there been no war. I fell asleep that night on Poe’s chest, dreaming of a free galaxy and curly haired children chasing playing with BB-8 as Poe and I watched.

————

Kes hadn’t exaggerated, the Force tree my uncle had gifted him and Shara was extraordinary. I didn’t even have to try to feel connected to the Force, the second I’d stepped foot in the backyard it had overwhelmed me. There wasn’t enough time for me to properly meditate underneath it, but I still used the little time I had left to center myself. I could feel the Force flowing through every part of me, it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

“I’m glad you got to see it,” Kes’ voice called from behind me, “It’s something special.”  “Sure is,” I agreed, opening my eyes but still unable to turn away from it, “Is Poe done checking the ship?”

Kes came to stand next to me, admiring the tree too, “Almost, he sent me to come get you but you take all the time you want.”  “I wish I could,” I smiled sadly, finally turning to face the man, “But we can’t be late getting back to base. There’s so much going on, we’re lucky we got a full day off. Well, I don’t need to explain wartime to you…”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re talking about. I saw my share of action during the Rebellion…” Kes paused, staring off into the distance as he relived a decades old memory. He snapped back after a few seconds, shaking his head and returning his gaze to me, “Well, I’m just glad I got to see the two of you for however long I could. I worry about both of you.”

“You worry about me?” I asked with a quirk of my lips.  Kes’ expression shifted further into its somberness, “Of course I do. I know how dangerous war is but I also know how dangerous it is to be in love during war. There wasn’t a day during the Rebellion where I wasn’t worried about losing Shara. I know both of you know that feeling well.”  I nodded, not trusting my voice at the moment. The thought of something happening to Poe was quick to make me emotional.

 “I’ve lost the love of my life, the last thing I want is for either of you to have to go through that. The two of you…You’ve got something very few people are lucky enough to find. Something that deserves to live on long after this war is over.”  There didn’t seem to be a right thing to say in response. Poe and I’s worry for one another never waned, it was like a constant white noise in both our minds. There was no guarantee of seeing the next day during war. It was a reality we lived with every day whether tucked away in base or on mission off world. How many couples were casualties of war? Too many to count, my parents having been one of them. But the belief that Poe and I wouldn’t lose each other was something I clung to each day. The future we both fought for was one where we didn’t have to worry about losing one another.

“It’s a constant fear, losing him,” I mused as I stared out at the clear sky, watching the rising sun, “But I don’t regret being with him, not for a second. He’s worth all of it.”  “I know he feels the same way,” Kes smiled softly and patted my arm, “From what Poe has told me, you’ve pulled your share of stunts.”  I swiveled back to face Kes and raised a finger, “If he’s talking about what happened above Batuu, I’d like to play up the fact that I took out eight TIE’s singlehandedly.”  The former rebel soldier cocked an eyebrow, “Impressive, but no…He told me about Crait.”  “Crait…” I sighed, finding the ground much more interesting to look at.

“Even before he told me I’d heard about it. You were the talk of the city and I imagine everywhere else.”  “Yeah, apparently news travels fast…”  Crait seemed like a lifetime ago. It was no longer the actual fight between Ren and I that bothered me, though I’d admit to still questioning why he hadn’t killed me occasionally. It was the legend status I’d achieved without trying to. The over exaggerated tale of my heroics had spread across the galaxy quicker than I knew what to do with. Not only was I one of, if not the, most wanted woman in the galaxy but even the Resistance had begun treating me differently. Seemingly everyone except my mother and friends treated me as if I was some deity. I was glad no one else knew about my being a Kenobi or the attention would become too much to handle.

“I hope you’ll see that more as a symbol of what I’m willing to do for the cause rather than my personality. What I’m willing to do to protect the people I love,” I said, staring at him with all the conviction in the world, “That includes Poe.”  “I know, and that dedication is what makes the Resistance, and Poe, lucky to have someone like you.”  I could hear Bee’s squeals, only making out my name and knowing that we needed to head out. Kes and I turned to each other regretfully before he put an arm around my shoulders and we began to make our way out of the backyard. I turned my head to get one more look at the Force tree and silently promised myself that the next time I came, I’d spend a proper amount of time underneath it.

Poe was beginning to load Bee into the X-Wing when Kes and I rounded the corner of the house. Even though we were headed back to base where as soon as we landed we’d be thrown back into our responsibilities, he still looked relaxed. He hadn’t put on his commander’s hat yet and was simply Poe Dameron at home with the people he loved. He reminded me of the day I’d gotten back from my last stay with Dad, when we’d flown back from the transport station. We’d both been so carefree and at ease and I’d wished then what I was wishing now…for the war to be over.

“Any more Poe stories you want to send me off with?” I jokingly asked Kes, we were still far enough away that Poe wouldn’t hear me.

“There was one I wanted you to hear, he’d never forgive me if I told him but…” Kes chuckled and waved his hand dismissively, bringing our walk to a halt. “It was the day he arrived at the Resistance base. We’d talked after Leia recruited him about how excited he was about having command of his own fighting wing, meeting the other pilots…Pretty much everything he spoke about had something to do with an X-Wing. That night he called me and you could’ve paid him any amount of credits to talk about anything flying related and he wouldn’t have cared. The first thing he said to me after ‘Yeah, everything’s fine’ was ‘I’m pretty sure I met my future wife today.’ And for the rest of the call, not one mention of any ship. Just about this girl who had shown him around base and ate dinner with him and who he tried to be extra funny around just to make her smile. I made sure to make note of what he was saying so once I finally got to meet this Y/n he spoke so highly of, I could tell her that there hasn’t been one day that boy’s known you where he hasn’t been in love with you.”

My grin was practically idiotic by the time he’d finished telling his story. Poe had only mentioned that he’d fallen for me the first day we’d met and he’d never mentioned anything about telling Kes about me. I gazed over at Poe, standing atop the ladder next to his ship and my heart swelled. Just as it did when he returned home from a mission and we’d embrace outside of his ship. Or when we’d climb into bed together at the end of a long day and his arms would instinctively wrap around me. Or when I’d work late nights in the command center and he’d send Bee in with a sweet note stuck to the droid’s body. I didn’t think it was possible to fall any more in love with him, but every day he showed me it was. He spotted us and waved me and his dad over. After a tearful goodbye with Kes, Poe and I were on our way back to base.

When we were in hyperspace, I tilted my head to press a kiss to the side of Poe’s mouth. He smiled at me, “What was that for?”

“I just love you,” I shrugged.  “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I love you too,” he replied, taking my chin between two of his fingers and locking our lips together.

————

A/N: I’ve been getting notifications every few days that people have been liking chapters which causes me to skim over some of them. I really can’t believe I started this series back in May as a way of coping with quarantine boredom and here we are six months later and I can see the end in the distance. I’m so glad that you guys enjoy it and it can distract you from the nightmare that is this year for just a few minutes. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this one! Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers!! 🦃🦃🦃

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anghraine · 3 years

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“the jedi and the sith lord” - chapter twenty-one

This is the final chapter of The Jedi and the Sith Lord, though it’s less “fin” than “to be continued next episode.”

Last chapter:

“Well, you’ll have to send an agent.”

“Yes, I will,” he said slowly. “In a matter of this much importance, it would have to be an agent of extraordinary capabilities and dedication. One who could communicate their observations and actions without any possibility of detection, and respond to my thoughts and plans in an instant.”

She drew a sharp breath.

This chapter:

“There is no one better suited to the task,” said her father. His tone allowed no argument.

chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter ten, chapter eleven, chapter twelve, chapter thirteen, chapter fourteen, chapter fifteen, chapter sixteen, chapter seventeen, chapter eighteen, chapter nineteen, chapter twenty

Anakin didn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Lucy couldn’t help but remember how she’d fought to fly in the Rebellion. The Empire wasn’t much better, as far as she’d seen.

“Why me?” she asked. “All those things you just said—”

“There is no one better suited to the task,” said her father. His tone allowed no argument.

Had he chosen her because she was his daughter? That had plainly weighed into a great many decisions he’d made over the last few months, or longer. There was a—a tie between them, even concern. But she couldn’t think him sentimental enough to risk his plans on that alone. At the same time, she’d never really done anything of this kind. She was a pilot and a soldier, not a secret agent like Leia and Captain Andor had been.

“I don’t know,” said Lucy, but the words were scarcely out of her mouth when she realized that she’d be out of the castle at last. Free! Or something like it, at least.

“The experience will be useful to you,” he said. “For now, what we need is information. The mission should be straightforward enough.”

“Don’t jinx it,” she replied. “How do you know I won’t just run off?”

“The fact that you asked is a strong hint,” said Anakin. “But if you accept, you will have a companion.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “An Imperial? You’re sending me with a keeper?”

“A companion,” he repeated firmly. “And an Imperial of sorts. I would hardly send you with a Rebel.”

She had half a mind to tell him that the galaxy wasn’t divided into Imperials and Rebels, or at least to think it at him. But he should know that already, coming from Tatooine. Apparently he’d forgotten.

Well, he’d forgotten a lot.

“Am I—would I meet them on the way there?” she said, trying to get the logistics clear in her head. “Or are they coming here?”

“They are already here,” said Anakin. “I will take you to them, if you consent to the mission.”

Between the promise of open air and her agreement to help him against his enemies in the Empire, her first inclination was immediate assent. And it’d be something to do, some way to exercise her abilities and to do it, amazingly enough, against Imperials. But she’d also be doing it for Imperials. Leia, in her place, would indignantly refuse. Han might go along out of self-preservation, but he’d be alert for his first chance at real escape. Lucy—

She looked up at Anakin, and remembered how Beru had told her that Shmi’s people believed in the young supporting their elders. Not in everything, but where it was necessary. Did this count?

She remembered, too, the terrible dread she’d felt as she flew away from the Rebellion, and the moment when she took her father’s hand in the archives, and the cool air of a starship.

“I’ll do it,” said Lucy, hoping she hadn’t just made the worst decision in the history of the galaxy.

At no point did she sense much doubt from Anakin, but she nevertheless felt a quiet relief from him at this.

“Good,” he said, and turned around, his cape swirling after him. With a forward gesture, he continued, “Come with me.”

Lucy followed.

After another long trek across the castle—though in a different direction from the archive—she found herself in a large room. She’d never seen it before, but apart from the bedchambers and training hall, one room here was very much like another.

However, it wasn’t entirely dissimilar from the training hall; it stretched longer than it was wide, and at the far end, targets had been set up. Each had holes and gashes clustered in and around the center.

Lucy had no difficulty guessing where they’d come from, because the room also contained a tall woman in an Imperial uniform. She was currently shooting a blaster at the targets, one shot following the other with no hesitation and alarming accuracy. She must be almost as good as Leia.

Lucy coughed loudly and the woman whirled around, blaster raised. As soon as she saw Anakin, however, she lowered the blaster.

Lucy frowned at her. From the front, the woman looked eminently forgettable—brown hair, grey eyes, pale skin, unremarkable features. Yet Lucy couldn’t escape the feeling that she’d seen her before—a feeling that came less from any conscious process than the Force itself. Lucy knew her.

“Have we met?” Lucy asked.

The woman’s glance passed to Lucy, then back to Anakin. She seemed to be waiting for something.

“The situation has changed,” he said. “You are now to offer Lucy any assistance you are capable of. Also, you are to remain near her at all times during her mission.”

“Her mission?” said the woman.

Lucy’s heart nearly stopped.

“Tuvié?”

The woman—droid?—turned to her. Though her expression didn’t change, her voice did.

“I did not expect that you could correctly identify me, Miss Lucy!”

Lucy managed to slow her whirling thoughts long enough to say, “You’re pretty unmistakable.”

Tuvié was still functional—and still here? But she was … what had happened? She’d had humanoid prosthetics here and there before, but now, Lucy would never have known her for anything but an ordinary human woman. She didn’t understand.

Tuvié lifted her eyes to Anakin. Lucy tried to wrap her mind around that—Tuvié had eyes now.

“Oh! I quite forgot, sir—”

“You may consider the ban lifted, F-2VA,” he said, removing all doubt.

Lucy took a deep breath.

“Tuvié, this won’t mean anything to you, but—”

“Yes?” said Tuvié.

Lucy took a step forward, then abandoned all caution and walked straight up to her, wrapping her arms around the droid’s torso. It felt like hugging anyone would have.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she said.

Tuvié patted her head.

“I am familiar with the significance of the gesture among humanoids,” she said kindly.

“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, releasing her and stepping back. “I didn’t mean—I—”

Tuvié’s face didn’t change, and probably couldn’t, but she managed to exude bewilderment anyway.

“Sorry?” she said. “Sorry for what?”

Lucy had no idea if Tuvié had welcomed the changes to her structure, or if it was some bizarre kind of punishment. Either way, she couldn’t believe that Tuvié hadn’t endured Anakin’s wrath in some way or another. And it was all because Lucy had lied and tricked her in a futile escape attempt. That horrified, desperate Lucy seemed almost another person now, but it didn’t negate her responsibility. Did Tuvié really not see that?

She thought of saying I didn’t want you hurt, but without knowing exactly what had happened, and with Anakin right behind her, she couldn’t quite bring herself to.

“I deceived you,” said Lucy. “It wasn’t—honourable.”

Before Tuvié could respond, Anakin strode forwards, his towering form cutting into Lucy’s peripheral vision. Each step thudded in her ears, and his respirator seemed even louder than usual.

“At least some portion of the fleet is gathered on the planet of Pheraz, near the Outer Rim,” he said. “I have obtained codes that should give you access to the base of operations.”

Lucy hesitated, then turned to him. “How?”

“I have my own methods of acquiring information,” he said, the mask and suit revealing no more than Tuvié’s face.

She took that to mean the Force.

“You will be given disguises that should allow you both to pass unnoticed among Varti’s and Jerjerrod’s men,” Anakin went on. “Tuvié, your assignment is simple. You are to remain with Lucy at all times and see that she returns in one piece.”

She might have been imagining it, but she thought his voice emphasized returns more than one piece. It made sense, of course—he had no reason to think she wouldn’t seize her first opportunity at escape, and keeping her under control had to be his first priority—but it made her uncomfortable, nevertheless. She hadn’t agreed out of hope for returning to the Alliance. It was difficult to imagine just waltzing back to the Rebellion as if none of this had ever happened, even if the chance did present itself.

“Yes, Lord Vader,” said Tuvié.

“You know the consequences if you fail me again,” he added.

“I do, sir.”

Lucy’s throat dried. She couldn’t think Tuvié would survive another failure. It was remarkable enough that he hadn’t destroyed her outright, all things considered, and that he’d entrusted her with the same task in more dangerous conditions. That was very odd, now that she thought of it.

It’s a test, Lucy thought. For both of them. Whatever the consequences of failure might be for Lucy herself, they would be disastrous for Tuvié. They had to succeed.

“Lucy,” Anakin said, “you will otherwise take the lead, guided by me. Keep your mind open and your senses alert.”

“I will,” she promised.

“You will both be provided with Imperial identities,” he said. “However, close inspection would trace them back to me and reveal your true allegiances.”

Lucy felt a flicker of doubt from him at this, and bit her lip. He couldn’t really know what her allegiance was at this point. She wasn’t sure she did herself, except to the Force and the liberation of the galaxy. She’d never support the Empire, but her father was neither the Empire nor the Emperor, whatever he might wish. She could help him in this without betraying what she believed in. Couldn’t she?

“Therefore,” he told her, “you should do your best to avoid providing them. You should be unobtrusive, or as much so as you can manage. You will have a uniform, a blaster, your wits, and the Force. That should be enough to carry us through.”

Despite herself, she liked the sound of us. Repressing the feeling, Lucy nodded.

“Do you both understand?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” said Tuvié immediately.

“Yes, F—Lord Vader,” Lucy said.

“Very well,” said Anakin. “Tuvié, you may go.”

Without another word, she walked away, her footsteps light—altogether unlike her old clatter. Lucy didn’t mind it, exactly, but it unsettled her. She’d heard of replica droids, glanced past holos of them, but she’d never seen one, and certainly never seen one made out of another model altogether. She inhaled, steadying herself, and looked up at her father’s inscrutable mask. She couldn’t sense his feelings beyond the usual, either; he must have closed himself off in some way, or simply didn’t feel much else.

Lucy searched the mask anyway, wishing she could at least see his eyes through the lenses. Her aunt always said that Lucy had her father’s eyes, though Shmi’s had been dark. But she’d never seen them in person.

“Father,” she said impulsively, “you can trust me.”

He studied her for several long seconds. Now, she thought she could sense something—not wistfulness, but not wholly unlike it. He wanted to believe her, even if he couldn’t quite manage it.

“We shall see,” said Anakin.

Leia Organa never thought of leaving the Rebellion. Not once. But the Alliance’s structure chafed on her at times, all the more in the years since the destruction of Alderaan, which had swayed many of those who wavered before fully realizing the threat posed by the Empire. If it could happen to Alderaan, it could happen to anyone. So many had only needed the understanding that their own people’s lives and welfare were at stake to support the Alliance in some fashion or another.

Cowards. At times, it was all Leia could do to keep her fingernails from cutting into her palms. She clenched her hands under Council tables and behind her back as she stared through viewscreens.

Useful cowards. Cowards who had chosen the right side, in the end. But they brought expectations of a certain kind of order with them, expectations rooted in a Republic that Leia couldn’t remember. She’d been born the very day that the Republic fell—she and Lucy both.

Her nails dug deeper. They hadn’t heard anything of Lucy since the day Leia escaped Cloud City with Lando and the droids. Even their best agents hadn’t heard a whisper of her; she might as well have died. Some people thought she had. But Leia couldn’t quite believe that Lucy’s death would leave the galaxy so untouched, leave Leia herself without any sure way of knowing it had happened. She trusted her instincts, and her instincts told her that Lucy was alive.

Leia had every reason to know that alive didn’t mean well, though. If she’d somehow escaped Vader’s trap, Lucy would have returned to them. She could only be a captive of the Empire—of Vader.

Leia knew exactly what that meant. Was Lucy suffering at his hands and dark powers even now? Her instincts didn’t tell her anything about that. She didn’t feel overwhelmed with foreboding, as she had when Han and Lucy flew away from Yavin 4. She was just afraid for Lucy, afraid for them all, and beyond that, unsettled. Once they discovered Lucy’s location, once they rescued her—Leia refused to tolerate if—Lucy would find the Rebellion a different place than even on Hoth. She’d find the galaxy a different place.

Would Lucy be different? Leia supposed it depended on when Vader had taken her out of carbon-freeze, and how long after that she’d been subject to his ... mercies. Lucy wouldn’t give up the Rebellion; Leia believed that with all her heart. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t change her. Lucy escaping unscarred seemed increasingly impossible with each day that passed.

And Leia, tangled up in command, could do nothing.

She might have done something for Han, or at least tried. But everything was so slow. Lando had made his contacts with Jabba the Hutt’s minions, and would hopefully infiltrate the stronghold soon. When he did, they could determine Han’s current state. If he remained in carbonite, as all their reports suggested, he could be saved. They had only to penetrate the heart of the stronghold, discreetly extract Han from carbonite despite the danger of hibernation sickness, and somehow escape unnoticed.

Leia didn’t like leaving it all up to Lando. She thought of Lucy again, and nearly had to press her first to her mouth. She couldn’t. She couldn’t stand around in her pristine clothes and neat braids, giving orders while those she loved most in the galaxy were prisoners of the Huttish and Galactic empires. But she couldn’t leave the Rebellion, either.

She’d have to find another way.

Janos Varti cooled his heels on Naboo for a good month before Emperor Palpatine deigned to take an interest in his doings. But, finally, the time had come. Varti knelt before a large hologram of the Emperor, keeping his eyes lowered and trying not to think of any dust that might accumulate on the knees of his trousers. Lord Vader might be an inhuman relic, but he was right that Palpatine’s favour could be withdrawn at any moment; that had to take priority over every other concern.

Besides, it let him avoid looking at the Emperor’s face, at least for a few moments.

“Admiral,” said the Emperor, “allow me to offer my congratulations. You seem to be in good health.”

“I am, your Highness,” Varti said humbly. “Thank you.”

This sufficed for pleasantries. Palpatine told him to rise, then closely questioned him on his meetings with Vader. He asked about Bast Castle’s defenses, which he must already know about; he asked about Varti’s conversations with Vader in such detail that Varti could almost have accepted the common belief that the Emperor had spying devices everywhere. Nevertheless, Varti reported as closely as he could recall, suspecting that the month-long wait was at least partly a test of his memory. In fact, he’d always had an excellent one, though he knew better than to depend too heavily upon it.

“Lord Vader warned you that you might not always enjoy my good graces, hm?” Palpatine asked.

His flickering face seemed more amused than anything by this.

“Yes, your Highness,” Varti said.

“That,” said the Emperor, “depends on you.”

Varti nodded respectfully, then added, “So Lord Vader advised me.”

Palpatine studied him, his features now as unreadable as usual. Varti, who had long-since grasped that the Emperor expected submission but despised weakness, managed not to gulp.

“I see,” he said. “Tell me, was there anyone in the castle with Lord Vader?”

“Well, yes,” said Varti, startled. “A number of officers and troops, as well as droids—more droids than soldiers.” Then he remembered his initial reception, with all its peculiarities. “And there was a girl.”

He felt, more than saw, Emperor Palpatine’s concentration narrowing in on him.

“Tell me about this girl,” he ordered.

Varti blinked several times, but had not come this far by ignoring direct orders. “She received us when we first arrived. She seemed about twenty—short, slender, blonde hair, blue eyes. I had the impression that she was some sort of housekeeper or servant. We spoke briefly and she provided tea.”

Maybe it was just paranoia on Palpatine’s part, but Varti couldn’t see why he should feel the slightest interest in that girl. It was possible, of course, that Varti had missed something about her, but it didn’t seem likely. He was an excellent judge of character.

“Did she create any difficulties for you and Lord Vader?” asked the Emperor.

“No,” said Varti, even more puzzled. “She seemed quite accommodating, when she was present. I saw little of her, except during dinners.”

Now that he thought of it, though, that did strike him as odd. Why would Vader invite his housekeeper, or whatever she was—Varti didn’t really want to think about it too much—to dinner with an Admiral of the Fleet? Had he wanted her to notice something?

Something niggled at Varti’s memory. He’d noticed something. What was it?

“I trust no significant business was conducted at these dinners?” said Palpatine.

“You are correct, your Highness.”

In a rush, it came to him. He felt silly to even mention it to the Emperor, but he wasn’t about to hold things back.

“Her clothes were strange,” he blurted out. “Old and faded, but the fabric was very fine—embroidered and such. It seemed peculiar for a servant.”

Palpatine didn’t bother responding to this.

“Did you ever hear her name?”

“Alsara,” Varti said promptly. “Lucy Alsara.”

“Ah,” said Palpatine, with a faint smile. “Her true name is Lucy Skywalker. She was a Rebel and a would-be Jedi traitor, until Lord Vader apprehended her.”

“A Jedi!” Varti exclaimed.

Astonished, he stared into the Emperor’s blue face. Varti had taken tea from a Jedi? A Rebel one, too? And she hadn’t tried to poison him then, or at any of their other shared meals? And Vader had simply left her to wander around?

“She appears to have learned the errors of her former cause, and is now Vader’s apprentice,” said the Emperor.

“She seemed docile enough,” Varti acknowledged, the whirl of his thoughts slowing to something like reason. “Was it a trick?”

“Possibly,” Palpatine said, looking thoughtful. Then he fixed his eyes on Varti, who valiantly repressed a shudder. “Should the opportunity arise again, take care to observe her very closely.”

“I will,” said Varti. At this point he was so bewildered that he presumed to add, “Is this one girl a threat to the Empire, your Highness?”

“No,” the Emperor replied. Horrifyingly, his smile broadened. “I think not.”

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drivingsideways · 3 years

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Misaeng review

Ok, it's been almost a week, so I feel like I can get my thoughts (somewhat) in order. As usual, I'm late to the party, given that Misaeng aired 6 years ago, and is already considered a kdrama classic. Still: thoughts!

(under the cut)

I came to this drama with quite a lot of expectations, both because I'd seen it on a lot of rec lists, and also because I'd watched director Kim Won-seok's Signal and My Mister, which are justifiably as beloved as Misaeng. I'm happy to report that Misaeng mostly lived up to those expectations!

The writing & direction work together to make Misaeng a very immersive experience, which is good, considering the entire run time is over 20 hrs. The level of seemingly mundane detail of the operational aspects of running a trading firm that they delve into (and other dramas might have avoided for sake of pacing) seemed odd to me at first, but eventually result in a world building that's incredibly well fleshed out. The (formerly unlikely!) high stakes of a misplaced piece of paper or octopuses in a shipment of squid end up being parts of an emotionally wrenching narrative whole fairly seamlessly. Still, at 20+ hours, Misaeng also does get into the kind of pacing issues that most of the slice of life kdramas I've watched so far have. And it didn't need to! I think it had a wonderful ensemble of characters, and if they'd maybe given a little more time and space to characters other than Jang Geu-Rae (Im Si wan) and Oh Sang-sik (Lee Sung-min), the mid portions may not have felt quite so, well, stuck.

But more than the strong writing and direction, it was really the actors who delivered. They made what could have easily been a dull-ish office drama into a heart warming story about human connection and the joys and troubles of leading an "incomplete life". I'd never watched Lee Sung-min in anything before, and about half way through the series I was like, HOW IS HE MAKING A SHORT TEMPERED, ALCHOHOLIC MIDDLE MANAGER SO SEXY? Like, serious props, dude. Lee Sung-min is by turns annoying and brash and too shout-y and stubborn and funny and so incredibly vulnerable as a man trying his best to live by his principles in a world that thinks they are an impediment to "success", that you forget that he's playing a fictional character-- he's someone you know, he's someone you've seen in the mirror.

His performance as Oh Sang-sik is very ably matched by Im Si Wan's Jang Geu-Rae. This series would not have worked if these two actors didn't have the chemistry they do, and play off each other in every scene. I had watched Im Si Wan recently- in JTBC's "Run On", in which I liked his performance quite a lot, but I absolutely loved him as the naive and endearing Jang Geu-rae. Misaeng, is in part, a bildungsroman narrative centered around Jang Geu Rae. Im Si wan brought a kind of vulnerability to the role that might have felt cloying and emotionally manipulative in the hands of other actors, but Im Si-wan manages to do it with a light touch. I feel he's one of those actors that uses his whole body in a scene, not just relying on facial or verbal expression, and it's a joy to watch.

Each of the other actors in the ensemble also bring that dedication and talent to their roles, even if it's in a single scene. There are lots of one-off characters that we meet during the course of the series, and every single one of them leaves an impact.

But! I'm going to pick a fave from the supporting cast and that's Byun Yo-han, whom I'd last watched as the broody, troubled (and very sexy) swordsman Lee Bang-ji in Six Flying Dragons. I can't imagine a character more in opposition to that one than Han Seok-yul in Misaeng, but Byun Yo-han just knocks it out of the park as the scheming, cheerful and mostly inappropriate clown with a heart of gold; Han Seok-yul is the definition of Chaotic Good, and you're equal parts horrified by his antics- which include sexual harassment dont @ me -- and yet charmed by him. I wish they'd given him a few more scenes and a larger plotline to work with, but I also suspect that he might have just walked away with the entire series if they did that. (Am I plotting that series in my head as I write this? MAYBE.)

Alright, this is getting a bit too long, so I'm going to get to the bits that disappointed me. That's really one major thing: the gender politics. I don't know how different the show is from the web toon it's based on, so I can't tell whether they made significant changes to the basic plot and characters. As in- I have no idea if the webtoon was as male dominated in every way as the show is, so I'm not sure how much of the show's treatment of women as a class, and its female characters in particular, I should lay at the door of the original writer vs the screenwriter and director. I'm also lacking the Korean context in which this was written and made and aired, so you may take my criticism with a pinch of salt, if you please!

That the show features mainly male characters is perhaps unsurprising and realistic, since we know that the kind of corporate life it depicts is very male dominated, top to bottom. The show also portrays the very real and horrific overt and subtle misogyny that women face in the workplace and out of it; mainly in the character of Ahn Young-yi, played with steely determination and quiet suffering by the lovely Kang so-ra. There are only 3 other female characters that have any sort of real speaking role- Sun Ji Young (played by Shin Eun jung), a senior manager at the company, Jang Geu-rae's unnamed(!) mother (played by the amazing Sung Byoung-Sook) and Oh Sang-sik's unnamed (!) wife (played by Oh Yoon-Hong, who's a delight in every tiny scene she has). There are other women who appear but in very minor roles, and often in "comedy" moments that often rely on sexist tropes to start with.

Anyway, right there you can see one of the problems- 4 women characters that have any kind of real screen time, and only 2 of them are named. Aigoo! Screenwriter Jung Yoon-jung is a woman, and like, I don't like putting the burden on any one woman to y'know fix structural misogyny, but I can't also help feeling disappointed that she overlooked even this "small" thing among the larger things.

But that apart, the main issue for me was that while the show doesn't shy away from depicting egregious sexism in the form of sexual harrassment, verbal and physical and certainly emotional abuse, in a manner that's clear that we are meant to be horrified by it--it falls short of depicting how women deal and work with it. It just doesn't give enough space to women or their worldview.

It's very comfortable depicting victimhood, but doesn't put work into depicting the ways in which women survive by finding solidarity with other women. We have a scene or two where Ahn Young-yi who is this show's poster child for female victimhood interacts with the older women who offer sympathy and understanding, but no real strategy or support. And yes, we see men also being targeted by their seniors for the grossest verbal and physical abuse; and it's men who help Ahn Young-yi strategise on how to deal with her situation. Real life experience tells me that it's the women who do this work for other women. I have certainly been on both sides of this equation, for one, and so has every woman that I know in corporate life. And yes, one of the show's core philosophies is that those who endure, survive--but it is none the less extremely painful to watch Ahn Young yi "endure" the kind of abuse she does as a coping strategy and a survival strategy.

At the end of it, when she slowly manages to gain the support of her sexist team, it's shown as a victory-- though naturally imperfect, because this show takes its Realism very seriously (right until the end where it makes a tonal shift into quirky that I was a little ?? about)-- and y'know, sure, it is a victory. And I absolutely understand the choices she makes and why she does it-- I guess I just got annoyed by the fact that other antagonistic figures in the narrative get a more straightforward comeuppance for their egregious behavior, but Ahn Young-yi doesn't even get a goddamned apology from her abusers. Instead, we have a half humourous, half serious moment where she comments on how she's working at turning herself into "someone cute"- because she understands now that sometimes the right strategy is to "go with the flow". Be the water that slowly wears away at the rock. It's an interesting moment- the men she tells this to are taken aback by her bluntness, but also a little clueless about what she means. It's the kind of nuance that I would and do enjoy. Unfortunately, it also closely follows one of the show's most annoying scenes at the tail end of the series- where it tries to play off workplace sexism and misogyny as comedy- boys being boys-Reader, when I tell you that I had to WORK to unclench my jaw--!

I'm not saying we should have a single and obvious narrative of female emancipation. I'm not against realism in fiction, but god, sometimes, please do remember that when we look for escapism, we are actually imagining a better world. The first step toward liberation is allowing yourself to imagine it.

And the show does allow other characters its moments of unfettered fantasy- Im Si Wan parkour-ing all over the rooftops of Amman- and having a semi mystical + Indiana Jones moment in the deserts of Jordan--so why, I ask, are the women not given that gift?

*looks into the camera *

Tl;dr: I enjoyed it, it made me cry every episode, and I cared about all the characters, and if you haven't watched it yet, treat yourselves.

PS. Yes, Han Seok-yul is a disaster bi, sorry, I don't make the rules. Yes, hotties Oh Min Seok and Kang Ha-neul are canonically naked in a hot tub six feet apart because they are bros. Yes, I will be writing the fix it in which they fuck like angry bunnies. Yes, I am going to put my shipper cooties all over this gen slice of life show, deal with it.

#misaeng #kdrama #thinky thoughts

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imagineclaireandjamie · 4 years

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Heloo !! I hope all of you are doing well. I was wondering if there was another chapter planned for The High Road and the Low Road? I find the premise very intriguing and I can’t wait to see what happens next !!!!

After learning the truth from Claire, a furious Brianna runs to Craig na Dun to prove her mother’s crazy only to fall through the stones herself.

Part One, Part Two

The High Road and the Low Road - Part Three

“1968,” Roger repeated, almost in a trance after what Claire had told him. “Then… there’s a chance she hasna gone back yet.”

“A chance,” Claire agreed. “Though I couldn’t tell you the first thing about how we could even begin to find her… save camping out at the stones and watching for her.”

“And ye think it’s an ability that passes down from mother to child?”

Claire shrugged. “Or father. My own parents died when I was so young – when they were still very young – I doubt they ever even knew they had the ability, wherever one of them it came from.”

Fiona never took her eyes from the familiar road as she added, “Grannie and the others talk of it running in families – the fairies’ interest, that is. The tales say the fairies are like to take the daughters of women they stole before, mistaking the daughter for the mother.”

“Sounds like a way to explain something bein’ hereditary,” Roger conceded. “But all the tales I’ve heard speak of women taken. D’ye believe a man can pass through?”

“Geillis was only the first traveler I met,” Claire confessed, launching into an abbreviated account of her time in Paris and Master Raymond.

“But the question of whether you can is easily solved – you touch the stones and something either happens or it doesn’t,” Claire said, looking at Roger, watching him and the grip he had on the small pack of clothes and supplies he’d hastily grabbed on their way out the door. “The more important questions is will you try.”

“I wouldna feel right watchin’ ye go on yer own,” he said too quickly. “And I feel Brianna going is partly my fault. My contributions to the conversation hardly calmed her.” He looked out the window, avoiding Claire’s knowing gaze.

“Whatever your reason, I thank you for being willing to come and help me. I don’t know what might go wrong, but if anything should happen to me, it’s a comfort to know Brianna will have you there too.”

Roger continued looking away but nodded. He didn’t want to think of having to tell Brianna that something had happened to her mother (and that he hadn’t been enough to stop it).

“We’re here,” Fiona announced, turning onto the road that inclined gently upward to the hill and the standing stones crowning it.

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

“Have you run away from home before?” Brianna asked quietly as she held tight to the edge of the cart, praying they wouldn’t hit a bump strong enough to send her falling to the dusty road below. Ian looked far too comfortable where he was perched on a wooden crate next to one of the back wheels. He swayed but Brianna quickly noted that his movements worked with the swaying of the cart, adjusting and correcting for every tilt and jerk.

“I dinna see it as running away,” he explained. “Put that way it sounds like I dinna mean ever to return. It’s more… a brief change of scene. And I do try always to make myself useful,” he added. “This visit I’m fetching my da what he needs for farmin’ the fields and to help my uncle wi’ his business. He usually has plenty of work and no enough help for it. One of these days, I’m goin’ to ask him can I stay wi’ him for good.”

They had walked for a few hours before a man with a cart came up along the road behind them. Ian ran alongside and launched into Gaidhlig so Brianna had no clue what he’d said to convince the man to let them ride along, but within a few minutes the cart slowed enough for Ian to help Brianna up into the back. They didn’t dare take out Ian’s food stores with the cart jostling along (and a third party who might request a portion as payment for the ride). Instead, they chatted to cover the noise of their grumbling stomachs and Brianna glanced around at a landscape more lush and beautiful than she felt she’d ever be able to appreciate fully in her own time.

“And what about you?” Ian asked, drawing Brianna’s attention back. “What were ye doing that ye became so lost?”

“I had an argument with my mother and took a walk to cool off. I just went further than I realized or meant to,” Brianna admitted, fighting the nervous impulse to laugh. She couldn’t have traveled much further if she’d tried.

“So… ye ran away?” Ian teased.

Brianna rolled her eyes at him, flushing as she heard him laughing at her.

“What was it ye and yer mam argued over? Was it to do wi’ yer da? Ye said she told ye it wansa the man ye thought. Did she tell ye much about the man who is yer father?”

“Yes, we fought about that. She lied to me my entire life – and about who I am. You’d be mad too if you found out yer father was someone you had never met.”

“Oh aye,” Ian agreed. “I’m named for my da. Dinna ken what I’d make of it were he no my father by blood… But I dinna ken it would change too much. He’s a good man, my da – better’n I ever manage. I dinna ken how to be like him so I dinna think it’s worth killin’ myself tryin’. Uncle – that is, I dinna feel my uncle is as disappointed in me when I do things wrong. Ken… there have been times when I wished my uncle was my father.”

Brianna said nothing. She had never wished for a different father – not that she could recall, anyway. There had been a few times she’d wished her mother were different – not that another woman was her mother, but that Claire had behaved more like other mothers, that sort of thing. But what if Frank had wished she were different? What if he had wished for a daughter more like him, a daughter who was actually his and not a reminder of the man his wife had left him for – a reminder that he was the consolation, that he was what was left when the love of his wife’s life was gone…

“Did she tell ye about him?” Ian pressed.

“Only a little and I wasn’t to inclined to pay attention. She said I look like him – my hair, my eyes, my height… She said he was smart and kind, that he spoke several languages and was a strong leader to the men who fought with him,” Brianna listed. She was amazed she remembered so much of what Claire had told her. She was ashamed it wasn’t more.

“Sounds a good man,” Ian told her. “Are ye sorry ye cannae meet him?”

Brianna shrugged. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had. I had a dad and he was pretty great. I’d want to have him back more than someone I never met… I think,” Brianna hedged. “I don’t know. Maybe part of me is curious, but what’s the point of wishing for it when it’s never going to happen?”

“I suppose that makes sense. Ye cannae be disappointed if ye never meet him, either,” Ian replied, a somber note in his voice. “But he might also be better’n ye could know if ye dinnae meet him and see for yerself.”

“Which, again, doesn’t really matter as it’s never going to happen.”

“Right,” Ian agreed quickly, looking away to where a small flock of birds startled upward from the moor – perhaps disturbed by the sound of their cart passing.

Brianna and Ian allowed the silence between them to stretch comfortably as the miles slowly accumulated behind them.

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

Roger came to first, but it took him a while to sort out where he was and what had happened.

He was on the ground in the stone circle and everything seemed to pulse around him, a distracting buzzing fading in and out, ringing in his ears. When he turned his head, he saw Claire crumpled and unmoving a few feet away.

Cursing under his breath, Roger tried to roll in her direction but he found his body resistant to the idea, crying out in pain and frustration instead.

The noise succeeded in rousing Claire, however. With a loud gasp, she jolted upright, looking around until her eyes found Roger… and no sign of Fiona.

“Looks like we made it,” she declared, groaning as she struggled to her feet. “Though a little worse for the wear.”

“It was worse than ye said,” he grumbled, crawling to his pack which had ended up a few feet away.

“It gets worse each time,” Claire said. “I don’t… I don’t know if I’ll be able to get through again.” Panic hovered at the edges of her voice as she glanced to Roger. He could see her pushing it to the side as she moved to the edge of the circle and gazed down the hill toward the road.

“She has a significant head start on us, whichever direction she’s gone,” Claire started.

“Do ye think we ought to split up?” Roger asked. “If we go down the road in opposite directions, we can ask after her of anyone we meet. Then, if we know we’re on the right path, we keep after her and if we find she’s no been seen, we can turn back. We wait here till the other returns wi’ her and we all go back together.”

“That assumes she sticks to the road,” Claire countered.

“Have ye any reason to think she’d stray from it?”

“You mean besides the fact she took off here on her own in a huff and fell through inadvertently? It was dark when she came through. There’s a very good chance she missed the road altogether,” Claire theorized, yielding to her worst fears as she ran her gaze up and down the road, searching for impossible signs of Brianna.

“Do ye have another suggestion then?” Roger asked, the lingering headache from the journey and his own fears for Brianna adding to his frustration and erasing any care he might take for Claire’s position. “Hemmin’ and hawin’ willna accomplish anything but wastin’ time.”

“Well it looks like it’s delayed us enough to bring a small bit of good fortune our way,” she exclaimed, taking care as she started down the hill toward the road. “There’s a rider headed this way. You need to call out to him and ask if he’s seen a young woman hereabouts.”

“And why must it be me?” Roger queried, still frustrated and ornery as he followed her path of descent.

“I’m a sassenach in the Highlands,” she reminded him. “And a woman,” she added with annoyance.

“Right,” Roger sighed before beginning to wave his arms and call out to the man approaching on horseback.

The man slowed as he drew closer but he did not appear inclined to stop.

“My apologies, friends, but I’m on an errand that–”

He stopped the horse abruptly, color draining from his face.

Claire reached out and gripped Roger’s arm tightly, causing him to wince.

“Claire?” the man on the horse asked with breathless disbelief.

She responded in kind, “Ian?”

#Anonymous #;mod lenny #the high road and the low road au #alternate universe #canon divergence au

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squealchair · 3 years

Text

my experience being disabled in a pandemic

On this National Rare Disease Day (and almost 1 year stay-at-home-iversary), I present to you all my very first blog post. (cue applause) 😂

Growing up, I was conditioned to be sorry for being different. From having paras in my classes because I needed extra help, to feeling isolated in the corner of the gym doing physical therapy during PE class, to when my friends’ stopped inviting me on social outings because they weren’t accessible. The switch flipped inside of me when I finally started seeing disability as something that was normalized, not shameful. It was, however, unfortunate that this moment came when the world was telling me the exact opposite. This is the story of how I learned just how much society hates disability, while at the same time learning to love it myself .

There’s nothing like a global pandemic to let you know where people’s priorities really are. And I’ve had basically a year to feel angry, depressed and hopeless about it. But it has also brought on the more significant realizations I’ve had about my life so far.

It all started March 12th 2020. My last in person class before the city’s (and my own personal) stay-at-home-order. This was a group project class which we would have to finish through clunky work sessions on Zoom. We got very little done that day. Our conversation went from lamenting the cancellation of March Madness, to passing around someone’s Bath and Body Works hand sanitizer in solidarity. Realizing we were all talking through our impending doom, my professor tried to make sure we were prepared to continue online for a while. I remember her echoing what many people were saying at the time, telling our group, “you guys are young, you don’t need to worry about it, just wash your hands.” It's just the older people who are dying from it, right? While this was the common way of thinking at the time, coming from someone who I’m sure meant well, I now have grown to hate this sentiment. And even more that I didn’t speak up and say something like, “well actually, I could die from it.” I was probably in denial, just like everyone seems to have been all this time.

I was born with what doctors now clinically describe as distal Spinal Muscular Atrophy, although genetic testing done at the time did not confirm an SMA diagnosis (gotta love a medical mystery). Whatever it is affects basically all muscles in my body, and led to several childhood battles with pneumonia from something as minor as a cold. And while I’ve come a long way since beginning my life on a ventilator, I can’t confidently say I would survive something as bad as COVID.

So the next day, it was announced we would be going virtual for the rest of the semester. I watched as the County Commission debated if the lives of people like me are worth losing profits (which would become a conflict central to the world’s excuse to hate disabled people). Then we finished the semester, which was different, but the newness of remote life was kind of exciting at first, I must admit. That faded fast. But virtual world is what led me to what would be the beginning of my disability acceptance journey.

Through social media, I found out that the team behind Crip Camp (a documentary about the disability rights movement I watched during the extended spring break) was hosting a virtual “camp” all summer. Every summer since I aged out at 17 I went to Muscular Dystrophy summer camp, and now as an adult I’ve been attending a retreat for those who age out every August. But since it was canceled this year, I needed something to do. So I signed up for Crip Camp: The Virtual Experience, a weekly series of conversations with disability advocates.

As it turned out, forming connections with disabled communities across the world was just the validation I needed. I started following disabled creators and making friends in social media groups too. And I found the representation that has never existed in the mainstream. I realized how much internalized ableism I was carrying from the world around me. That disability is not only your lack of ability, it's the lack of accessibility in society. What I realized was all the stuff I thought I had to apologize for, is really what makes us who we are. My disabled lived experience has shaped me into who I am today. Sadly, this came just in time for a dominant portion of society to try to rip that progress away from me.

All this to say, it really hurts to know that a large part of the population doesn’t care if you die. But that's what I’ve spent my time in isolation coming to terms with. The fact that people are constantly educated about the consequences of their actions, but aren't willing to take simple actions to help slow the spread because it may not directly affect them, is what really gets to me. This even coming from people I considered friends. Don’t get me wrong, I am fortunate and thankful to live with my family and have the resources I need to survive the long haul. I’ve always known life was going to be hard as a disabled person in an ableist world. But having the collective disdain for us be thrown in my face with every Instagram post from a college party and Facebook conspiracy theory is a new level of disappointment. All that time I spent learning to love myself, clouded with reminders that maybe nobody else actually does. I wish there was more empathy in the world.

This past year has exposed the sad truths in this country. Those in power really only care about their own interests, and a large portion of the population really wouldn't think twice about the lives of disabled people. Please take the consequences of your actions seriously, not only for me, but for the marginalized communities disproportionately affected by this tragic pandemic. And please get the vaccine.

#disability #crip camp #blog #first post #hello #i want a vaccine pls #support #disability community #fun fact: i wrote most of this in december but was too scared to post until now

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Someone Left to Save (4)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: I was actually a bit afraid that this chapter won’t exactly have the oomph that I was going for ;;w;; Let me know what you think of this chapter and sorry for the delay! My compulsive self had the need to make it perfect and emotional the way I imagined it to be.

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 | Previous: Part 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

The inferno had died down, sated of the metal and flesh that it had devoured upon its blistering wake.

In the rubble, you lay there half-dead, perhaps half-awake. Though in this case, did it even matter which half is which?

Your eyelids slowly opened, particles of dirt that seated along the lining of your eyes made it hard for you to open them. You can’t make of your current location, though the last thing you remember is the heat boiling under your feet while the fire catches up to the elevator while you recovered your strength, the speed of the turbolift cell in a nerve-racking race against the cascading flame, and throwing yourself out of the elevator the very split second the door opened.

“Am I dead…?” your voice was dead quiet that it’s almost as if your subconscious was the one speaking. You asked yourself, still as a stone in where you lie. “Is there something broken?”

The former’s answer was no. Air still entered your lungs.

A few more blinks and the dust had cleared off of your lashes; your field of vision is filled with the monotonous shade of brown, gray, and black mingling together, with specs of glowing red embers floating about the clouds of smoke wafting over you. No heavy debris fell on you, but bodily movement is limited, the only thing you can move is your head. The dust and smoke constantly pricked your eyes that you couldn’t keep them open for long.

You hear footsteps, heavy and slow, you search the person only to find a silhouette closing in on you. When it got close enough, he bent down but you still couldn’t recognize whoever this was.

“C-Cal…?”

The shadow didn’t speak, except a baritone growl rumbled out of him. He stands back up and vanished from your line of sight. The next thing you know, you feel two arms hooking under your shoulders, dragging you out of the debris, bumping into a slab of concrete or metal here and there. He didn’t notice that the bracelet you wore, now scorched to the point that the thread has split and fell to the ground as he towed you.

A few inches of being dragged across the floor later, the hulking figure adjusted himself and lifted you up to his shoulder, carrying you like a sack. It didn’t last long though, the stranger had settled you in a hovering gurney, you felt it sink as it accepted your weight and then rise again to its default level; while you’re still clinging onto the last string of consciousness, a pair of voices—distinguishably female and male, the latter being the one who pulled you out of the rubble. You didn’t know that these were the other Inquisitors who were sent to the scene.

As they conversed, their words faintly trailed in your head to the walls of your skull. You could only hear and listen, but you’re too weak to bob your head slightly to the side to look at them. Their words echoed as you stare into the charred ceiling of the stronghold.

“…Sure she’s alive? The… will have to… about…” the female voice echoed.

“Found her… utility lobby… Can’t find him…” the male replied.

“Alive too… from the fire…”

Their butchered conversation—at least in your own perspective—eventually blocked off as you slowly lose consciousness. The gurney hovers and then pushes forward, following the trail of the female and male Inquisitors—namely the Seventh Sister, a skinny Mirialan—and the Fifth Brother who’s a tall humanoid with gray skin.

They escort you, along with the Second Brother who barely escaped the fire but still managed to maintain a pulse, out of the site and into the transport waiting for them in the far southern side of the stronghold.

The Mirialan examined your comatose-like state. Past through the soot and grime smeared across your cheeks, the streak of dried blood from your forehead to your temples, the reddening of your face due to the extreme heat—she thought it’s actually a miracle that you even survived.

“You sure look though,” the Mirialan female commented.

“Let’s see if the Master is just as impressed as we are,” the Fifth Brother added.

-----

Cal, Larki, and Morzen arrived to the site. Unbeknownst to the boys, the Inquisitors have beat them to it in their endeavor. The fires have lessened in size, not as bad as the initial blast. Some areas of the stronghold were accessible and can be safely traversed. Cal hopped off of his speeder, followed by Larki and Morzen, and the boys hindered the reckless, eager ginger by calling out his name—stopping him in his tracks to give him his own set of protective gear: a breathing mask with a filter tube and a complementary pair of goggles.

“Ready?” Larki confirms the other two as they all donned the gear.

They enter the stronghold through a gaping hole created by the explosion. Prior to going any further, Cal divided the areas per person—taking into consideration your last known location, according to his radar, the path that you took in and apparently out. But since the building has been partially obliterated, the three boys had to think of another way in certain areas.

“Larki, see if you can find your way to the reactor chamber. Morzen, check if there are any other paths created by the blast for survivors to pass through,” Cal instructed. “I’ll head to the annex, or whatever’s left of it.”

The trio split, Cal had masterfully distributed the areas per man; Larki was a tad bit leaner and smaller—give that he’s the youngest among them—so it gives him an advantage to slip through gaps and crawlspaces, on the other hand, Morzen was heavily-built young man. Whether or not it was by coincidence or by pure observation, Cal had tact in dividing the party.

Cal trekked through the remains of the annex, the floor and a good portion of the walls remained intact—although charred and torn open by the impact of the bomb—and the heat from the nearby fires was enough to make him sweat. Fortunately for him, the mask protected his lungs from the dangerously-thick smoke.

“Mind your head, BD-1,” Cal warned.

Cal squeezed his way through the gap between a wall and a fallen metal ceiling beam leaning against it. He ducked and crawled, then landed on fours for a safe landing. He was feeling goof, albeit a little out of place to be so, because he’s hopeful that you’re still alive; rather, he convinced himself that you were, for he could still feel a trace of your presence even though it was gradually getting fainter by the minute.

“Bee-woo…” BD-1 suddenly hopped down from Cal’s shoulder and skittered towards the debris, flashing his light and peeking over small to see if you were in the other side.

There was nothing much Cal could find, so he decided to further investigate in another spot. He navigated the ruins, he followed his instincts to go to the reactor chamber where Larki ought to be; as he ran along the way, his comm rang.

“Cal, do you copy? It’s Larki,”

“I copy, Larki. Did you find anything?”

Cal detected the hesitation in Larki’s voice. He demanded Larki to respond.

“I’m gonna send you my coordinates, meet me there,”

“Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of utility lobby. Just come through, I’ve already radioed Morzen. He’s on his way too,”

Cal had a bad feeling about this. BD-1 received Larki’s coordinates after popping out his little satellite dish, promptly, he flashed the holomap in front of Cal. The young Jedi’s eyes trailed from his current location to a portion of the map colored in yellow, there was a significant, vertical gap between him and his destination—he would have to find a way down.

“Not too far away,” he mumbled under his breath.

Without a moment’s hesitation he sprinted through the corridor, navigating through the ruins to find the quickest way down. At the end of the corridor, the edge of it had been bombed off and torn apart, but Cal looked around to see if he can use anything to his advantage. Hanging on another set of beams over his head is a cable coiled around it, he pulled it out using the Force and rappelled down.

He checked the map again and saw that the distance had shrunk. He struggled to remain optimistic, he could still feel your trace, but it’s becoming nothing more than a wafting swirl of smoke. Cal and Morzen arrived nearly at the same time, but the latter came from the eastern side and circled his way to Larki’s meeting point.

“Look at this place,” Larki gasped in full disbelief of the sheer damage that their bombs have wrought. He gestured at his surroundings with open arms.

The three of them investigated the entire area. Morzen climbed a mountain of rock and metal only to find the chunky remains of the structure. Had there been more bombs planted here, then this structure wouldn’t last for a search party to even go through—that’s what the young man thought. Larki, on the other hand, surveyed the fallen columns that once were the great energy reactors; he dared to step closer to the banister and peek over it, he saw the ground level of the chamber—he couldn’t see anything that would resemble life.

“Looks like we’re not finding anything down there,” Larki commented.

“I sense something, though I can’t explain it,” Cal said to no one in particular.

“You think [Y/N] could still be here?”

“Like I said, Larki, it’s difficult to explain. It’s like… she’s here but she’s not… I know I felt her…”

As Cal continued to ponder and muse about your faint trail that he’s picked up ever since he got here, Morzen continued to search in the rubble; nothing caught his eye—save for a single bracelet lying around. The silvery finish had been dirtied by the grime, the cord had been charred in the middle for it to tear—leaving the torn ends of it as black as coal, contrast to its original beige.

Morzen couldn’t make of the bracelet, but he still considered it a clue.

“Look,” he uttered, catching the two’s attention. He nestled the bracelet gently on the flat of his palm as he approached the two standing by the banister that overlooks the pillars.

Cal almost didn’t want to see what was in Morzen’s hand, because a part of him already knew what it was—he just didn’t make peace with it yet—and when the boy’s hand angled to show the trinket resting on his palm, Cal’s eyes widened.

“Oh Cal… Isn’t that…?” Larki sighed, he felt his heart sink when the only clean spot of the silver pendant shone against the firelight.

He hovered his hand towards the bracelet, Morzen patiently waited for Cal to take it—what neither of these two boys understand is Cal’s Psychometry: if he touches that bracelet of yours, he will never be ready to accept what he will see, hear, and feel.

“Beee…” BD cooed sadly, worried of Cal’s anxiety.

Cal sucked it in, then snatched the bracelet off of Morzen’s hand—a tad bit harshly rather—and the wave of the Force Echo was overwhelming, coming from a tiny trinket such as this.

The blazing inferno roared in his eardrums, he could almost feel the searing heat burning through his sleeves. The sounds of your labored breathing as you struggled to haul yourself out of harm’s way—while being severely injured at that—matched with Cal’s breathing, his body has mimicked the exhaustion taking its toll on your body. His ankles buckled and then failed, he submits to the floor while trapping your bracelet in his fist—this reaction startled Larki and Morzen, they took a step closer but stopped by Cal himself as he continues to absorb the Force Echo—and the last thing he saw was the debris falling over you as the fire caught on. He saw the last few images in your eyes—he felt you lying flat on your back as the rubble shrouded your vision in pure darkness and the bracelet slipping off of your hand.

The singular twanging of the silver pendant against the metal floor was the stimulus that snapped Cal back to reality. The exact same trace of you that he’s been desperately holding on had suddenly disappeared. When he opened his eyes, he saw Larki and Morzen gawking at him, both confused and expecting an answer from the Jedi.

“Cal…?” Morzen softly murmured, sensing the overwhelming stress within his companion.

Cal’s next action further confused the two: he frantically searched the utility lobby, past Larki and Morzen’s shoulders, and took big breaths in a rapid pace that his breathing mask fogged in between sobs. The embers twinkled red against the tears appearing along the rim of his eyes.

“No, she… SHE WAS ALIVE!! I FELT IT!” Cal growled ferociously.

He stared back at the little bracelet resting on his tremoring hand, the tears that had been welling up in his eyes while being stuck in his Psychometry trance eventually wetted the bracelet and his open palm. They continuously fell like rain. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to.

The final thing this structure heard was the roaring “No” of the Jedi ultimately destroyed by his discovery—echoing across its burnt walls, the wind that caught it flew over the fires and disturbed its flares.

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

Text

Dumpling ch 26

(Oh, look. It’s the chapter that made me cry when I wrote it. )

Their trek was slow going as Maevis was want to stop every so often to admire or study the various architectural elements of the tunnels as he had never been presented with the opportunity. Under normal circumstances, Jae would have found the delays annoying and would have made his complaints known. However, he seemed to be enjoying the sight of Maevis dithering about and chatting excitedly about this and that.

“So, if Nenani can speak to the dead, does that make her a necromancer?” Jae asked, standing behind Maevis as he examined a seemingly innocuous carving in the wall.

“Goodness gracious! No, no, my boy,” Maevis said with a laugh. “Necromancy is an entirely different animal. You don’t become a Necromancer by happenstance. You spend your life dedicated to it and my understanding is that it takes enormous physical and spiritual toll on the wielder. It’s rare to see them old and grey.”

“So...Necromancers die young?”

“That is what I have been told. Ironic, isn’t it? The best way to understand how she might be hearing these spirits speak is this: the world is filled with magic. It’s in everything and is everywhere, floating around us like minute and invisible specks of dust. Nenani and those like her who are touched by magic are...let’s say, stickier, than those who are not. As though she were walking about a room full of insects while covered in honey. As she goes about her day, these particles will get stuck to her and once that accumulates reaches a certain amount, small acts of magic are possible. Often times involuntary.”

“Like hearing the dead?” Nenani asked.

“Like hearing the dead,” Maevis confirmed. “But you must also understand, they have to be speaking in order for you to hear them. And not all who are dead speak.”

“You mean she isn’t the one instigating the conversation. So...what are they trying to say?”

“Precisely, my question. And if we are successful in finding these catacombs,” Maevis said with a gleam in his eye. “I intend to ask.”

“If this ends with a talking skeleton,” Nenani said miserably from Maevis’s side. “I’m never coming on these weird adventures with you ever again. I’m gonna stay in the kitchens and make tonics.”

…………………………………………

“Gods persevere me if anyone were to see me like this,” Maevis was saying as they wandered the halls of the royal apartments. He leaned back and turned around as though seeing his surroundings for the very first time. “I must admit, this is...rather unsettling to see such familiar places at this...height. No wonder you poor humans are so terrified of us. This is frightful!”

“Yeah, try explaining this to Warren,” Jae replied, gesturing to the human sized giant and then stuck his elbow into Maevis’s side playfully. “Or Keral!”

Maevis shook his head in exasperation. “I would never get a moments peace if Keral were to happen upon us.”

“Well, luckily he’s out in the wilds looking for your Smoke Mage.” Their starting point was the tapestry that Nenani remembered seeing and once they were standing below it, she started to get a better idea of where they needed to go. As neither Jae nor Maevis knew where the entrance was, it was wholly up to Nenani to find it. They wandered about for almost half an hour and at one point hid beneath a table when a footman walked passed.

“That was Winnabey,” Maevis said, watching the young Vhasshalan man turn a corner and disappear. “Nice boy. A little dim perhaps, but nice enough.”

It was not long after their near encounter with Winnabey that they found the stone door bearing the sigil of the seven petaled flower. Maevic ran his hands over the stone in awe.

“Jae, tell me,” he said as he crouched down to study the bottom portions of the stone work. “Do all the entrances to the tunnels have this symbol?”

“No, not all of them,” the boy said, leaning against the wall and watching the Magician work. “Just the ones near the oldest parts of the castle. Closer to the center Keep.”

“Hm. Fascinating.”

“Do you think it’s significant?”

“Well,” Maevis said as he stood up and took a few steps back. “Tell me. What does it remind you of?”

Jae went to stand next to the magician and tilted his head as he studied it. “I mean...it just looks like a flower to me.”

“Yes, but what kind of flower?” Maevis pressed.

“...a blooming one?”

“Come now my boy,” he replied, ruffling Jae’s hair. “I know you’re much smarter than that. How many petals do you see?”

“….three, four, five, six...” Jae paused and his eye widened in understanding. “Seven.”

“Precisely,” Maevis said, his eyes alight with intrigue.

“But that’s gotta be a coincidence right?” Jae said. “It makes no sense.”

“What?” Nenani asked, feeling left out of the entire conversation. “What it is?”

Maevis ran his hands around the door as though searching for something. “If I did not know any better,” he said as he turned to look at Nenani. “I would say this carving bears a striking similarity to the Fire Flower of Silvaara.”

With that, he placed his hands upon the stone and pushed. The door was slow to give way, but after a moment, it began to open and they were faced with the dark abyss of the lost tunnels. Nenani’s spine tingled unpleasantly as the cool wind blew out like a welcoming breath of a great beast, becoming them into its jaws to swallow them up.

“It can’t be though,” Jae said, but he did not seem to believe his own words. “Why would it be here? Well, I guess this part of the castle is way older than Silvaara, right? Maybe Silvaara got the idea for their symbol from this?”

“There are endless possibilities,” Maevis replied, holding his palm open and summoning a blue orb of light. “But we shall not know any of them until we press onward.”

Jae and Maevis both stepped through the entrance abuzz with exhilaration, but Nenani stopped just shy of the dark. She did not want to go inside and she did not want to know what the spirits had to say. A part of her already knew, but would not allow the thought to reach the surface of her conscious mind.

“Nenani? What is it?” Jae asked, tilted his head at her from inside the tunnel’s entrance. “Are you okay?”

Maevis was at her side suddenly. She had been staring into the inky black of the tunnel and had not even seen him move. A maroon sleeved arm swept around her shoulders. “Come. We’ll walk this path together.”

She spared the kind magician a smile and took a fortifying breath. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Then on we go.”

…………………………………………………………….

“So how long can you stay that size?” Jae asked. Maevis’s blue orb floated about their heads, following them like a wayward dog.

“The potion will be metabolized completely within 14 hours,” the magician said. “Unless I take the reversing potion of course.”

“So, how long ago did you take the potion?”

“I have plenty of time, Jae.” Maevis said without concern, but in good humor. “But I appreciate your concern.”

“Just wanted to make sure you we’re gonna turn back while we’re still down here.”

“Yes, the imagery that comes to mind is...quite gruesome.”

Nenani walked beside Maevis, tucked up against his side with his arm still wrapped about her shoulders. When they came upon the first unlit torch sitting in its bracket, Maevis left her side to inspect it. He pinched the darkened end of the torch where it had burned and rubbed the residue between his fingers, eyes narrowing as he studied it. “Hm...”

“Anything suspicious?” Jae asked.

“No,” Maevis replied. “Nothing that I was not expecting. Come, let’s keep moving.”

As they walked further, the tunnel made a slight curve and Nenani felt the pressure in her chest build. Maevis’s hand rubbed her shoulder and he leaned down to whisper encouragingly in her ear, “Don’t lose heart, Nenani. You’re doing splendidly.”

And then they were greeted by a small set of steps that climbed up to the great stone carved doors that lead into the catacombs. At the top was a carved archway. The stone had been carved to appear like two willowy trees growing from the slate flooring and up to meet in a delicate archway, their branches intertwined.

“This is it,” she said. “Just inside.”

“Do you hear anything?” Maevis asked her.

Nenani shook her head. “No.”

The magician nodded thoughtfully and began to climb the steps. As he had done with the flower carving at the entrance, Maevis spent several moments studying the door’s decorations with great interest. He crouched down to examine a detail near the floor. “Look here, children.”

Jae hurried up the steps, but Nenani was slower. Each step up made the weight in her chest increase and she was beginning to feel nauseous.

“What is it?” Jae asked. When Nenani finally made it to the door, she peaked over Maevis’s shoulder to where he was pointing. Another seven petaled flower etched into the stone at the bottom of the door.

“This is getting weird,” Jae said, his voice edging into unease. “So...are we going in?”

Instead of answering, Maevis pressed his hands against the door and pushed. They gave way easily and swung back to reveal the round room of the catacomb. The blue orb’s light was too far away to see much of anything, but there were many somethings reflecting the light of the orb back at them. Nenani recalled the many jewels and rings the skeletons had been wearing and it made her shiver, though she was perfectly warm.

“Nenani?” Maevis asked, holding out his hand to her. “Do you hear anything now?”

“No,” she said as she reached out to take it. “Nothing.”

“No...no I suppose that is to be expected,” he said under his breath.

“What do you mean?” Jae asked.

“Nothing, my boy. Just thinking out loud.”

As one, they all stepped into the darkened interior. Somehow, she was very much expecting the voices of the dead to suddenly explode in a horrible chorus. But they did not. It was silent and still as anyone would expect a grave to be. Maevis lifted her hand that he still held and gave it a gentle, affirming pat before releasing his grip and stepping forward to the closet body. Beside her, Jae was very silent and looking to him, Nenani was surprised to see him quite pale. She reached out to grab his hand and he flinched at first, but returned the gesture with a gentle squeeze.

“It’s...a lot creepier than I thought it would be,” Jae admitted as he craned his neck up. “There’s so many of them. Where did they come from?”

“They are Mages,” came Maevis’s reply and both humans turned to see Maevis kneeling beside the body, examining a particular ring upon its finger. “These jewels, these amulets...they’re arcane stones of power.”

“Stones of power?” Jae asked. “So they are Silvaaran Fire Mages then?”

“No,” he replied. “I do not believe so. These crypts must be part of the original castle’s structure before it was expanded. So they would pre-date Silvaara by a few hundred years at least. I don’t believe we can for certain deign these people all to be Fire Mages. Well, not all of them. This fellow was, I am certain.”

“How can you tell?” Jae asked.

“The amulet around his neck is a fire opal. A very impressive one too. Fire Opals were valued by Fire Mages as they help concentrate and retain their magic for prolonged periods of time.”

When Maevis turned to point the necklace out to Jae, Nenani’s entire body stiffened. The green velvet death shroud, the large goose egg sized jewel set inside a gold amulet…

“I know him,” she said quietly. “He’s the one who...came to me in a dream. To warn me.”

Maevis stood, looking to her with face that was unreadable, and he then turned to studying the prone body before him. “So this is the fellow we need to speak to then.”

“I thought you said Nenani wasn't a necromancer. How are we suppose to...talk to it? Him?”

“She isn’t. And neither am I for that matter,” Maevis replied. “However, we are not forcing this Mage to do our bidding. We are answering him by giving him a place from which to speak.”

Nenani watched in abject fascination as Maevis stepped back a foot or so form the body and raised his hands. Orbs of green light began to pulse and flicker in his palms as he uttered words too low and incomprehensible for her to hear or understand. There was an alarming pressure inside her head and she winced. As Maevis’s chanting grew louder, though no less comprehensible, the green light’s flickering slowed and stilled until at last he held within each palm, a perfect sphere of glowing green light. The magician was breathing hard and there was a faint tremor in his arms. Whatever spell he had performed, it clearly winded him.

“We answer your call, friend,” he said aloud, the sound echoing around them, though Nenani was sure he was in fact speaking to the green velvet robed skeleton. “And wish to know your words. Come forth to us now and speak of that which you know.”

Maevis held out the green orbs above the skeleton and tipped his palms so the balls of light fell. As they landed on the velvet shroud, they clung to the body and slowly seeped into it until there was nothing left of them to see. For a moment, nothing happened and they were left in the quiet stillness of the crypt. A faint light began to illuminate the bones of the corpse and soon, every part of the body shone with an eerie green light and then it began to move.

Nenani gripped Jae’s hand just as he gripped hers and pulled her closer to him.

“Oh fuck...” Jae said under his breath.

The skeleton sat up from it’s deathbed and with pained slowness, laid one bony foot onto the floor followed by his other and then he slowly stood, the green shrouds draping over his shoulders and spilling onto the floor. Black sockets stared out at the three of them and from a throat it no long possessed, spoke.

“Not yet...time for us...to awaken.” His voice was deep and vibrated the air around them. He spoke in slow lumbering sentences as though it was painful to speak. Nenani felt faint looking at the bones as they stood there, staring.

“Time?” Maevis asked. “What time do you mean, friend? When will it be time? And for what purpose?”

The skull tilted as it spoke, the sound of bones rubbing together sounding overly loud in the space. “Time...to repay...the debt...to Vhasshal...the promise...made...long ago.”

“What debt do you speak of?”

The skeleton held a single bony finger up and pointed it at Maevis. “Why...have you...woken me...magician?”

Maevis licked his lips as he considered his words. He gestured to Nenani and said, “You’ve spoken to this human girl. We ask to know what it is you wish for her to know.”

The skull turned and its head tilted curiously as though suddenly aware of Nenani’s presence.

“Ah, Child…of fire and…thorn. He comes...for you...He comes...for the blood...a means to possess...the fallen flame.”

“Fallen flame?” she asked, her voice tight and frightened.

“We need to know what the Smoke Mage wants,” Maevis said, drawing the spirit’s focus back to him “The one you have warned her about. Please. Tell us what you know. Is she in danger?”

“Grave danger...but only if...the fallen flame...denies him...again. And...she will.”

“Who is this Smoke Mage?” Maevis asked, a kind of frustrated desperation beginning to leak into his voice.

“He is...the smoldering...wreck...of a man...once promised...great things.”

“I don’t understand.” Nenani said. “Why does he want me? How do we stop him?”

The skeleton’s words were suddenly soft as if he understood he was speaking to a frightened child. “Find...the fallen flame...little one.”

“Who is this fallen flame?” Maevis asked. “How do we find them?”

“They are...the one...who survived...the slaughter...of the ancient...blood...who has...no name...to pass...to her children.”

“What does that mean? Tell us!” Maevis’s pleased were fervent and angry. Clearly, he had not expected the spirit to be as cryptic as they were being.

The skeleton turned to the shrunken Vhasshalan and in an admonishing tone said, “I have...no more answers...for you...giant. Only that...which you...already know. But a caution...I have...for you...instead...”

“I am sorry,” Maevis said apologetically. “But I do not...”

“Your sins...you wear...with great...difficulty,” the spirit said and Maevis’s entire being froze and his breath catching in his throat. “It pains...your heart...to see them...and know their ruin...was your doing. What...terrible things...you have done...and the one...you guard...he who...betrayed his king...and doomed his children...to the cruel mercies...of a mad man...lost to blood lust...and carnage.”

There was an odd choking sound and much to Nenani’s concern, she saw that Maevis was crying. His face was hard again and he was trying to hold back his emotions, but still she could see the tears welling up in his eyes and her heart broke. She did not understand what was happening. “Please, spirit,” he said, voice thick and hoarse. He bowed his head, shoulder shaking. “Do not speak of that...I beg you.”

“Release...your sins...to the wind...friend...and be free...of their cruelty. You...will...be needed...for what...is...to come. And for now...let the dead have...their rest.”

In a single movement, Maevis flung his arm out and opened his palm. The green light that illuminated the skeletal specter pulled out of its form like many tendrils of spider silk and gathered back into a perfectly round green orb of light inside the magician’s palm. The bones clattered to the floor nosily as that which held it together was gone. The fire opal amulet rolled across the ground and landed next to Maevis’s foot. For what seemed like an eternity, no one spoke or moved. Nenani’s head was buzzing with thoughts and questions, but what most tugged at her was a deep worry for Maevis. He had been crying and the look of anguish on his face…

She had never seen him so upset and that thought was more prevalent in her mind that any of the spirits words or warnings. But before she could call out to him, Maevis swept passed them both without a word. Jae looked between the retreating giant and the bones scattered about the floor, confused, and then turned to run after him. Nenani went to do the same, but stopped when a flicker of light caught her eye. Something silver was reflecting the dying light of Maevis’s orb as it moved farther away and just before the light was far enough to send the room back into the darkness, she could see it clear. Still clasped in the bony hand of the once animated skeleton was her marker, the one she had lost. Farris’s seal winked back at her before the dark swallowed it up.

She turned and ran after the others.

……………………………………………………………………………..

“What was he talking about, Maevis? What sins?” Jae was asking when Nenani finally caught up to them. Maevis had found a spot to lean against the wall and sink down to sit upon the floor. His head was bowed and he wasn’t speaking. Jae gave her a worried glance when she approached. When Maevis gave no reply to his questions, Jae knit his brow and quietly said, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

There was silence and then he spoke.

“Do you know why I wear these gloves, Jae?” Maevis asked, his voice low. He held his hands out to show off the gloves. Nenani never saw him without them and never had given them much thought. She had just assumed it was a magician thing.

“To hide your scars?” Jae asked, worry in his voice.

“Yes. And my shame,” Maevis raised his head and she could see the pain in his eyes. He looked so much different than before. “The great library was not always a library, my boy. During the war, it was my prison. Where I was tortured and prompted under extreme duress to build and create weapons that would render the great Fire Mages of Silvaara useless and allow us an upper hand in the war. If I refused to work, I was strung up by my wrists and beaten.” He carefully pealed back the gloves to reveal his bare hands and wrists, the skin marred with deep gouges, old scars, and discolored flesh. “I starved, but not because they did not provide me sustenance. Far worse. Every morning I was brought a bowl of soup. But I never would touch it.”

Jae starred down at his friend in forlorn understanding. “It...there were...humans in that soup, weren’t there?”

Maevis’s choked back a sob as he nodded. “Prisoners. Captured alive after battles for this exact purpose. There was no attempt at disguising it. That was the point. I would not touch it and the guards were happy to take it for themselves. In my worst nightmares I can still hear them crunching the bones...”

Jae went to the magician’s side and put a hand on Maevis’s shoulder, but before Jae could say anything, Maevis continue. “Did you know...the night that the Blood King was murdered...Barnaby was supposed to die the next morning?”

“What?” Jae asked, looking shaken. “I knew he had been a prisoner of war, but...not that.”

“Yes. Had the Blood King not been stopped, I would have met my now dear friend’s corpse sitting in a bowl of soup the next day.”

“And...what the skeleton said about betraying his king…?”

“Barbaby was the head archivist. He was useful to the Blood King because of his knowledge of the intimate workings of Silvaara. To get inside the capitol’s defenses. To the King’s keep. Where he and the royal family thought they were safe from the war’s bloody reaches.” Maevis raised a hand to grasp onto Jae’s that rested on his shoulder, but still he could not meet the boy’s eye. “I never wished to have to revisit this...and I never wanted either of you to know. I have so much to atone for and I do not expect to live long enough to ever make peace with it. But I suppose it is better for you to know. Lies come so easily to me now. I pretend I am this person you know...because it is who I wish I truly was. But as it stands now, I am laid bare to you both and can only beg your forgiveness. But I do not expect it.”

Jae abruptly stood up, his own expression hard and angry with tears beginning to pool in his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about, you stupid old goat?” Jae said, his voice loud in the tunnel. “Of course I forgive you!”

Maevis shook his head. “You only say that because you do not know the true horror of what I did.”

“What I know,” Jae said firmly. “Is the man I met when I first came here. Back when I was scared out of my head all the time and nothing Warren could do would make it any better and Keral just...he was useless too. And to top it all off, I was almost eaten the first night here!”

“Ah, yes,” Maevis said, an odd sort of smile coming to his face. “Baynor. I remember. And the mess what followed.”

“Yeah! And the only reason I didn’t was because he was stupid enough to bring me to Farris. But after that, out of everyone here, do you know who it was that made me feel better?” Maevis jumped when Jae knelt down next to him and put both of his hands firmly on the magician’s shoulders. “YOU!”

Maevis covered his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he tried to stifle his sobs.

“I had just found the tunnels and got lost in the dark and spent hours wandering around and I really thought I was gonna be lost forever. And the first door I found was the one to the library. Where you found me.”

Maevis’s pulled his face from him hands, tears still streaming down his cheeks, but warmth returned to his eyes and he was smiling as the pleasant memory of their first meeting returned to him.

“You were such a small thing then. Weeping and terrified, hiding in the corner when you couldn’t get the tunnel door to open up again,” he said and then laughed. “Begging me not to eat you. My goodness, you were a sight.”

“And you made me feel safe and gave me treats to calm me down and you and Barnaby took my mind off of everything. Warren may have taken me in from the moors, but you and Barnaby were my first friends here. And you still are. My friends. I know the war was horrible and a lot of people died. I lost everything and everyone I ever knew. I’m sure you’re not the only ones to regret what you did. But you’ve done so much good since then. Who in the whole fucking world deserves forgiveness more than you and Barnaby?”

Maevis grabbed Jae’s wrists as he began to weep again. “Oh, my boy. You give your heart too freely.”

“I absolutely do not. I give it to the folks who’ve earned it. So stop feeling so sorry for yourself and give me a hug, dammit!”

Jae helped the magician to his feet and before he could finish dusting his robes off, flung his arms around him. Maevis returned the gesture with enthusiasm.

“Where did this articulate and kind young man come from?” Maevis asked. “I’m quite sure I remember you as a nervous boy who hid behind sarcasm and jokes.”

“All the sarcastic stuff I learned from Keral,” Jae said, his words muffled by Maevis’s maroon robes. “But all the kindness, I learned from you and Barnaby.”

“I don’t deserve your friendship.”

“Too bad, you have it anyway.”

#DUMPLING #g/t #g/t story #g/t writing #Fantasy Story #Nenani #Jae #Maevis #hurt/comfort #ansgt

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queerbutstillhere · 4 years

Note

Hi!!! I don't know if ur still taking prompts but if u do could you do one where Jon gets hit by a love portion and falls for someone who is NOT Damian and Damian is sooo jealous that at one point he confesses to Jon and kiss him which break the live potion effect because true lov3 and all. Also if you could include the batbros that would be great. Thanks in advance if you do XD XD

(Hi! So sorry this took so long 😅 I got busy with #batlanternweek and my Damijon fics on Ao3 and writing a gift for a friend! But! I finally got here! And now that I've written it, I really like this prompt so thank you!!)

Damian was cranky. Even more so then usual. To the point where even Dick had stopped trying to cheer him up. He was so pissed he broke a guys nose literally just for breathing at him. He had gone off on the Teen Titans, nearly killed Tim(yes, again. And they had been doing so well), helped Red Hood steal from a pharmacy(not in his Robin uniform, of course), and had been snubbing Maya and Colin all week.

Why was he so cranky?

Because his best friend, and long time crush, was pining over someone that wasn't him. And this was a problem™.

Now he would never, ever, in a million years confess to Jon. It was just out of the question. For the longest of time, the boy was just too young and Naive, and wouldn't understand, probably be weirded out. And then he went into space for a week, and came back three years older (fuck you Bendis) making him the same age as Damian, also taller then him. And worse, no longer a virgin, which had really upset him, because maybe he had been harboring the desire to deflower the half-kryptonian. But that was his secret to keep, as was the age in which he lost his own virginity, albeit a dumb thing to fret over.

Now you might be thinking, how on Earth has Jonathan Kent fallen for anyone but our handsome, striking, emotionally constipated detective protagonist. The answer was simple, dumb and entirely too aggravating.

They had been working with the Teen Titans, tracking down a new meta who was causing issues in Washington, the state, not the District. This Meta was calling themselves "Eros" like the Greek god of passionate desires. Which of course, led the team to believe their powers had something to do with people's emotions. Well that and the pile of police reports about that exact topic.

Damian hadn't been as concerned as he probably should have been. His team knew the risks and all trusted each other, and apologized in advance, should Eros get to any of them. They were a good group of supers, he begrudgingly admitted. Bringing Kent along probably wasn't the best idea, but with it being summer break and them spending the weekend together, he hadn't really had much of a choice.

He really didn't remember how it happened, just that one moment they had been battling the red and white clad meta, and the next he heard Jon yelling and saw him tackle Jackson.

The arrow sticking out of his back was not a good sign.

As it turned out, the arrow was a love potion, and it made Jon instantly fall for Jackson. Which the teen thought was hilarious. Jon on the other hand, spent the whole next week moping around and bemoaning his childish issues to Damian, who was very annoyed that the damn potion hadn't worn off yet.

"Damian, get off your ass, it's time to patrol," Tim said as he breezed past the futon Damian was sat on.

"He can't," Dick's voice carried across the cave. "He got grounded, remember?"

"Oh, shit. Right. Why?"

"Damian!" A whiny voice called, and Damian wanted to put a knife through his brain.

"That's why," he bit out, pushing to his feet.

He had approximately thirty seconds before Jon located him.

"What? I thought you and Superlad were bff's again," Tim asked, confused.

"We were, until he got hit by a love potion and has fallen head over heels for someone el- on the team."

His stumble wouldn't have been noticed by anyone but his brothers. Tim's eyebrow arched up as he buckled the belts that went across his chest.

"That's rough. Had that happen with Kon a few times. It really doesn't wear off Kryptonian's quite right. Good luck!"

Tim waved and walked away, quickly replaced by Jon, who meandered over, in Superboy uniform. This uniform was a significant improvement on his last one, and Damian would like to take credit for that, this one was actually a bodysuit, red boots that went nearly to his knees, red gloves, and his red cape. The body suit was mostly blue with some dark gray, and then the red and gold on the S emblem.

"Are we going patrolling?" Jon asked with a sad sigh.

"No," Damian bit out, feeling a ripple of anger.

He turned and stalked out, Jon literally floating after him. Damian went upstairs to the manor, heading to the kitchen, Jon never once leaving his side. He was so annoyed.

"Would you quit?!" He snapped, glaring at the Superboy.

"Oh. . . Okay. Geesh you're so cranky these days."

"Maybe, I'm just tired of you acting like a dumbass. Jackson is never going to love you back, Jon. He's not attracted to boys."

"I know," Jon said with a depressed sigh. "But I can't help it. His eyes, and his skin, and-"

"Fuck you!" Damian snapped and spun on his heel, walking out of the kitchen.

He practically ran up to his room, hoping, in vain, that Jon would just leave him alone and go home. Unfortunately, Jon apparently still remembered his duties as best friend. A few seconds later. There was a knock at the door.

"Damian. It's me, can I please come in?"

"No!"

"Damian."

The door opened anyway. Damian crossed his arms, turning to glare at it.

"Fuck. You."

"i don't understand," Jon said, distraught.

"For a week! I have watched you pining over Aqualad. For a week! You feel nothing for him, not truly, you never so much bat an eyelash at him before!"

This was truly a bad idea, but Damian was so frustrated and tired. And gay.

A Tired, emotionally frustrated gay is never a good thing to have on hand. (Trust me on this one. I am one and live with one)

"You've been chasing after him like he is a god, and yet I've been here this whole time and you never even looked at me. Fuck you, Kent! You know how hard relationships are for me!"

"Wait, what?" Jon asked, freezing and looking confused.

"You're an asshole."

"Damian, wait-"

Damian turned to barge past Jon, who caught him easily, grabbing his shoulders firmly.

"Damian, are you- do you like me?"

"For two years now," Damian bit out.

He had already let the cat out of the bag, might as well give it attention.

"oh my God, Damian, I never-"

Damian didn't think or stop himself. He surged forwards, grabbing Jon's slightly less chubby face and yanking him into a rough kiss, teeth clicking painfully, but Damian didn't stop, just kissed him hard. Jon was stiff for a moment, and then suddenly relaxed considerably. he wrapped an arm around Damian's waist and pulled him close.

Damian whimpered into Jon's lips as the Kryptonian sucked in his bottom lip, gently kissing him. Damian's hand snuck up, tangling into Jon's black hair, and the other teens hand was on his hip, fingers pressing into his flesh. Then Damian realized what he was doing and jerked away, pulling out of Jon's hold and stumbling backwards, across the room. He stared at Jon with wide eyes, hand coming up to his mouth.

"Jon, I'm so sorr-"

"Shut up." Jon started walking closer.

He looked confused, but not angry. He followed Damian across the room and reached out for him, but Damian jolted back again.

"Damian, come here," he said gently, holding out a hand.

Damian shook his head. His heard was pounding, and he felt like he was about to have a panic attack or something.

"Damian. Come. Here."

The words were an order, and it sent a bolt of fear through Damian. He swallowed and stepped forwards, into Jon's reach. The teen gently cupped Damian's face, a thumb stroking his cheekbone.

"Damian. I am so sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry I've been acting like an idiot all week. You're right, I don't really feel anything for Jackson. He's a good guy, but no one holds a candle for you."

Damian inhaled to speak, but Jon stopped him, continuing talking.

"When I was gone, for three years, the one thing that kept me going, that made me keep fighting, was the thought of you, of coming back to you. For three years."

Damian wanted to sob, hearing those words, but he just closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Damian. I'm sorry. Really. You- . . . You mean so much to me."

Damian opened his eyes and nodded slightly, meeting Jon's eyes. The teen smiled.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Another nod and Jon leaned in, gently pressing their lips together. Damian relaxed into him, hands coming up to his arms. Jon was already forgiven. Damian couldn't stay mad at his soulmate, not for long, anyway.

#ask me #send me asks #ask me stuff #writing prompt #prompt ask #give me prompts and shiz #story prompt #damian wayne #damianxjon #robin son of batman #superboy #jonathan samuel kent #jon kent #damijon #tim drake #dick grayson

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c-kern · 4 years

Text

Suburbia

You and your Significant Other had an argument about half an hour ago. You know the type. It isn’t dissimilar from the hundreds of arguments that the two of you have had in the past. It started with something small; You don’t even remember what it was, but that isn’t important, anyway. What is important, at least to You, even if not them, is that You are tired of the arguing. You know that the argument itself wasn’t a big deal, but these things are cumulative, aren’t they? Yes. Yes, they are.

So, now You find Yourself at the entrance to one of the many state parks in The State in which You live. You love it here. You have ever since You arrived. What’s funny about that is that it wasn’t even your choice to live here, was it?

“No.” You hear Yourself say, “It wasn’t. It was theirs.” And it was. It was your Significant Other’s, yet here You are.

When You first moved here, You and your Significant Other lived in The City, but then You had The Kid. The City was no place for a kid; you both knew that. So You made the decision to leave the bustling city, and your overpriced apartment, for Suburbia. That was a long time ago.

You had all these great and optimistic ideas about Suburbia.

“What great opportunities, here!” You told Yourself back then, and You found Yourself agreeing.

When You found the perfect house, one of the “great” things about it was that it was next to a state park. The very state park in front of which You now find Yourself.

“I can’t believe it’s taken this long to come here.” You say.

You find Yourself nodding, “I know.” You can’t help but look at Yourself. Although it’s near dusk, and getting darker, You see the age lines.

“Time flies.” You hear Yourself say.

Someone had once told You that there is a trail in this park that leads to a beautiful little waterfall. You aren’t sure which trail it is, or how far it is, but You do know that You have always wanted to see it, and, although You and your Significant Other are hosting the monthly dinner party that You have had going for several years with The Neighbors, You decide that You need some time to think. To relax. So, You decide that it’s time to take Yourself to see that damned waterfall. You pick up the backpack that You brought and stride into the park.

As You cross the parking lot, You spot the park ranger, “Park’s about to close.” They say.

“Only be a minute,” You say, knowing that that isn’t true.

“You little liar” You hear Yourself whisper with a sneer.

“They won’t be able to find anyone who’s on the trails,” You reply, “Besides, there won’t be any vehicles in the parking lot, so they will probably forget all about this.”

“Probably right.”

You continue on. You pass a restroom and patio and make your way to the entrance of the trails. You see several people making their way out, and You slip past them without a word. There’s a sign that points in two directions: East and West. The westward-pointing portion of the sign reads, “Laguna Waterfall Trail,” and the eastward-pointing portion reads, “Lowlands Trail.”

“Seems easy to discern the right path.” You say to Yourself.

“Agreed.” You hear Yourself reply, “Let’s go.”

And You do.

Once on the trail, You see No One. This makes you happy. You need some time. Just You, Yourself, and No one. You begin to think back over your relationship with your Significant Other.

“Was it always like this?” You wonder. No, definitely not. Your relationship has been cyclical, emotionally speaking. In the beginning, the two of you were very young. You didn’t know how to deal with relationships. How could You at that age? You were a kid, or, at least, close enough to one that No One would have known the difference. Back then, You fought a lot. Those fights were the worst. There were times when outsiders would think that You and your Significant Other hated one another. At times, maybe they were right.

“No,” You say loudly, almost too loudly, “No we didn’t. We were just young and passionate.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” You hear Yourself ask.

“No One.” You reply.

“Good, because No One believes you.”

“We were immature.”

And You were. That’s all. But You grew out of that.

After a while, the trail begins a descent into a dark, thick forest. As it does, it narrows, and as it narrows, the shadows, most cast by the trees, but some not, begin to widen. Or, maybe they lengthen. You aren’t sure. To You, the exact location of the tops of the shadows as opposed to the sides of the shadows are a matter of great uncertainty, but You are at peace with that. Such things are, after all, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, when you take into consideration the size of the Universe. Very few people do that. Some would argue that No One does. Those people may be right.

As You enter The Forest, You notice that the remaining light from the sun is blocked off very well. This is, after all, a very, very thick forest. You look around and notice that You can see very little. What You do see, that You can make out, does not surprise You. There are trees. There is underbrush. There is the trail that You are following to the waterfall. There is also something else. Something that You cannot see. You continue on your way.

As You continue your walk, deep in reflection, You check to see that No One is still around. You decide that that is indeed the case.

You remember back to the time when You and your Significant Other truly had reached adulthood, both in age and maturity. This, at least in your mind, was the next chapter in your relationship’s emotional cycle. This was an easy one. Sure, there may have been issues from time to time, but there were very few fights. You were still young, yes, but You were also confident and optimistic. Nothing in this world could bring You down. You started that career that You had been working toward, and it was, as far as You could tell then, everything You had hoped for. There was, however, a small downside to that career: it was in another part of The Country. In order for You to pursue it, your Significant Other had to agree to move. Of course, they did. Why wouldn’t they?

“We were inseparable and in love.” You say. And You are right.

Both of you had grown up in a large city. That made for a drastic change when you moved for your career. The job offer that You received was in the middle of Nowhere. The two of you lived basically in isolation for three whole years. As You walk, now, You try hard, using your not-as-sharp-as-it-used-to-be memory, to remember any person that you met while in the middle of Nowhere. You think of No One.

“It was nice, though, wasn’t it?” You once again hear Yourself say.

“It wasn’t terrible.” You reply, “At least we were happy.”

Things got complicated after that, though didn’t they?

“You can say that, again.”

“Say what?” You ask Yourself.

No One replies.

“Right.” You say, mostly to Yourself.

Toward the end of that time, in the middle of Nowhere, your Significant Other started to show signs of unhappiness. It started with nothing but a somber mood, and, truth be told, You didn’t notice it right away. Looking back, You should have, but You didn’t. Over several months, it progressed, under your not-so-watchful eye.

Then, the conversation came.

“I want us to move.” You remember them saying.

“Why?” You asked, completely taken by surprise, “Things are going really well for us here.”

“No, they aren’t,” They say, “They are going well for you. I am miserable. I need to be closer to a city; I need to be closer to my family.”

“We loved each other, so I did what was asked of me.” You say to No One in particular. No One listens.

A few months later, You found Yourself in The City. The very city that You lived in all the way up to the birth of The Kid.

During your time in The City, You really got to know Yourself. You spent hours a week just learning about Yourself. You began to like Yourself. You began to feel comfortable just being with Yourself. Your Significant Other didn’t understand that. Why would you spend so little time with them?

“I just preferred it that that way.” You say. And You did.

You wait for someone to ask You to elaborate. No One does.

“It was a complicated time.”

Then, The Kid

You come to a bend in your path that overlooks a river. You walk up to the edge, take off your backpack, and find, in a small pocket, what You were looking for. You pull out a pack of cigarettes. You light one and lean against a tree.

You had told your Significant Other that You had stopped smoking years ago, but that isn’t exactly true, obviously.

“I have cut back a lot, though.” You say, and that is exactly true. You used to literally burn through a pack a day. Now, You smoke one cigarette, once in a while, when You know that You won’t be caught. You keep them hidden in your sock drawer. Honestly, You are surprised that your Significant Other has never found them. At first, You thought they would, but they never did, so now, that drawer has become the place of many, many secrets. The pack of cigarettes was the first of two of those secrets that You brought with You, but You will get to the other one when the time is right.

You are looking up and down the river, as far as You can see. It’s quiet and dark.

“Couldn’t even tell the sun had gone down in all that tree cover.” You hear Yourself say.

“Nope,” You respond, “Probably better keep moving.”

You toss the remainder of your cigarette onto the ground and turn to begin back on your path. As You do, you hear a sudden cracking of sticks and twigs near You. It frightens You. You spin around frantically. You think You see something. Is it Someone? You wouldn’t expect Someone to be out here at this time of night, but You never know, do You?

“No, I guess I don’t.” You whisper.

You see an oddly shaped shadow across the path from You, near a tree. It looks like Someone.

“Hello?” You call out, cautiously.

There is no answer.

You slowly approach the shadow, nervous of what might come next.

As You get closer, You realize. It isn’t Someone. In fact, it isn’t a person, or creature, at all, at least, not a live one. It’s a sign cut into the shape of a monster. Specifically, the rumored “Laguna Waterfall Monster”.

The sign is cut and painted to look like the “monster”. Also on the sign, is a brief history of “sightings” of the monster along the trail that You are walking. You pull out your cellphone, turn the camera light on, and read the sign, in its entirety. At the bottom of the sign is a picture of the monster’s supposed egg that it lays. The egg in the picture is shaped the normal way an egg is typically shaped, but its color is mostly a deep, midnight blue, with swirls of black, purple, pink, and red. The sign says that these eggs are often spotted along the trail and are free to keep, if You find them.

“How ridiculous.” You say.

No One agrees.

Again, You hear the crackling of twigs somewhere near You. You spin around to see what it is, when suddenly, your favorite song starts blaring out of nowhere!

Well, not really out of nowhere, is it?

You feel a slight vibration in your hand, and You look down. Your phone is ringing. On the screen, is a picture of your Significant Other, holding The Kid. You begin to feel very emotional and quickly decline the call.

You take a deep breath, looking around for Someone. You see No One.

“Calm down.”

You take another deep breath, but just then, You feel the vibration of your phone, again.

It’s a text message from your Significant Other: Just wanted to make sure everything is okay. Where did you go?

In response, You throw your phone into the brush.

“Now, they’ll worry,” You hear Yourself say quietly.

“Good,” You say.

You begin walking down the path, again, more determined than ever to see that waterfall. As You do, You begin to think of The Kid. That time in your life was particularly cyclical, emotionally, with your Significant Other. When The Kid was first born, times were tough. You had to learn a whole new way to live. There were late nights and early mornings. There were fights over which parent was in charge of which duty at which times. There was also great happiness. That was when your Significant Other made a second location ask of You. They felt that Suburbia would be much better for The Kid.

“I agreed with that, too.” You say.

“The City is no place for a child,” You hear Yourself say, “It was the best for everyone.”

And it was. You know that. And You aren’t that far from The City. At first, You loved it; don’t try and say You didn’t. You got a house, your house, which is much bigger than anything You could’ve afforded in The City, and it was near two parks. This park, which You always wanted to visit but somehow never did, and also another park. That park has playground equipment, an open field, and a basketball court. You have been to that park, haven’t you? Yes, of course.

You think back to all the afternoons You spent at that park with your Significant Other and The Kid. Those were some of your most fond memories. You remember the first time The Kid went down the slide. Although, your Significant Other was not there that day. And a good thing, too, because The Kid went down it by accident. They were walking along the jungle gym and just slipped. You tried to catch them, but You weren’t fast enough, and down they went.

You thought that The Kid would cry, but they didn’t. Later, You would tell your friends that You knew The Kid wouldn’t cry.

“Tough as nails, just like us.” You said with a laugh. Later, once The Kid reached adulthood, You found out how true that was.

Quickly, You think of another memory. You think of all the sports games that The Kid played there. They loved sports, all of them. That was good, though, because the fact was that The Kid was pretty good at all of them. They could’ve gotten a sports scholarship to any school, if they had wanted to, but not every person is made for college, and The Kid was one of those who were not. The shock of that realization was pretty big to You, at the time.

“After all of the trouble we had had through the horrible teen years,” You begin, “I just thought the decision not to go to college was another form of rebellion.” But, it wasn’t. It just wasn’t the right path for them. You know that, now.

You’ve walked a ways, now, since You read that sign, and hadn’t really been paying much attention, but now, another sign catches your eye. This sign isn’t big, like the last one. In fact, it is really quite small. You approach it, trying to read it. You reach for your phone before realizing that You no longer have it.

“What the hell does that say?” You ask, squinting in the dark.

You get really close to the sign, now, squatting down to get a better look. You read the sign.

The sign tells You that you are entering the zone in which the Laguna Waterfall Monster eggs are typically found. You laugh out loud.

“Does anyone believe this crap?” You ask.

No One answers.

“Maybe the park rangers planted some around here.” You hear Yourself say.

It probably wouldn’t hurt to look.

So, You start wandering around, meandering back and forth across the path, to its edges. t’s hard to see, but You don’t think You see anything.

As You search for monster eggs, You think about The Kid’s senior year in high school. That year seemed to be a cleansing one. The Kid seemed to let go of the typically-teen behavior and attitude issues and replaced them with a great excitement of the unknown. The Kid had lived in the same house, in the same neighborhood, and went to the same school their whole life. There was so much to do and see as adulthood, and true independence, approached. How could anyone resist that? You felt the same way, at that age, after all.

“I really enjoyed that time,” You say, “We got swept up in the excitement, too.”

Most of the good family photos in your home are from that year. You spent so much time with The Kid, because You knew once that year was over, they would be gone. Eventually, that was proven true. Senior year ended. The Kid decided to go off and try to live their life, and soon, they were gone, and You knew that they were never coming back. It wasn’t your fault, You know that. It wasn’t because of all the fights that you had, or that they hated You. Sometimes life just does that. Now, You and your Significant Other are left there, alone.

Soon, you approach another sign. This sign is facing away from You. You walk around to read it. It is the same sign that You saw a few minutes before. You must be out of the egg zone.

“I knew this was stupid.” You hear Yourself say.

“Maybe tourists already picked them all up,” You reply, “Or maybe, they only put them out in the summer. It’s too cold for any sane person to be out here this time of year.

No One disagrees.

You continue your walk, and before long, You come to a fork in the path. A handy sign tells You to go to the right. You oblige.

“Have to be getting close now.”

The forest becomes less quiet than it was. You hear leaves scattering, sticks breaking, and other noises that You can’t figure out. It sounds like there is an army chasing You.

“It’s just the wind.” You say to Yourself, and You believe that, although, You don’t feel any more wind, and You don’t feel any colder. But, of course, it’s the wind.

“Of course.” You hear Yourself say, nervously. You begin to walk quickly.

There was an old joke your parents used to always make when you were getting ready to embark out on your own. The joke always came up in a conversation with other parents. The conversation usually followed the same pattern.

“Well, now that you and your spouse will have the house to yourselves, what are you going to do?” a friend’s parent would ask.

“I guess,” one of your parents would reply, “After this many years with kids to occupy our time, the first thing we should do is find out if we even like each other.”

And all the parents would laugh. And You would laugh, too, because You thought it was the funniest joke in the world. What You didn’t know, and what You would only realize much later, was that there was a real truth to those words. You suppose that the joke was told just to cover up the nervousness that your parents, and maybe all parents, felt during that life changing event. You certainly felt that way.

“What’s the answer?”

“Hmm?” You ask.

“The answer. Do the two of you still like each other?”

“Sometimes,” You reply, “Well, most times.”

You pause, then sigh.

“Not usually.” You continue, “I guess that’s why I’m out here, tonight.”

Suddenly, there’s a loud crashing sound. You spin around to see where it came from. There’s a fallen tree forty yards behind You.

“What the hell?” You ask Yourself.

“That was weird.” You hear Yourself say.

You listen very intently. You wait to see what You hear. After a moment, You realize that You do hear something.

“What is that?”

It’s the sound of rushing water. You begin to relax. Your journey is almost over. You start to sprint toward the sound. You run a ways and start to feel tired, and just as You start to think that You can’t run any more, You spot the clearing at the end of the path that leads You to the waterfall.

As You enter the clearing, You are awestruck. It is the most beautiful sight that You have ever seen.

“This is perfect.” You say.

No One agrees.

You slowly walk forward. The noise of the waterfall and the sounds of the forest are extremely loud, but You don’t hear any of that.

You get to the end of the path, which leads to the river that is the continuation of the bottom of the waterfall. You kneel down, open your backpack, and reveal the second secret from your sock drawer.

“This is the perfect spot,” You hear Yourself say.

“I knew it would be.”

The second secret, unlike the cigarettes, is something that your Significant Other never knew You had. You got it a few months ago while they were out of town for the week. It feels heavier than You remember. You look around to see if there is Someone watching. No One is.

“It’s time.”

And it is.

You look down at the revolver in your hand. All noise in the forest has stopped. Your life flashes before your eyes, and You feel at peace. This is going to be beautiful. You half expect Someone to rush through the forest. For them to tell You that You are making a bad decision, but they aren’t coming.

You stand up, tears of happiness and relief in your eyes. You look at the waterfall, wanting it to be the last thing that You ever see, and put the barrel of the gun in your mouth.

“This is the end.” You hear Yourself say, “It’s been a ride.”

You squeeze the trigger.

And all You hear is a click.

You look down at the gun, not surprised. You open the cylinder and see a single bullet.

“Maybe next time.” You say, sadly.

No One consoles You.

You turn away from the waterfall to make your way back down the path, back home. And as You do so, You trip over something and fall forward, onto your face. You look back to see what it was that tripped You, and You see what looks, in the night, like a large rock.

You move closer to it and realize that it isn’t just a rock, but rather a large, egg-shaped object, midnight blue, with swirls of other colors. You pick it up and begin to chuckle.

“Apparently, the park rangers left one of these, after all.” You say to Yourself.

“Lucky day,” You hear Yourself say.

You stuff the egg in your backpack, along with the revolver, and start your journey home, alone.

***

When You arrive home, your Significant Other is in the dining room, preparing for the Neighbors. You quietly remove your keys from your pocket, not wanting to be heard, and place them in the dish on the small table in your foyer. On that table are only three items: that dish, a picture of The Kid in dress blues, and a folded flag with a medal.

You make your way upstairs and into your bedroom, where You plan to undress and take a shower. First, though, You make your way to your dresser and open your sock drawer. After removing several pairs of socks from it, You find your secrets. You place the pack of cigarettes and revolver among them, replace all but one of those pairs of socks, and close the drawer.

You pause for a moment, and then decide to remove The Egg from your backpack and place it atop the dresser. You think it looks good as a decoration.

You then go and take your shower.

You arrive downstairs just the Neighbors are arriving. You and your Significant Other greet them warmly, wrapping an arm around each other.

You think about that for a moment, as the group begins their idle small talk. Both the most infuriating, and the most depressing part of tonight is the fact that all of your closest friends are with You, and not one of them will notice the fact that You and your Significant Other are fighting. They won’t notice the subtle digs that the two of you make at each other, or the sarcastic smiles and false niceties. They won’t notice any of that, because the worst part of Suburbia is that nobody really cares about anyone but themselves. Everyone is too self-involved and worried about their own problems to notice the obvious around them.

So you play along, and smile.

But let’s just be clear with each other.

You. Hate. Them. All.

Upstairs, on your dresser, lays The Egg you put there for decoration.

The Egg wiggles, slightly, and cracks.

No One sees it.

#short story #amwriting #horror #experimental fiction #speculative fiction

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forasecondtherewedwon · 5 years

Note

Wait let me try that again - spideychelle + "Angel in the streets, freak in the sheets.”

You’re absolutely right, Anon, so I’m very pleased that you and @itsjacobperalta picked this prompt! I had a lot of fun with it!

Operation Eight-Legged Freak

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: M/NSFWWord count: 2396

Summary:

Despite being nice enough to give a select number of interviews after Mysterio blew his identity, Peter Parker is continually hounded for more. When the media discovers he has a girlfriend, they go after her too. Until now, she’s held back. Until now, they’ve been safe.

Michelle Jones grants a single sit-down interview and, boy, it’s a doozy.

31. “Angel in the streets, freak in the sheets.”

Operation Eight-legged Freak is a go, MJ texts Peter. She spies through the glass front of the coffee shop, searching until her gaze lands on the most reporter-looking person in there. Taking a deep breath, MJ centers herself and hauls the door open.

“Ms. Jeffries?” she asks, stopping at the table against the wall where a woman with decoratively oversized glasses is leaning too close to the screen of her laptop.

The woman straightens up and half-rises out of her chair with a hand outstretched.

“Miss Jones! Call me Elsbeth.”

“Michelle.”

As MJ shakes her hand, she focuses on clenching her teeth instead of her grip; the journalist’s gaze is sliding all over her, sizing her up as she probably internally composes some filler for the article she’s writing on Spider-Man’s girlfriend.

MJ wills the potential descriptions of herself out of her head. Peter’s been helping her practice that, reassuring her every time she comes up with a potential physical or character flaw that the press might hone in on. Of course, a significant portion of what he says is bullshit because he refuses to recognize anything about her as less than perfect. Dork.

“I’m just going to grab a drink,” MJ says, pointing towards the short line to the cash register.

“Oh, no, that’s on me. Or, rather, it’s on the paper. What can I get you?”

“Um, just a latte. Thanks.”

The woman gives her a phony smile and gestures for her to sit while she strides over to join the line. MJ takes the chair across from the open laptop and tries to relax into it. While she waits, she mentally goes over her and Peter’s game plan. Texting him might comfort her, but Elsbeth will definitely be watching. Which adjectives will she use to paint her picture of how MJ sits, how she scans her surroundings? She can’t worry about that. This interview is not about the reporter and MJ tells herself that she needs to remember how value she is.

Since the ‘Peter Parker is Spider-Man’ story broke, her boyfriend’s been under a microscope. It didn’t take a hell of a lot of time before the media found out he was dating someone and, though she hasn’t told Peter this, MJ’s planning unholy retribution against whichever little weasel at their school sold her out for a hasty buck. She suspects Brad. The attention now on her is the only thing keeping Brad’s dick un-punched.

Peter’s played nice―nicer than MJ would’ve in his place―in service of the super-persona the city knows and loves. Basically, he doesn’t want to besmirch the good name of Spider-Man. He’s made himself available for a limited number of interviews (decided upon with May’s guidance), in and out of the suit, always patient and smiling. MJ hasn’t been as accessible. As in, she hasn’t done interviews. Any. At all. Between her boyfriend, herself, her parents, Peter’s aunt, and Pepper Potts (who probably finds their exposure problems ridiculously easy to manage after years of wrangling Tony Stark), they determined that the best move was to withhold access to MJ. Now, being seen or used as an object goes against every belief she has, but this is a power move. They’d keep her as the queen among the pawns, the ace up their sleeve.

Turns out MJ isn’t the ace. She’s the joker.

The strategizing just seemed to go on too long and polite requests for Spider-Man interviews turned into microphones jammed in Peter’s face and photographers slipping into Midtown tech pretending to be parents picking up their kids. So MJ and her super-nerd devised their own plan, quickly realizing her time had come to do her part in shaping the Spider-Man narrative.

Half of what the papers and blogs were publishing wasn’t truthful, so MJ wouldn’t be either. She would grant a single interview and fuck with the press so hard that they would see her as an unreliable source of information (and stop asking questions), be made incredibly uncomfortable by her unprintable answers (and stop asking questions), or maybe just confuse them to the point that they couldn’t scrape together an article out of the array of utter shit she would present them with (and stop asking questions). The tabloid they picked out together for MJ’s interview also happens to already be on the other side of credible, which helps with making every word she says to this woman essentially worthless.

Ah, here’s Elsbeth with her latte.

“Do you mind if I record our conversation?” she asks, pulling her phone from her pocket.

“Please,” MJ says. She forces herself not to smile because she’d probably hurdle over polite and go straight to looking maniacal.

The woman taps her screen the second she’s set MJ’s coffee on the crowded tabletop.

“I’d warn you away from drinking coffee so young,” the woman says laughingly as she retakes her own seat, “but I guess you wouldn’t be sorry to stunt your growth.” MJ stares blandly back at her, gently swirling the mug, until she continues. “Because you’re already taller than Peter.”

She shrugs as Elsbeth quietly closes her laptop and slides the phone into place between them, eyes fixed greedily on her interviewee’s face.

“He likes my legs.” Before the instant spark of scandal in Elsbeth’s eye can be transformed into a follow-up question, MJ adds, “I think it’s a spider thing. Some kind of dark fetish as a result of him getting totally fucked by mutation. And you should call him ‘Mr. Parker.’”

Wrong-footed, Elsbeth tilts her head in discomfort at having to apologize.

“Sorry, yes, that was a slip in professionalism―”

“No, because that’s what I call him.” Now she’s just speechless. MJ raises her eyebrows like she’s explaining this to a child. “When we’re fucking.” An unusually mature child. “Should I have said at the start that his fetishes are numerous? My bad, I’ve never been interviewed before.”

It has now occurred to MJ that a liberal sprinkling of profanities through her answers can’t hurt either. Can’t hurt her. This interview’s going to require more redactions than a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey in a children’s library.

“I… I…” Elsbeth covers herself (or thinks she does) with a quick throat clearing and a dainty sip from her own cup of coffee. “No, that’s fine, I just normally like to begin with something more… general.”

MJ sighs.

“I regret to inform you that Mr. Parker’s tastes aren’t really in the realm of general.” She locks eyes with Elsbeth like she’s confessing a big secret. “He’s pretty fucking depraved.” After a second of enjoying the flicker of horror across the woman’s expression, MJ pretends to take pity on her. “Sorry, would you prefer if I call him Peter? You look uncomfortable.”

The journalist is darting her eyes around now, but, as ever, MJ isn’t speaking overly loudly and most of the customers of this place seem to get their drinks to-go; there isn’t anyone sitting at the tables nearest to theirs.

“General questions,” Elsbeth clarifies too late. “I meant general questions, about anything.” Something behind her eyes is beginning to look delightfully haunted and this time, MJ allows herself a grin and nods like she gets it.

“Right. Well, I’ve know that Mr. Parker―sorry, Peter―was Spider-Man since before we started dating.” Elsbeth visibly perks up because MJ knows what’s coming out of her mouth sounds like the first usable information since she walked into this coffee shop.

“That’s fascinating.”

And she does sound fascinated. MJ reminds herself it’s just the greediness behind getting a scoop, not legitimate interest in who Peter is as a human being or his many private sacrifices in the attempt to keep his secret before that dumb fuck Mysterio showed up.

“And,” Elsbeth probes, feeling around in the bag at her feet before extracting a pad and pen for supplemental notes, “what was it that made think your classmate was moonlighting as an Avenger?”

MJ takes a long drink of her latte and glances contemplatively at the nonrepresentational art print hanging on the wall beside them.

“He’s jacked as fuck.”

Elsbeth, who mirrored her by going for a sip when she did, nearly chokes.

“Anything―” She coughs. “―about his personality? That would make you think he’d lead a double life risking life and limb for strangers?”

“Oh sure,” MJ concedes easily. “Peter’s kind of a nerd, but he gets along with everybody. You know, one of those people who can be casual friends with a kid in every social clique? People in the neighbourhood who know him as Peter Parker love him too. He’s very nice.” And then she drops the anvil. “Angel in the streets, freak in the sheets.”

Really, Elsbeth should get into comedy. She’s great at abruptly shifting her expression from relieved to panicked. Jim Carrey made a whole career out of his ‘elastic face.’ This woman should totally find an agent.

“Haven’t you heard that expression?” MJ asks innocently, sliding two fingers through the handle of her mug slowly enough for Elsbeth to notice and potentially take as subliminal messaging.

“I’ve…” The woman trails off, lowering her pen again, and devolves her response into an awkward nod.

MJ laughs as though to herself. When she leans forward conspiratorially, planting her elbows on the table, the journalist flinches. She’d feel bad if the whole pack of media people in this city didn’t suck ass. Peter’s never done an interview with Elsbeth’s paper, and for good reason: one of their photographers followed him around for a week trying to get a shot of him changing in an alley as if he weren’t only seventeen years old. Yeah, today’s interview is more than a little about MJ protecting her boyfriend.

“We do shit you’ve never heard of,” MJ offers without being prompted. It doesn’t look like poor Elsbeth’s up to asking questions anymore. “In Peter’s bed, a missionary’s just a traveling priest and G-O-T stands for Game of Thrones, which we never catch up on because we’re too busy tearing another page out of the Kama Sutra.” She laughs like, isn’t this great? We’re having girl time. “Actually, I shouldn’t imply that G-O-T has never stood for ‘girl on top,’ because Mr. Parker does enjoy me riding his cock from time to time, but if we do that, I’m also wearing nipple clamps or I have my hands tied to a ring in the ceiling or something. That freak fucking loves his accessories.”

She takes a tranquil sip of her coffee. It’s actually pretty good and strong enough to keep her bouncing along through this interview. MJ respects an establishment that doesn’t skimp on the caffeine in favour of a mountainous topping of whipped cream. She might actually come by here again sometime.

“Ok,” Elsbeth says with sudden sternness, face contorted in a smile that hints she’s trying to convince herself that, somehow, everything will be fine. “We’ve covered all my questions―” MJ nearly snorts coffee out her nose at this barefaced perjuring. “―so I’ll just,” she explains, shoveling her things into her bag, “give you a call if I need anything else.”

MJ smiles as the journalist gets to her feet.

“Sure thing. I’d shake your hand,” she says, looking up at Elsbeth from her chair, “but you don’t want to know where mine have been. Or, if you do, that’s something we can cover in that phone call.”

The woman gives a nervous laugh and puts her palms up to ward off a handshake.

“No, that’s… we’re good. We’re all set.”

“‘K, great.”

“Thank you for your time.”

The disturbed look mounts Elsbeth’s face before she’s completely turned away from MJ, which just adds to MJ’s delight when she gets to call out to her.

“By the way,” MJ says as the journalist turns, fight or flight likely seconds from kicking in judging by the tension of her stance. “You know I’m a minor, right? So publishing anything I just told you would look pretty bad.”

The woman probably suspected this in the rational part of her brain that MJ’s spent the last half hour scaring into hiding, but she certainly looks irritated by the reminder.

“I guess you’re right,” she acknowledges tersely.

MJ nods to agree that, yes, she is 100% correct, and swallows the last of her coffee.

“Also, because I know you work for the kind of place that likes to share tip-offs with other scummy publications, I’d like you to feel free to spread the word that Spider-Man and his girlfriend are not to be fucked with. And neither is Peter Parker.”

After the woman flees, MJ slumps back, hand shaking as she rotates her mug in its saucer. When the quiet grinding noise breaks through the pounding of the adrenaline-accelerated heartbeat in her ears, she reaches for her phone instead.

Tell me how it goes, Peter texted.

She’s too jittery from confrontation and caffeine to sit any longer, so she pushes away from the table and calls her boyfriend instead, raising the phone to her ear once she’s on the sidewalk with her hood pulled up; it’ll take a little time for the warning to be distributed and, in the meantime, she doesn’t want to be recognized. One interview was enough.

“MJ?” Peter asks from the other end of the line. “How was it? What happened?”

She’s silent long enough to realize she actually isn’t sure how to put it into words.

“I’ll tell you everything when I see you, but there is one thing you should know right away.”

“What is it?”

“I think I made up a sex position.”

The truth―the real truth―is that they’re seventeen, missionary has been a trusted friend, and MJ’s only ever made brief eye contact with a copy of the Kama Sutra from across a display table at a bookstore. She hears her boyfriend inhale sharply before responding with obviously forced coolness.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. We’re gonna try it.” If her adrenaline’s up, so is her bravado.

Peter fumbles his words, communicating nothing at first, then, “Why was that something I had to know right away?”

“Because,” MJ says, straining to make out the signs above the upcoming storefronts, “I’m planning on stocking up at the sex shop in the next block and I need to know if we’re going to have your apartment to ourselves when I get there.”

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upfrog · 4 years

Text

So I finished reading Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

This isn’t so much a review, as an attempt to cement some of my thoughts, and to at least write something down, the better that I will not look back in a year and not be able to remember a thing of what I thought of HPMOR. But overall... that was quite a thing.

HPMOR is long. Longer (by word count, which isn’t a perfect method of judging this) than War and Peace, the normal benchmark for “really long books”. I don’t consider getting through it to be an accomplishment, in the sense of say, getting through Homestuck, though maybe that’s only because I have tried, and failed to do the latter several times. It may also be because the plot is, for all it’s time travel and scientific tangents, less complex than Homestuck. I do not expect it to stick in my mind the way the canonical books do. While I do not consider them to be high literature, the canonical Harry Potter books, in addition to being entirely an entirely decent story, had a certain... Depth, of sorts, to them. Some of this may come from the midi-chlorian effect; the workings of magic are never discussed greatly in the canonical books, but much of HPMOR Harry’s efforts are devoted to understanding magic from a scientific perspective. I think it is more likely that it is because HPMOR simply had a more limited scope.

HPMOR set out to be a puzzle, an encouragement of rational thought patterns, a demonstration of how they might be applied to great benefit. And it does this. While potential plot holes and inconsistencies exist, it does this fairly well on the whole. But there isn’t that much beneath it, at least not that I have seen. It’s a good enough story, and the way it chooses to fill in the unfinished coloring book of Rowling’s world creates a compellingly interesting universe, albeit not a pleasant one. It has some good humor at some parts (more on that later), many clever moments, and some moments that are, frankly, just plain awesome, though these often contribute to the monstrously overpowered being that Harry is. Both versions shared the core theme of (spoiler warning: the rest of this paragraph. If you’re interested, I’d really advise you to just read it so that you don’t have the dramatic tension reduced) Harry ultimately triumphing by virtue of who he is. Triumphing by being, as we would describe it, a better human being than his opponent. The difference is that in the canonical books, this is a much more theological process. By the final book, Rowling is pretty much bashing us over the head with a crucifix. I still maintain that, unless the hill you wish to die on is unmarried teen snogging, declaring Harry Potter as heresy for the simple fact that it includes magic is to foolishly ignore the veritable flood of Christian messaging the books contain. I thought I’d made a post about that, but apparently not, so I’ll divert myself to that briefly.

Spoilers for the whole canonical Harry Potter main series in the following paragraph:

The entire story is based on an innocent child who was permitted to live because of the intensely real power and protection offered by the selfless sacrifice of another to protect said child. So there, straight off the bat, right in the premise. And then in the 7th book, Harry does the exact same thing, but more so, and pretty much pulls an Aslan, “dying” willingly to protect others, but not by this being truly killed. And it’s not like the Christian messaging in Narnia is obscure. And at the end of the first Harry Potter book, Dumbledore, the most “good guy” character that the series has to offer goes off explaining how “to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure”. Then, in no particular order, having not done anything like a read through specifically looking out for these: the primacy of the soul over the physical, the specifically soul-corrupting nature of evil and killing, the power of redemption and forgiveness, the ultimate triumph of good over evil, the concept of powers that, while attainable, will damage your soul forever, and the existence of life after death. Anyway, back to the main matter.

HPMOR lacks any semblance of this depth (not that this is the deepest thing in the world mind), at least that I have been able to detect, and this makes it a lesser story to me.

The first ten or so chapters of HPMOR were pretty great as comedy. Harry constantly befuddling the wizarding world, and being befuddled by it, makes for some great laughs. Later on it undergoes a pretty significant tone change, and I had a very hard time adjusting to it, and enjoying the latter portion (which makes up most of the fic) for what it is. I did ultimately reach that point, but it was jarring.

This fic has some pretty obscure references. Have any of y’all read “Negima!?”? The author of this fic has. ( or at least, he’s watched some of the show.) It also had an offhanded reference to Madoka Magica, which is less obscure, but I still appreciate it.

HPMOR Harry just keeps on getting more and more powers. (potential spoilers ahead, less severe): It seems like every month he’s making some discovery of how to do something that the entire wizarding world “knows” is totally impossible. It makes a certain sense, in context, but it certainly does contribute to some Mary Sue-like feeling. But on the other hand, Harry routinely oversteps his cleverness, failing to think things through enough, missing obvious points that would have counter-indicated his action. And some of the consequences are rather severe, so I don’t knock too many points off for it. Harry is powerful, but he is also rather a child genius in this telling, and all things considered, most of his discoveries don’t seem too ridiculous.

I earlier mentioned that the world HPMOR painted was rather interesting. It (mostly) doesn’t directly contradict the wizarding world as portrayed in the common, but it does color in many of the blanks, and this author paints in dark colors. Wizarding britain, as portrayed in HPMOR, would be considered barbaric to most of the people reading this. Or perhaps it would merely be considered “medieval”. It certainly has some things going for it. It is portrayed as a place with relatively little history of institutional sexism, or racism amongst wizards. Even the stodgiest pure bloods find it silly to discriminate based on skin color. Wizarding Britain sees little wrong with homosexuality, and it is entirely un-taboo. But things get worse from there.

It is implied, or at least, I took away the message from my last reading some years ago, that the Wizarding power structure in the canonical books is... incompetent. That the benchmark of being a “fully qualified” witch or wizard does not in fact entail very much true competency, and many of the more powerful figures are somewhat dumb. HPMOR confirms this, and brings it into the light, offering more examples of just how useless most wizards are in matters non-magical. Wizarding Britain is controlled by an incompetent government, which is primarily controlled by one or several “Noble and Most Ancient House(s)”. The extent of Lucius Malfoy’s influence is brought up often in the canonical books, and the same is true here. This is a world where (minor spoiler for something before chapter 10-ish) a young noble raping a girl, and yes, girl is the proper noun here, repeatedly, and getting away with it indefinitely, is an open secret. Where this young noble’s security is secured by: a) the victim and her families’ fear of his familial power, b) memory charms, and c) a court system where the interests of the Noble Houses are often a primary concern.

Wizarding news is minimal, and it seems to primarily toe the ministry (which is to say, aristocratic) line, save for the Quibbler, which... on the whole, isn’t great news either. There is no particular concept of a fair trial at play in this world, especially if your crime was committed against a noble house. Less than three days investigation is considered enough to go from crime to a sentence of ten years in Azkaban. And then there’s Azkaban itself. For all it is a prominent feature in the books, and Dumbledore’s opposition to it is often mentioned, Azkaban doesn’t get much light shone on it in the canonical books. This is likely in part because it is such an incredibly, ridiculously cruel place that it becomes very difficult for many of us muggles to imagine it being an appropriate punishment for anyone. I won’t go into great detail, but there are very few crimes capable of causing enough pain that, even working from a perspective of vengeance, instead of justice or rehabilitation, it becomes very difficult to mathematically justify Azkaban.

To clarify, by mathematically justify, I mean, what percent of the pain a criminal inflicts by his misdeed can fairly be unleashed upon the criminal as punishment. Is a beating a proper punishment for beating someone? What about two beatings? Or three? At what point does the severity of the punishment become so much greater than that of the crime that it stops being sensible? If you slapped me, would I, absent any concerns about self defense or ensuring my future safety, be justified in immediately shooting you? Or boiling you? Or beating you to death? The murders who are so successful that we stop calling them murders and start calling them statesmen might have a shot at a mathematically (if not necessarily ethically) justifiable cell in Azkaban. For everyone else, it’s pretty difficult. And in both versions of the story, wizarding justice is NOT perfect. Innocent people go to Azkaban, and are exposed to this as well. Azkaban is pretty terrible, and most of the wizarding world just sort of... accepts it.

Anyway, I probably have more to say, but I really need to wrap this up. This probably wasn’t very coherent, so sorry about that.

#HPMOR #Harry Potter #book review #ish #upfrog speaks

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