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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year ago

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Trying To Save Me, Part 1

Summary: Fate. A word you were forbidden to ever speak. It wasn’t real and it didn’t exist. A word that was always whispered around you, but never to you. You didn’t know why you were fated for something. Just that the day you were born the great winter came and you’ve been on the run with your family since, but now they were gone. Traveling to what you thought was further and further away from the dark king’s palace. Instead, you had begun to get closer. Following a white wolf instead of your learned route. No wonder you wound up captive and given to the king as a gift. As was fated…

Pairings: dark king!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: language, violence, death, curse, attempted SA, kidnapping, humiliation, objectification, non/con fingering, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.8K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

A woman’s shriek echos up into the mountains while a young boy looks up at the sky. His freakishly green eyes look all along the night sky. His hand taps on the arm of the other man beside him as he points up at the sky. “You need to tell Malik,” he answers, keeping his eyes in the sky.

A twig in the distance breaks, and both men look towards the tent as a long drawn out scream comes from inside, “Go, now,” he answers annoyedly as he watches the first snowflake drift from the sky. “Our fates are sealed, I fear.”

The younger boy runs inside, eyes going large and round as a woman reaches down, and cradles a just born baby to her chest. Tears and sweat pour down her face as she clings to the child, rocking back and forth.

“Sire.”

“Silence,” a gigantic man says, stepping closer to the woman, “My queen. Let me see the baby,” she cries harder, shaking her head. “Let me see the child!”

“She’s just a baby,” she cries, looking up at him. “She doesn’t have to know. Nobody has to know. She’s just a baby!”

“Sire,” the guard says again, and the large man turns abruptly, eyes aflame as he approaches slowly. “My king, the snow is falling,” the queen in the background wails. Her hands slap at everyone who tries to take the baby from her arms. “He will come for her.”

“Clean them up. Cicely, stop your screaming. Everything you know, will be no more. If you want to keep the child. If not, we can end it now. It is fated…”

“Malik, she’s a baby! My baby! No, it doesn’t exist. Take the crown on top of my head. I don’t need this life,” with a sigh, Malik slings his head to the side and everyone in the tent scrambles. “What are you doing?”

“This will be a winter like you’ve never seen before. They’re loading the necessary items,” picking his crown off his head, he throws it to the ground. “She’ll never know. Yours, too,” the queen kisses her daughter’s head before letting her own crown fall to the ground. Life would forever be different.

You reach your hand into the snow, digging around a moment before you pull up a small root. Wiping it clean before gnawing your teeth into the fibrous twig. Glancing out through the thin trees. You haven’t known anything but winter. And typically you were alone. Had been for a few years, until him. The white wolf. He always lingers around when you scavenge for what little food you could find.

“It’s not meat, you beast,” the wolf’s eyes never leave you as it sits down into the snow. “I can see that you’re looking at me like you want to devour me, but you also know I’m too skinny for eating, huh?” Chuckling, you tear another piece off the root. “Did you eat a rabbit out of my trap? I’d like to get some real food in my belly. I have to start traveling again.”

The perks of living in a village was you weren’t completely alone. There is a comfort of having a wall, and humans, even if you didn’t talk to them. “I can’t go back into the walls without something. They do community soup. You have ruined my supper a few times. This shit is horrid,” you groan. A part of you wants to throw it at the beast that wouldn’t leave you be, but you need the sustenance.

“If someone saw you, they’d kill you. Your pelt and meat would be useful,” the wolf yawns, laying himself down fully in the snow. “You’re not even scared of me, huh? I wish you could talk, so you could tell me where we were. I miss my family. Ugh,” you groan, standing up and the wolf remains laying there. “Should you ever attack me, I will kill you.”

The wolf looks you completely in the eyes, his silvery blue ones a stark contrast to your overly green ones. Looking upon each other for too long before you throw the small remnants of the root towards him. “Do not pursue me, white wolf.”

Turning your back on a wolf could be stupid, but at this point you welcomed anything that would break up the monotony. Anything that would give you excitement outside of this routine life. You’d stop at the few traps you’d laid for the small game, and hopefully carry something back. The hunger in your belly grows stronger everyday, and if you want to leave this forsaken village, you need food. Real food.

‘Don’t stay in one place too long. Don’t give people your real name. Don’t look them in the eye. Don’t speak too much,’ all your parents taught you was running away and fear. You aren’t even sure why you had to constantly move, and constantly hide your identity to the point you aren’t even sure who you are. It was all made up lies after all.

Who were you? That is a funny question because you aren’t sure. There have been glimpses of who others thought you were. There have even been whispers that you try to ignore unsuccessfully. Mentioning a word that you were forbidden to say out loud. Who were you that made people fear you, and your family fear for you?

Leaning over a trap, you thankfully pull up a rabbit. That stupid wolf didn’t eat everything. Minding your business outside of the walls of the village is your safe space. People inside the walls, particularly the ones your age are cruel. Their curious but angry eyes always on you. Watching. Planning some form of your demise.

“If it isn’t the little sapling caught all alone again,” standing up straight, you look behind you at one of the village boys, but choose to just walk to the next trap. Don’t engage. Don’t give them a reason to hate. “What’s the matter, princess? You scared of a little fun?”

You didn’t want the fun he was willing to dish out. You wanted to eat, and leave this place. Talk to as few people as possible. They were the ones dragging you into their drama, “Yeah,” you stop your movement. Turning in the other direction when two boys start stalking you. “We just want to play a little bit.”

“Maybe fill your belly, so you have to stay. That’s what you’re getting ready to do, huh?” Three boys. You’re fucked. Instead of collecting from your traps, you walk towards the wall. You try to find something. A large stick, anything to use as a weapon. Of course there would be too many.

“She thinks she’s too good for us,” four. Where the hell were they coming from? Head down. Walk faster.

Another steps from behind a tree directly in front of you, and you nearly forget to breathe, “It doesn’t matter what she thinks. I’m tired of the girls here. I like fresh meat. I’ve heard your untouched,” fuck. Your bright green eyes look around at all five of them gathering around you. What amazing men they are.

Grabbing onto the knife at your hip, one of these jackasses grabs your arm, “Don’t think so, sweetheart,” another hand, another weapon.

“Girly, we just want to have some fun.”

“Fun for who?” Your voice isn’t as strong as you hoped. It is borderline screeching.

“Keep screaming. We like it,” god, they are just a pleasant bunch. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. First is pain, and then a blinding light as you drop to the ground. “Go on, give us a scream.”

“Are you too stupid to say anything?” You clench your eyes closed as you try to ignore the pain in the back of your head. Snow squishes up into your ear, and you drift off to anywhere but here. Hands grabbing the furs on your body, and you hate you’re always alone. There is never anyone to protect you, so you have to take everything.

“She sure is pretty face down like this,” one of their hands hooks under your pants. “We won’t tell anyone if you won’t. What the fuck? Ahh,” snarls. “Help me!” Your assailant screams while all his friends run away. Pulling the furs close to your body, you scurry around, sitting on your ass, and start to scoot away.

Those silvery blue eyes stare deep into your soul as his teeth dig into the boy’s shoulder deeper. “Get your knife! Do something!”

“You were about to rape me. All of you,” you would have to be a fool to not know what those boys were attempting to do to you. And this one had the gall to demand that you do something to save him. Who was going to save you from them?

“We were teasing, you little bitch!” The white wolf’s muzzle raises as he watches you. Too still for an animal in the forest. “Stab it!” His screams are hideous, but you don’t feel sorry for him. That disgusting excuse for a man would had laughed at every scream you made.

You give a single nod to the wolf, and he bites down so hard on his shoulder, you hear the sickening crack of his bones. His voice shoots into the twilight as the wolf drags him away. It felt like he was waiting on you to tell him it is okay to kill him. At least the beast would have some meat tonight as would you. You could finally get a full belly, and could leave this terrible place. As soon as the first ray of sun came through your tent, you’d be gone.

Grabbing up your rabbits, you try not to vomit at the horrid screams, and crunching bones that are not far enough away. Your stomach rolls, realizing the wolf was trying to keep the young man alive as long as possible. Wanting him to feel every bit of the pain he was ready to inflict on you. “Thank you, and you’re welcome for dinner, white wolf.”

No. You squint as you look up into the sky, and then back at the beast. That isn’t the right way. “You’re going to get me killed,” the wolf continues to look at you, turning his back he walks a few steps before looking back at you. “I’m not following you.”

He takes a slow calculated step towards you, snarling as he takes another. “Fine! But you follow me,” another step. “Don’t lead me closer to the center of the realm,” you don’t even know why that is a thing. Why did you have to stay on the outskirts? A wildling, living in an eternal winter. You are no longer a child, and surely people still didn’t believe the prophecy.

“Do you know what spring looks like?” You’re talking to a wolf. Walking where you shouldn’t be, and you have lost your mind. Wandering around because you no longer even understood why you had to do this. Humans weren’t meant to live alone, you couldn’t see the purpose of needing to lay low. It’s silly to assume that you couldn’t live the life that some did in the villages. Getting married, having a family, being as normal as winter would allow.

You didn’t want to bring a child into this world. A world where food is just as scarce as the warmth. And the king’s cruel reputation for using women as currency. Sounded like a grand world. What if you had a daughter, and she was one that was kidnapped by the king. Sold into whatever life he made them live.

Maybe those were enough reasons for you to not go close to the kingdom. “Do you think the king’s guards ever go outside the kingdom walls?” Your furry friend puffs as he continues his trek. “I suppose they’d have to. I wonder how the kingdom works. Why wouldn’t people just refuse to have children? And what is he doing with these women? Eating them? Does the blood of virgins keep him alive forever? Is the king really not that cruel, but the stories are because he hoards food? Maybe even something nice to eat. Not just to sustain oneself. Ahh!”

You flinch, having to step back as he starts to walk towards you again, “Okay, I won’t talk about the king. Truce. I am just talking, and didn’t realize you understood me,” nodding his head, he turns back around. Weird creature. Even though the wolf couldn’t respond, you feel the need to talk. Like you have an audience for the first time.

Why the hell did this wolf understand you? How did it possibly know what you are talking about? And did he like or not like the king? Maybe they were sworn enemies and talking about the king pissed him off. Or maybe they were in fact friends. “How was your dinner last night? I’m sure the meat was rotten, but I suppose it was better than a squirrel. Thank you by the way. Don’t think you and I have to be friends, but I think they would have left me for dead.”

There isn’t a doubt in your mind that’s what they were going to do. Fucking men. They were all little boys who wanted to destroy things deep inside of them. “Monsters. The word men shouldn’t even be used. They’re monsters. Like you, white wolf, I know you are a beast and can kill me, and eat me it seems, and I still follow you. Do you have any idea where we are going?”

You are glad that no one is around to hear you gab on with a damn wolf. One that would surely have you for lunch. “That’s probably what you’re doing, huh? Leading me to your den where you can all feast on me.”

The giant dog stops abruptly. Throwing his head up to the sky he bellows out a howl, and you cover your ears as his noise vibrates through your body. This didn’t sound like a normal wolf. Or maybe you’ve never been so close to one. Screaming out in pain as you move away from him. “You fucking asshole!”

You need to get away. The beast seriously did bring you to your demise. Sending out a distress call to his fellow demons to come chow down on your body. “Asshole,” you mutter under your breath, trying to run far away from the creature that is going to see that you’re ripped apart limb by limb.

“Where did she go?” Fuck! More men. Monsters. All of them. The only ones worth anything were the ones laying cold and dead in the snow. “Go in all directions. It’s time,” you’re going to die, actually die this time. Die out here in this frozen wasteland because if you run, they’ll chase.

“This will be easier than I thought,” an evil leer as the man spots your footprints. Damn this winter! There should be a downpour of snow right now. Instead you’re a sitting duck with a trial of prints right to you. Taking off your pack, you pull out your daddy’s necklace, and kiss it. If they wanted you, they’d have to catch you.

One slow, solid breath, and you launch out of your hiding spot, and spring towards anywhere. “Got her,” shit! Everywhere you run there are men. But not just any men. The ones you had tried to avoid for a lifetime.

“By order of the king, I command you to stop!” They could cut your head off. If you were going to die, you’d die trying. And you weren’t going to stop. What choice did you have but to do everything in your power to not be taken captive.

“Oomph,” you start choking as a large man wraps his arms around you tightly. “She’s a fighter. The king will love that. Someone that can deal with his overgrown bratty self.”

“Get your hands off me!”

“Cuff her,” the blond man says, nodding his head towards another. “Hold still!”

“I don’t want to be your toy!” You hate men. They’re disgusting. The most vile of humans.

“You won’t. Not ours anyways,” he chuckles as the chains are put around your wrists, and even your neck. “Careful now,” he says obnoxiously as metal is extended towards your face. “It shouldn’t hurt but just a little. With this on, no one but the king will touch you.”

You didn’t want anyone touching you. Not this guard. Not the king. Closing your eyes, you grit your teeth as the mask is pressed against your face. A quick sting from the metal that is too cold to be on your skin. But then something pricks the back of your neck, and your scream lights up the forest, and then darkness. Nothing but eternal despair.

You were warned. And you failed. The one place you were to avoid, you ran right to it. Stupid girl.

Living in a world of ice and all alone, you get used to things not going your way. You’re a bit too vulnerable in a society that looks down at you because you’re a woman. A marked one at that. But a woman whose only one purpose you possess is for men’s pleasure and carrying babies. Other than the last remaining people of your tribe, you never met a man that was worth anything. And now you were in the belly of the beast.

The worst man of all. Some people claim that his influence sludged out to the realm, and it’s what turned all men sour. The fairy tale that once upon a time men were chivalrous, and they changed along with the weather.

Once your mind came to it didn’t take long to figure out exactly where you were, and in whose dungeon you are in. His. The man you were told to stay as far away from. He was the bogeyman in the stories you were told growing up. Foul, hideous, loathsome, and the worst kind of human, and now you’re trapped with a damn metal mask on your face.

Feeling completely alone except for the stupid mutt laying beside you with his head on your lap, “You are filth. Don’t try and butter me up because you got me caught,” his head pops up, his crystal blue eyes staring deep into yours, and you turn away. “I’m going to die here.”

It’s something you have never doubted. Getting caught equals death. Being here, alone, with a damn wolf, with a mask cannot be a good thing. The king will most likely stall, making sure you have no fight left before he pulls you apart one inch of your skin by one inch. Your mind races with ways the dark king can destroy you.

It’s cold. Colder in here than even outside. At least outside there is a dryness to it. In here the walls drip with what you hope is water and not something more sinister. What could you possibly have looked forward to in this life? An eternal winter? Constantly fighting for men not to touch you? Becoming a wife that had no desire to birth children in this world? Maybe this is better off.

“Where are you going?” You whisper as the four legged menace runs away. “Coward,” even he knows it’s desolate here.

Clanging sounds from behind the door, and you roll your eyes up to meet the blonde guard that captured you in the woods. “About time you woke up. Come on,” his mouth sets into a leering smile as he pulls you up from the floor. Using the key at his side to undo your chains. “He’s been waiting on you.”

“Dare I ask who?”

“You know exactly who. Your fate,” swallowing bile, he pulls you into his body. No amount of making yourself heavier works as he practically drags you out of the dungeon. That word is a curse. You’re more scared now than you were getting caught. “I saw your necklace, girlie,” his laugh grates on your nerves as painful as the arm that is wrapped around your waist.

“We’ve been waiting on you.”

“To torture me,” he chuckles right into the shell of your ear, and you want to retch. “What is this on my face?” His talking stops abruptly. Continuing to tug, and pull on your body, “You’re hurting me.”

“Get used to it,” torture it is. Did you think anything less? The most vile of humans that you were supposed to stay away from, and he captured you. Of course you were going to be tortured. Now you have to suffer the consequences. He shoves you into a room so hard that you fall down to your knees, and you yelp. Turning around to look at him. “Face forward and have fun.”

You hear another man clear his throat, and you try to disappear. Looking down at the floor with your eyes closed as you listen to his light footsteps. Walking around you before his meaty hands go under your arms, hauling you up to stand. Your breathing is nonexistent, but his breath is heavy. Fragrant of a scent you can’t place. And he inhales deeply.

Leaning into your ear, “You smell like a fucking dog,” he should talk. You weren’t the only one that reeked of something, and he is a king. You’ve been in a dungeon. “I’ll enjoy watching you be bathed.”

Fuck. Torture seems to be subjective. “Has any man touched you?” What did it fucking matter? Like he was going to ask for permission? He had you tied up with something on your damn face, impairing your vision, and he cared about how many men have put their grimy hands on you? “If you want to be able to sit on your ass, I suggest you open your goddamn mouth. Has a man ever touched you,” he swats at your backside hard as he comes to stand in front of you.

“Men always touch what they think they can own.”

He clicks his tongue, smiling gleefully at you, “None of those men had the power to own you.”

“And you do?” His hand goes underneath the mask, grabbing your neck with his fingers on your chin as he turns you to look at a mirror. You stare horrified as a wolf shaped mask covers your face. Your hair is oily and matted, and your bones protrude out of your body. But the mask is evil looking on your face. Otherworldly, and it didn’t belong there, “You don’t own me.”

“Is that so?” This man is far faster than any other man as he pulls and yanks at the rags that dress your body. Pulling off everything in shreds until you’re bare before him, and he throws you over his shoulder. Marching out of the room you are in before he throws you into a body of water.

You sputter, struggling to keep your head above the water before standing up. Shivering and naked. Wishing you could throw daggers at every part of his skin. Looking around to see an audience of people staring at your shame, and you dip back into the water for coverage with your arms hugged against your chest. You want to yell and curse at him, but you’re outnumbered. “Clean her. Then we’ll all enjoy inspecting you.”

“What does that mean?” Panic rises in your voice as men and women come into the pool with you. Men grab at your arms while women scrub on your body with a brush. The king sits down in a chair, and a creepy smile spreads over his face. “What does it mean? Ow!”

If he wasn’t so vile you might find him handsome. Cheekbones carved so sharply, and dark hair slicked back. He rolls his fingers over the armrest, and you start counting every ring that is laid upon his fingers.

“You’re so weak,” he chuckles, staring too intently as the women cup and scrub your breasts. His eyes drift to your necklace as he leans back, “Do you even know who you are? Or why you have always been mine? Every inch of you belongs to me. Those eyes and your necklace prove it. Your mom was nothing but a lying whore, and your dad was a fool anyways.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t? I don’t know that your so called father sat on a stolen throne? And your lying mother laid down with the rightful king. Your sweet innocent father thought your eyes belonged to him. You telling me he didn’t know your mom was fucking his guard,” your eyes go large as you stare at him. They were eerily similar to Jarrod’s.

“She tried to fight this curse and our connection, and instead, let a cock drive your bastard self right to me. What do you know of the day you were born?” Nothing. But you wouldn’t tell him that. “I’m sure they didn’t tell you much. The first snowflake fell that day. Everyday that you’ve been kept apart from me was another day of winter. The day you were born every drop of blood in your body and every inch of your delectable skin belonged to me. The night you were conceived is the same night your cunty father murdered mine. His guard was pumping his wife full, and here you are.”

God the way he talked about your family is despicable. Because you really wanted to know about your mother’s affairs. “Your mom was so scared to give birth to the king’s daughter, she gave her cunt to the next best thing. Jarrod was always the king. You can’t fate. Just like you can’t escape my wrath. Remove the mask.”

A woman slowly takes the metal off your face, and you glare at him. Wishing your look alone could set his entire body on fire. His head twists to the side curiously as he looks at you. An odd softness before he looks at the swell of your breast, and the snarky smile appears again.

“Bring her to me. On her knees, so I can look upon what’s mine. Don’t fight it either. I’ll fuck you like an animal right in front of all these people if you fight,” your chest heaves as all these hands carry you in front of him. Turning you away before lowering you to the floor. Someone pushes down your head as you stay on all fours before the king.

“This is how I like to see you. Submissive, spread and so puffy for me,” his fingers run through your core, and you hear a rumble in his stomach, “you can try deny me, but your body backing up to my fingers? Your body craves me. It’s like a magnet you can’t escape, and if you keep acting like a needy bitch in heat, I’ll give you exactly what your body has been denied.”

That’s a lie. You’ve never wanted any man to touch you. Never desired anything from them, but even you can’t deny the moan that escapes your mouth as one of his fingers breaches your walls. Loud and salacious as you glance back at him. “Since you love how it feels when we’re connected, just wait until I fuck you.”

You keep your head low, knowing that everyone in this room can see you down on your knees like an animal, while the king has a finger inserted so far into your cunt. He pulls the appendage out before shoving two more in. The audience starts to walk closer as the king stabs them into you, and you hope you don't react. That the only thing he can see if your fingers curling up, and you biting on your tongue.

Your cheeks heat up in flames with embarrassment, but also a sickening pleasure that you wish you didn't feel. The lewd squelching sound of your body causing the king to licks his lips with need. Fucking his fingers into faster before pulling out. Denying you release, and he slaps over your lips. "Juicy enough to eat."

“You’ll never get to fuck me.”

“I will, and you’ll beg for my seed every night. Don’t forget this moment. The moment you learned that your life is meant to serve mine. Put the mask back on her, and I want her placed in her gilded cage right in front of my bed. Maybe she’ll like me fucking into some whore’s cunt. Or would you like to watch me fuck my hand? I’ll even spurt my cum on your face. Make the servants wash you after you lick up every drop of my load. One of these days, you won’t be able to deny us. And maybe then we’ll get to see the world how it was intended.”

“And how’s that, your grace?”

“Not covered in fucking snow,” his voice is harsh as he walks out of the bathing room. Leaving you with all these people just staring at your naked body. Dressing you like you are a doll. You’d never beg for him. You didn’t want him. Or any man. It would never happen. And winter had nothing to do with him fucking you.

Because you belonged to no man.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @jesevans @alexakeyloveloki

#trying to save me #dark fic #dark!fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes smut #dark king!bucky barnes

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faffreux · 3 months ago

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my personal fireflower

Alaska, contrary to what many may expect, is a land commonly ravaged by wildfires in the summer season. The same goes for other regions in the circumpolar north (Siberia comes to mind) because of how dry the land is with its lack of rainfall in some areas.

In these places there’s a beautiful little flower known by fireweed or it's scientific name 'Epilobium angustifolium'. The name stems from the fact that it's almost always the first thing to spring up from the ashes of a wildfire- it's sometimes referred to as the "phoenix of flowers" as a result of this. It will quite literally rise from the blackened ash likes vibrant flames among the darkness.

The first time I saw this flower in person I didn't really know much of anything about it so I, thinking it was pretty, picked one and brought it to my dorm. Now imagine my surprise when I woke up the next morning discovering it had 'bloomed' overnight and there were now fluffy cotton seeds covering every square inch of my room. (It was a nightmare to clean up too, ngl...)

I'm not sure when I started making a connection from this flower to a person I love, but it just seemed to happen one day and I'm really excited to talk about it now.

The end of Bowser's Inside Story spells the end of Fawful himself, or so we are led to believe. After self destructing, the particles pictured in the second image are regurgitated from Bowser's body and released into the sky, much like the way the fireweed flower splits itself open to release its seeds at the end of its life - seeds which then fly out onto the wind and eventually create new blossoms.

[photo taken in Alaska by photographer Franklin Williams]

The life cycle of the fireweed flower is similar to Fawful's journey from the end of Bowser's Inside Story to the beginning of my story and also why the name 'Flames of Fury' ties the symbolism together for me: it takes the theme of fire, an ancient symbol of transformation, warmth, power, passion, and rebirth alike, and weaves it into his life in a way that is incredibly meaningful for me.

It represents this neverending desire of mine to see Fawful heal and thrive, and how it's precisely this desire that remains the primary purpose of my creative soul today. I want to create in ways that reflect the love that's been pouring from my heart for this bean for 5+ years now and all of the blessings I've received from expressing it.

I plan to illustrate something related to Fawful and fireweed later on, but in the meantime my friend @seanhicksart (who has been amazing in how often he's listened attentively to my rambles) sent me this sketch after I spoke to him about it all. I can't lie, I did cry.

When I was young I owned the 1948 children's book by Cicely M. Barker titled Flower Fairies of the Wayside where this verse about fireweed is written:

"When the earth is burnt and sad, I will come to make it glad. All forlorn and ruined places, all neglected empty spaces, I can cover – only think! – with a mass of rosy pink."

I love you, Fawful.

#flames of fury #personal #alaska #fireweed #fawful #bowser's inside story #mario and luigi

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northernexposuregifs · 8 months ago

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Ask this brick: Who carted you here? Who stacked you one on top of the other, joined you with mortar?

The brick won't talk. The builder remains anonymous, like those unsigned cathedrals of Europe.

See, this edifice was not built for an architect's glory. It was built with a vision in mind, a vision we call Cicely, Alaska. Are we less without Mel's? Maybe not.

#northern exposure #nx #chris stevens #chris in the morning #john corbett #90s television #90s tv shows #3x17 lost and found

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townsenddecades · 4 days ago

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1338 - Day 4 – Praaven Castle

Quiet months of mourning pass at Praaven Castle after they lay Lady Petersmarch to rest. She was as well-liked as any noblewoman could be by the commoners, and adored by her husband, children and extended family, who all grieve her deeply. Marguerite stays as unobtrusive as she can while she continues to reside at the castle, but Lady Maud isn’t the only one who leans on her in these days. And her cousin needs the support; her brother will marry soon, but until then, she has taken over many of her mother’s duties, especially the role of chatelaine.

“At least you won’t have to do it for long”, Marguerite tells her one evening, when her cousin looks particularly exhausted. “It will be your new good-sister’s burden to bear soon.”

Maud shakes her head. “I don’t know that I will want the Beauchamp girl to take my mother’s place, either, to be honest. Not that I will have much of a choice.”

Which is true. Lady Cicely Beauchamp, the lucky woman that has been chosen as Robin’s wife, will become the future countess upon their marriage, however long Lord Petersmarch may yet live. Should he remarry, that wife would of course take over those duties, as would be her due, but none of the castle’s inhabitants think that very likely. With only two living children to his name, a man just over forty would usually be expected to seek another wife after a proper period of mourning, but Lord Petersmarch has instead thrown all his energies into this alliance with the Beauchamps. He has even decided to bring it forward, just like the marriage of his nephew to the daughter of some landed knight, as if he wishes to distract from the possibility of his own marriage by drawing attention to those of his son and nephew. Both celebrations are set to take place the following year.

When there is no staff to oversee, no larders to check – an important task, especially now with the food shortage that the miserable harvest has brought and the donations they are making to keep their domain’s populace docile – and no finances to look after, Lady Maud and Marguerite often sit together, either reading or needleworking. On one afternoon, their pursuit of choice is knitting, fitting for a day on which the snow is falling thickly outside their glazed windows. They are both startled out of their contemplations by a knock on the door, followed shortly afterwards by the entrance of Marguerite’s cousin, Guillaume de Bellefaye, who is training as a page in the castle.

How seriously he is taking his role is showcased amply by his careful bow towards them and in his stiff bearing once he has rightened himself. “I beg your pardon for the intrusion, my lady, but there is an urgent message for His Lordship.”

“And why do you bring this information to me, then, and not to my father?”, Maud asks, already lowering her needles. Guillaume quickly looks away.

“Because I can’t find him anywhere, my lady. I was hoping you might receive Master Pelham instead.”

With a sigh, Maud turns to Marguerite. “What do you say, cousin? Do we want to save this brave young page from the shame of having to return empty-handed to this messenger?”

“It might, in any event, offer some diversion. And we’ve only been up and down these steps around ten times today!”, Marguerite responds immediately, matching her cousin’s teasing tone. Maud evidently has to suppress a smile before turning to young Guillaume, who looks relieved at the news.

“If you haven’t yet looked in the stables and the chapel, please ask for His Lordship there. But Cousin Marguerite and I will go talk to this messenger in the meanwhile. Where is he?”

“I left him in the entrance hall, my lady.”

“Very well.” She nods to him. “You may go, then.”

There is indeed a young man waiting for them, but not the one Marguerite expected to see when hearing the name ‘Master Pelham’. Where she anticipated Herbert Pelham, Lord Petersmarch’s aging steward, she is instead confronted with a youth that is likely not much older than herself, eighteen or nineteen at most. He looks familiar enough that she has likely seen him around the castle, and guesses by his name that he is a relation of the steward’s, but she can’t recall his name.

If Lady Maud has the same problem, it doesn’t show at all in her bearing. “Master Pelham”, she calls, while stepping towards him. “I have been informed that you have an urgent missive for my father the earl. I am very sorry that we haven’t been able to locate him so far.”

“It is I who should apologize, my lady, for arriving unannounced. But my grandfather thought His Lordship would like to hear the latest news from the king’s court.”

“Have there been new developments?”

Pelham hesitates. “Her Majesty the Queen has been delivered of another son”, he begins, “which is good news. But there have also been more attacks on the channel coast, and His Majesty is still gathering money in order to support the war effort. There are more details, too, but I am here because His Lordship has asked to always be apprised of the latest intelligence.”

“Quite right.” Lady Maud, who has accepted the news with equanimity, nods. Nothing about it us unexpected. The King has been hounding for funds since war has been declared, and even reports of attacks on the coast have been frequent. The Channel is far enough away that this is no concern of theirs, especially when confronted with the lingering threat by the Scots. “I will see if I can find my father, after all. Marguerite, would you see to Master Pelham’s comfort in the meantime?”

“Of course, cousin. Be without a worry.”

There is the gentlest raising of Lady Maud’s eyebrows before she strides away, exquisitely poised as always. That’s a trait Marguerite has always admired about her cousin. She may be the wife of a mere knight, but Marguerite is certain that she would have made a splendid baroness or countess, or even a princess, had the cards fallen in her favour.

She is pulled back from her admiring thoughts by Master Pelham’s voice. “You’re one of Sir Robert’s daughters, aren’t you?”

“I am”, she confirms. “My name is Marguerite. And what might yours be, good sir? I know that I have seen you before.”

There is a small smile on his lips as he answers. “It does me good to hear that such a gracious lady recalls my face, if not my name. I am Bertrand Pelham. My grandfather, the earl’s current steward, is training me to take over the position once he is unable to fulfil his duties.”

“That is a fearsome responsibility”, Marguerite responds, but she can’t help feeling charmed by the open admiration on the young man’s face. She may only be fourteen, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t receptive to flattery. “But after your grandfather has served the family so loyally for decades, I imagine that it is also a very secure prospect.”

“I hope so. And you serve as a lady-in-waiting to Lady Maud?”

“I would have to be a lady to be a lady-in-waiting, wouldn’t I?” That is not strictly true, but Marguerite enjoys her witticism too much to let such a simple thing as ‘logic’ or ‘facts’ distract her. “I am her companion. She is my cousin, after all.”

“And I am certain that she receives much comfort from you, if you are able to distract her with such charming conversation”, he responds gallantly. “That must be worth much to the earl’s family in times like this.”

“I try my best”, she responds honestly. “But you are kind to say so.”

“Not at all. It is merely the truth.” He looks ready to say more, but at that moment, both of them are startled by Maud’s voice, which is calling for them from up high on the gallery that she has located her father and that he is ready to receive Master Pelham and his news. Marguerite feels a strange pang upon the realization that their interlude is already at an end.

“We should go upstairs and rejoin my cousin”, she says, regretfully.

“We should”, Master Pelham responds. And then, before she can say anything more, he has caught her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “But I very much hope that this won’t be the last time we happen to meet each other.”

Suddenly breathless at the look in his eyes, her stomach fluttering, Marguerite doesn’t know what to say, and it takes her a moment to stutter out that she, too, would very much enjoy that.

Previous: 1338, Day 4, Part 2/5 <--> Next: 1338, Day 4, Part 4/5

#the story progression decided to pair those two up #and honestly i don't hate it as a match for her #sure he's not noble but it's a good family and she'll stay in town #i think her parents will like that #townsend legacy #ultimate decades challenge #the ultimate decades challenge #the sims 3 #ts3 #udc: chevalier family #udc: dudley family #1330s #udc: gen 2

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writing-with-gremworm · 2 years ago

Text

Envelopment of the Hydro Dragon

NOTES:

Yandere Neuvillette

Very very brief mention of the second Yandere character

Mild fluff

Memory interjections/flashbacks

"Hello my love, did you sleep well?" Neuvillette whispers gently, brushing your hair aside as he smiles down at you. A warm smile crosses your lips and you giggle. This warmth was comfortable. Safe. You felt loved and even forgot how you got here.

Truthfully, you were running from something. But the warm embrace of a water dragon filled your mind with calm. Some say that the water remembers emotions. In a sense, it may be able to mirror those emotions too. Perhaps that is why Neuvillette fell for you.

"Good morning Neuvie." You smile, leaning into his hand as his fingers play with your hair.

You hoped that serenity would last forever. So when you were put on trial in front of all of Fontaine, you felt like everything was falling apart. Neuvillette's gentle smile was replaced by a calm and cool neutral expression as he sat in the judge's seat. Your bag was taken from you to be searched and you had no defendant on your side.

"Love, are you alright? You seem lost in thought." Neuvillette asks, looking into your eyes with his cool pearlescent ones. His gaze is gentle, it's as if he can tell you're worrying, though he did not directly state this.

"Yes, I'm okay. I'm just thinking about something from the past that wasn't the most pleasant, but it's okay now." In truth, it was something that wasn't so easy to brush aside. In the past, you'd had many moments where you were betrayed by someone you loved. This was one of the reasons you felt like you couldn't say as much to Neuvillette. You were afraid he would see what was wrong with you and he too would push you away as if you were nothing.

"Alright, if you don't wish to discuss the matter I won't make you. Hm, ah, why don't I obtain some macarons, you do seem to like them quite a bit." Neuvillette suggests. You flush, realizing he'd caught on to your habit of snacking when something stressed you out.

"T-That-! Alright. Thank you." You smile softly.

"We stand here today for the trial of (Y/N) (L/N). They have been accused of vision theft and illegal information dealings." Neuvillette states coldly, turning to face the prosecutor, "You may elaborate on the event in question."

"Of course. Ahem. I was surprised to hear of such flagrant crimes in a time as dire as this, though I was presented with irrefutable proof. Three nights ago four different reports came in discussing Mx. (L/N) entering an illegal information guild. Further, one of the key witnesses, Cicely Fauxbear, heard the conversation Mx. (L/N) and the cloaked figures had.

"Cicely Fauxbear, come to the stand."

"Ah, yes. I was shocked. Mx. (L/N) had been so close to Mr. Neuvillette, so I was assured of their character. I had intended to ask for some advice, but I instead overheard them telling cloaked figures 'I've mapped out the schedules of Neuvillette, our archon, and the other officials you requested to know of' But not only that, they started talking of Fontaine as-as Oh dear, it's to shocking to say- They said that Fontaine would soon fall according to plan." Cicely sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

Your eyes widened. You hadn't met with any shady figures, nor had you given scheduling information to anyone. You weren't sure where these accusations came from, but something felt off about this.

"Ms. Fauxbear, where was the location of this incident?" Neuvillette asks.

"I-It was simply a worn down Café, it didn't seem to have many patrons, so it was hardly notable." Cicely fidgets, brushing her hair aside as she looks down apologetically.

"I see. Mx. (L/N), as you are your defendant, what do you say to this?"

"This was stated to be a few days ago, as such it could not have been me. Forgive me for being somewhat crass, but I have not left your abode for anything but the shopping trip for essentials and an excursion to get the package Wriothesley sent me to give to you. However, there is no way to confirm this since no one went with me." You admit sincerely, biting your tongue since you realize you'd been too honest and left an opening for the opposing side to use against you.

"Your honor, that is clearly an excuse! They're trying to use personal feelings to sway this accusation!"

"Hm? You want me to grab a package? Of course, it'll give me a chance to explore a little too! You said the package was from Rizzley?" You ask, looking at Neuvillette. He smiles and chuckles softly.

"It's pronounced rise-lee, though I suppose Rizzley is close enough. He'd be miffed by such a nickname though. Ah, it is spelled a little strangely. Here, allow me to write his name down for you." Neuvillette hands you a small slip of paper with 'Wriothesley' written neatly on it.

It takes a bit before you locate the post office, but you manage to acquire the package Neuvie was talking about without much hassle since he'd mentioned he might get someone to pick it up for him beforehand.

"Hm, the box smells kind of floral, I wonder what's inside." You ponder, looking at the box before shaking your head and heading back. It hadn't been too long since you went out, but during that time Neuvillette must have become rather busy since he wasn't home. You leave the box on the counter and decide to try and bake something for Neuvie since he always buys you Fontaine specialty sweets.

"I can assure you that my personal feelings will not sway my judgment in this matter. The role of the judge is something I do not take lightly Ms. Fauxbear." Neuvillette assures Cicely, "Mx. (L/N), you state you did not go to a café, but on one of the days that fell within the expected timeframe you presented me with sweets, can you elaborate on this point?"

"Yes, of course, your honor." You smile sadly, "Those were sweets I baked personally, they're not the sort of delicacies you can find in Fontaine, they're much less refined and difficult to replicate with Fontaine ingredients alone. I can present evidence of this simply by baking them again." You state confidently.

"Understood. The day you baked sweets you say you acquired a package for me, what else did you do while you were in town?"

"I walked around and took in the architecture. The buildings here in Fontaine vary from those in Mondstadt, so I was inclined to observe them." You state simply.

"Your honor. I have something to say." Someone from the audience says, standing up.

"It is against protocol to include someone without good reason. What reason do you have to interrupt court proceedings?"

"I have collected statements noting (Y/N)'s whereabouts during the past three days, most notably statements from all cafés and post offices around Fontaine listed on the first page. I would like to submit this document for review." Neuvillette furrows his brow but quickly adjusts his expression.

"Understood, but if this proves to be falsified you will be tried in this court as well," Neuvillette states, motioning for the stranger to hand over the documents mentioned before.

"When I look up at the stars I remember the night we met. Do you think about it too?" You ask softly, a bit drowsy.

"Hahaha, yes, it was certainly a unique encounter. One does not often fall from the sky into my arms you see. Perhaps it was foreshadowing. It was certainly a dramatic introduction to the most lovely spring I have ever had the chance to touch." Neuvillette smiles, enjoying the soft flush that coats your cheeks.

"It was like a fairytale, aside from the fact it was because of a glider malfunction I mean." You state, clearing your throat and hiding a grin behind your fist.

"We will begin the proceedings again tomorrow once this evidence and the baking skills touted by Mx. (L/N) have been confirmed," Neuvillette states. The gavel slams down, announcing an intermission in the court proceedings. A few guards accompany you to a kitchen and permit you to bake the dessert for Neuvillette. Once it is complete Neuvillette is gathered and he confirms that the treat tastes the same as the ones he had previously.

The document was more time-consuming to check, but by the next Morning they managed to confirm the validity of the statement. The trial continues and it is decided that you did not trade away information. A separate trial begins regarding the vision theft. A stolen vision was found in your bag.

You looked surprised. As you should, you had never had such a thing, nor did you place one haphazardly in your bag. You had no idea how something like that would have ended up in your bag. Further, it was a Fontaine vision, which gave the claim that you'd stolen it more validity. You were at a loss for words, how could you combat this? Your bag had always been at home, in Neuvillette's home, it should have been safe.

"Your bag is always full, do you move often?" Neuvillette asks before taking a sip of tea. His nose wrinkles a bit, Wriothesley had sent a rather unpleasant floral tea this time, but at least you seemed to like it.

"Ah, I suppose. I guess I just haven't found somewhere to stay completely. I do best when I can travel. So I don't stay in one place too often." You state. Though, that was only partially true. You did do better when you traveled, but less because of an inherent ability to do better in new environments, and more because you were always safe for the first few months in a new place.

It isn't something you discuss often, but it's difficult to explain why you're being chased by new people because they always give you this look. Some even think you're lying.

"I see, well, I hope you find your stay here pleasant. I'll have a cup of tea ready when you return." Neuvillette smiles gently. That was the one time someone had expressed their desire for you to visit again. Of course, it was the first time you'd gained a friend this quickly.

Maybe it wasn't that surprising that such a friendship quickly became more. His lips were soft, they made you forget your worries with every gentle motion. His warmth seeped into your flesh and flushed your skin.

"If there is nothing more to say, then it is time for your judgment. I find (Y/N) (L/N) guilty of vision theft." Neuvillette slams the gavel down and the machine whirs as it weighs your judgement. Despite knowing the truth, the machine lies and blames you. You can almost hear its laughter, but you know it chose to lie. For once in a great while, it lied and only you and two others knew this.

"If I never came back, would you be sad?" You ask, looking up at the ceiling as exhaustion sets in. It was drawing too close to the time 'he' usually found you. It was time to run away again.

"Yes. I would be sad. Would you not feel the same if I suddenly vanished?" Neuvillette asks, looking at you with a sorrow in his gaze that feels unfamiliar.

"Yes, I would be sad. But I guess I would expect it. That's sort of been the default, I find I'm alone more often than not." You smile sadly, leaning close to him and closing your eyes.

"I would never leave you by choice. If I could promise you safety, would you stay beside me?" Neuvie inquires, his voice thoughtful and warm.

"Hm, that would be nice. I ... like the idea of that." You smile a bit, not realizing that Neuvillette had a strange smile on his face since your eyes were closed.

"Then I promise, as long as you are my lover, you will always find safety in my arms." He kisses your forehead, holding you closely and running his fingers through your hair.

You open your eyes and realize you're not being taken to a prison, nor are the guards from earlier the ones beside you, they feel distinctly different. They feel familiar.

"Where are you taking me?" You ask carefully. They do not respond, they simply continue to escort you to an unfamiliar place. It takes you a moment to process why they feel familiar. It was because they felt like hydro Eidolons, they took the form of people they were not. You look a bit surprised but ultimately realize this is your chance to escape.

Hydro Eidolons had a predictable pattern when they fought, so it would be easy enough to weave past and make a run for it now that you'd been led to an isolated place near the waters. However, being in this place also meant it was possible for whoever orchestrated this to catch you, so you had to be on guard.

Weaving through the attacks of those who harbor hydro-elemental energy is much like dancing. It matches the theatrics of the court and noble life in Fontaine, so it seems fitting that this escape was like a musical. Though many of the musicals you had seen had been tragedies, hopefully, this would not also become one.

As you sway and bob, swirling through the ribbons of water splashing around you, you dive into the crashing ocean waves and dive into the water. As you were not a vision holder, you did not have the luxury of breathing underwater for long periods of time, but you had plenty of experience with swimming to escape places until you found a wave rider you could take.

As you plunge into the water your vision is covered with darkness as something wraps you up, perhaps expecting this escape. You almost gasp, but manage to hold your breath. You feel yourself getting pulled deeper into the waters and your throat aches, begging for air. You gasp and choke as water fills your mouth and lungs and darkness consumes your vision.

Bubbles float to the surface, caught on the seafoam of faded expectations. They showcase moments once filled with laughter.

"Wow, you have so many stories." You remember this. Neuvillette had just finished telling you about a musical he liked. Looking back at it now stings a little, did he betray you? It couldn't be. He was a judge, and he had to be impartial. But surely he knew you weren't guilty.

"You ... want to braid my hair? Well, as long as you don't mind teaching the Melusines to braid it, as I'm sure they'll ask, then you may." Neuvillette seemed so happy then. The small moments always seemed to be the times he had the gentlest smile. You wonder if you're dying and if that is why you remember these things now.

"(Y/N), I promise I'll keep you safe. You just have to trust me." That wasn't just Neuvillette's voice, that was someone else too, the man you were running away from. His crimson hair flooded your vision like the blood of the Fatui debt collector who had gotten just a little too close to you.

Something twists in your gut. You trusted Neuvillette, though, of course, you had never told him about Diluc. So why did he sound so similar when he said he'd protect you?

'Did Neuvillette rig the trial? That's impossible, he would never do something like that.' But it seemed to make sense. After all, he would have been able to plant a vision in your bag as well. He was hosting you in his home. Your heart sank. A cold but burning sensation crept through your throat and chest.

"Ah, you're awake. I was worried you'd not wake up my love." Neuvillette says softly, kissing your forehead gently.

"N-Neuvie?" You stutter, your voice is a bit hoarse. You look around, letting your eyes adjust to the dim light.

"Yes love, you must have been so scared, but I'm here now. He won't find you here." A smile is evident in Neuvillette's voice, with one hand his fingers lace through yours. He holds you gently with his other hand.

"... He?" You hadn't specified it was a man looking for you had you? No, had you even said someone was following you? When did he find out you were being chased? Why didn't he say anything?

"That stoic Mondstadt noble, you have expensive tastes." Neuvillette laughs a bit, "Though I'm delighted that those standards include me." He kisses your knuckles.

"Y-You're being a little more affectionate than usual." You stutter, cursing the nervousness in your tone.

"But of course, I have to take extra care of you since you've had such an awful moment, no? It was hard for me to judge you guilty, my love.

But it had to be done."

...

#genshin impact #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x reader #reader insert #x reader #gn reader #Hm #I might write more yandere content it's surprisingly fun #tw yandere #yandere

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cicerenella · 2 years ago

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Ooh please expand on the Italy bros relationship! Even in canon they have a bit of an odd relationship. Sometimes they actually act like brothers and other times they seem uncomfortable around the other.

ah, this is going to be a long one everyone.

the relationship of the two brothers is...much more complicated than what hima portrayed, so I hope I can explain myself the best I can. Let's start in order with a bit of history! (I'm not at home, so if the writing/formatting is a bit weird sorry in advance! I will get to the other asks as soon as I can use my pc)

So we all know that both Felice and Romano are Rome's grandkids and cherish him very much even after his passing. Although Rome wasn't an ideal grandfather, preferring Feli over Romano since he "inherited" his artistic tendencies. This point to understand their relationship is quite important, since it seems that Romano's inferiority complex starts from here at a very young age. He resents his little brother already, but that is only because he's still a kid and doesn't understand why he's treated differently.

Now, after the fall of Rome, Italy was divided and conquered by many nations. The two brothers, that already didn't have the best of relationships, get separated. And they don't meet or have a proper interaction up until the Unity of Italy, in the 19th century. This to make it clear, that for the most part of their lives, these two were separated and assimilated completely different customs and cultures. That is why when the Unity happened, it didn't make a "Greater Italy" rather a "Unified Italy".

And so the year 1861 comes, and the Reign of Italy comes into fruition. Nothing short of a mess. The South, still deeply rooted in agriculture and farming, is much much poorer and behind the rising North, whom, closer to other European nations by geographical position, is being affected by the industrial revolution. How do you (the government) intervene with this situation in hand? Harshly repressing any uprising coming from the people, of course.

There have been some instances where the government tried to help the South, but all the attempts can be described with a perfect adjective "Half assed". The Giolitti government (we are in the first years of the 20th century), whom tried to industrialize the South with modern infrastructure, called the southern part of Italy "nothing more than a place where to gather political consensus"

you understand where I'm coming from?

The resentment between the brothers is HIGH at this point of history. People are literally fleeing the crumbling south (and still today!) and Romano and Felice cannot for the life of them stand eachother. Felice thinks his brother is just a big burden, while Romano thinks Felice is an ungrateful bastard that walks all over him.

There's also the whole argument about the Unity of Italy and how it was more of an "occupation" from the North, but uhhh...I'm not really going to go in that place for now.

This to say, that back then they had a terrible relationship. After WW2 however, they are trying to rekindle their broken relationship, although still today there are a lot of prejudices between the north and the south.

Romano is very sour about this, and so is Felice. They are trying to move on past this, but it's hard. It's hard to not dislike eachother. They argue a lot nowadays, since they always seem on opposites sides for everything. But, deep down, I think they care for eachother, even if they don't show it.

This to say, Hima was wrong to make romano the only one that is "mean" to feli, because in actuality it is a dislike that goes both ways. Have you ever seen a Juventus-Naples football match? don't tell me these two don't get into physical fights after it.

Oh and Romano still has a massive inferiority complex in regards of his brother. Feli is the richer, modern, and successful one, while in the parliament he is the "black sheep" of his country. Its rare, but Feli sometimes comforts him for this, explaining to him that he is an important part of their country too.

Because, despite their differences, they're part of a bigger thing, Italy. They might argue A LOT but its undeniable the love they share for one another. Never forget that ♡♡

#hetalia #right in the feels with this one #they still have a lot of problems to sort out #but they still care #in their weird way #hws italy #hws romano #cice talks

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aardvaark · 9 months ago

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the librarians "and the happily ever afters" watch through:

hey flynn’s back! evidently we’re getting to the season book ends

that’s certainly one downside of door portals - you need a door. very few doors in any natural landscape.

so jenkins has forgotten the others, that’s ones thing, but where are the others?

"that sounds like a sentence, sir, but there’s no information in it" lol

yeah that’s the issue - flynn remembers 4 people, jenkins doesn’t. and magic is a thing. who’s to say that jenkins isn’t right, and flynn just has implanted fake magic memories? i’d be so paranoid in this universe tbh.

huh, but baird wasn’t a local sheriff of a small town before becoming a guardian, this is something very strange

this cicely place sooo does not exist, as flynn points out it doesn’t make much sense. whole place is mostly utopic but nonsensical. and they’re talking about it like a tv show. also what are we going for with the name, cicero x sicily?

lmao in "what lies beneath the stones" jacob asks if the other file on ezekiel is because he was in the fbi, and ezekiel pointed out that that was illogical because he’s not a yank. and in this episode ezekiel *is* part of the fbi, which flynn points out is illogical. love that little foreshadowing/easter egg.

ooh so baird’s badge is somehow part of it, like a charm controlling her. probably the others also have some kind of charm - maybe cassandra’s moon rock necklace, not sure about the other two yet.

someone’s gonna have to clean up the library again lol

ohhhh so smart they’ve all been led back to the library and trapped here

can flynn see their objects & eyes lighting up with magic?

"10,000 years of human beings singing and dancing and painting and writing their hearts and souls into the world" beautiful quote (but why only 10,000 years?)

should we really be trusting ariel??and her plan seems far too simple…

the supposedly perfect dreams come true arent working bc they care about their friends too much <3 cute

"im flynn carsen and im the… im *a* Librarian" aww finally we’re seeing them as equals rather than The Librarian plus those other guys. they’ve graduated <3

"and i thought that’s all i needed. but now i know that i need more" flynn says looking at eve!! awwwww!!

#the librarians #and the happily ever afters #librarians watch through

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northernexposureonly · 1 year ago

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CHRIS IN THE MORNING: Hey, good news, Cicely. After the first shock of spring, my allergies are waning. Just a little postnasal drip remains. Sniff. Oh, other good news— uh, no new bear sightings lately. I guess our fat furry friends have headed to the hills to make new little bears. Before we say good-bye, let's take a look back at those great cave bears of old and talk about a very special birth. About the same time our Cro-Magnon ancestors started burying themselves, they started doing the same thing with bears. What's that mean? What are you— What are you saying here, Stevens? Well, I'm talking about the Big Bang of the human psyche: the recognition of death.

NORTHERN EXPOSURE 3.19 Wake Up Call

#wake up call #nx 3x19 #un medico tra gli orsi #northern exposure #ausgerechnet alaska #doctor en alaska #chris in the morning #chris stevens #joseph campbell #spring #bears

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cleoashbee · 1 month ago

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Why Ed Chigliak is a Pisces

A Dreamer’s Tale in Northern Exposure

If you’ve ever watched Northern Exposure (and I really hope you have), then you know it’s not your average small-town drama. It’s a show that tugs at the fringes of surrealism, dipping a toe into the mystical, often with a wink and a shrug. Nowhere is that more evident than in Ed Chigliak. Ed, that odd, earnest, soft-spoken orphan who drifts through Cicely, Alaska, with an emotional compass that seems just slightly off from everyone else’s, is, in fact, the perfect Pisces. He’s not just a Pisces in theory; he’s the archetypal embodiment of that zodiac sign—every dreamy, empathetic, spiritual, and elusive characteristic in full bloom.

Let’s talk about why. Pisces is a sign known for its rich inner world, its ability to drift into fantasy as easily as breathing. Ed, with his endless love for movies, is constantly retreating into that fantasy. He isn’t just a fan of movies—he sees them as the guiding star of his life, the structure by which he interprets reality. He wants to be a filmmaker, but not in a goal-driven, Capricorn way. Ed doesn’t care about the industry grind; he’s all about the magic, the escapism, the way film lifts people out of the mundane.

In the episode "A Wing and a Prayer", Ed’s fixation on becoming a filmmaker showcases this Piscean quality in its purest form. His idolization of Woody Allen, Francis Ford Coppola, and the art of directing isn’t so much about achievement as it is about creating alternate worlds. "Movies help people escape reality for a while. That’s what I want to do," he says, perfectly capturing the Piscean impulse to build safe, imaginative sanctuaries—whether for themselves or others.

Ed’s relationship to movies isn’t just a hobby; it’s his lifeline, his emotional outlet. When life gets overwhelming, he immerses himself in film, showing a deeply Piscean need for escape.

Pisces feel deeply. They absorb the emotions around them like a sponge, often without knowing where their own feelings end and others’ begin. Ed exemplifies this in how he interacts with the people of Cicely. He’s always trying to help, always tuned into the undercurrents of what others are feeling. Even when his own understanding of the world seems limited, Ed intuitively grasps the needs of others.

In "Jules et Joel", when Joel’s more reckless twin shows up and starts causing tension, Ed immediately senses Joel’s emotional discomfort. He doesn’t have to be told; he just knows, and in typical Ed fashion, offers his quiet support. It’s a hallmark of Pisces to read emotional situations without needing explicit clues. Ed's instinctive desire to help others, even if he doesn’t always know how, fits that deeply empathetic, almost psychic nature of Pisces.

Ed’s Connection to the Beyond

Now, here’s where Ed really shows his Pisces stripes. Pisces is often described as the most spiritual sign of the zodiac, and Ed has an uncanny connection to the mystical. His Native Alaskan heritage introduces him to animal spirits and vision quests, but it’s more than just cultural connection—Ed feels the spiritual realm. It’s a natural part of his existence.

One standout moment of this mystical connection is in "The Gift of the Maggie", where Ed encounters a White Owl. For most people, an owl is just an owl, but for Ed, it’s a symbol, a guide, something that transcends the physical and offers wisdom. This effortless acceptance of the spiritual—where others might question or rationalize—is a hallmark of Pisces. Ed doesn’t just believe in the mystical; he embodies it. It’s not about having answers, it’s about feeling your way through the unknown.

Pisces are notorious for their escapism, sometimes retreating into fantasy or isolation to protect themselves from the harsh realities of the world. Ed exemplifies this with his frequent daydreams about cinema and his love for solitude. He finds peace in quiet moments, where he can tune out the noise and contemplate life in his own Piscean way.

In "Animals R Us", when Ed is faced with the task of saving a cow, he’s filled with doubt and anxiety. Rather than confront the situation head-on, he retreats into his imagination, envisioning heroic moments from movies to guide him. This is textbook Pisces—avoiding reality by escaping into a fantasy world where they can regain control, if only for a moment.

Ed’s sensitivity is his strength, but also his Achilles heel. Like many Pisces, when life gets overwhelming, he doesn’t always confront it. Instead, he drifts away, either into a cinematic daydream or into the comforting presence of the natural world around him. It’s not avoidance; it’s self-preservation, another classic Piscean move.

Ed is a man of few words, but when he speaks, it often carries a depth that belies his seemingly simple exterior. Consider this line from Ed in "The Quest": "I’ve been thinking about the future. Not my future, the future future. The big one." This is Piscean thinking at its finest. Ed isn’t worried about his personal life trajectory—he’s contemplating the grand arc of existence. It’s this kind of abstract, spiritual musing that Pisces are known for, and Ed embodies it fully.

Why Ed is More Pisces Than Any Other Sign

Ed is a Pisces to his core. His need for emotional escape, his sensitivity to the people around him, his profound connection to the mystical, and his love of fantasy over the gritty details of life are all Pisces hallmarks. The truth is, Ed’s character doesn’t just align with Pisces; he exemplifies the sign. His every action, from the way he drifts into conversations about film to his serene acceptance of the spiritual, radiates Pisces energy. He’s the dreamer, the mystic, the empathetic soul who is deeply in tune with the hidden layers of life.

In Northern Exposure, Ed Chigliak is more than just the lovable, oddball side character—he’s the emotional and spiritual undercurrent of the show. His quiet, introspective nature, his ability to slip between reality and fantasy, and his deep, soulful empathy make him a Pisces through and through. While everyone else in Cicely is grappling with their problems in their own unique ways, Ed simply dreams his way through life, feeling more than thinking, escaping when necessary, and always finding meaning in the most unexpected places.

In Ed’s world, life isn’t about the daily grind; it’s about the dream—the spiritual, emotional, imaginative journey that connects us all. And in that sense, there’s no character more Piscean than Ed Chigliak.

Joel: That, that's the movies Ed; try reality. Ed: No, thanks.

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