#he could still have wondered about being an inherently bad creature had he not been religious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cassynite · 1 year

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A bit late on this one but I wonder about Sparrow and someone large and comforting like the Hand of the Inheritor?

Ooooh my god. Okay. Okay so. My first initial reaction was "wouldn't work out, Sparrow would dip out of that relationship the moment the Hand fucks off after finding out the truth about the mythic powers" but then I thought about it and. I think there's something there. Buckle up because I swear this came to me in like, a fucking vision, it goes places.

So Sparrow is not very close to the Hand at first. He's Iomadae's herald and clearly believes that Sparrow has been chosen by the goddess despite Sparrow's own doubts and the lack of definitive proof. But they get closer in Pulura's Falls; Sparrow sees just how much good the Hand has in him and how much he wants to help others; the Hand sees Sparrow's kindness and compassion for others in how she helps the people in the Falls with their problems. By the end of the quest he's absolutely certain that Iomadae chose her not because of her power but because she's the kind of person a goddess should choose; he would have chosen her as champion in Iomadae's place! There's a lot of admiration there, and it definitely increases once Targona is rescued--Sparrow shows herself to be strong, capable, and deeply kind.

In this scenario, I think that Sparrow and the Hand start talking beyond their duties and responsibilities. Sparrow ruminates on the nature of goodness and choice and argues against the ideas of inherent evil. The Hand is obviously an extraplanar being who exists within a plane of Good, so his perspective is very different (though not entirely against Sparrow's arguments--after all, an angel can fall and a demon can rise. Clearly not even creatures born out of positive and negative/lawful and chaotic energies within the universe are static). It leads to a lot of discussion about what the best way to eradicate evil would be, if that was even possible or feasible, and what a plan to do so might look like. They also talk about things like, redemption and forgiveness, and even in one charged conversation, about love and its strength.

It's all theoretical and philosophical discussions, and while I don't think the Hand necessarily challenges Sparrow on a high intellectual way, he has a very different mindset and worldview that is engaging to learn about and he's willing to hear and listen to her ideas. Sparrow is galvanized to do more good and focus on those plans and hypotheticals; she begins to imagine the kind of work she could do with her abilities and her ideas after the Crusade.

They storm the Fane; Galfrey attempts to take Sparrow's title. Sparrow, still non-confrontational and dealing with imposter syndrome, accepts the criticism at face value, but the Hand argues vehemently against Galfrey's assessments of Sparrow's ability as Commander, even more so than in canon. It's deeply touching to Sparrow to have someone come to her defense like that, for someone to believe in her so wholeheartedly.

They go to the Abyss. It's awful, and Sparrow hates it, but she also shows compassion and care wherever she can, continuing to prove to the Hand that she has that sense of goodness in her. She frees captives, kills slavers, argues in favor of taking in Xorges in because he is more than just a Qlippoth...and then Battlebliss happens and Sparrow is captured to be a battle slave. Like in her canon, she has a complete meltdown in captivity, a full-on panic attack. The Hand feels helpless. Despite how bad of an idea it would be, he very nearly appears to rescue her personally; it's only Zeklex telling Sparrow he can help her escape that stops him from going through with it.

While Sparrow is resting before her fight in the arena, the Hand tries to comfort her, though he can't understand why her reaction was just that intense. Sparrow, in a rare show of vulnerability, talks about her past with the Hand--her slavery, the abuse she suffered for years, how she had only just escaped it, and how this was like walking right back into a trap. Feeling the collar on her neck makes her want to scream. And the Hand comforts her, and tells her that no matter what he will ensure she gets out of this, that she will never be alone and he will never let this happen to her again. It's a very intense moment, and it works to calm Sparrow--this is also the moment where she falls in love with him, though she won't face that fact for a while. She ends up escaping the Battlebliss in a far better mental state than in canon.

Then, of course, Sparrow meets Nocticula and Areelu, and she finds out the source of her powers are from the Abyss, and--horrified--the Hand leaves. It's a terrible blow, and Sparrow struggles to hide just how badly she took it in front of everyone, focusing only on the matter at hand. She tries to tell herself that of course he left--why does she ever expect anything different?

She goes back to the Nexus and meets him, and he expresses his doubts about her, how she's not actually the chosen of Iomadae...it's like he crafted the perfect speech to make her feel the worst way possible. Everything about their friendship--about whatever they had, because Sparrow might not admit it but her feelings at this point are not platonic--was based on the Hand's belief that Sparrow was something she was not, and she's been deemed unworthy. She's not enough.

Sparrow doesn't argue, she just says she's going to stop the crystal production with or without him--chosen by a goddess or not, and she never thought she was, she's going to stop more superpowered demons from hurting people. Like in canon, this brings the Hand around, and he apologizes for his doubts and travels with the party to the Nahyndrian Crystal Mines.

On the ship ride there, the Hand and Sparrow speak privately, the Hand again apologizing for his words and for his doubts. Sparrow brushes it off, withdrawn and defenses all the way up; she tells him that she couldn't have expected anything else, given the circumstances. It definitely sounds closer to "I don't expect anything else from anyone but for them to abandon me when I need them most." At least, that's how the Hand hears it.

It's a bad resolution and whatever they had before feels fractured and lost as they face off Baphomet. Even so, when Baphomet "kills" the Hand, Sparrow screams in despair.

Act 5, after Sparrow has chosen to keep the power--because she's made it her own, and she refuses to accept anything can only be what it comes from--she immediately works on finding the Ineluctable Prison after Iomadae tells her the Hand is alive. She breaks through the prison, finds the Hand's tortured heart, and faces off with his corrupted husk--and the Hand tells her that it's pointless, that he's not worth saving anyway. That he loved her and he failed her and now he's going to kill her, in the emotionless voice of someone who is aware of what he once felt but now cannot feel anything at all.

Of course, that's not what happens. Sparrow defeats him, and gives him his heart--he tries to refuse at first, saying he doesn't deserve it, and Sparrow insists. He takes it back, and the feeling returns--especially the guilt. No matter what Sparrow says, he will not return to Iomadae's side. He's not worthy of it, any more. He tells Sparrow that he needs...something, to find something to truly become good again. That he was unworthy of her and that he broke her trust and her faith, and that he cannot stand by her side as he is, especially with these feelings he has.

And Sparrow breaks down. She asks if he's really going to leave again. She tells him that if he really loved her--the way she loved him--then worthiness would have nothing to do with it. He'd just fucking stay. And the Hand goes silent, cups her cheek in his hand. And then leaves. Sparrow doesn't speak at all the entire way back to Drezen.

She returns back to...Iomadae, waiting for her, with an angel at Iomadae's side. The angel calls Sparrow by name and she realizes it's the Hand, out of armor for the first time she's ever seen him. He tells her that he wanted to show Iomadae that he was alive, and also to formally request to leave his position as her Herald. He cannot stay in the position with the weakness he has shown--Iomadae cuts in saying she doesn't agree with his assessment, but won't stop him from making his own choices.

He goes to Sparrow and asks if she meant it, when she told him that it didn't matter if he was worthy or not. And Sparrow tells him that love has nothing to do with worthiness, and he tells her he will stay. They close the Worldwound together, and when he goes on his journey to spread goodness among mortals, he has Sparrow by his side.

#cassy answers #dujour13 #i was going to go to BED #i was gonna answer this tomorrow morning with basically like 'nah not in the cards' and this came to me #i was possessed to write this sappy ass love story arc #oc: sparrow #hand of the inheritor #wotr #pwotr

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comfortfrogblog · 2 years

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hi :). I'm just here bc I'm having a bit of religious crisis. I'm a 16 y.o girl (like you). I was raised in a Catholic Church, but my mom is actually orthodox (long story). anyway, my mom decided in 2021 that we were going to start going to Orthodox Church, and I agreed bc I didn't really have another choice.

I never really prayed a lot. I think I used to believe in God in a sort of lazy way - I never really prayed or thanked Him, and I was just kind of passive in my belief, if that makes sense. recently, I haven't been doing very well at all mentally, and I kind of just stopped believing in God. I think this was partly brought on by the fact that the orthodox church has some shitty rules (divorce=bad, gay=bad, abortion=bad, etc), and I didn't want to be a part of something that encouraged that kind of exclusivity. I also just don't have a good home life at all - I've always been very lonely, and it just seems like there's a lot of pain in the world, and a lot of bad people that just keep on living. I know I'm just making excuses here, but what I'm trying to say is that I want to believe that God exists, I really do, but I just can't. when I try to pray, I just feel like I'm screaming into a great apathetic black void. my question is, have you ever had a religious crisis like this? and if you have, could you explain how you overcame it? thank you so much. your blog is wonderful :)

ahhh absolutely—im going through one right now lol. in fact, i’d say im constantly going through a religious crisis of sorts. sometimes i dont know whether i should even be allowed to call myself a christian if i struggle this much, but i’ve kind of figured out that struggling is actually the point.

we can never be perfect in our faith. even the most faithful and religious people you know have their flaws and stray from god every single day—we are sinful in nature. but christ paid for our sins with his blood so that we could have eternity with the lord, so that we may be forgiven, so that we may experience the greatest love that there is. im still struggling with this concept—the fact that there is a god who loves us so much that he sent his son to us, and this man died for us. he was crucified and tortured so that we may be saved. jesus was a real person—the most perfect person to ever exist. the savior, the king, the servant.

but i dont deserve that, i tell myself. and im right, actually. none of us deserved it. none of us deserve to be saved, none of us actually deserve to have good things. but that is the point, isn’t it? that god is so merciful he sent his son to die for us, when we never deserved it in the first place? he wants to be with us and have a relationship with us so much that he would forgive our sins and welcome us home. it is because of christ that we are saved and forgiven—not because of our inherent goodness. we have inherent value, but we are not inherently good. christ is the ultimate love, the ultimate good, the ultimate and overarching and sovereign king. so we do not have to grieve over being undeserving; instead, we can rejoice that he provides for us and loves us regardless.

christianity is not easy. it’s not supposed to be—we are called to take up our own crosses and follow jesus. we suffer, we struggle, we hurt, we cry out, we question. it is good to question—we are curious creatures, and it is natural that we long to know the god who loves us. ask, wonder, question. it is okay to go through periods of rocky faith—every single christian that has ever lived has been through the same problem.

but even in our darkest times, when we feel we cannot hear the lord and we think he has forsaken us, he has not. he is crying out for you. he wants you to come running to him. he will always provide for you, and he will always make a way. i have to say that what you said about feeling like you’re crying out into a black void struck me deep—i’ve often thought the same exact thing. but i’ve seen it in the lives of those around me that the more that you try, the more you question, the more you want, the closer you come to seeing what God wants you to see.

and if it’s worth anything, the deepest and most heart-wrenching sentiment i’ve felt my whole life is that of wanting to want him. i want to want to believe, but i still feel the indifference in my heart. i think the answer is to keep trying, keep praying; reach out to people you trust who can give you guidance. the desires of your heart will reflect in your actions—if you really, really want to believe, stop running away. you might not even know you’re running away. we often think we’re the ones chasing God, but the truth is that he is chasing after you. he loves you and wants to be in relationship with you.

#asks #christianity #cathy comforts #also i should mention im baptist so i do apologize if any of this disagrees with your doctrine—it is not my intention to force the customs o #of my denomination on anyone

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shardssystem · 2 years

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Tell me what your ocs would have been like if they had been born on a different plane, like Theros, Ravnica, Innistrad or Arkivos. (You may also uses any of my fan-planes if you wish)

On a few planes, I think Liya lives a quiet life, and nothing more. Her ignition event is almost directly because of Melenas’s Knights of the Hallowed Order and their control over the use of magic. Without their presence, she doesn’t stand out as a non-magic user. Innistrad-Liya is an interesting concept, simply for the fact that she probably wouldn’t get involved in anything, unless Sadi did. But because of Innistrad’s connection to spirits, I could still see Liya sparking and being the ghost we know and love. She wouldn’t be maybe as adventurous, because time works normally on Innistrad, so at the very least she’s staying home for longer.

Yri would be about the same on a lot of planes, but if I can be so bold, were she to be a citizen of Floramore, she would be in heaven. Faerie get treated so well, she would be exploiting that like crazy. Over-indulgence would potentially put a darker spin on her personality, colouring her penchant for mischief into something more malevolently greedy. Floramore-Yri would definitely try to get too involved with the aristocracy as well, if only to improve her selection of treats. The plane holding people there does make me wonder if she sparks at all, or if she’s able to do a lot with it. While not as bad as Oko, this new Yri could be a little terror on the Multiverse.

Vasil would be completely different if he was born on basically any other plane. Half his turmoil comes from Melenas being a plane of resource-scrambling war, and the other half comes from Melenas hosting a sleeper cell of Phyrexians at its core. Change either or both of those, and he has a chance at not only living a normal life, but of flourishing. For the sake of the question, let’s put him on Ravnica. I think he’d end up with the Rakdos guild, just for the theatrical aspect. Plus, that still keeps his darker elements available. In that situation, I don’t think he sparks.

Kolya has a lot going on inside his head and heart. Unless whichever plane he wins in the birth roulette can deal with some strong gender dysphoria, I unfortunately don’t see a positive outcome for him once he reaches puberty. That was a real turning point for obvious reasons. Without the knowledge that anything could be done about it, so he could use his foresight ability to basically send a successful version of himself back as a warning, I think Kolya unfortunately struggles too much and takes that drastic, final step.

Similarly, Caidi is directly born from Kolya’s journey. Without his genetic catalyst, the experiment never takes, and Caidi never exists. At best, you could claim that any (now) non-sentient ooze in the multiverse was Caidi, but they need that catalyst to form a personality and mind, so there’d be nothing to that ooze other than a wild creature.

The Coterie are easily heavily affected by not originating on Plin. The magic of the plane is what makes them in the first place. Any other plane, three people born is only one person born; there is no duplication. Whether it ends up being Neris or Syren who wins that lottery (as Eyrn is a side-effect of that process, and this wouldn’t exist), they’re inherently weakened by not having that connection between themselves. Like, they would do alright on Arcavios, but nothing much would come of it. Their entire drive is directly from the quirk of their birth forming a triad, and needing to counter public opinion. Without that, she (or he) basically turns out a model citizen and simply exists. I can’t see an ignition event happening where it’s as impactful literally anywhere else but Plin, but if it does happen, they’re just another planeswalker, with a fraction of the abilities they could’ve had and not knowing it, and likely end up at the wrong end of an Eternal during the War of the Spark.

So I think, for better or worse, they’ve done alright being from where they’re from. Some turn out worse than what could’ve been, but are irrelevant to the greater story. And this way, everyone lives, kind of. Thanks for the ask!

#mtg oc #fanwalker #mtg community #liya al-amundi #vasil iashvili #yri #kolya #caidi #the coterie

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

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Human!Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: What The Fuck Now, Freddy!?

Notes:

This is not inherently romantic, at all. Or sexual. Just... Freddy being a bastard, and you are caught in the crosshairs- and are forever linked with him because of it.

I've been listening to Lizzie, a lot lately- and this is inspired by 'What The Fuck Now, Lizzie!?'

Also- I'm thinking this will have a part 2. Due to the ending not being quite enough. Maybe a part for the court proceedings!

Plot: Many will know the story of that terrible day Krueger essentially snapped- killing his wife, Loretta Krueger. She saw the basement, they say, and he didn't like that. Their daughter saw the whole thing and suffered a traumatic response to seeing the sight of her mother, strangled to death, by her father- and forgot the whole thing.

But if she were to remember something, one day.

She may remember something no one knows about that day, aside from Freddy himself.

She may remember, that someone else was there.

She may remember you.

Alternatively- you're being blackmailed by Freddy who found out you, another supposedly Plain Jane in Loretta's 'mothers club', is cheating on your husband and calls you up to help deal with the mess he made. Because who else did he have?

Warnings: Okay lemme see, its basically a potluck of triggers. Hm. Murder, swearing, cheating (You, on your husband. Not with Freddy), getting rid of a body, a child gets traumatised (Obviously, Kathy/Maggie), Freddy himself, mention of the basement and all that entails, reader with a very questionable moral compass. Look, I think if you can watch Freddy's Dead, you're good here.

I'm just heading out the door, to go grocery shopping - or, at least, that's the story I tell my husband. When really I don't do the grocery shop until the day after tomorrow. He never notices... - when the phone rings. By very nearly tripping over my feet in my endeavour to catch it before the ringing stops, I manage pick up the phone with very little injury besides an achy, slightly twisted ankle. "Hi! Hi, sorry, I'm here. Hello?"

Pouting, I sit down at the kitchen table; Rubbing my poor ankle to sooth the pain, which would soon diminish anyway. Still- I'm sorry, ankle. I'll try to chill.

When the voice on the other end reveals who it is who's called the house, I lose all need to be pleasant. Damn. I really need to memorise this goddamn number... so I can not answer it. "Whatcha wearin'?"

"Thank god Harrison didn't answer this, you fuck." I deeply roll my eyes. Thank god Har's out. No, this is not my mister, not the man I was going to meet just now- but its bad, enough. In an entirely different way. Its stupid, blackmailing, son of a... hundred maniacs. "What do you want?"

"What a way to answer the phone, Y/N. Gee, seems like every time I we talk, I'm learning how you really aren't in the right place, are you? Cheating on your poor husband, swearing... These aren't really signs of the perfect suburban house wife, is it?" Gritting my teeth, I keep from lashing out. I've learned, if you stay real quiet, Freddy wont have anything to pull from and will get bored quick. "Why so silent, hm?"

"... " Oh, fuck me. I cant help it. "Wondering where you get off judging me on being 'suburban', actually."

"Anywhere I like, thanks."

Oh... oh. Gross?

He doesn't see the disgust tearing my face into two perfect halves right now, but my silence must be enough as he laughs. The sound is directly into the phone, and harsh on my poor eardrums. Ugh... "Oh for gods sake... What are we? Fourteen years old?? Come on- why'd you call?"

"Uhhhh... " Quickly, midway through that drawn out 'um' sound, Freddy's voice transitions, and gets a whole lot darker. Something deep in his chest dislodging, to make it so. Perhaps, his heart. "Well... you might wanna come and see for yourself."

"Uh, I don't think so. I have somewhere to be right now- "

"Oh well you don't, anymore." And its clear what he isn't saying- or else I'll tell Harrison about Carter and set your life on fire. "Tell your boy toy you're takin' a reign check for the day. I think you'll last. In fact... after you come over here, you might be out of the game for a couple a hours at least- maybe days."

Hold on, hold on Freddy what the fuck- "What!?"

"... Believe it or not, I didn't actually mean for that one."

Moron.

Nevertheless, no matter how just... off setting, Freddy is, I had to when he asked. I had to jump when he said so.

Because if not, then he would tear my life apart.

So here I am, about to knock on that big red door he lives behind, wondering what I'm walking into. Where's Loretta? Where's Kathy? How long will the visit be? I told Carter I'd be an hour or two late- any longer and I wont see him at all today. Which would absolutely suck.

Just after my knuckles come down on the wood the first time, a hand comes down on my shoulder and I immediately jump out of my skin... then slowly look around.

There's Freddy, a cheeky grin on his face. It does nothing to set my nerves at ease. "Ugh... Why are you out here?"

"We're going to the backyard. Lets go." Taking me by the shoulders, he marches me around the side of the house, instead of through it for some reason, and into the familiar backyard. I've been here numerous times, as Loretta likes to hold our club meetings here - Barbecue's, tea's... that sort of thing. Just to let the kids play together and so the adults can enjoy some adult conversation. Its a nice yard... but depending on what her horrid husband is about to show me, it may not be considered as such anymore... - , but I'm now starting to develop a sick feeling in my stomach.

Honestly- I don't know much about Freddy at all. Yes, I went to school with him, but that doesn't mean much when he was a freaky loner kid the whole time. I remember he killed the class hamster once- that's about the only splash he ever made in the news pool; But it definitely stuck.

Yes, Loretta cleaned up his image a fair bit since getting married, but now he's blackmailing me, and as far as I know I'm now alone with him.

Suspicious of him suddenly, I slip out of his grip with a dirty look flashed his way. Don't touch me.

He just rolls his eyes, leading me around some hedges.

And then everything stops.

Him, me, the air; The air around me, the breeze, the breath in my throat.

There lays Loretta, on the ground. If I was really really naïve, I could imagine she were sleeping... or passed out, at least, due to the way she's sprawled out. No one would lay down like that willingly.

But... her eyes are open.

For a moment I'm tempted to kneel down; Take a closer look. Find out how, myself. Is she bleeding anywhere that I cant see now? Are her lips turning blue? If I moved some short red hair out of the way- would their be marks on her neck yet?

But then I come to my senses...

And freak. The fuck. O u t.

"What, the fuck, did you do!?" I whip around, looking at Freddy now which entirely new eyes. I mean, before I sure wasn't fond- but now I'm filled with something new, looking at him. Something a lot worse, something that makes me want to run. Run, and hide, and stay there.

And all these, even though he hasn't really changed. He still wears a mischievous smirk, stony blue eyes eating up my reactions... like always. But this time its just so so much worse. "Made some dead weight- now you're gonna help me get rid of it. So!" Finally, though its been only a matter of seconds, he turns his gaze off of me and I'm glad. That gaze is far too heavy. "Ideas?"

Only for a moment am I lost for words, struggling to push anything out. "I... I'm sorry??"

His gaze returns to mine, but this time my eyes are hard as his are dark. "Help. Me. Get rid of her. Fucking. Body. Or do you want your dirty laundry aired for the whole community to hear?"

Before I can help myself, I let out a sharp laugh, only succeeding in making Freddy's scowl deeper. "Freddy- this secret's a lot bigger, then mine. Sure, I might get divorced- but you're going to prison!" Does he get that? He's g o i n g to j a i l. Crossing my arms, I try to avoid looking at my ex-friend's body. I cant. "I'm sure as hell not gonna be in there with you, for being an accomplice."

I really cant look at her... I can only focus on Freddy. And that takes a lot of energy- its taking everything in me, in fact. Everything I have. But I have to. If its him or her, there's no choice.

But... then a creepy smile spreads across his face- a vast polarity to the frustrated glower of before. It makes my blood run cold.

"Ohhhh..." He looks almost ferocious, even in his composed state. Like a monster. Like any moment a fanged, inhuman creature is going to burst out of him and I'm going to wake up, and this will have been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. The kind where that creature haunts me for a long time, after its over. After this over.

He's going to haunt me.

"You must think this is my first time... " My heart turns to ice, mouth hanging a little open... what the fuck have I found myself a part of!? Suddenly all the children's disappearances on the news lately come to the forefront of my brain... "Sweetheart, give a man his dues. I'm a hard working kinda guy... " I watch his gaze flicker to a door - the back door? No... The basement door, - and when a filthy smirk pulls at his mouth, my heart flies up into my throat. God, it makes me feel sick. I want to be violently ill. "My first was my adoptive Dad... pretty sick, huh?"

The fact that he didn't say anything about the basement, makes my imagination go wild. I swallow it down, though.

I just need to get out of here, and never think about this again.

And to do that I need to help Freddy get rid of this goddamn body- and... probably... testify at court... As the panic starts to finally rise up in my, right up to fill my throat, I immediately take in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Okay... " No time to freak out. Now's the time for action.

Gaze flickering to Loretta again, I try to acclimatise to the sight. I think its a lost cause, though. "How did you get rid of him? Your Dad?"

"No, that's not gonna work. He was a drunk dead beat, and I just had to tell the police some guy's he owed money to came over to the house." Freddy grins happily at the memory, but then just as quickly, scowls at his poor deceased wife's body- that certainly cant fight back. I just tack this onto the long list of reasons I hate him. "Lore's such a goddamn goody goody- we cant do the same thing. You don't think I woulda thought of that??"

"Hey." I snap, hands braced on my hips as I flash a glare his way. "This is not the time to get defensive!"

"Whatever... "

Then- suddenly, something occurs to me. Confused, I look around; A deeply horrified feeling disturbing my stomach. "Hold on... Where's your daughter?" Seeing no sign of her anywhere, I definitely start to panic again- especially when I look to Freddy and just see a pert look in his eyes as he looks back at me, a smile that strikes something horrid inside me. My eyes narrow. "You sick fuck- where the fuck is she!??"

"Under the bed."

"What the fuck does that mean!?" I exclaim, frustrated and freaking out. He did not- he did not! Killing your spouse is one thing, but the kid?? Your own kid??

I don't wait around for him to be cryptic some more, and rush right into the house to look for her. Under the bed, under the bed, under the fucking bed...? Which fucking bed!? Forcing ferocity out of my voice, I carefully call out to Kathy. Hoping to god she answers. I try to sound normal. Maybe a little bit cheerful; Excited.

But my voice wobbles.

"Kathy?? Sweetheart, its Y/N! Are you hiding? I have something for you... " ?? You have something for her, Y/N?? God... now you have to figure out some kind of treat.

You know what? Whatever. We'll figure that out later.

Lets just hope we aren't searching for a corpse. I'd definitely be sick, seeing a child... the way Loretta is...

Shaking my head and clenching my fists, I try to focus on Kathy.

I check under the bed in the guest room because it comes into view first and she isn't there, then her bedroom and she isn't there either... and get a sick feeling as soon as I enter the last bedroom. Freddy's and Loretta's.

God, I've never been in here before but its like a museum peace now. A horrible one. Like if you would walk into the Titanic... or the Borden house.

"Kathy? You in here?" Flicking on the light I kneel down on the ground, and check under the bed.

And something immediately crashes over me, as the sight of her covering her eyes down there. It isn't exactly relief, because this whole situation is still phenomenally fucked up for her, but I am selfishly glad to not have to see her body... crumpled, just like her mother.

"Hey sweetheart," My voice quivers slightly now, but I quickly swallow. No. No. Now, you must be strong Y/N. "Its just me. Your Daddy was looking for you, and couldn't find you! It got him worried!"

"I... I don't wanna see Daddy. He hurt Mommy." Kathy doesn't remove her hands from her face, and stays firmly by the wall- too far away for anyone to grab. My heart sinks.

Slowly straightening up again, I try to take that piece of information in. Turning to the doorway, I see Freddy there. he must have followed me. I didn't even notice. Slowly, and quietly ferociously, I say; "She saw?!"

He has the good sense to look embarrassed, even if it is just to make fun of me. "It was spur of the moment... " He shrugs. "I didn't have time to get a babysitter!"

What a fucking excuse. For gods sake.

I'm definitely dealing with a psycho- if that was even a question before now.

Swiftly, I look down under the bed again, because I'm afraid that if I continue to engage with him- I'll scream, and I'll lose my breath, and I'll scare Kathy even more. She's at the forefront of my mind; That's all I can think about.

But what to do with her after I get her out from under this bed, I don't know. I cant give her back to her father... but I cant hand her over to the police either because that would involve telling them about Loretta, and... Freddy will definitely kill me, for that.

This is a nightmare of a situation.

I'm just opening my mouth to say something - what, I don't know yet, - when she speaks, instead. "Is he there?"

"... Yes." I wont lie to her; That would be treating her with not nearly as much respect as she deserves.

When she takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes, as if just trying to keep herself together, my heart clenches. God... and to think I might not have picks up Freddy's call today. I would have been leaving her with this. For the first time today, I'm morbidly glad I came.

She speaks in that loud, hissy way that kids think is a whisper. "Can he... can you please make him go away?"

Immediately I straighten back up and look to Freddy again, my eyebrows raised halfway up my forehead. Like well? "Get out."

"I don't think you're in a position to make demands here, bi- "

"Do you want Kathy to live down there now!??" I snap, trying not to be scared. Not really feeling scared, actually. Just happy to have a reason to tell him to get the hell away from me.

A deep frown creases his mouth, deeply unhappy about the situation, but steps back. I only hear him step out of the way of the door, but its good enough. Quickly, I get up and close the door - fighting with myself not to slam it, - and lock it.

Then I return to the floor, and see this time Kathy has uncovered her eyes. She looks so small, smaller then she actually is, and she looks like she's shaking. Little red bows and piggy tails in her hair are messy from crawling under the bed. "He's gone, sweetheart. And I locked the door."

She just nods, so I take the silence as a chance to offer my hand to her. "Take my hand, sweetie? Come on out from under the bed. Its cold down there, and no one wants you getting sick." I need to upkeep the family friend bit, I need to sound caring and collected. I need her to trust me.

Her big eyes, not Loretta's colour or Freddy's, look nervous as hell. And she shakes her head.

Taking a deep breath, and I conjure all the sincerity as I can. And mean it. My eyes soften and I try really hard, to resent myself as someone trustworthy- which is hard, seeing as I've never really been that. I mean, I'm cheating on my husband. I told Carter today the same lie I told Harrison when i knew I was going to be late. The only person I think who knows the truth behind all my lies is Freddy. That says something about a person, that the only person who knows them is a psychopath.

But I want to, I need to, be good for this little girl. And there's no time for me turn my life around so it has to start with this. How fucked is that?

"... I promise, I'll take care of you. He wont hurt you."

After a few whole minutes, in which I stay silent because yes she's a child, but she's still thinking, she crawls over and takes my hand, letting me lead her out. Crawling into my lap as I cross my legs under her, she buries her face in my shirt- hiding. "You promise?"

Taking a deep breath, because I've really done it now, I offer my pinky for her to see if she turned her head. I know Freddy's listening to all of this through the wall, but I try not to freak out. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear." She peaks out from my shirt, and curls her little finger around mine. Okay... "Y/N... I'm scared."

"Yeah... Me too, sweetie."

What am I going to do?

#Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader #Freddy Krueger x Reader #Slashers #Slashers x Reader #Fem Reader #Freddy Krueger #Loretta Krueger #Katherine Krueger #Kathrine Krueger #Maggie Burroughs #Oneshot #Freddy Krueger x Reader Oneshot

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dessarious · 3 years

Text

How the Sirens Adopted a Ladybug Pt1

So when I was writing the last chapter of How to Not Get a Date it went full blown angst. Since that wasn’t what I wanted for that story and rewrote the chapter that I posted but the other idea decided to blow up into yet another story so here we go again.

AO3 Next

“I don’t suppose I could convince you not to steal that?” Catwoman spun around to find a girl in what looked like a dark red armored suit with black spots. In the Louvre at two in the morning. What the hell?

“And just what are you supposed to be?” The girl just gave her a sardonic smile and Catwoman couldn’t help but notice how tired she looked.

“I’m Ladybug. Hero of Paris.” The sarcastic tone was unexpected and it took her a minute to actually process the words.

“Since when does Paris have Heroes?”

“Since some megalomaniac found a Miraculous and decided to use it for his own selfish desires. If not for the fact that he targets people with strong negative emotions I wouldn’t care what you do. But since the last time the curator of this exhibit was Akumatized it was a three day battle, I would really like to avoid it if I can.” She just continued to frown at the girl. That couldn’t be real.

“Did Harley and Ivy put you up to this?” That just got her confused frown mirrored back at her. She was either a really good actress or she wasn’t lying.

“Look, this exhibit is moving to London in under two weeks. Could you please just wait until it leaves Paris to take whatever it is you’re after?” This was so strange. She claimed to be a hero but didn’t seem to care that Catwoman was stealing, just that it would become her problem. Even most of the bats frowned upon that sort of thing.

“So you’re just going to let me walk out of here like nothing happened?” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, refusing to make eye contact.

“The police have made it clear that it is not my job to apprehend criminals.” There was a lot of anger under those words. Catwoman walked up to the girl and gently lifted her head so she could study her. Seriously, what was it with black hair and blue eyes? Between the bats and Superman she was starting to wonder if it wasn’t a coincidence.

“When was the last time you slept?” She watched Ladybug’s eyes unfocus as she searched for the answer. “How about the last time you ate?” That produced a flinch.

“I can take care of myself.” Well that wasn’t a good reaction. The girl reminded her a bit of Tim and Jason. The sleep deprivation was all the baby CEO but the amorality screamed mister gun nut.

“I’m sure you can. I’ll tell you what; I’ll do what you want but in return you’ll come with me to meet a couple of my friends and let us feed you.” She hesitated but Catwoman didn’t see any worry in her expression. She wasn’t scared of being alone with criminals so it was likely pride holding her back. “I want to talk to you more about the situation here. It’s odd that I haven’t heard about it.”

“No it’s not. The Miraculous magic is very good at containing itself. Very few people outside of Paris have any idea what is going on.” That tone was odd. There was a trace of bitterness but it was mostly resigned.

“How old are you?” The way she held herself said she was experienced in what she did, but everything else screamed that she was still just a kid.

“Old enough to do what must be done.” Yep, she was dealing with a baby.

------------------------------------------------------

“Will you quit worrying? I’m sure everything’s just fine.” Ivy just shot Harley an annoyed glance. She loved the woman to death but she really needed to take things a bit more seriously sometimes.

“She’s two hours late Harls, that’s a time frame for worry. Not to mention I’ve felt off ever since we got here. There’s something wrong with this city and I don’t like it.” She was constantly on edge and her skin felt like it was trying to crawl off her body. Ivy wanted nothing more than for Selina to get back so they could leave. Sightseeing be damned.

“As always your instincts are dead on.” She let out a relieved breath and turned to yell at Selina for trying to give her a heart attack but couldn’t manage to speak once she saw the person with her. Or rather once she felt the power coming off of them. She pulled Harley behind her and prepared for the worst. Selina was just looking at her like she was insane but the girl was studying her.

“Seriously, you’re scared of a kid?” Harley’s words made her really look at the person and that just made her more worried. Given what she felt this girl was capable of destroying the world without even trying.

“How can you not feel that? The energy radiating from her should be enough that even you should feel it.” Harley and Selina both just looked confused but the girl looked surprised.

“You can actually feel it?” Ivy just nodded. “I’ve never met anyone who could sense the Miraculous before. Whatever you sense though, I assure you I don’t mean any harm. There’s only one person I actually want to maim and I have a feeling when the time comes I won’t even be able to do that.” Well that was… odd. Even Harley was eyeing the girl like she had a screw loose.

“This is Ladybug. She’s a hero here in Paris.” Well that at least explained why she was late. “She’s asked me to hold off on my transaction until it leaves Paris.”

“And you agreed? She’s just going to go to the cops and make things more difficult for you later.” Harley’s words caused anger and hurt to flash across her expression before she controlled it.

“I said I wouldn’t. They wouldn’t take me seriously if I did anyway.” Now she saw why Selina brought her back with her. The girl looked like a stray cat. The stiff way she held herself was exactly like a cat who’d learned that people can’t be trusted, but she refused to run or show fear either. Then Ivy noticed the girls hair and eyes and almost groaned out loud. Selina had been spending so much time with her boyfriend that she was picking up his adoption preferences.

“I wanted to talk with her more about what’s going on here in Paris. We should order food since I have a feeling it’s going to be a long discussion.” Ivy saw the girl's cheeks turn pink and took the time to really look at her. She was the kind of thin that came from not eating rather than just being fit. Her mask hid any bags that might be under her eyes, but even standing still her body was swaying a little. The girl looked like she was about to pass out.

“Of course. Here, have a seat.” Ivy made chairs out of plants for everyone and the girl's face went completely blank before she turned to Selina.

“Is that normal for her?” Harley just started giggling but Selina gave Ladybug a sympathetic smile.

“Yes, Ivy has the power to control plants.” Ladybug let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank Kwami. I don’t think I’m up for another Akuma today.” Ivy shared a confused look with Harley. What the hell was an Akuma?

“You’re fighting people that control plants?” The girl blinked at her in confusion for a moment before understanding dawned.

“No, it’s complicated. I haven’t had to explain this to someone in a long time so I might not make much sense.” She sat while Harley went to order food. Ivy sat across from her and noticed how she melted into the seat. She obviously wasn’t used to being comfortable. When Harley came back in the room they were about to start asking questions when a little black cat shaped creature appeared. It was emitting just as much power as the girl.

“I don’t suppose any of you are willing to spring for camembert?” Harley gave out a squeak of surprise but Catwoman just looked stunned.

“Plagg! Are you out of your mind? Not to mention how rude it is.” Ladybug couldn’t seem to decide whether to be annoyed or embarrassed.

“Given that this one steals for a living I doubt they stand on good manners. Besides, you don’t know if you don’t ask.” The cheeky tone caused an eye twitch in the girl.

“What exactly is that?” Selina hadn’t stopped staring at the creature.

“I’m Plagg, Kwami of Destruction. I power the Black Cat Miraculous.” The girl actually threw her hands up in frustration.

“Tikki’s going to kill us both. Of all the people you could have decided to come out for why would you choose criminals?” Poor kid sounded close to tears and the creature flew up under her chin and started purring. Selina was grinning like a mad woman. Ivy had a feeling things were about to get a lot more complicated.

“Everything will be fine Bug, you’ll see. I’m the Kwami of bad luck and I can feel yours shifting.”

“I thought you said you were the Kwami of Destruction?” Selina sounded far too amused. Ivy shook her head at the woman. She still didn’t understand how no one else could feel the danger here.

“I’m both, just as Tikki is the Kwami of Creation and Good Luck, which is the Miraculous that gives Ladybug her powers.” The Kwami suddenly flew right up to Ivy to study her. “You’re an interesting being. Your abilities are inherently creation but you use them to destroy as well. She could be a good influence for you Bug.” Ladybug let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I’m not using your powers to smite the people you think have wronged me Plagg. And I would really like to stop having this argument.”

“You act like it’s an opinion rather than a fact. Even Tikki agrees with me there.” The Kwami sounded indignant and more than a little angry. The energy around it was getting steadily stronger. They really needed to divert it’s attention.

“What were you saying about camembert?” The Kwami perked up immediately but Ladybug cringed.

“Kwami need food to recharge and while just about anything will do in a pinch they each have favorites. Plagg’s favorite is extremely smelly and extremely pricy cheese. Which I haven’t been able to provide for awhile now.” Plagg’s expression dropped at her tone.

“Oh kit, it’s not your fault.” The creature flew back to her and began purring again. Ladybug wouldn’t look anyone in the eye but Ivy could feel the guilt and worry coming from her. Whatever was going on this kid needed a break.

“I just need to go change. Then I can run to the store while we wait for the rest of the food.” Plagg looked ecstatic at Selina’s announcement. Ladybug looked mostly worried but there was a bit of relief under that.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it was expensive. I feel bad enough, don’t let them guilt you into buying something that isn’t really necessary.” Selina scoffed.

“I know exactly how temperamental some creatures are about food and given Ivy’s reaction I’d like to stay on their good side for the moment. Besides, the money isn’t an issue.” She was walking out of the room before the girl could respond. Instead she frowned at Plagg who was still looking after Selina.

“I thought we agreed no more surprises.”

“Tikki and Wayzz agreed, I didn’t. Besides, an opportunity is presenting itself that we don’t want to miss.” Ivy shared a confused look with Harley, who just shrugged at her. Ladybug seemed just as clueless about what they meant. That couldn’t be a good thing.

AO3 Next

#Gotham Sirens #MLB DC Crossover #marinette dupain cheng #Selina Kyle #Harley Quinn #Poision Ivy #mom squad

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Good Help - chapter 2 - ao3 link

Despite the circumstances of their first meeting, Meng Yao mostly appreciated A-Jue for his quick mind and fearlessness – and, yes, occasionally for his towering height that made grabbing books from high places infinitely easier – rather than his muscles, however impressive they were. In fact, after the first few weeks, he had very nearly forgotten that A-Jue was a guard of the inner hall.

The assassination attempt put an end to that oversight.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao hadn’t anticipated such an attempt, nor that he hadn’t taken precautions. He was careful to take his meals in the communal kitchen at unexpected hours and tested even the snacks he kept with him before consuming them, and naturally avoided any unsupervised hallways or attempts to lure him outside, but he had underestimated the enmity that greeted his appointment: he had not thought that they would launch a direct attack.

The perpetrators entered his office as petitioners, posing as clerks for an influential merchant, and launched the attack just as they were settling into the rhythm of negotiations. They were hoping to catch him distracted, which they did, but Meng Yao had always had good instincts; he realized what was happening the first moment they moved. He was out of his chair and reaching for the flexible sword he stored around his waist almost at once, already calculating how many injuries he could incur and still be able to fight back enough to preserve his life – he just needed to survive until the guards came in, unless they’d somehow gotten rid of those, in which case he needed to run –

The calculations proved unnecessary.

By the time Meng Yao’s hand reached the hilt of his blade, A-Jue was already in front of him, catching one assassin the chest with a vicious palm strike and knocking him into the path of another, turning fluidly to slam an elbow into a third.

He didn’t even draw the saber that hung low at his waist, just knocked aside the assassin’s swords and daggers with his bare hands and then beating them with his fists and feet.

Meng Yao stood there for a moment, blinking, and by the time even his quick-moving mind caught up with everything the assassins all were unconscious or paralyzed, the merchant was on his knees begging for mercy and swearing to his ignorance, and A-Jue was standing there, frowning slightly at one of the still-twitching assassins like he was considering going in for more.

“Why didn’t you draw your saber?” Meng Yao asked, both because he was curious and because it was a better reaction than saying I forgot you could do that or I thought I’d be facing them all on my own again, or, even worse, thanks.

“I thought you’d want them alive to question them,” A-Jue said, blinking at him – he had the same expression of good-natured puzzlement as he did any time Meng Yao corrected him, whether as to his calculation of accounting errors or underestimating the malice inherent in mankind, which remained a subject of recurrent disagreement. “Was I wrong?”

“Not at all,” Meng Yao said, and felt once again the thrill of power when A-Jue nodded and called for other guards to enter and remove the bodies, although he crouched by each one first to check them over for any suicide pills or arrays that might interfere with an interrogation. His professional detachment and efficient resolution of events was truly suitable for a guard of the inner hall, the finest of Wen Ruohan’s soldiers; there could be no complaints.

There was something truly delightful about having a powerful man at your beck and call, Meng Yao reflected, and wondered briefly if A-Jue had been sent his way deliberately as a plant to infiltrate his confidence. It seemed unlikely, given the random nature of their meeting, and certainly A-Jue didn’t fit any of Meng Yao’s known pre-existing preferences, other than in terms of bedpartners. And yet he grew suspicious, if only because A-Jue suited him so very well, just right in every way…

Meng Yao spent the next three days conducting a series of covert tests to see if any information was being leaked from his office through A-Jue, but there was nothing. Ultimately, he was forced to conclude that A-Jue might actually just be – like that.

Straightforward and blunt, fearless in both speech and action, decisive and capable and yet willing to take orders from Meng Yao, never judging him for his birth but respecting him for his abilities…

Good help, he reminded his suddenly over-active libido. Hard to find. Don’t ruin a good thing.

It was hard to remember, though. A-Jue was just the sort of man Meng Yao liked when he went for men: handsome and powerfully built, well-born or rich or both, stern and unyielding in demeanor, the sort of man for whom life generally went the way they wanted. The sort could easily get a girl, even one of good breeding and appropriate lineage, merely by snapping his fingers. The type of man that might tempt even a practiced whore.

Meng Yao liked to break those types of men.

It was a trait he shared with Wen Ruohan, and one of the ways he had managed to get the Emperor’s attention – that first job he had taken had been in the Fire Palace, the Emperor’s torture chambers, and he had worked out a considerable portion of his anger and anxiety through the torment of his enemies, defined liberally as anyone who insulted his mother. He’d matured since then, growing calmer, but he still liked to put proud men on their knees and make them service him, to rub their faces in the fact that he was the one with the power, to make them crawl and plead and cry for him. Though he supposed for someone like A-Jue – he wouldn’t need to break him, really.

It’d be enough to see him bend. Willingly, for him.

And yet, if Meng Yao did that, wouldn’t A-Jue start to flinch from him and turn away from him – seek to preserve his injured pride by fleeing Meng Yao’s presence, the way so many others before him had? It would make working together much more annoying, and A-Jue was perfect the way he was.

Almost irritatingly so. If only A-Jue were more inclined to make errors, Meng Yao would feel freer to take advantage of him.

“Have you ever thought less of me because of my parentage?” Meng Yao asked one evening, apropos of nothing, when A-Jue was already exhausted and more than a little wild-eyed from having to review every single one of the reports on wheat yields in their northern provinces as part of Meng Yao’s random audit of the files.

“I mean, Jin Guangshan’s a waste of space, but you’re nothing like him, so not after the beginning,” A-Jue said automatically, then scowled at Meng Yao when he started laughing. “What? Give me a break, I didn’t know you then! How was I to guess that you’d actually be competent? Or – not awful?”

“I was,” Meng Yao said with dignity, even if his lips insisted on twitching, “referring to my mother.”

“But you hate it when people talk about your mother,” A-Jue said blankly, then shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, is this some sort of mind game? If so, can it wait until tomorrow? I’m going to dream in wheat prices.”

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Meng Yao agreed, pretending to be solemn. He wasn’t sure if he was more amused at A-Jue’s ridiculous perspective on things or the fact that he seemed to think Meng Yao was not awful simply because he’d indulged him a few times when he was being especially insistent on doing things the soft-hearted way.

“You’re making fun of me again,” A-Jue grumbled. “I don’t know why, but you are. Fuck you.”

The next day, Meng Yao asked A-Jue if he’d ever been to a whorehouse.

“Yes, while on campaign,” A-Jue said, blinking rapidly as if he were trying to hide something, or more likely not think of something. Either he’d had a bad experience or he thought Meng Yao was going to cut off his balls for admitting it.

Which he wouldn’t, of course. There was nothing wrong with the better sort of customer, and Meng Yao felt certain that A-Jue would have been that sort, could imagine him sitting in the corner with a jar of wine and a blush until he was coaxed upstairs and then paying too much for the privilege, after...but it was cute that A-Jue worried about such things.

Meng Yao put a friendly hand on A-Jue’s shoulder – the man flinched, briefly, but quickly mastered himself, just as he did any time anyone touched him – and said in his best sugar-sweet sympathetic tone that he hadn’t had to use on anyone in ages, “Did she touch you in a bad place?”

“The honored viceroy can go fuck himself any time he damn well pleases,” A-Jue said, and he had no idea how much Meng Yao would like to ask him if he’d prefer to do the honors himself.

“Do you know any other curses, or is it just variations on the term ‘fuck’?” he asked instead, thinking good help, good help, good help. “I know at least three dozen involving farmyard animals, if you’d like to learn.”

A-Jue’s laugh was in no way like a braying donkey, no matter what Meng Yao pretended to insist.

“Have you considered the benefits of a regular routine of physical exercise?” A-Jue asked.

Meng Yao glared at him.

“I’m just saying,” A-Jue said. “It would make your life easier.”

“Shut up and help me get down from up here,” Meng Yao hissed – A-Jue had taken care of the vicious snarling creatures that had somehow gotten loose, an obvious follow-up assassination attempt now that the poisoning he thought he’d identified in a late-night dessert had been demonstrably unsuccessful, even if A-Jue had insisted that they were just “sweet little puppies” and Meng Yao was “overreacting”.

“I’d be happy to help train you, if you’d like.”

“I’m far too busy,” Meng Yao said with what little shreds of dignity he still possessed. “I do three times as much work as you do, I don’t have capacity to running off to go wave a stick in the air multiple times a day like some people.”

A-Jue grinned at him, utterly unmoved, and Meng Yao huffed, rolling his eyes at him.

“If I agree,” he said, with no intention whatsoever of agreeing, “will you finally show me your saber?”

If there was innuendo in there – well. He was only a man, after all.

“Perhaps one day,” A-Jue said. “It’s not a privileged I give to everyone.”

Meng Yao tried to parse whether that was flirting. He couldn’t quite tell.

“Well, your saber is very large,” he said, probing. “Maybe you should take it out more often.”

“When I take out my saber, someone dies,” A-Jue said, and – probably not flirting, then. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally skewer you.”

Possibly very strange flirting? Meng Yao wouldn’t put it past A-Jue.

“Yes, well,” he said, straightening his robes and settling back into professional mode. “You have fun with your exercise, but leave me out of it.”

A-Jue escorted him back to his office first, conscientious as always.

Once he was gone, Meng Yao rang a certain bell and summoned Sisi, whose freedom was probably the best investment he’d ever made – she’d merged into the palace staff without leaving so much as a trace behind, acting as though the other girls were her sisters and she’d been there forever, and she was more than willing to report on everything she learned.

Also, she’d retained enough of her looks that everyone thought that Meng Yao only summoned her for sex, making A-Jue’s occasional disappearances for training purposes the perfect time for Meng Yao to meet with her without suspicion – he’d given up most of his paranoia surrounding A-Jue, but that was no reason to share all of his tricks.

Besides, he wasn’t sure he actually wanted A-Jue and Sisi to meet.

“When you’re done fucking him, can you share?” Sisi asked after she put down the tray of snacks – buns and a pot of tea, all of which she sampled before his eyes in the name of sharing food. “Man like that deserves to be common property.”

“I’m not whoring him out,” Meng Yao said, a warning in his tone, and Sisi sighed dramatically.

“Tell me you’re at least having a good time with all those muscles,” she said. “Someone ought to be.”

Meng Yao rolled his eyes.

“Where’s the trouble coming from this time?” he asked, deciding to elide the issue entirely. “I keep hearing whispers and people look nervous, the way they do before some sort of trouble, but neither gentry nor merchant class seem to have produced anything out of the ordinary, and I can’t imagine it’s the farmers again after last time.”

“You’re looking out, you should be looking in,” she said.

“The Emperor’s court?”

That could be a serious problem. Any political turmoil that happened within the Nightless City would have ramifications well beyond it.

“His harem,” Sisi said, her face alight with the pleasure of gossip. “Word’s come back from the south – turns out that the Emperor took one of the Imperial Consorts with him for his trip.”

Even Meng Yao’s eyebrows raised.

“And with the Empress in seclusion, well…”

It wasn’t as though the Empress had a strong maternal family as a backing – no one even knew what her surname was – but she’d been there for years and years, practically part of the décor. Replacing her with one of the Consorts would be…a change.

The Nightless City hated change.

“Could you ask to see her?” Sisi asked. “Just as proof of life…”

“I could,” Meng Yao said, because technically he had authority over everyone, “but I won’t. Why would I invite trouble for myself? I’d have to explain to the Emperor why I interfered with his harem.”

“Good point,” Sisi said, although she looked disappointed.

“Which Consort?”

“The rumor says A-Sang,” she said. “The one that likes to carry scholarly fans.”

“A-Sang? Really?”

“I know! We all thought that the Emperor didn’t even like A-Sang – everyone agrees that A-Sang never got any imperial visits before this; the Emperor never spent a night in A-Sang’s rooms, never even shared a meal, nothing. But why else would he take A-Sang with him on a months-long journey?”

Why indeed. The Emperor remained as unfathomable as ever. Meng Yao wondered briefly if Wen Ruohan really had murdered the Empress in her seclusion, faking her presence with a note…still, it seemed implausible. Why would he bother?

“I heard a rumor once,” he said instead. “About A-Sang.”

Like all good spies and shit-stirrers, Sisi was immediately at full attention – she knew that Meng Yao was not inclined to gossip for the pleasure of it, the way she was, and therefore he would only volunteer information if he intended for her to spread it.

“A-Sang is the Empress’ family,” Meng Yao said, and Sisi’s eyes went wide. “Younger sibling.”

Younger brother, he thought, though he didn’t say anything – he didn’t actually know for sure. It was hard to tell. Wen Ruohan didn’t lock away his wives the way some men did; on the contrary, he enjoyed bringing them out for celebrations to show them off. But the Empress was invariably veiled, swathed in silks without a hint of skin showing, always seated in her chair as if she were kneeling in penance, never moving; Meng Yao, who only saw her from a distance during the celebrations, sometimes almost thought she might not have legs. In daily life, she sometimes attended the Emperor’s court, but always remained seated behind her veils and sometimes even a screen, little more than a silhouette from which, rarely, notes emerged but no voice ever did.

Naturally, if the Empress preferred to be veiled, that meant the other wives had to at least pretend to follow her lead. And that meant veils and concealing clothing, even if some of them interpreted the concept rather loosely, with sheer veils and even sheerer clothing, meant to entice – A-Sang fell somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, wearing a veil that revealed his eyes and clothing that allowed him flexibility of movement without too much restraint, and while he was slender and delicate, Meng Yao was moderately certain that he was indeed male.

Not that it mattered.

Wen Ruohan had never much cared about that.

“Amazing,” Sis breathed. “So all these years, the Emperor has been refraining from touching A-Sang out of respect for the Empress, and now the little sister wife has finally made her move…”

Meng Yao had said none of that, but it served him to muddle the waters a little, mostly to see who would try to clear it up. Not that it could be, as his information about their familial connection was accurate – gleaned from a careless comment by Wen Ruohan himself, no less – but it interested him to know who would try regardless.

“Go,” he said, and Sisi left, all but floating, and it wasn’t long before A-Jue returned, all shiny with sweat and exertion, looking incredibly fuckable.

“You worked near the harem, right?” Meng Yao asked him, mind still focused on the bubbling little scandal that he just knew would become an issue that could wreck his thus far successful regency. “Do you have any connections there?”

“Not really?” A-Jue said. “Most of the wives are scared of me.”

Typical.

“Is there something you’d like me to find out for you..?”

“No need,” Meng Yao said. He’d never met anyone less well suited to be a spy than A-Jue. “But it may be an avenue of future threats, so keep it in mind.”

“I’m not going to let anyone from the harem harm you,” A-Jue said, oddly fierce. “Not anyone. Don’t worry.”

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #nieyao #my fic #my fics #good help

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supercantaloupe · 3 years

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okay yeah actually, i’ll bite. i’ve got some of my own thoughts about the unsleeping city and cultural representation and i’m gonna make a post about them now, i guess. i’ll put it under a cut though because this post is gonna be long.

i wanna start by saying i love dimension 20 and i really really enjoy the unsleeping city. i look forward to watching new episodes every week, and getting hooked on d20 as a whole last summer really helped pull me out of a pandemic depression, and i’m grateful to have this cool show to be excited about and interested in and to have met so many cool people to talk about it with.

that being said, however, i think there is a risk run in representing any group of people/their culture when you have the kind of setting that tuc has. by which i mean, tuc is set in a real world with real people and real human cultures in it. unlike fantasy high or a crown of candy where everything is made up (even if rooted in real-world cultures), tuc is explicitly rooted in reality, and all of its diversity -- both the ups and downs that go with it. and especially set in new york of all places, one of the most densely, diversely populated cities on earth. the cast is 7 people; it’s great that those 7 people come from a variety of backgrounds and identities and all bring their own unique perspectives to the table, and it’s great that those people and the entire crew are generally conscious of themselves and desire to tell stories/represent perspectives ethically. but you simply cannot authentically represent every culture or every perspective in the world (or even just in a city) when your cast is 7 people. it’s an impossible task. this is inherent to the setting, and acknowledged by the cast, and by brennan especially, who has been on record saying how one of the exciting aspects of doing a campaign set in nyc is its diversity, the fact that no two new yorkers have the same perspective of new york. i think that’s a good thing -- but it does have its challenges too, clearly.

i’m not going to go into detail on the question of whether or not tuc’s presentation of asian and asian american culture is appropriative/offensive or not. first of all, i don’t feel like it’s 100% fair to judge the show completely yet, since it’s a prerecorded season and currently airing midseason, so i don’t yet know how things wrap up. secondly, i’m not asian or asian american. i can have my own opinions on that content in the show, but i think it’s worth more to hear actual asian and asian american voices on this specific aspect of the show. having an asian american cast member doesn’t automatically absolve the show of any criticisms with regard to asian american cultural representation/appropriation, whether those criticisms are made by dozens of viewers or only a handful of them. regardless, i don’t think it’s my place as someone who is not asian to speak with any authority on that issue, and i know for a fact that there are asian american viewers sharing their own opinions. their thoughts in this instance hold more water than mine, i think.

what i will comment on in more depth, though, is a personal frustration with tuc. i’m jewish; i’ve never really been shy about that fact on my page here. i’m not from new york, but i visit a few times a year (or i did before covid anyway, lol), and i have some family from nyc. nyc, to me, is a jewish city. and for good reason, since it’s home to one of the largest jewish populations of the country, and even the world, and aspects of jewish culture (including culinary, like bagels and pastrami, and linguistic, like the common use of yiddish words and phrases in english colloquial speech) are prevalent and celebrated among jews and goyim alike. when i think of nyc, i think of a jewish city; that’s not everybody’s new york, but that’s my new york, and thats plenty of other people’s new york too. so i do find myself slightly disappointed or frustrated in tuc for its, in my opinion, rather stark lack of jewish representation.

now, i’m not saying that one of the PCs should have been jewish, full stop. i love to headcanon iga as jewish even though canon does not support that interpretation, and i’m fine with that. she’s not my character. it’s possible that simply no one thought of playing a jewish character, i dunno. but also, and i can’t be sure about this, i’m willing to bet that none of the players really wanted to play a jewish character because they didn’t want to play a character of a marginalized culture they dont belong to in the interest of avoiding stereotyping or offensive representation/cultural appropriation. (i don’t know if any of the cast members are jewish, but i’m assuming not.) and the concern there is certainly appreciated; there’s not a ton of mainstream jewish rep out there, and often what we get is either “unlikeable overly conservative hassidic jew” or “jokes about their bar mitzvah/one-off joke about hanukkah and then their jewishness is never mentioned ever again,” which sucks. it would be really cool to see some more good casual jewish rep in a well-rounded, three-dimensional character in the main cast of a show! even if there are a couple of stumbles along the way -- nobody is perfect and no two jews have the same level of knowledge, dedication, and adherence to their culture.

but at the same time, i look at characters like iga and i really do long for a jewish character to be there. siobhan isn’t polish, yet she’s playing a characters whose identity as a polish immigrant to new york is very central to her story and arc. and part of me wonders why we can’t have the same for a jewish character. if not a PC, then why not an NPC? again, i’m jewish, and i am not native, but in my opinion i think the inclusion of jj is wonderful -- i think there are even fewer native main characters in mainstream media than there are jewish ones, and it’s great to see a native character who is both in touch with their culture as well as not being defined solely by their native-ness. to what extent does it count as ‘appropriative’ because brennan is a white dude? i dunno, but i’m like 99% sure they talked to sensitivity consultants to make sure the representation was as ethical as they could get it, and anyway, i can’t personally see and glaring missteps so far. but again, i’m not native, and if there are native viewers with their own opinions on jj, i’d be really interested in hearing them.

but getting back to the relative lack of jewish representation. it just...disappoints me that jewishness in new york is hardly ever even really mentioned? again, i know we’re only just over halfway through season 2, but also, we had a whole first season too. and it’s definitely not all bad. for example: willy! gd, i love willy so much. him being a golem of williamsburg makes me really really happy -- a jewish mythological creature animated from clay/mud (in this case bricks) to protect a jewish community (like that of williamsburg, a center for many of nyc’s jews) from threat. golem have so often been taken out of their original context and turned into evil monsters in fantasy settings, especially including dnd. (even within other seasons of d20! crush in fh being referred to as a “pavement golem” always rubbed me the wrong way, and i had hoped they’d learned better after tuc but in acoc they refer to another monster as a “corn golem” which just disappointed me all over again.) so the fact that tuc gets golems right makes my jewish heart very happy.

and yet...he doesn’t show up that much? sure, in s1, he’s very helpful when he does, but in s2 so far he shows up once and really does not say or do much of anything. he speaks with a lot more yiddish-influenced language than other characters, but if you didn’t know those words were specifically yiddish/jewish, you might not be able to otherwise clock the fact that willy is jewish. and while willy is a jewish mythological creature who is jewish in canon, he isn’t human. there are no other direct references to judaism, jewish characters, or jewish culture in the unsleeping city beyond him.

there are, in fact, two other canon jewish characters in tuc. but...here’s where i feel the most frustration, i think. the two canon jewish humans in tuc are stephen sondheim and robert moses. both of whom are real actual people, so it’s not like we can just pick and choose what their cultural backgrounds are. as much as i love stephen sondheim, i think there are inherent issues with including real world people as characters in a fictional setting, especially if they are from living/recent memory (sondheim is literally still alive), but anyway, sondheim and moses are both actual jewish people. from watching tuc alone you probably would not be able to guess that sondheim is jewish -- nothing from his character except name suggests it, and i wouldn’t even fault you for not thinking ‘sondheim’ is a jewish-sounding surname (and i dislike the idea/attitude/belief that you can tell who is or isn’t jewish by the sound of their name). and yeah, i’m not going to sit here and be like “brennan should have made sondheim more visibly jewish in canon!” because, like, he’s a real human being and it’s fucking weird to portray him in a way that isn’t as close to how he publicly presents himself, which is not in fact very identifiably jewish? i don’t know, this is what i mean by it’s inherently weird and arguably problematic to portray real living people as characters in a fictional setting, but i digress. sondheim’s jewish, even if you wouldn’t know it; not exactly a representation win.

and then there’s bob moses. you might be able to guess that he’s jewish from canon, actually. there’s the name, of course. but more insidious to me are the specifics of his villainy. greedy and powerhungry, a moneyman, a lich whose power is stored in a phylactery...it does kind of all add up to a Yikes from me. (in the stock market fight there’s a one-off line asking if he has green skin; it’s never really directly acknowledged or answered, but it made me really uncomfortable to hear at first and it’s stuck with me since viewing for the first time.) the issue for me here is that the most obviously jewish human character is the season’s bbeg, and his villainy is rooted in very antisemitic tropes and stereotypes.

i know this isn’t all brennan’s fault -- robert moses was a real ass person and he was in fact jewish, a powerhungry and greedy moneyman, a big giant racist asshole, etc. i’m not saying that jewish characters can’t be evil, and i’m not saying brennan should have tried to be like “this is my NPC robert christian he’s just like bob moses but instead he’s a goy so it’s okay” because...that would be fuckin weird bro. and bob moses was a real person who was jewish and really did do some heinous shit with his municipal power. i’m not necessarily saying brennan should have picked/created a different character to be the villain. i’m not even saying that he shouldn’t have made bob moses a lich (although, again, it doesn’t 100% sit right with me). but my point here is that bob moses is one of a grand total of three canon jewish characters in tuc, of which only two humans, of whom he is the one you’d most easily guess would be jewish and is the most influenced by antisemitic stereotypes/tropes. had there been more jewish representation in the show at all, even just some neutral jewish NPCs, this would not be as much of a problem as it is to me. but halfway through season 2, so far, this is literally all we get. and that bums me out.

listen, i really like tuc. i love d20. but the fact that it is set in a real world place with real world people does inherently raise challenges when it comes to ethical cultural representation. especially when the medium of the show is a game whose creatures, lore, and mechanics have been historically rooted in some questionable racial/cultural views. and dnd is making progress to correct some of those misguided views of older sourcebooks by updating them to more equitably reflect real world racial/cultural sensitivities; that’s a good thing! but these seasons, of course, were recorded before that. the game itself has some questionable cultural stuff baked into it, and that is (almost necessarily) going to be brought to the table in a campaign set in a real-world place filled with real-world people of diverse real-world cultures. the cast can have sensitivity consultants and empathy and the best intentions in the world, and they’ll still fuck up from time to time, that’s okay. your mileage may vary on whether or not it’s still worth sticking around with the show (or the fandom) through that. for me, it does not yet outweigh all the things i like about the show, and i’m gonna continue watching it. but it’s still very worth acknowledging that the cast is 7 people who cannot possibly hope to authentically or gracefully represent every culture in nyc. it’s an unfortunate limitation of the medium. yet it’s also still worthwhile to acknowledge and discuss the cultural representation as it is in the show -- both the goods and the bads, the ethically solid and the questionably appropriative -- and even to hold the creators accountable. (decently, though. i’m definitely not advocating anybody cyberbully brennan on twitter or whatever.) the show and its representation is far from perfect, but i also don’t think it ever could be. still, though, it could always be better, and there’s a worthwhile discussion to be had in the wheres, hows, and whys of that.

#sasha reviews #sasha speaks #the unsleeping city #unsleeping city #long post #dimension 20 #gd i stayed up way too late to write this #tuc #the unsleeping city chapter 2 #the unsleeping city 2 #tuc2 #antisemitism

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fuesch · 2 years

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Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness review, part 1

We're diving right into the action and get introduced to America Chavez with a camera move onto the star that's a bit too cheesy for my taste.

The return of Dr. West gives us a tired old joke about people with cats. Not surprising he'd list his cats before his brother. He does have character issues (and as if Strange doesn't), so he might have not gotten along that well with his brother, whereas the cats wouldn't have that problem with him. Personally I find it sweet that someone loved him - so what if they weren't members of his own species?! I wouldn't be surprised if West invented the brother just because he wanted some sympathy from Strange. Why should pets count so much less than humans?! They love us, we love them - those are real relationships!

Look, it's not that I dislike Strange, but when Wong joined the fight, that tickled me! He is the Sorcerer Supreme after all, so he better not be forgotten. Not to mention, he's fun.

So I guess Raimi likes action up on the side of a building. And I can't blame him, it is fun - when you're not part of it yourself.

Speaking of nauseating stuff: That eye thing with Shuma-Gorath really wasn't necessary!

Ha, America asking if Spidey shoots webs out of his butt. I mean, it's a valid question!

It's fun how Strange answers 3 questions in a row, but after having the movie seen twice, I still don't know what America asked. Someone please enlighten me.

I really want a clarification about dreams being a window to the multiverse. Some dreams really are just dreams, right? Are there only some people who can dream of alternate realities, and if so, what gives them the ability? I mean, does it take more than just having a counterpart in the multiverse? And does America really not dream at all?

So either America has been in the MCU for a while and Strange's dream was't broadcast live or Defender Strange is rotting fast. Maybe the effect of getting killed by that bandage creature?

Aha, so sorcery and witchcraft are different branches of magic. I still want to know more. So you have to be born for witchcraft, but for sorcery it's enough to be taught? As Ned's magic is inherent, does that mean he could do witchcraft instead? And why wasn't he at the Kamar Taj? He didn't forget everything that happened in NWH, did he?

Although we had already been told that dreams are visions of what's happening to a a variant of yourself, I wondered why the Minimoffs had switched beds from WandaVision. Because I still consider normal dreams to exist.

Ah, there's a traffic light by Tommy's bed! I knew there was something about a traffic light that I wanted to include into my Peter Maximoff truthering, but I'd forgotten where it appeared in WandaVision.

I was so confused by the new Hex at first, why one would be necessary. Now I guess that practicing all that Darkhold magic had killed the trees, so Wanda made the orchard pretty again in an attempt to fool Strange.

Wanda complains about the unfairness in the different judgement of her actions and Strange's. In a way she's right, but in another way: Girlfriend, while you didn't do these things on purpose, you did them for yourself - Strange did them for others. I know, I know, I can't expect her to make sense when she's under the influence of the Darkhold! sigh

So… what, Wanda isn't the same as the Scarlet Witch? Witch please, what are you talking about? Come on, we didn't even get to see our Wanda this movie (except at the very end), that was all the Scarlet Witch. Okay, but I hate this differentiation. And Strange uses it later too, talking about Wanda calling herself a witch as if it's bad. They're telling me they're really doing this? The Scarlet Witch is only the version of Wanda who's influenced by the Darkhold? Witches (you know, a group consisting only of women, as far as we're aware) in general are bad? But that wouldn't make sense with what WandaVision showed us. There was no indication that Agatha's coven was evil.

Liking Rintrah so far. Please tell me more! How did a green cow person come to study at the Kamar Taj? Is he from another dimension like Ta-Lo? Or an alien?

Ugh, Wanda's stilted words during the negotion with Strange and her stereotypical villain acting during most of the film. But I guess you can explain that away with the Darkhold, Agatha had that affliction too. Wanda only seemed like a real person when she was sad.

Ha, I was wondering if that gong was reflective enough, when America was covering that puddle. Why is this room full of puddles anyway? I swear it had a ceiling.

Aww, look at America having a nausea-inducing superpower! I want her and Peter to meet and high-five about it.

There's only one America in the whole multiverse? Okay, that's an American exceptionalism I can believe in.

Heh, she sent Strange and herself to the planet of the hats.

Not even in this utopic-looking New York the pizza balls are free, how disapointing.

If America was pulled through the same portal as her parents, how did they end up elsewhere? Was it like that trip with Strange, going through multiple universes and one of the parties travelled further? I had hoped by the end of the movie they would be reunited. America's story better be heading that way!

#doctor strange in the multiverse of madness #america chavez #wong #doctor strange #sorcery vs witchcraft #ned leeds #minimoffs #peter maximoff #peter maximoff truthering #agatha harkness #wandavision

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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HASO, “Diplomatic Breakdown.”

Had a really hard time writing today, but I have gotten something out, so I hope you all enjoy :)

He felt the ship change course.

It seemed strange after five years to feel something moving beneath him. Most of the time you couldn’t tell as the ship was going steadily in one direction, but occasionally a course correction could be noticeable through the ship.

It was odd though, he thought they were heading back to the Bran home planet.

He had been laying in the temporary crew quarters for the mining party, playing with a shiny piece of metallic rock. He didn’t think most people had a favorite rock, but this one was his favorite. It’s magnetic properties were enough to burn out small metallic circuitry if held up right against it. Nothing had been done to the rock to make it that way, it was just it’s natural way of being.

He found it fascinating.

However, that fascination was starting to wear off as he tried to determine where they could be going.

Curiosity got the better of him.

It wasn’t something he noticed immediately, as curiosity had been what had gotten him in trouble in the first place so many years ago. If he hadn’t gone hunting to see what that sound was maybe none of this would have happened. Ever since then he had done his best to squash any of his curious urges.

He thought they were gone now, though his silent trek through the ship was demonstrating that to be wrong.

He made his way past plenty of other aliens in the hallway. Humans, Drev, and even one of those Fuzzy little Celzex aliens, which he tried to keep a wide birth around. They were relatively dangerous creatures or so he was told, not particularly intimidating when close and personal, but with the most powerful weapons in the galaxy and an angry streak to mainin.

The Drev were almost the opposite. They were scary in person, and could probably kill you as soon as look at you, but their personal space technology was barely capable of getting them to their home planet’s moon, and so they mostly borrowed from others.

The stairs up to the bridge were clear, and it gave him a good enough perspective, where he could sit in the door and watch as the Admiral gave orders.

This human had come a long way since being the one to scare ket into the deepest hole in the galaxy.

He was now Admiral of the entire galactic Armada, though Ket wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that particular decision.

Looking through the open door and onto the bridge he watched the Admiral lean forward in his seat.

Through another door, came the mining foreman, who stepped up beside the Admiral, “Sir, why are we changing courses. I thought we were heading back to-”

“The GA has called us in for some kind of emergency meeting. I promise from there we will be able to warp back to your home planet within the day.”

The foreman went silent.

One of the other officers walked up, “What is the GA calling in about?”

“I am not entirely ure, but they said it was urgent…. Sounds like something has gone wrong, but knowing the GA, it could be anything..” he waved the foreman away and continued talking to some of his other officers.

“Do you think it’s the kree again sir…. Or maybe….”

“I feel like they would have told us if it was something that urgent, but they didn’t talk specifics over the com so I am thinking something like the leviathan or Deus.”

The other officers shrugged, and they went silent

“Preparing for warp sequence.”

The announcement came over the comms ust as Ket began wrapping his tail around the nearest railing.

The wrap of his tail turned into the wrap of his entire body around the metal structure, and he curled tight as the warp countdown began.

He wouldn’t be able to make it to a seat in time, so this was going to have to do. He heard that warp on human ships was a nightmare, but as the countdown hit one he was surprised to find that it wasn’t too bad. They must have borrowed a warp dampener off of one of the other species.

It didn’t take more than twenty minutes until they were in position before the GA headquarters. On either side the two glowing warp gates pulsed as ships began to arrive. They were flashed in to one of the docking stations, and ket had to pull to the side as the Admiral and some of his others marched down the walkway and towards the docking bay.

He followed them at a distance, still to curious for his own good, feet padding across the open metal.

No one really noticed he was there, as they all seemed very intent on their current work, so he followed with near impunity, out the docking bay down the ramp and into the human controlled section of the station. The air was a bit to humid for Ket’s liking. Like the rundi, they didn’t react well to water, though the Bran weren’t SOO bad as to have to worry about it being in the air.

The Admiral and his men were waylaid at a checkpoint.

“Identification please.”

The Admiral frowneed, “This is new.”

“This is protocol now.

“I guess then, how would you like us to proceed?”

The man waved the group of humans off to the side and held up something in one hand, “Chip reader for implanted devices, the easiest way to identify someone based on the device serial number.”

Ket watched very carefully as the man held up the device to the admiral’s head.

There was a bright flash so he didn’t really see what happened, but the Admiral took a staggering step to the side, one hand on the side of his head. His men rushed forward to catch him, “Sir, sir are you ok?”

He wobbled a bit and shook his head, “yeah I…. fine.” He turned to glower at the other man, “That thing feels like being punched in the head.”

The man shrugged, “The price we pay for security, sir.” He motioned the man forward and then waved in the other humans who approached with some apprehension as the man used the device on them too.

It seemed very odd.

Ket would have thought they might just use the device’s inherent wireless barcode to scan, and he couldn’t think why it would cause something like that.

But he wasn’t a mechanic.

It seemed strange to him, as he stepped inside, that this protocol only seemed to apply to the humans. Everywhere else on the station he found no men with their strange devices. He wondered if that was because they were testing it on humans to make sure it worked. Something like that might kill another species depending on how fragile they were in comparison to humans.

In fact the entire things struck him as odd. \

Every conversation he overheard, and every group he passed seemed just as confused about what was going on as he was.

No one seemed to know what they were here for, which seemed rather odd to him.

Soon the entire group of them had been crammed into that center sphere of the station. Ket was surprised to find that no one stopped him as he tried to get in. Was it just him, or did security seem a little lax?

He didn’t know much about these things though.

Maybe they just didn’t see him as much of a treat.

Someone called the room to order and the chairwoman stood up, “Order!.”

The crowd fell silent.

She turned to look at the Drev, “You called this emergency meeting.”

There was a silence in the room for a moment as the Drev delegate turned to look in confusion, “I didn’t call anything.”

There was a murmuring around the room.

“What do you mean, I got your transmission no more than an hour ago.”

There was a grumbling from around the room.

“You called the meeting counselor.” The human’s voice was loud in the echoing space.

The chairwoman turned to look at the human who had his arms crossed over his chest, a peeved expression on his face.

“No. I made no call for an emergency council.”

The human shifted, his frown deepening.” Behind him the other human muttered,

Ket crouched low behind one of the seats his rock still held tightly in hand.

Was it him or did the humans seem, off?

“Do you want to go ahead and explain to me why you called us in to waste our time.” The human’s voice was cutting and cold, and even ket, not having known the human for long thought it was a bit strange.

The chair woman looked a little taken aback, “Admiral-”

The human representative stood from their seat, “We knew your council was ineffective chairwoman, but now you don’t even know who called your own meeting.”

There was a mummer of surprise from around the room.

The human turned to look at them, “Now which one of you was it.”

The humans behind them seemed to be growing agitated, but not with the heightened level of anger shown by their counterparts, but they themselves seemed to be growing more and more restless.

Admiral Vir turned toward the counselor, his one eye narrowed, “Do you ever know when to shut the hell up.”

“Excuse me.”

“I had this under control and now you have to pipe in when you aren't wanted.”

“You would disrespect me-”

“You're a politician, you deserve it.”

Behind them at least two of the humans were looking hungrily across the council chambers towards the iotins. Another pair of humans were looking hungrily at each other. The council chamber was frozen in shock. The humans were growing more agitated by the second. A fight broke out in the back row of the delegation, and one human went tumbling down the steps. The admiral and the representative had started a pushing match that soon devolved into a fistfight, which wouldn’t have lasted so long if the Admiral didn’t seem interested in, not only beating his opponent, but dominating him.”

He had him by the front of the shirt.

There was screaming in the council chamber now as the aliens kept up to flee.

Two humans vaulted the railing and raced towards the Iotins who screamed and ran.

Another human was stalking the Celzex delegation with great intent.

Unnoticed at the back of the room, that pair of humans that had been eying each other earlier now looked as if they were trying to eat each other’s faces.

Ket turned his eyes away as the room split into absolute chaos.

The Admiral had beaten the councelor bloody knuckle senseless and was now eyening the room, teeth barred. He was crouched down almost on all fours, but when he saw one of the other delegates from across the room, he vaulted the little walkway and began a chase.

The Drev delegates were the only one who had NOT run screaming.

One of them tackled the human chasing after an Iotin, but was having trouble pinning them down as the human snapped at them with their teeth and kicked violently this way and that.

The human was pressed hard into the ground as the Celzex delegation stood patiently waiting.

The human approached, and was immediately stopped with a current of force.

The human flailed, convulsed and then fell to the ground still.

Other humans were running INTO the room now, those that had been held back on the ship, and they raced forward confused, not sure who to help at first until one of them was tackled by a member of the delegation.

A human screamed as they were bitten by one of their counterparts.

The Drev named Sunny came charging into the room with a contingent of Drev From the Omen.

She caught the Admiral around the chest and sent them both spinning to the floor slamming him to the ground.

Ket thought he was going to try and fight her but instead his expression switched as he saw her, turning from livid…. To hungry…. Or something similar.

Sunny did her best to pin his hands.

Ket cowered under his seat confused and scared.

And then he remembered.

That strange human at the door. He tried to remember back to who the man had scanned and realized that all of the out of control humans…. Were the ones that man had scanned. He didn’t really know what that meant, and nervously clutched the rock to his chest.

Wait.

The rock.

Could it be?

Could it be that the man had done something to their implanted translation devices? And if so…. Would his magnet work through skin.

Off to his side two Drev were doing their best to hold down one of the marines who was sapping and flailing at them like some kind of beast.

The Drev pulled back a fist and slammed the human’s head painfully into the floor. It didn’t knock them out but they were momentarily dazed.

In a moment of sheer panic Driven psychosis, for that’s what it must have been, ket ran across the floor towards the dazed human, and pressed the lucky rock against the human’s temple. The human went to move, struggled a little and then melted into a look of extreme confusion. They held a hand to their head, and curled up to moan piteously.

The Drev graved him by his shoulders, “What did you do!”

“Magnets… translation implants.” He squeaked out.

The Drev stood cupping his hands around his mouth and bellowed for the others, “Find something magnetic! It’s the translation implants.”

Below them, the once angry human looked up in confusion unable to understand them but no longer angry.

Across the room Sunny looked down at one of her arms where a small piece of her carapace had been replaced by a silver and gold bracer. She unhooked it from its magnetic stripping and pressed it to the side of the thrashing human’s head.

The man flailed for a moment, paused then grew confused.

He looked.

When he spoke, Ket could not longer understand him.

Sunny shook her head.

He said something in a guttural language and jumped to his feet.

They were rallying now racing towards the affected humans, sometimes catching them just in time and pressing the magnets into the skull just behind the ear. Every reaction was the same, confusion followed by embarrassment or horror.

The entire episode hadn’t lasted more than five minutes, and by the time guards and emergency workers had arrived everyone was sitting around in various stages of shock and confusion. THe concealer had woken up and was holding a rag to his bloodied nose while the Admiral Sat next to him nursing his bruised knuckles. Neither of them could look at each other. In fact the entire delegation of humans was one big mess of confusion, embarrassment and concern.

A few of the other delegates demanded to leave and were let go, while a few others milled around in confusion.

Some of the delegates filtered back into the room, mostly the braver species.

The Iotins, Bran, Vrul, and gromm had up and left, leaving the Burg, Tesraki, Rundi, Drev and Celzex (and a few assorted others) as the only ones remaining.

The Tesraki delegate rose from their seat, “What was that!”

The human delegate wasn’t exactly in a palace to speak, so Amiral Vir stood. He opened his mouth to speak but that is when the Drev representative took to their feet.

“I believe someone is attempting to sabotage diplomacy in the GA.”

Admiral Vir leaned over to translate for the other humans, who could not understand Drev.

The GA chairwoman had something whispered to her, and switched her output speech to Drev for the convenience of the human.

“What do we know.”

“The implanted translation devices inside the human’s heads seem to have been tampered with upon entering the GA facility. We would need to examine one to find out what truly happened but we believe it-”

The Admiral stood cutting in, “I believe it has similar effects to a device I’ve run into in the past. I thought it was a one time issue, but it seems as if I Might just have been the test run. As I recall, the device stimulates the base center of the brainstem and heightens instinctive reactions, food, fighting and uh… other behaviors.”

“Then how did this happen?” Someone shouted

It was just then that two Tesraki security agents ran into the room, “We rewound the security footage.”

SOmeone walked up to the holoprojection and inserted something into one of the slots. The room watched silently as an unknown human pretended to ‘scan’ the incoming delegation.

“Do we know who that is?”

Someone did a quick facial recognition search.

“Nothing…. He’s not in the system.”

“Impossible, everyone who goes off planet has to has to be run through the software.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that there are no matches, we are not infallible.”

The room erupted into pockets of speech and argument.

Ket remained were he had hidden under the Admiral’s chair holding his lucky rock to his chest. The admiral wanted him to speak on what he saw but he had argued against giving the man permission to lead people in the right direction.

It seemed clear to him what was going on.

Someone was trying to ruin diplomacy for he humans.

And it looked like tonight might have been a partial success.

198 notes · View notes

gffa · 4 years

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OKAY, IF I’M GONNA DO THIS, I’M GONNA DO IT PROPERLY. WHICH MEANS YEAH IT’S GONNA GET REALLY LONG. A couple of things to say ahead of time: Lucasfilm’s Story Group has always said CANON > WORD OF GOD when it comes to these matters, so when I quote canon examples from supplementary materials that contradict what he says, that’s LF’s official position, but that doesn’t mean that an influential person like Dave’s views couldn’t affect how things will be shaped in the future, like Deborah Chow listening to this may be influenced by it on the Obi-Wan show, despite that Master & Apprentice contradicts him. It’s an incredibly murky area! Mileages are going to vary. Another thing to keep in mind is that Dave Filoni never worked on The Phantom Menace, that was long, long before his time at Lucasfilm (which I think he joined sometime around 2007? and TPM was released in 1999), that he has worked with George more than probably anyone else, but we cannot and should not treat him as infallible or the True Authority on things, because even Dave himself has said things like: “I mean, I know why I did that and what it means, but I don't like to explain too much. I love for the viewers to watch stuff and come up with their own theories -- and they frankly come up with better things that I intended.” --Dave Filoni, Entertainment Tonight 2020 interview Or, in the same episode as the above Qui-Gon interpretation:

So, when I dig into this, I’m not doing this out of a sense of malice or even that I suddenly hate Dave or don’t appreciate all the incredible things he’s brought to SW, but in that I disagree with his take, Dave understands that he doesn’t always get it right, that he enjoys that fans come up with different things than he does and sometimes he likes those even more. There’s room for both of us and, for all that Dave mentions George a lot (and, hey, fair enough, the guy worked with George and I’m just quoting what George Lucas has said) doesn’t mean that this is straight from George, especially because I have never seen George Lucas utter so much as a peep about how the Jedi were responsible for Anakin’s fall. He has explicitly and frequently talked about how Anakin’s fall was his own choice, as well as I’ve never seen him say anything Jedi-critical beyond “they were kind of arrogant about themselves”. I have read and watched every George Lucas interview I could get my hands on and maybe I’m still missing something, but that’s literally the extent of him criticizing the Jedi I have EVER seen. (It’s from the commentary on AOTC where he put in the scene with Jocasta to show they were full of themselves, but I also think it’s fair to point out that Obi-Wan immediately contradicts this by going to Dex for help, showing that it’s not necessarily a Jedi-wide thing.) Before I go further, I want to say: this is not a post meant to tear down Qui-Gon, he is a character I actually really do love, but the focus is on showing why the above interpretation of him is wrong, which means focusing on Qui-Gon’s flaws. He has many wonderful qualities, he is someone who cared deeply and was a good person, I think things would have been better had he lived! But Anakin’s choices did not hinge on him, because Anakin’s choices were Anakin’s, that has always been the consistent theme of how George talks about him, the way he talks about the story is always in terms of “Anakin did this” or “Anakin chose that”, and the Jedi are very consistently shown as caring, they believed very much in love and Dave’s own show (well, I say “his own show”, but honestly TCW was George’s baby primarily and he had a lot of direct, hands-on say in crafting it, through at least the first five seasons) is plenty of evidence of that. I’m not going to quote the full thing because this is already a monster post, I’m just going to focus on the Jedi stuff, because I like the other points a lot, but if you want the full text, it’s here. The relevant part is: “In Phantom Menace, you’re watching these two Jedi in their prime fight this evil villain. Maul couldn’t be more obviously the villain. He’s designed to look evil, and he is evil, and he just expresses that from his face all the way out to the type of lightsaber he fights with. What’s at stake is really how Anakin is going to turn out. Because Qui-Gon is different than the rest of the Jedi and you get that in the movie; and Qui-Gon is fighting because he knows he’s the father that Anakin needs. Because Qui-Gon hasn’t given up on the fact that the Jedi are supposed to actually care and love and that’s not a bad thing. The rest of the Jedi are so detached and they become so political that they’ve really lost their way and Yoda starts to see that in the second film. But Qui-Gon is ahead of them all and that’s why he’s not part of the council. So he’s fighting for Anakin and that’s why it’s the ‘Duel of the Fates’ – it’s the fate of this child. And depending on how this fight goes, Anakin, his life is going to be dramatically different. “So Qui-Gon loses, of course. So the father figure, he knew what it meant to take this kid away from his mother when he had an attachment, and he’s left with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan trains Anakin at first out of a promise he makes to Qui-Gon, not because he cares about him. When they get Anakin, they find him on Tatooine, he says “Why do I feel like we’ve found another useless lifeform?” He’s comparing Anakin to Jar Jar and he’s saying “this is a waste of our time, why are we doing this, why do you see importance in these creatures like Jar Jar Binks and this ten-year-old boy? This is useless.” “So, he’s a brother to Anakin eventually but he’s not a father figure. That’s a failing for Anakin. He doesn’t have the family that he needs. He loses his mother in the next film. He fails on this promise that he made, “mother, I’m going to come back and save you”. So he’s left completely vulnerable and Star Wars is ultimately about family. So that moment in that movie which a lot of people I think diminish, “oh there’s a cool lightsaber fight”, but it’s everything that the entire three films of the prequels hangs on, is that one particular fight. And Maul serves his purpose and at that point died before George made me bring him back, but he died.“ --Dave Filoni I’m going to take this a piece at a time to show why I really disagree with the content of both the movies and The Clone Wars supporting what Dave says and, instead, contradicts it a lot. The rest of the Jedi are so detached and they become so political that they’ve really lost their way and Yoda starts to see that in the second film. He doesn’t explain what this means, but I’m pretty sure that he’s referring to this conversation: OBI-WAN: “I am concerned for my Padawan. He is not ready to be given this assignment on his own yet.” YODA: “The Council is confident in its decision, Obi-Wan.” MACE WINDU: “The boy has exceptional skills.” OBI-WAN: “But he still has much to learn, Master. His abilities have made him... well.... arrogant.” YODA: “Yes, yes. A flaw more and more common among Jedi. Hmm... too sure of themselves they are. Even the older, more experienced ones.” MACE WINDU: “Remember, Obi-Wan, if the prophecy is true, your apprentice is the only one who can bring the Force back into balance.” OBI-WAN: "If he follows the right path.” None of that has anything to do with being “detached” and, further, I think this is something that’s come up with Dave’s view of Luminara a lot, because he’s described her (re: the Geonosis arc): “We were trying to illustrate the difference between the way Anakin is raising his Padawan, and how much he cares about her, and the way Luminara raises her Padawan. Not that Luminara is indifferent, but that Luminara is detached. It’s not that she doesn’t care, but she’s not attached to her emotionally.” Here, he says that the Jedi care, in the above, he says that the Jedi don’t care, which makes me think there’s a lot of characterization drift as time goes on, especially when fandom bombards everyone with the idea that the Jedi were cold, emotionless, and didn’t care. However, look at Luminara’s face in that arc, when she’s talking with Anakin:

That is not the face of someone who doesn’t care. She even smiles brightly in relief when Barriss is shown to be okay, that this really doesn’t convey “detached” in an unloving or uncaring way. (We’ll get to attachment later, that’s definitely coming.) (I’m also mostly skipping the political thing, because I think that’s just a fundamental disagreement of whether Jedi should or should not lean into politics. My view basically boils down to that I think ALL OF US should be leaning more into politics because we are citizens who live in the world and are responsible for it, and the Jedi are no different. This is evidenced by: - M&A’s storyline has Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan saving the day specifically because they play politics, that’s how they manage to free the slaves, through playing politics and being part of the Republic/having Senate backing. - The Clone Wars has shown that the Jedi believe “lasting change can only come from within” and “it’s every citizen’s duty to hold their leaders accountable” when Ahsoka teaches the cadets on Mandalore, as well as that politics are not inherently bad, given that Padme and Bail are working to make the system better or “create lasting change from within [the system]” - "Trying to serve the greater good does not always make you popular” says Padme Amidala in a very caring speech - Star Wars Propaganda makes the case that the Jedi might have won the war had they leaned more into politics. - Sometimes the Jedi get unfairly accused of playing politics when there’s just no good choice and they still have to choose one or the other.) But Qui-Gon is ahead of them [re: caring and loving] all and that’s why he’s not part of the council. This is flat-out wrong in regards to canon. Mileages are going to vary, of course, on how much one takes a novel into consideration, but Dave Filoni is not a fan with the luxury of deciding what is or isn’t canon, he works on Star Wars where canon is canon. Now, does that mean canon will never contradict itself, especially if Dave gets to write something for Qui-Gon? Of course not, SW isn’t immune to continuity errors and they themselves have never said otherwise, even when fans want to hold them to that standard. However, this is still pretty much a big “that’s not what happened” instance. In Master & Apprentice, the Jedi Council offer a seat to Qui-Gon on the Council, specifically BECAUSE he has different opinions from them and they welcome that. (Excerpt here.) “We hope it will also be our gain,” Mace replied. “Qui-Gon Jinn, we hereby offer you a seat on the Jedi Council.” Had he misheard? No, he hadn’t. Qui-Gon slowly gazed around the circle, taking in the expressions of each Council member in turn. Some of them looked amused, others pleased. A few of them, Yoda included, appeared more rueful than not. But they were serious. “I admit—you’ve surprised me,” Qui-Gon finally said.“I imagine so,” Mace said drily. “A few years ago, we would’ve been astonished to learn we would ever consider this. But in the time since, we’ve all changed. We’ve grown. Which means the possibilities have changed as well.” Qui-Gon took a moment to collect himself. Without any warning, one of the turning points of his life had arrived. Everything he said and did in the next days would be of great consequence. “You’ve argued with my methods often as not, or perhaps you’d say I’ve argued with yours.” “Truth, this is,” Yoda said. Depa Billaba gave Yoda a look Qui-Gon couldn’t interpret. “It’s also true that the Jedi Council needs more perspectives.” Ultimately, Qui-Gon is the who turns them down and gives up a chance to shape the Jedi Council because he doesn’t like the shape they’re taking. That he does become less political, but this is after he’s argued that the Jedi should be working to push the Senate harder, so when he has a chance to help with that, he turns it down. It has nothing to do with caring and loving, it’s about Qui-Gon’s desire to not have to deal with the work himself, when he wants to be more of a hippie Jedi. (I’ve written a lot about Qui-Gon in M&A, why I actually think it’s really spot-on to someone who can be both really kind and really kind of a dick, but it’s not the most flattering portrayal, even if narrative intention likely didn’t mean what came across to me. I think this post and this post are probably the most salient ones, but if you want something of an index of the web that’s being woven with all the various media, this one is good, too.) So he’s fighting for Anakin and that’s why it’s the ‘Duel of the Fates’ – it’s the fate of this child. And depending on how this fight goes, Anakin, his life is going to be dramatically different. I have only ever seen George Lucas talk about Anakin’s fate in one instance and it’s this: “It’s fear of losing somebody he loves, which is the flipside of greed. Greed, in terms of the Emperor, it’s the greed for power, absolute power, over everything. With Anakin, really it’s the power to save the one he loves, but it’s basically going against the Fates and what is natural.“ –George Lucas, Revenge of the Sith commentary I’ve made my case about why I think Anakin’s fate is about that moment in Palpatine’s office, and so I’m not fundamentally opposed that “Duel of the Fates” is about Anakin’s fate, but here’s what George has provably said about the “Duel of the Fates” part of the story: - In the commentary for The Phantom Menace during “Duel of the Fates” and none of Dave’s speculation is even hinted at, there’s more focus on the technical side of things and the most George talks about is that it’s Obi-Wan who parallels Luke in going over the edge during the fight, except that instead of a Sith cutting off a Jedi’s hand, it’s a Jedi cutting a Sith in half, drawing the parallels between them. - He does say of the funeral scene that this is where Obi-Wan commits to training Anakin and how everything is going to go (though, in canon we see that Obi-Wan still struggles with this a bit, but Yoda is there to support him and nudge him into committing even more to Anakin, because the Jedi are a supportive community to each other). This is some solid evidence for that Obi-Wan is already caring about Anakin beyond just Qui-Gon. - Then here’s what he says about the “Duel of the Fates” fights and themes of them in "All Films Are Personal": George Lucas: “I wanted to come up with an apprentice for the Emperor who was striking and tough. We hadn’t seen a Sith Lord before, except for Vader, of course. I wanted to convey the idea that Jedi are all very powerful, but they’re also vulnerable — which is why I wanted to kill Qui-Gon. That is to say, “Hey, these guys aren’t Superman.” These guys are people who are vulnerable, just like every other person. “We needed to establish that, but at the same time, we wanted the ultimate sword fight, because they were all very good. It sort of predisposes the sword fight between Anakin and Obi-Wan later on. There’s real purpose to it. You have to establish the rules and then stick with them. The scene illustrates just how Jedi and Sith fight and use lightsabers.” “So Qui-Gon loses, of course. So the father figure, he knew what it meant to take this kid away from his mother when he had an attachment, and he’s left with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan trains Anakin at first out of a promise he makes to Qui-Gon, not because he cares about him. We’ll get to the “attachment to his mother” thing in a bit--but, for now, let’s just say, George Lucas’ words on this are not that attachment to her was a good thing. Fair enough that “not because he cares about him” is up to personal interpretation, but canon has also addressed the topic of Obi-Wan’s treatment of Anakin and Obi-Wan stepped up to the plate on this. In addition to how we see Obi-Wan REPEATEDLY being there for Anakin and being concerned and caring about him, they specifically talk about Qui-Gon and overcome this hurdle.

No, Obi-Wan is not Anakin’s father figure, on that we definitely agree. Anakin never really even treats Obi-Wan like a father--he says “you’re the closest thing I have to a father” in Attack of the Clones, as well as he says Obi-Wan practically raised him in The Clone Wars “Crystal Crisis” story reels, but Anakin has never actually acted like Obi-Wan is his father--”then why don’t you listen to me?” Obi-Wan points out in AOTC--as well as Obi-Wan glides past those remarks, which I’ve always taken that he doesn’t want to reject Anakin’s feelings, knowing that Anakin can be sensitive about them, but neither does he want to confirm them. This does not mean Obi-Wan was not supportive, caring, and loving. He says, “I loved you!” to Anakin in Revenge of the Sith, he asks after him and if he’s sleeping well in Attack of the Clones, and even George Lucas himself said that the elevator scene was set up TO SHOW OBI-WAN AND ANAKIN CARE FOR EACH OTHER:

PUTTING THE REST UNDER A READ MORE FOR A BETTER LENGTH REBLOGGABLE VERSION, IF YOU WANT.

This is further evidenced by how the Jedi do see themselves as family, they just don’t need to put it into strict nuclear family dynamics: - “You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!” [–Obi-Wan Kenobi, Revenge of the Sith] - “We are brothers, Master Dibs.” [–Mace Windu, Jedi of the Republic - Mace Windu] - “Did your parents bicker?” she asked. “The adoptive ones, I mean.” A slow smile broke across Ashla’s face, curling first one side of her mouth and then the other. Whatever she was remembering, Kaeden could tell it was good. "All the time,“ Ashla said, almost as if she were talking to herself. [–Kaeden Larte, Ahsoka Tano, Ahsoka] - Vos, brought to the Temple even younger than most, felt that he had hundreds of brothers and sisters, and it seemed that whenever he went into the dining hall he ran into at least half of them. [Dark Disciple] - “It was not his birthplace, exactly, but the Jedi Temple was where Quinlan Vos had grown up. He’d raced through its corridors, hidden behind its massive pillars, found peace in its meditation hall, ended-and started-fights in rooms intended for striking blows and some that weren’t, and sneaked naps in its library. All Jedi came here, at some point in their lives; for Quinlan, it always felt like coming home when he ran lightly up the stairs and entered the massive building as he did now.” [Dark Disciple] Brothers, sisters, and other more non-traditional kinds of family are not lesser and Obi-Wan and Anakin absolutely were family, just as the Jedi are all family to each other, so, no, there was no “failing” Anakin, except in Anakin’s mind, perhaps. (In that, I can agree. But not on a narratively approved level, canon too thoroughly refutes that for me.) Rebels as well pretty thoroughly shows that non-traditional families are meaningful and just as important--we may joke that Hera is “space mom”, but she’s not actually Ezra or Sabine’s mother, Kanan is not actually their father, and even if they sometimes stray into aspects of those roles (as the Jedi do as well in the movies and TCW), that they don’t need that traditional nuclear family structure. Mentor figures--and Kanan is Ezra’s mentor--are just as meaningful and needful as a “dad”. And I’m kind of :/ at the implication that anyone without a dad/father figure or mom/mother figure is being “failed”. When they get Anakin, they find him on Tatooine, he says “Why do I feel like we’ve found another useless lifeform?” He’s comparing Anakin to Jar Jar and he’s saying “this is a waste of our time, why are we doing this, why do you see importance in these creatures like Jar Jar Binks and this ten-year-old boy? This is useless.” Whether or not Obi-Wan is being genuinely dismissive in this movie (I think you could make a case either way), the idea that Qui-Gon is better than Obi-Wan about this, as shown through Jar Jar isn’t exactly very supported given how Qui-Gon and Jar Jar first exchange words:

QUI-GON: “You almost got us killed. Are you brainless?” JAR JAR: “I spake.” QUI-GON: “The ability to speak does not make you intelligent.” Qui-Gon is just as bad as everyone else to Jar Jar, he’s not somehow elevated above them. It’s also baffling because, Dave, I have watched your show. The Jedi are specifically shown to be kind to people and creatures, not considering them “useless”. Henry Gilroy (who was the co-writer for The Clone Wars and frequently appeared in featurettes on the same level as Dave Filoni) explicitly draws this to The Jedi Way, that “life is everything to the Jedi“, when he said this about the Ryloth episodes:

(Caps cribbed from Pan’s blog, because I cannot make another gif, save me, please.) Henry Gilroy in an Aggressive Negotiations Interview: "Obi-Wan truly is a Jedi in that he’s like, ‘Okay, I’m not going to murder these creatures [in the Ryloth arc of The Clone Wars]. They’re starving to death. They’ve basically been unleashed against these people as a weapon, but it’s not their fault. They’re just doing what they do. They’re just animals who wanna eat.’ "So the idea was–and I think there was an early talk about how, 'Oh, yeah, he’ll go running through them and slicing and dicing them and chop them all up or whatever, and save his guys. And I’m like, 'Yeah, but that’s not really the Jedi way. He’s not just gonna murder these creatures.’ "And I know the threat is [there], to save one life you have to take one, but the idea of him [is]: why can’t Obi-Wan just be more clever? He basically draws them in and then traps them. "It says something about who the Jedi are, they don’t just waste life arbitrarily. And someone could have gone, 'Oh, yeah, but it would have been badass if he’d just ran in there with his lightsaber spinning and stabbed them all in the head!’ And 'Yeah, you’re right, I guess he could be that, but he’s trying to teach his clones a lesson right then, about the sanctity of life.’ "That is the underlying theme of that entire episode. Which is: A tactical droid is using the people as living shields. Life means nothing to the Separatists. The droids. But life is everything to the Jedi. And even though he doesn’t have to say that, it’s all through the episode thematically.“ It’s also Obi-Wan who teaches Anakin about kindness to mindless creatures in the Obi-Wan & Anakin comic:

"These beasts are nearly mindless, Anakin. I can feel it. They are merely following their nature, they should not die simply because they crossed our path. Use the Force to send them on their way.” Now, fair enough if you want to say Obi-Wan was taught by Qui-Gon, but also Qui-Gon is dead by that point and Obi-Wan growing into being more mature is his own accomplishment, not Qui-Gon’s, especially given that we see Qui-Gon himself being pretty dismissive to Jar Jar in TPM. This isn’t unique thing either, Padme is incredibly condescending to Jar Jar in “Bombad Jedi” and expresses clear annoyance with him to C-3PO when sighing over him. Jar Jar is a character you kind of have to warm up to, pretty much the only one we’ve seen consistently being favorable to him is Yoda (and maybe Anakin, though, Anakin doesn’t really interact with him a ton) and Mace Windu warms up to him considerably in “The Disappeared” and even specifically is shown to be teaching him and helping him, which is a huge theme of the Jedi and how much they care.

So, ultimately, the point I’m winding my way towards is--the other Jedi do show kindness and consideration to Jar Jar Binks, including characters like Mace Windu, so if you’re judging the Jedi based on that, the conclusion of Qui-Gon somehow being more compassionate and loving is really pretty thoroughly disproved by The Phantom Menace and The Clone Wars themselves. So, he’s a brother to Anakin eventually but he’s not a father figure. That’s a failing for Anakin. He doesn’t have the family that he needs. He loses his mother in the next film. He fails on this promise that he made, “mother, I’m going to come back and save you”. So he’s left completely vulnerable and Star Wars is ultimately about family. You could be charitable and say this is just from Anakin’s point of view that it’s a “failing”, but within the context of what Dave’s saying, it’s clearly meant as a more narratively approved take, not just Anakin’s point of view, and I really, really dislike the idea that Anakin--or anyone, really--needs a traditional nuclear family, ie a “mom” and/or a “dad”, or else it’s a “failing” for them. Setting aside that the idea that Qui-Gon would need to be Anakin’s dad to be kind to hi (which is ?????) is contradicted by The Clone Wars as well. Yes, Qui-Gon is warm with Anakin in several scenes, which is what Dave is presumably drawing on to show that Qui-Gon believed the Jedi should be caring and loving, but you know who else is warm to younglings? OTHER JEDI COUNCIL MEMBERS.

Those two scenes have the exact same kind of warmth to them. Ie, THE JEDI ALL BELIEVED IN BEING LOVING AND KIND, NOT JUST QUI-GON. The things evidenced to show Qui-Gon was loving and kind are evidenced just as much in other Council members, in Dave’s own show. As a bonus--have Mace Windu, known Jedi Council member, being super kind and loving towards a young Twi’lek girl he just met in a canon comic:

But I know that this is about the way the Council treated Anakin in The Phantom Menace testing scene, but here’s the thing--when I go back and I watch that scene and the Jedi aren’t ever mean to him, they’re neutral in an official testing situation, where they are trying to determine if he’s able to adapt to the Jedi ways. They never once say he’s bad for holding onto his fear, only that he does--which Anakin digs his heels in and gets angry about, he can’t really even admit that he’s afraid and that’s a huge deal for the Jedi. I’ve made a longer post about it here (and here), but the basic gist is: - That scene has Yoda giving the famous “Fear leads to the dark side” speech which is almost word for word how George Lucas describes how the Force works, showing the Jedi are narratively correct - “Confronting fear is the destiny of a Jedi” may be from the sequels, but it is thoroughly supported by the movies and TCW and Rebels and even supplementary canon material, including that the Jedi literally design their tests around both Masters and Padawans for it (Ilum, the Jedi Temple on Lothal, etc. - Anakin cannot admit to his fears in that TPM scene - We have examples of Jedi younglings do admit to their fears and the point isn’t not to have them, but to face them--the younglings in “The Gathering” are the most blatant example of this, but it’s also pretty much the entire theme of Jedi: Fallen Order, especially when Cal goes to Ilum to face his fears and get another kyber crystal. The point isn’t that Anakin--who has very good reasons to be afraid! nothing in the story or the Jedi have said he didn’t!--is wrong or bad, but that he’s not a great fit for the Jedi life because he is “unwilling to accept [Jedi philosophy] emotionally”. And they’re right about this, because this is how George Lucas describes Anakin in commentary: “The fact that everything must change and that things come and go through his life and that he can’t hold onto things, which is a basic Jedi philosophy that he isn’t willing to accept emotionally and the reason that is because he was raised by his mother rather than the Jedi. If he’d have been taken in his first year and started to study to be a Jedi, he wouldn’t have this particular connection as strong as it is and he’d have been trained to love people but not to become attached to them.” --George Lucas, Attack of the Clones commentary And so this brings us to A T T A C H M E N T, which, yeah, we’ve been having this discussion forever, but I’m going to state it again: Within Star Wars, ATTACHMENT IS NARRATIVELY A BAD THING. It is consistently tied to possessive, obsessive relationships, to greed and an unwillingness to let things go when it’s time (letting go is a huge theme in Star Wars) and equating love with attachment is fundamentally wrong according to George Lucas’ Star Wars worldbuilding: “The Jedi are trained to let go. They’re trained from birth,” he continues, “They’re not supposed to form attachments. They can love people-- in fact, they should love everybody. They should love their enemies; they should love the Sith. But they can’t form attachments. So what all these movies are about is: greed. Greed is a source of pain and suffering for everybody. And the ultimate state of greed is the desire to cheat death.” --George Lucas, The Making of Revenge of the Sith If attachment and love were the same thing, then he would be saying, “They should love their enemies, they should love the Sith. But they can’t love.” The way George makes the distinction shows that, no, attachment and love aren’t the same thing at all, attachment is not caring. Further, there’s another instance of him showing there’s an important distinction between relationships and attachment and the association of attachmets with possession: "Jedi Knights aren’t celibate - the thing that is forbidden is attachments - and possessive relationships.” --George Lucas, BBC News interview So, yes, when Anakin is attached to people, it is directly tied to obsession, possession, and greed, all things of the dark side: “He turns into Darth Vader because he gets attached to things. He can’t let go of his mother; he can’t let go of his girlfriend. He can’t let go of things. It makes you greedy. And when you’re greedy, you are on the path to the dark side, because you fear you’re going to lose things, that you’re not going to have the power you need.” --George Lucas, Time Magazine “But he has become attached to his mother and he will become attached to Padme and these things are, for a Jedi, who needs to have a clear mind and not be influenced by threats to their attachments, a dangerous situation. And it feeds into fear of losing things, which feeds into greed, wanting to keep things, wanting to keep his possessions and things that he should be letting go of. His fear of losing her turns to anger at losing her, which ultimately turns to revenge in wiping out the village. The scene with the Tusken Raiders is the first scene that ultimately takes him on the road to the dark side. I mean he’s been prepping for this, but that’s the one where he’s sort of doing something that is completely inappropriate.“ --George Lucas, Attack of the Clones commentary ATTACHMENT IS BAD IN STAR WARS AS THEY DEFINE IT. Finally, I’m going to circle back to: Because Qui-Gon is different than the rest of the Jedi and you get that in the movie; and Qui-Gon is fighting because he knows he’s the father that Anakin needs. Because Qui-Gon hasn’t given up on the fact that the Jedi are supposed to actually care and love and that’s not a bad thing. Here’s the thing about this: You know who else, by this logic, Qui-Gon should have been a father to? OBI-WAN KENOBI. This isn’t said as “Anakin specifically needs a father” (which I think would be an interesting idea to bandy about and I’m not disagreeing, though, it’s complicated because of what Anakin refuses to accept emotionally), it’s said in a bigger context, that Qui-Gon is better than the other Jedi because he understands the need for fathers (and thus this ties into Return of the Jedi) and he’s ahead of the other Jedi, who apparently think loving and caring about people are bad things, but Qui-Gon does not treat Obi-Wan like his son. Or, if he does, he’s not exactly a stellar dad about it. Within Master & Apprentice, there’s an incredibly consistent theme of how Qui-Gon thinks supportive things about Obi-Wan, but never says them aloud. He thinks he should talk to Obi-Wan about the upcoming decision to be on the Council and then never does. He could have explained why he kept Obi-Wan training the basics but he never does. There are multiple instances showing that Qui-Gon is actually really, really bad at actually handling a young apprentice who needs him to talk to them about important things. Qui-Gon continues this in From a Certain Point of View where he still never talked to Obi-Wan about everything that happened, even after he became a Force Ghost. Damn, damn, damn. Qui-Gon closed his eyes for one moment. It blocked nothing; the wave of shock that went through Obi-Wan was so great it could be felt through the Force. Qui-Gon hadn’t thought Kirames Kaj would mention the Jedi Council invitation. It seemed possible the soon-retiring chancellor of the Republic might not even have taken much note of information about a new Council member. --Master & Apprentice That comment finally pierced Qui-Gon’s damnable calm. There was an edge to his voice as he said, “I suspected you would be too upset to discuss this rationally. Apparently I was correct.” “I thought you said my reaction was understandable,” Obi-Wan shot back. “So why does it disqualify me from hearing the truth?” Qui-Gon put his hands on his broad belt, the way he did when he was beginning to withdraw into himself. “…we should discuss this at another time. Neither of us is his best self at the present.” --Master & Apprentice Obi-Wan walked toward the door, obviously outdone. “At the beginning of my apprenticeship, I couldn’t understand you,” he said. “Unfortunately, that’s just as true here at the end.” Only yesterday they had worked together as never before. How did Qui-Gon manage to get closer to Obi-Wan at the same time he was moving further away? Just before Obi-Wan would leave the room, Qui-Gon said, “Once, you asked me about the basic lightsaber cadences. Why I’d kept you there, instead of training you in more advanced forms of combat.” Obi-Wan turned reluctantly to face him again. “I suppose you thought I wasn’t ready for more. The same way I’m not ready to believe in all this mystical—” “That’s not why.” After a long pause, Obi-Wan calmed to the point where he would listen. “Then why, Qui-Gon?” “Because many Padawans—and full Jedi Knights, for that matter—forget that the most basic technique is the most important technique. The purest. The most likely to protect you in battle, and the foundation of all knowledge that is to come,” Qui-Gon said. “Most apprentices want to rush ahead to styles of fighting that are flashier or more esoteric. Most Masters let them, because we must all find our preferred form eventually. But I wanted you to be grounded in your technique. I wanted you to understand the basic cadences so well that they would become instinct, so that you would be almost untouchable. Above all, I wanted to give you the training you needed to accomplish anything you set your mind to later on.” Obi-Wan remained quiet for so long that Qui-Gon wondered if he were too angry to really hear any of what he’d said. But finally, his Padawan nodded. “Thank you, Qui-Gon. I appreciate that. But—” “But what?” “You could’ve said so,” Obi-Wan replied, and then he left. --Master & Apprentice "I owe you that. After all, I’m the one who failed you.“ "Failed me?” They have never spoken of this, not once in all Qui-Gon’s journeys into the mortal realm to commune with him. This is primarily because Qui-Gon thought his mistakes so wretched, so obvious, that Obi-Wan had wanted to spare him any discussion of it. Yet here, too, he has failed to do his Padawan justice. --From a Certain Point of View, “Master and Apprentice” (Further, in Master & Apprentice, Qui-Gon thinks that the Jedi give Rael Averross--who is HUGELY paralleled to Anakin--too many exceptions, were too soft on him because he came to the Jedi later than most and has trouble thinking of them as his family, and he thinks they should have been stricter with him.) It’s also readily apparent within The Phantom Menace itself:

You can take some charitable views of this scene, that Qui-Gon was pushed into a corner where he had few other options (and this is the view I generally take even!), but this is after the entire movie where he’s never once indicated that Obi-Wan was ready, has instead indicated that he still has much to learn (not just of the Living Force, but in general), as well as made it clear that he’s still teaching Obi-Wan, like on the Trade Federation ship. And I do think Obi-Wan got over this because he understood, because Obi-Wan actually is a very selfless person, he clearly cares (which is furthered by how we see him warm up to Anakin very quickly), but look at their faces. This was not a good moment, and they do somewhat make up, where Qui-Gon says that Obi-Wan has been a good apprentice, that he’s wiser than Qui-Gon and he’ll be a great Jedi--but if we’re counting that as Qui-Gon being this great Jedi, then you can’t say Obi-Wan failed Anakin, given that we show him doing the exact same thing, except better. He tells Anakin, “You are strong and wise and will become a far greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be.”, echoing Qui-Gon’s words, but also he never threw Anakin aside for someone else. This is kind of a major undercurrent throughout The Clone Wars, where Obi-Wan never takes another apprentice, where he continues to teach Anakin, to support him, even to the point of occasionally co-Mastering Ahsoka with him. “This has been quite a journey for our Padawan.” Qui-Gon’s treatment of Obi-Wan in this scene isn’t the worst, he’s kind about it later (though, he never actually specifically apologizes for this), but we can see that this is a moment where Qui-Gon hurts Obi-Wan and knows it. And you know what George Lucas has to say about Qui-Gon? This: “So here we’re having Qui-Gon wanting to skip the early training and jump right to taking him on as his Padawan learner, which is controversial, and ultimately, the source of much of the problems that develop later on.” –George Lucas, The Phantom Menace commentary There’s nothing about Qui-Gon being right or better than the other Jedi, but instead that Qui-Gon’s actions here are a source of much of the problems that develop later on. So, ultimately, I liked some points Dave made in that speech, it’s a beautiful and eloquent one, but I thoroughly disagree with his interpretation of George’s intentions for Qui-Gon and I thoroughly disagree that that’s what the movies, The Clone Wars (DAVE’S OWN SHOW), and the supplementary canon show about Qui-Gon and the other Jedi. I still stand by my appreciation of Dave’s contributions to SW as a whole, I think he does a really good job at making Star Wars, but he doesn’t always get everything right and this is one thing where I think the canon and George’s commentary show otherwise, as much as I love his desire to defend the prequels’ importance in the story. Because, my friend, I have felt that every single day of my SW life.

#anakin skywalker #qui gon jinn #jedi order #george lucas #dave filoni #meta #long post #really long post

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exophile3d · 4 years

Photo

This is the last of my current Monster BF request ficlets. @ur-favorite-pincushion asked for naga mutual masturbation. It’s taken me a while as I struggled a bit with the inspiration for it, but it all came together today. Also doodled him, but I hate the pose and his crappy hand so meh.

Poison

Male naga / Female reader (NSFW)

“You’re poison running through my veins.” Alice Cooper.

-----------------------------

The familiar scent coils around you as you descend the stone path into the dark maw of the cave. The light from your torch licks the walls and leaves orange stains that fade to black as you pass. You know what awaits, far below in the depths. You need its aid, for it alone can give you what you need, and you know the price it will put upon its produce, a price that already has goosebumps setting the hairs on your arms on end. There is no other source for this unique toxin however, which paralyses then eats away at your enemies from the inside out while they still live. Your foes are many and foul, deserving of a horrific death, and this is not the first time you have bartered with the creature for its goods.

The narrow sloping tunnel opens onto a well-lit, circular cavern, no more than forty feet in diameter, which makes up the subterranean trader’s living space. The roof is hung with roots that have grown down from the daylit world in search of water, and now serve a new purpose as they form loops when they try to grow back out towards the light. Shelves and chests line the walls, filled with books, crafting and potion-making paraphernalia, and assorted trinkets. While the trader makes and sells his own ready-made potions, you have come to take directly from the source, to harvest the product in its raw form, and make your own, even deadlier brew.

The cavern appears empty as you step across the threshold, and for a moment you wonder if he has perhaps gone hunting, but a lazy hiss from above soon puts paid to that idea. Your gaze shoots up in alarm, and there, in an almost impossible position is the naga you have come to procure from. His upper body hangs free, dangling in mid-air about ten feet above your head, while the thick, lengthy coils of his tail are looped in and around the roots hanging from the ceiling. Black hair frames his slender face, and his scales glimmer in the light of the torch in scintillant shades of golden yellow and cerulean blue. Short, sharp horns protrude from his face at nose and temple, and put you in mind of some of the more dangerous vipers you have seen in the wilds.

“Hope I’m not disturbing you,” you say. He has never been bothered by your intrusions in the past, but there is always a first time, and you really do not want to be on the wrong side of him.

He descends smoothly towards the ground and you step to one side to allow him to alight, the coils above unwinding in stealthy silence as he does so. Once the last of his tail has reached ground level, he holds his torso aloft on the front quarter so that he is looking down on you from a height of around seven feet. He smiles, although the expression is one you had to come to learn, so different is it from a human smile. His mouth is stiffly edged, with no mobile flesh at its borders, just larger scales that hint at where lips would be on another being. It extends back to the base of his ears, and you know from intimate experience just how wide his jaw can open. Now it hangs ajar just an inch or so, and his forked, red tongue slips out occasionally to savour the air: his smile, or his closest approximation of one.

“Not at all,” he replies. The voice is deeper than you would expect from a creature with a face so slender, and it is as soft as velvet. You resist the urge to look into his eyes. You know the danger inherent in that, although he has already told you he is not in the habit of harming his customers: it would be bad for business. “So what will it be today?” he asks lightly. “I have some new brews that are colourless, tasteless and undetectable when added to wine, for example.”

You swallow, your eyes drawn up over his hard mouth as he speaks, and itching to wander higher. You both know that is not what you came for.

“I’ve also been working on a condiment, a spicy sauce that will leave the taster burning inside,” he offers. A normal trader would be lifting the relevant bottles now and placing them in the customer’s hands, enticing them to buy. He has not moved from where he hovers just before you, tantalising your nostrils with the dry, earthy smell of him. Your gaze passes the small, spiked horn on his nose and pauses at his cheek.

“My need is for something a little more … raw,” you say. You are swaying on your feet now with the effort of keeping your gaze away from his eyes and you can feel your resolve wavering. His hand catches you under the chin, the underside of it cool and soft, and one of the few areas of his skin that is bereft of scales. He helps you past the final few seconds of your resistance, tilting your face up until your eyes meet his and your surrender is complete. Twin orbs of gold, speckled with jade suck you into their depths and your entire body suffuses with warmth.

“I think we can accommodate ‘raw’,” comes the silky response, but it sounds muffled, distant, external. All you care about is drowning yourself in those golden eyes. A familiar pressure begins to build, starting at your ankles, then working its way slowly up your calves and thighs as hard, gold-and-blue scaled coils are thrown around your body in quick succession, and you draw a deep breath, while you still can.

“Let’s see what we can … negotiate, shall we?” he asks. You nod, careful not to move your head too far in case those fascinating eyes are lost from view. The pressure is around your waist now, pinning your arms to your sides, and you are lifted from the ground as easily as you would lift a doll. You are aware of the cave ceiling above you moving as he transports you bodily to the pile of satin-covered cushions and plush furs in the circular depression in the far corner of the cave, and deposits you neatly in its centre. His coils undulate against you, squeezing and releasing as he rearranges you both to his liking, and in the process, he strips away your clothing in slow, efficient motions, holding your enraptured gaze through every last second of the undressing.

Presently, he hums in satisfaction. Your torso is secured in the lower, tapering end of his tail, while the thicker portion closer to his midriff is parting your legs as his upper body hovers above you. You can see the salacious enjoyment he is taking from having you trussed and yielding like this, and it alone would be enough to arouse you. But it is what he does to you physically, creating sensations no male of your species could ever emulate, that brings you back here time and again for the experience that only he can provide. His ridged scales tickle and tease where they rub between your thighs, and the length of tail he has pressed around your chest is moving from side to side incessantly, dragging cool and smooth against your nipples. With each movement, he constricts just ever so slightly, making each breath just a little more of an effort, and causing the blood to pound in temple and crotch.

He lowers his face to yours, brushing the cool scales of his mouth against your lips, and tasting you with a darting, forked tongue. “You know my price,” he hisses. You nod, heat snaking through your belly as you think about what is in store, and as always, you hope that this time, he will give you what you truly want.

“My arms,” you slur, appalled at the sluggishness of both your words, and your limbs as he releases them. His tail wraps tightly around your breasts as soon as your arms are free, and begins to constrict and slide against them once more, sending tingles through your body from breast to groin. You reach down, trailing numb fingers across the soft scales of his belly, down to where his vent awaits your touch. You find he has already broken free, and his twin shafts are emerging steadily from their sheaths, slick and hard beneath your fingers. You draw in a ragged breath at the evidence of his desire for you, and as you exhale, he closes his coils to the point where you know your next breath will be a tiny, shallow mockery of itself.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against your mouth. Those golden eyes seem to swirl in your vision at this intimate proximity. He knows. He has always known, but you suspect he likes to hear you say it while he denies you. You grasp a shaft in each of your hands, taking as firm a grip as you are able, and begin to slide the skin up and down in long, smooth motions. He gasps against your lips, and tightens his grip around your ribs until you squeak in protest.

“Tell me.”

“Inside,” you gasp. His fingers have reached your own heat now, and they run teasingly against your folds, circling your clit as the wider portion of his tail continues to slide between your legs, igniting its own heated friction.

“You’ll have to be a little more explicit than that,” he advises in a tone that could melt icebergs.

You groan, annoyed at him despite the pleasure that is causing little shivers and shudders throughout your entire core. You want to comply with his racy demand, and tell him how much you want him inside you, but not only does he already know, but you know it won’t make any difference. It is always like this: he teases you with the prospect of the full force of his twin rods plundering your depths, promising ‘next time’, ‘next time’; but he never does. He knows it will keep you coming back, like an addict, hoping that one day he will relent.

His fingers slip past your lips and pass easily into your constricting depths. You draw in a shallow breath, nowhere near as much as you need, and the sensations strengthen as he buries two fingers in you to the last knuckle.

“If you don’t tell me, how will I know?” he asks. His eyes burn, his scales chafe your nipples, and his fingers plunge in a steadily speeding rhythm while you consider how to respond. Your hands work at his cocks, sliding against them with the same tempo as his pounding fingers and you can think of nothing now but how they would feel inside you. They are smoother than the rest of his hide, but ridged in a million tiny scales that you know will set your insides on fire, and warmth floods your crotch as you imagine being taken and pounded and squeezed and ravaged by him.

“What do you want?” he demands, his voice close to a roar now as he finger-fucks you while your hands move in a blur against his slick dicks, and you know you are both close.

Annoyed at your silence, the very end of his tail, no thicker than your wrist, wraps around your throat and closes off what little air remains to you. Your chest begins to hitch. Each sensation blooms with added potency and you shudder uncontrollably as with the last of your air, you gasp, “I want you to fuck me.”

He thrusts forward with his hips, forcing your hands to the very base of his twin shafts as your simple expression of desire, spoken with the very last of your breath, causes a veritable explosion of cum, and he empties himself onto your belly in hot, spurting gouts as his fingers curl inside you and send you shuddering into your own breathless climax.

Panting, red-faced, but tingling with satisfaction, you suck in a huge, noisy breath as his tail unwinds from your chest and throat. You can look him in the eye with no effect now that his needs are met, and you find there the same lazy delight that you are sure marks your own features. You stay still for a while, basking in the afterglow, until he releases you from his coils to perform the service for which you came. You watch fascinated as he opens his jaws to their full extent and milks his own four-inch fangs into the glass jar you brought for this exact purpose. You dress quickly, not wanting to outstay your welcome, and take the jar as he hands it to you. He keeps a grip on it, causing you to falter and glance to his face as you try and fail to take it from him. His eyes sparkle and threaten to draw you in again, and you drop your gaze quickly, noting the jar has twice as much venom in it as the last time you came.

“For your enemies,” he says, and the ‘s’ comes out as a low, vocal rumbling ‘z’ that sets your skin tingling. “May they die in pain and regret the day they crossed you.” Your brows twitch. He has never expressed interest in your use of the toxin before, and you wonder if perhaps it signifies a change in your relationship.

Whether it does or not, you both know you will be back, for next time, next time, he may just fulfill your wish.

#naga #monster x human #monster love #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster lover #snake man #poison #venom #toxin #naga lover #naga fucker #naga boyfriend

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joontier · 4 years

Text

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

series rating: R(18+) | genre: angst, forbidden love, longing, immense pining

warnings: none to note

word count: 6.6k

g/n: HAHGFJFIE FINALLY!!!!!!!! that is all. ((also painfully and regrettably unedited)) thank you. THIS IS THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR ASJDFOAWJEFI SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE?

The King’s Guard - Masterlist || navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

“Hoseok.”

Yoongi keeps his voice low as he attempts to poke the general awake, vigorously, yet with the right amount of caution so as not to wake the naked sleeping court lady in his arms. Chaeyoung, was it? The southern king ponders on wistfully as he pulls the blanket up again to maintain the modesty in the room - if there was any left, that is.

The young king of the south had already sensed the tension between the pair when they were first acquainted with each other. Yoongi, not a stranger to the wants of the flesh, already knew this was coming. If it only weren’t for the places they hold in the palace, they would have made a great couple.

Surely though, the two were old enough to know that clothes were still warranted even after what Yoongi could only assume to have been a steamy evening between the two. It wasn’t appropriate to just go sleeping in the nude especially when one could easily barge in at any time of the day, just as Yoongi had done.

The blonde-haired king continues poking at the general by the ribs, cursing when the latter won’t respond and instead rolls over to the other side, pulling Chaeyoung closer in his arms.

Good heavens. Why does this have to be so hard?

For one, he’d already wasted time this morning trying to locate Hoseok, who he reckons no longer enjoys sleeping in his own quarters; finding more comfort in the danger that lies with sleeping in the court ladies’ quarters instead. He makes a mental note to address this to Hoseok later as this was going to be a major headache later on.

Should this relationship of theirs proceed with its imminent direction, not only the general will be facing the grave consequences of their actions, but the poor court lady will have to take responsibility as well.

“Hoseok.” The young king of the south nudges him once more, this time stronger than the last. Yoongi hears the general groan in response, and lets himself sit back against the wall in relief. At least this reaction was better than the log he was trying to wake just moments ago.

That is, until he realizes he spoke too soon.

Hoseok rolls over and proceeds to lie on his stomach. Yoongi cards his fingers through his temple, jaw clenched as he tries to figure out a more effective way to get the general up on his feet.

He spots a vessel on top of Chaeyoung’s dresser, and Yoongi smirks as an unorthodox idea of waking up someone pops in his head. Quietly creeping up from the floor, he grabs the clay container by its neck and tilts the vessel, pouring the water onto Hoseok’s bare back. This ought to do the job. Just as expected, the liquid had the southern general scrambling to his feet.

Squinting his eyes as he looks around, Hoseok comes face to face with his king, eyes trained on him like a tiger waiting on his prey. Hoseok immediately sits up, cowering under the king’s daunting gaze, “M-my king…”

Yoongi promptly gets up, not wanting to bother himself with another look at Hoseok’s naked form. “Get up. Meet me by the stables,” the king orders, sliding the door open, “and next time, please maintain some dignity and remember to put clothes on before sleeping.”

The general clambers from the court lady’s yo, taking his discarded clothes by the corner of the room as the southern king heads to the stables first.

“Did she really knock you out that bad that you were harder to wake than a sleeping cow?”

Even at dawn when the sun hasn’t risen yet, Yoongi sees the general blush under the sky’s soft shade of purple. “If I could say so for myself, she was quite flexible, your Highness…” Hoseok whispers shyly as he chews on his lip. Yoongi’s mouth falls agape at his general’s confession, grimacing at the awful mental images it brought to his mind this early in the morning.

“General.” Hoseok straightens himself atop his steed, knowing that the king meant business when he calls him by his official title. “You should know that what I had said was a question I needed not answered.”

“My apologies, my King.” Hoseok says, expression unchanging when he whispers under his breath. “It’s not like I’m the only one who’s getting frisky with the women of the palace.” Yoongi’s eyes narrow as he glares at the general, guiding his horse nearer to Hoseok’s, seemingly taunting the latter to say more. “Ah yes,” the general gets the message and bows, but Yoongi doesn’t miss the small smirk playing on the younger man’s lips, “this is the part where I keep my mouth shut.”

Bored out of his wits (and disrupted from his very lovely sleep), the general turns to his king, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, jeonha, but where exactly are we headed to at this time of the day?”

“We’re already here.” Hoseok, with his question answered in the most unexpected manner, gives an awkward nod as a reply to the southern king. He studies the place where Yoongi had led him to in this early morning and in recognition, his would seemingly winces at him as he remembers the day they’ve faced death in the eyes, and luckily got away with it.

In subconscious reminiscence, Yoongi flexes his shoulders, a short tinge of pain stings through the breadth of his back. Hoseok, in similar thought, does the same, reaching over to his side to feel the slowly healing wound.

The small clearing was not as ghastly as it had been when they had first arrived at this part of the forest. The previously horrific scenery was no more; the doltap shrine, formerly made from dead bodies toppled over each other was now replaced by actual rocks and other mementos of the deceased.

Yoongi dismounts from his horse, a small cloud of dust appearing as he lands on the ground. Just like that, he’s taken back to the same night he’d met Seokjin – the same night he and Hoseok had narrowly escaped the hands of death. The southern king closes his eyes, reliving the scene like it was just yesterday.

“Forgive me, jeonha, but why are we here? If I should say so myself, my king, we we’re lucky enough to get away last time…if we stay here any longer, I’m not particularly sure what or who could be waiting for us this time.”

“We have to look for something.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not sure too. Just… I don’t think Seokjin is dead yet.”

Hoseok looks at him, worry painting all over his features. Yoongi had never concerned himself with the capitol, all the more with its king. The southern general couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet, but he is sure that there is a missing piece of the puzzle he has yet to discover. It won’t be long before he does.

Jungkook watches you from the shade of another nearby tree, indulging himself with an apple he picked earlier on the way to the gardens. You’ve just finished teaching five new characters to the class, and as a reward for their exemplary behavior, you decided to treat them with a story – one you’re telling with such animation right now.

He joins the children in laughter when you imitate a creature: an elephant, he reckons, though he’s never seen one in real life. Subsequently, you use your arm as a trunk and even start to make the strangest sounds to mimic the animal. Peels of the sound of amusement resonate throughout the open space. Even the court ladies you’d initially came with join soon afterwards, making their best impressions of different animals.

The sight was most endearing. You’re a natural when it comes to children, Jungkook attests to himself. You were patient, caring, and kind – all the traits of a good mother already inherent in you. It was no question that you child will grow up to be just as wonderful as you are.

Being a widow though? Not so much.

Despite the bountiful radiance brought about by these children, he could still see the sadness in your eyes. Gone are your usually bright orbs, mirth and brilliance swimming freely in your pupils.

It’s only been a week since the news of Seokjin’s passing and the announcement of your pregnancy. You’d maintained your cheeriness but Jungkook fears it all might have been just a façade because your smiles never reached your eyes unlike before.

Jungkook knew you were strong. Even the whole palace would agree on that fact. You were stronger than anyone could ever admit and you were far stronger than you think you were. It was a trait of yours that even only the bravest could only hope to be bestowed with. Your resilience was one of your many characteristics that Jungkook admired so much.

But at the same time, he fears this mask of courage you put on was going to be the same thing that was going to destroy you slowly from the inside.

Jungkook understood where you were coming from. Truly, he did. He’s dealt with enough royals all his life to know that a simple display of weakness could be perceived for something far greater than it is. Royals are groomed and nurtured to perfection from the moment they are born, and in their lifetime, they are only afforded a specific set of standards they had to live by strictly, else they lose the respect of the council and subsequently, their people.

It was madness at the least, to think that royals are supposed to be as stiff as their forefathers now commemorated by figures made of stone or some precious mineral. How strangely ironic.

Crown aside, you are but a human being, a woman, who had just lost her husband, and is now burdened with having to deal with your pregnancy alone. On top of all the responsibilities of a queen, including those of which Seokjin had left you.

Jungkook knew he was a mere soldier in your eyes, but he wanted to help you in the hopes to alleviate the pain you were going through; he wanted you to know that he feels your pain and he knows the suffering of one who has likewise lost a loved one.

He knows you’re constantly pre-occupying yourself with these things, always looking for a distraction to forget your personal sentiments. Jungkook could only imagine what struggles you’re going through right now and how badly he wishes he could hold you in his arms and tell you it’s going to be alright and he’s going to be there for you no matter what.

“Jungkook? Captain?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet as he sees you looking down on him as he rested by the bark of the tree. “Jungjeon-mama!”

Chuckling, you remove a stray leaf that stuck itself to his pants. Jungkook’s heart flutters at the small gesture. “Are you alright, captain? I’ve been calling for you but you seem busy staring off into the distance…” He gulps.

“Alright. Will you accompany me to the doltap shrine then?”

“Of course, Mama.”

Just like before, the two of you walk in comfortable silence, although the captain beside you looks more tense than ever. “Jungkook. Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re unwell, I can just go on my own. You can head back to your quarters.”

The captain quickly shakes his head, but when you meet his eyes, there’s a heavy weight in his stare that you wish to mention, but you don’t want to push his boundaries any further, especially when the two of you had been closer than any of you would have imagined.

You look away as you reach the top of the tiny slope, the dock finally in view. Jungkook immediately offers his elbow for your support, and you place a hand on the same with much gratitude.

He steps into the tiny boat first, readying the oars where he can reach them easily for later. Extending a hand out, he beckons you over to the canoe. Due to an unknown factor, you miss the gap between the boat and the dock, tripping slightly as you get inside. “Mama! Our– the baby!” You laugh at your own clumsiness before placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine! I’m fine… stop acting like I’m a porcelain doll…” you joke, settling yourself on the seat.

“I’m just concerned about your well-being,” Jungkook mumbles, not meeting your eyes as he fixes the oars with a pout on his face. What a big baby. Gently, you put a hand on his knee, urging him to look at you, “I know,” you give him a warm smile, “and I’m very thankful to have you nearby all the time.”

It was the whole truth. Ever since Minho came barging in with your husband’s clothes and until the announcement of your pregnancy with the council, Jungkook has always been there. Since then, you’d opted to stay inside your hanok most of the day, unless you had to come out for your official duties.

He’d always be there, waiting outside your hanok as you’re about to leave for your responsibilities. You’d even suggested having Yunho come with you instead but the stubborn captain insisted, telling you it is his greatest honor to be your personal guard.

The boat pushes forward and you tilt your head back slightly, enjoying the cool, crisp air. “It’s a beautiful day today isn’t it?”. Jungkook smiles this time, “Certainly, wangbi.”

You decide to leave the shrine late in the afternoon as Jungkook wasn’t able to bring a lamp with him. The sky is becoming a lovely purple, and as the captain manages to safely bring you both back across the river, you make your final request of the day from him. “Why don’t we sit here a while longer? Enjoy the sunset perhaps?” You’re already patting the grass beside you, leaving Jungkook no choice.

Jungkook finally gathers up the courage to ask you this time, “How about you, Mama? Are you alright?” Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of response to expect but he hopes that you will be able to recognize the true depth of his sudden inquiry.

You don’t answer at first. It seemed as if you were trying to gather your thoughts before you reply. “I’m alright,” you retort with a smile. There it is again – the ingenuine grin. “Taehyung had just visited me yesterday to recommend meals I could have prepared that will give me and the baby enough nutrition.”

Right, you were also pregnant. He almost forgot that for a moment. That was another reason he couldn’t sleep at night – could he possibly be a fath-

“How I wish my child’s father was still here to witness him or her grow up.”

Oh. Right. Jungkook chokes back a sob.

This was only one of the many times he’d realized he’d been a fool all along, but this realization had been the most painful yet.

Just as if on cue, Jungkook feels something cold hit his cheek from above. There’s a grey cloud reigning over them, like it’s giving a warning signal of the storm that’s about to come.

He turns to you, worry apparent in his features once more. “Mama, we have to go back!” Just then, there’s a downpour of water, evidently drenching you both. He extends his arm out, even offering you a ride back home on his back. You stand up on your own though, but you don’t take his hand, nor did you follow him back to the palace.

“Mama?”

“Let’s stay for a little while longer.”

“But you might catch a cold, mama.”

“Since when was a cold fatal?” The smile on your face is almost devilish and Jungkook finds himself powerless to say no. “Come on!” you urge, clapping excitedly. “When was the last time you played under the rain?”

“When I was a kid?”

“All the more reason to have fun then!”

The last time he purposefully stayed under the rain was with you, and he promised himself that he would never do it again if you weren’t going to be with him.

You were both young and your rendezvous at the southern forest were nothing short of cherished moments. There were days when the downpour was ultimately unavoidable, especially when you’re playing in the middle of the forest. Rain hadn’t stopped you both from meeting nonetheless. There were also days when he just waited at your designated meeting place, only accompanied by the angry clouds while his body shivered from the cold.

When the years had passed by, Jungkook didn’t find anything enjoyable with staying under the rain so he stayed indoors most of the time, unless it was part of his official duties. Besides, everything else seemed to lose its purpose if you weren’t in it.

Life for him was a storm he was waiting to pass, but since he’d met you that day in the forest all muddy, he learned that life was about learning how to dance in the rain. Ironically enough, you were also the sun that brought light to his life, providing him with enough energy to last for centuries.

You feel something by your feet, prompting you to jump into Jungkook’s arms in fright. The captain gets surprised by your actions, causing him to almost lose his footing. Jungkook looks down to see any damage and sees a brown slimy creature camouflaging with the grass, “Mama, it’s just a frog…”

You frown adorably, giving him a hard time with an irresistible pout. How he wishes he could just kiss you right now. “I’m not particularly fond of these creatures…” You gasp when another one croaks, tightening your grip around the captain’s arms. Jungkook’s mouth twitches in silent celebration at your touch. He may or may not have flexed his muscles too on purpose – but that was most likely a primary instinct when the woman of your dreams encourages physical contact, albeit subconsciously.

Jungkook’s jubilation is cut short when more frogs start to appear out of nowhere, causing you to squeeze even tighter, your grip bordering on pain. For some unknown, you’ve managed to latch on his back with your constant avoidance of the tiny, slimy creatures. “Jung!” you shout, now relentlessly slapping his arm; Jungkook huffs - so much for his fantasies. “We have to get out of here Jungkook!!”

The quick-witted captain crouches low enough, telling you to jump on his back. He didn’t need to actually tell you though, because the moment he’d turned around you already had your hands hooked over his shoulders, trying to get him to hurry. Because of all the movements and the noise, the frogs share the same level of alarm as you – one even manages to fasten itself on your shoe. You flail your foot about, subsequently making it fly about a few feet away and thus, making Jungkook burst into laughter.

He remembers the time he’d surprised you with a frog inside a box in front of the whole class, and now you’d managed to get a whole army of frogs chasing you both. It was a living nightmare – for you at least, Jungkook on the contrary though, is positive that he’s having the time of his life watching frogs terrify you.

Just as expected, Jungkook loses his breath from laughter, setting you down gently as you go over the slope. You’re a little bit too hesitant to let go though, that even when Jungkook has turned to face you, you’re still clinging onto his jeogori as if your life depended on it. It’s a relief when he hears you giggle in his chest, assuring him that you were no longer frightened.

Only silence remained as the laughter dies down. There’s the muted croaking of the frogs in the distance, but other than that, you’re left standing in his arms, quiet as ever. “Is it alright if I hold you like this for a while?”

Your sudden request throws the captain off guard. He’s powerless to say no, not when this is the moment he’d been waiting and imagining for years. “Can we just stay like this for a moment longer, Mama?” His voice almost breaks, pleading at the least.

“Of course, Jungkook.”

It seems like a hug is what you both just need.

Just as the rain pours over them, Jungkook feels his own tears rolling down hotly against his cheeks, contrasting the cold droplets of rainwater. His heart hurts. He’s crying.

Actually, you both are.

You find Yoongi lounging extremely close by the doors of your hanok two days later.

The proximity of the southern king startles you and as a gust of wind blows by, some of his bright yellowish hair fly straight into your mouth, “Yoongi!” He fumbles as he pushes his hair back over his shoulder. “Apologies my queen.” There are at least two strands left in your face and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to reach out his hand, taking out the strands with such tenderness, shivering when you feel the cold pads of his fingers against your cheek.

It takes you a moment before you realize what’s happening and you pull away, turning on your heel. “What are you doing here anyways?” you ask, sliding your doors close. You’re meant to wake a lot earlier than you did today and if you don’t hurry, you might just miss your music class with the village kids.

Yoongi hurries after you, trying to keep up with your pace, “I was…um…wondering if I could come to your class today?”

“You?” you think out loud, not sparing him a glance. You don’t put much thought to it with your haste to make it in time, and you tell him he’s free to do whatever he wants. He doesn’t say anything else after that, so you quicken your pace towards the palace gardens.

You reach the reserved spot in no time, with the children already settled in, chatting and playing among themselves. Just as you’d requested the night prior, your gayageum has been assembled just underneath the oak tree.

“Jungjeon-mama, who is that ahjussi behind you?” Turning to see who the child was pertaining to, you come to see Yoongi standing behind you, seemingly offended at how he’d been perceived to be way older than he actually is.

“Ahjussi?!” Yoongi exclaims, face twisted into a grimace, “Who are you calling ahjussi, kid?”

The children are taken aback by the tone of his voice, unaware that he hadn’t taken any offense with the child’s question. The poor boy’s lips quiver in fear. You give the southern king a quick glare before calling the boy over and letting him sit on your lap. While Yoongi approaches the both of you with a softened gaze, the boy nuzzles his head by the crook of your neck, murmuring his fright over the man’s temper.

“Hey little bud,” Yoongi crouches, tapping the boy’s shoulder twice to get the latter to face him. The boy peeks slowly from your neck, eyeing the blonde-haired man warily. “I’m sorry about earlier son. I was just surprised because no one had ever called me that –“

He wasn’t actually going to explain it is he? You clear your throat, interrupting him. Yoongi’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“Right. Say, could you tell me your name?”

“It’s Jinseo.”

“Hello, Jinseo. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Yoongi. Could I make it up to you by playing a song?”

Jinseo paused, head titled slightly to the right as if in deep thought. “It isn’t mine to give you permission. You should ask Mama,” he says smartly, pointing at you. Kids are getting smarter these days.

“Jungjeon-mama?” Yoongi asks with an expectant look. With the other children following suit, you are left with no other choice but to say yes. Reluctantly, you lift yourself up together with Jinseo and taking a spot next to the other children.

“Let me just try to…” Yoongi adjusts himself on the seat, plucking the strings in an uncoordinated manner, “remember…” All of a sudden, he claps like he’d just produced gold from thin air, startling everyone around. “I got it! I got it now, don’t worry.”

You and Jinseo share a look.

If there was any discipline of the arts you could take pride for in yourself, it would have been music. Your father, King Daesin of the south, aside from occasionally practicing medicine, also had the ear for music. He had taught you how to play the gayageum, an instrument you’ve been acquainted with for as long as you could remember. Because of fair years of playing, you could freely boast to anyone that you’re quite exceptional at it, but now with Yoongi and his hands on your beloved instrument... Yoongi was tremendously better at it than you probably ever will be.

A smile creeps onto your face when you realize his acting earlier, pretending to be a beginner with the instrument when he could totally be mistaken for a musical prodigy. What a humble bragger. Yoongi had his eyes closed, pouring his emotion and soul onto the instrument, and even without having to enunciate lyrics to get the message across, it was clear to everyone that the song conveyed sadness in all forms. Each vibration of the string – every sound it made spoke in volumes, moving everyone present in class. By the time he’d finished, all the children were as silent as mice, rigid as statues. This was the first time you’ve seen them all well-behaved.

It also dawns on you that this was the first time any of you were deeply moved by music.

The rest of the class stay silent moments later, all in deep contemplation despite the differences in your ages. From your side, you hear a child sigh to the girl in front of her, “I came to class happy this morning. Now I’m sad.” All of a sudden, Jinseo scrambles out of your lap and rushes to Yoongi, hugging the older man’s side in an awkward manner. Yoongi is caught off guard by the gesture, patting the little boy’s head in a similarly awkward manner.

“Ahjussi,” Jinseo calls once more, maintaining his hold on Yoongi’s waist. The southern king heaves a deep sigh, knowing he’s going to have to deal with that a lot longer than he intended to be. “Why are you sad? You played sad music for us. Now we’re all sad too.” Yoongi is rendered speechless and looks at you with wide eyes, seeking for your help. “Uh...Jinseo, why don’t you ask your Yoongi-hyungnim to play us a happy song then?”

“A happy song!” Sheepishly, Yoongi cheers, clapping his hands in an attempt to get everyone back in high spirits. Thankfully, the children seem to enjoy the idea, so they goad the ahjussi on, wanting to see if he’s just as talented with cheery songs as he is with sorrowful ones.

With a small smile, Yoongi mouths a ‘thank you’ in your direction before placing his hands on the gayageum once more.

“Thank you for saving me a few times earlier during your class,” the southern king says, leaning towards you while he mimics your movements as you wave goodbye to the children. “You haven’t had much experience with children, haven’t you?” you raise a brow at him while a laugh escapes your lips.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Yoongi replies, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good practice though, what you did earlier. One day, you’re going to be a father as well.”

Yoongi eyes you slowly from the side, checking if you realize the gravity of your words. His eyes lower down to your stomach, imagining if the baby growing inside of it was his own blood. Perhaps it was? Perhaps it wasn’t?

He’d been especially concerned about your well-being since last week when shocking news had been continuously delivered right to your arms. He wanted to approach you badly during those rough days, but you were far too pre-occupied to even spare him a second glance. The young king wonders how much of a difficulty it might be for you, but all he wanted was to show you that he was willing to support you in any way that he can.

Yoongi sees Hoseok approach with the jumeoni he’d personally prepared early in the morning. He sees his brother trail not far behind, studying the silk bag in Hoseok’s hands. The southern king had been nervous since last night, continuously practicing his lines to the point where he’s not sure why he’s doing it in the first place. It’s now or never.

“Jungjeon-mama?”

Yoongi winces inwardly as he hears his own voice wavering. Heavens. Why was he so nervous around you? You turn to him with a warm smile. Ah yes – that’s why.

“May I invite you for a walk?” The southern king asks as he beckons his general over who hands him the silk bag. “And lunch perhaps?”

You pause for a moment, recalling your thoughts if you had anything else planned after your music class with the children. Yoongi tries hard to not show too much excitement when he hears your yes. Extending his arm out, he motions for you to walk with him. He feels Jungkook follow you both, and he leans to your side a little, whispering, “I was wondering if we could perhaps…go alone?”

You look at him, as if studying his facial expressions. Turning around, you tell Jungkook to stay put. The captain’s eyes dart back and forth, giving his own older brother a steely gaze before nodding his head and bowing to you. “Don’t worry captain. I’ll scream loudly if anything bad happens,” you tell him as a reassurance.

“In all seriousness, Mama…” Yoongi says, putting on a stern face, even though you are both experiencing clear difficulty with keeping a straight face after hearing Yoongi’s stories. “…do I seriously look like an ahjussi to you?”

You place a hand over your mouth, ineffectively hiding your giggles. Yoongi grimaces, clutching his chest to express his hurt over your reaction. “We can’t blame the kids though. And besides, Jinseo had a valid point.” The young king gives you a playful glare.

Yoongi had been expressing his sentiments over the whole ‘ahjussi’ situation earlier, arguing that he didn’t have enough wrinkles on his face to be even considered one. In Jinseo’s earlier defense though, he stated that only old people had white hair, and if he wasn’t old – why would he even have white hair in the first place. To which, of course, an agitated Yoongi replies: “It’s not white. It’s yellow…ish. And it’s bleach! It’s something I discovered during an overseas travel! A lot of people have this kind of hair color…”

“How are you feeling? Is your pregnancy going well?”

“How did you know about my pregnancy?” Yoongi shrugs as he replies, “Walls are never thick enough to hide news like that.” “Oh.” ‘Oh’ is an appropriate reaction, Yoongi reckons, as he’s had the same sort of response when he’d heard of the news.

“Well, for one, our royal physician Taehyung had scheduled regular visits to keep my condition in check. So there’s that. He advises that as long as keep a stress-free environment, my pregnancy will be just fine.”

Using your chopsticks, you fiddle with the mandu he’s made hours prior, deep in thought as you stare into the distance.

Yoongi hopes that the apparent death of your husband isn’t conducive of stress of a stress-free environment. He makes an inward scoff – as if that’s most likely going to happen. If he’s already thorned by occurrences that seem insignificant to those of the capitol’s then he could only imagine the sort of struggle you have to go through, especially when the backbone of your government is composed of vile men who are strongly displeased by the thought of having a woman on the throne.

The young man lies on his back, stretching out his legs to get rid of the tingling on his soles due to their prolonged sitting. With a long exhale, he closes his eyes, letting his thoughts drift along with the steady breeze.

He knows he’s neglecting his duties as the king of the south by prolonging his stay here, but Seokjin’s death won't settle with him nicely. He has to get to the bottom of this. Even if he’s still holding a grudge against Seokjin for taking you away from the south (and had even secretly wished him dead at some point) he could never plunge a sword to another king, much more to the same one who had taken care of the woman he wanted to call his wife.

He hears rustling from your side, and Yoongi opens his eyes a little to check on you. He watches you clean the bowls and reorganize them back onto the bag he’d brought. You slowly start to turn to face him and Yoongi quickly shuts his eyes, solely relying on his other sense to figure out what’s happening.

“Oh? You must’ve fallen asleep huh?” Yoongi hears more rustling around. “Maybe you could still listen to me even during slumber…” You inhale deeply, “You know…Seokjin was always good with children.”

Yes. Of course, speaking of the spirit.

“Jinseo was one of his favorite students. Jinseo was actually really shy and quiet at first – yet for some inexplicable reason, Seokjin had successfully helped him to come out of his shell and the little boy has been brighter since. Seokjin was always so playful yet so gentle at the same time that whenever he’d visit our classes the children would go crazy over him.”

Well, that’s nice to hear, especially when he’d made a particularly bad first impression with the children earlier.

There’s momentary silence. Yoongi hears a sniff – and a shaky exhale afterwards.

“I miss him Yoongi.” Another sniff. “I miss him so much that it hurts every day. Everything reminds me of him.” The sound of your silent crying rings throughout his ears, yet he can't bring himself to get up and wipe them away, fearing it might cause you to stop pouring your heart out.

Mourning was part of healing. You’d feel lighter after crying. At least that’s what he’d learned from having lost his mother too.

At the same time, Yoongi feels his chest constrict at your words. While you pour your fears out to his sleeping form, he struggles with maintaining a stoic face to keep his act up. His empathy is fighting to register in his features, and when he can no longer hold it in, he turns his back to you, swallowing back his emotions that threaten to pour out after years of hiding.

“Jeonha, I can't seem to find any sign of him anywhere.”

Hoseok slowly and carefully gets back up from his crouching position, groaning in relief as he hears his joints cracking as he twists his torso from side to side. Yoongi does the same, shaking his legs one at a time to get rid of the numbness.

It’s been a few hours since they’ve arrived and Yoongi is getting more hopeless with every passing moment. They have searched everywhere for anything – any sign that he’s still alive.

He’d promised you he’d find your husband and bring him back. Even though you hadn’t exactly heard the silent vow of the southern king, he was a man of his word and he’ll be sure to do everything in his capacity to do it.

Yoongi couldn’t even find the reason why he was going to do it or why he should do it in the first place – whether it be for his own peace of mind, for your happiness, or for the future of the country.

He knew they’d left Seokjin that night and the chances that his fellow ruler was still alive was almost slim to none. He knows that trying to look for a clue and actually succeeding was going to be a long shot, especially when it has already been quite some time Yoongi had returned this morning to make sure but after hours of looking, the place was clean and empty, thus pushing down that gut feeling that maybe, just maybe, your husband was still alive.

Else he’d be forced to prolong his stay and resort to more meddling to protect you from harm.

They’ve already gone through this area, Yoongi thinks, recognizing the same stump he’d seen earlier. He settles himself on the tree remainder and picks up a fallen leaf. Just then, something glimmers from the ground and the curious king bends over once more, picking it up. It’s a bracelet.

Yoongi scoffs to himself: an even more shocking discovery. It’s not just any bracelet – it’s the kind of bracelet only royals can have. And if that isn’t the most astounding part of it yet, etched in the gold pendant is the emblem of the south.

Besides you, there could only be one other person who’d be wearing the same. If he’s still alive that is.

The man’s wife places a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder, massaging them gently to ease the tension on his muscles. She’s never seen him his distraught since…since they left their previous home. Eunkyung is unsure how to give her husband the least solace, not when the circumstances only allow them to hope for the best.

For a moment, they stay like that, quiet and observant. In fact, they had been for almost a full moon, just watching the man they had taken into their home. The man had been looking for firewood that early morning, and he’d found this severely wounded man barely alive in the woods.

He’d carried the man on his back and hurried back home, his initial quest and the pains that came with old age completely forgotten. He had closed off one of his rooms reserved for his patients to tend to this not-so-stranger and had let his wife tend to his other patients while he carefully worked this man back to life for weeks.

“Do you think he will still wake?”

The man is unable to answer promptly as he tenderly takes the sick man’s hand in his and says a short prayer to his ancestors, as well as incorporating a lesson he’d learned back when he was still an apprentice – that human touch was an integral part of the art of medicinal healing.

The physician faces his wife and pulls her closer, likewise placing her hand on top of his and letting her join in his silent prayer. His thumb runs over the ring on the man’s finger, remembering a similar one of his own possession quite a few years back.

“He will. That is what I believe and that is what we are also praying for,” the man replies, checking the temperature of the cloth he’d laid on his patient’s forehead. It’s warm when he takes it, and he makes a mental note to cite this observation in his notes.

“Daesin,” Eunkyung calls, touching her husband’s now bare wrists, “your bracelet…where is it?”

The man sighs heavily, deflated as he rests his weight on his calves. “I…I don’t know, really. I must have lost it when I carried him home.”

It was the only thing reminding him of his past, of you, especially. Now it’s gone – but it really doesn’t matter anymore, not when something, or someone else rather had come into his life so easily. His patient was far more important than any bracelet that proved his previous rule over the southern city.

“I really hope he will get better soon.”

“He has to,” Daesin reiterates, hoping they’d eventually come true, “He has to get better because he’s my son-in-law.”

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years

Text

Next part of the weird Thorin-story that comes to me while I swim

Dear friends…Here I am again with another part of a story I had not planned to write and that has taken on a life of its own…

I love you, don’t hate me…

(Warning: this is less formal and a lot more…ridiculous than the last parts)

(It is “in-universe”, but barely, because I have no idea of the universe per se…)

She took the bowls to the river to rinse them in the cold waters that glittered and glimmered in the dimming light; the way the last sun of the day reflected in the ever-changing blue hues reminded her of the man she was travelling with.

It came as a very small surprise to her that her old nan had been mostly right about the dwarves, and she was more inclined to believe her post-mortem, now that she had seen a dwarf lord, no a future king, with her own eyes.

She harboured not the inkling of a doubt in her mind that he would indeed be king one day; there was something so noble in his demeanour and deportment that she found it easy enough to have faith in him. He was clearly born to lead, just as she had been born to serve.

A pang of pain washed over her heart like the cold water submerged her numb hands; she wished she could tell her grandmother about the magical creature she had come upon in the woods. How nan would have loved to hear about a man whose eyes held all the mystery of endless tunnels and the deep longing of the open sea at the same time; she would have laughed and nodded her fragile, little head, saying that kneeling was easy to those who will stand up for you as a protector rather than as an executioner.

“You shall find your master one day.” Old nan used to exclaim every time her young granddaughter had been particularly wilful or disobedient, running wild in the forest or toying around with the ingredients the old woman had collected during long hours.

She had loved her nan, but she had not believed that anyone would ever manage to curb her spirit and bind it to their will. “There are things between heaven and earth, child, that you cannot even fathom. Creatures of great strength, beings of profound wisdom, and lives full of beauty and suffering; one day, you’ll find your place in the grand design and you shall bow to its magnitude.”

At this moment, her nan’s words revealed their true and full meaning. She had believed that walking to the chapel every day would be her life’s work, but she had been wrong. All her life, she had but been waiting for the quest to begin. A quest for truth and for freedom.

His cloak was still around her shoulders and she regretted having to take it off to slip back into her own, sinfully rumpled, clothes. Checking if he was looking at her, she lifted his garment to her face and inhaled.

It smelled of woodsmoke, pine needles and of something darker that she could not identify, for she had not known any man before. Not like that. She had not smelled their skin and thought about pressing her lips against theirs; she had spent her youth with an old woman and her adulthood alone.

“Woman, there are hills in the distance. Can we reach them before night falls?” He called out to her and she dropped the garment, feeling caught and embarrassed.

“No, but we should reach them soon after. Why?” She responded, returning to where he stood, both feet firmly planted on a rocky outcrop cutting through the grass like a blade.

“We could spend the night in one of the caves in the rocks.” He cocked one eyebrow as if that had been a very obvious thing to consider.

Approaching the point where he stood, already holding on to her cart, she hesitated.

“We cannot.” Her feet stopped moving entirely as they bumped against the edge of the rock.

“I have never gone beyond this point. This is where the wilderness starts.” She whispered, pulling a small, needle-like dagger from her pocket and planting it forcefully in her forearm. While her blood dripped onto the grass, she said a quiet prayer.

“What are you doing?” He asked, interested and slightly alarmed to see her bleed onto the floor.

“My blood is bound to this earth, Master Dwarf, I want the ground to remember me and to bring me home if ever I lose my way.” She sighed before adding with a tremor in her voice: “Many have not come back after stepping past this stone. This is where the world of fire and mystery starts.”

He looked at her with calm interest. “We are getting ever closer to where my kin lives.” He declared, an unspoken question in his eyes. “Aye.” She nodded, forcing herself to smile.

“Are you afeared?” – “Aye.” She repeated, but with a heaving sigh, she lifted her foot onto the ledge. His hand closed around her elbow as he pulled her up and took his cloak from her cold, trembling hands. “You may turn back now; I won’t resent you.”

She laughed in a low, rumbling voice. “I cannot turn back, Master Thorin, I have pledged my service to you. Your story is part of my blood now, inscribed forever in this earth you might never tread upon again. Maybe, it always has. Maybe, old nan knew what would happen long before I was born.”

He had to admire her blind faith. She seemed so brave in her belief that all that happened was meant to be. Closing his hand around the shells buried in his pocket, he decided to believe her.

“Why can we not take refuge in the caves?” He then asked as they made their way through the rougher terrain. Sometimes, he had to steady her as she tottered and stumbled because she could not see the small boulders jutting out of the ground like gravestones; she never complained or pulled away from him and the smile she wore in the semi-penumbra was full of faith and affection.

“You cannot breach the integrity of the rock and delve into it without being given permission. It is rude and bad manners lead to bad accidents.” She shrugged.

“Another teaching of old nan?” He commented without irony or ill-will. “Everything beyond that rock”, she pointed to the ledge they had just passed, “is alive. We are now in the realm of the old souls where the trees have voices and the stones are stubborn. Listen, Master Dwarf.” She murmured and he was surprised, again, at the simplicity with which she accepted these things.

Indeed, he could feel the rock underneath the thin layer of greenery thrum with anticipation; it had been a long time since last someone had come this way.

“The stone bears you no ill will, woman.” He heard himself say in a low, gentle voice. Her tread was so light that it felt like a caress to the neglected ground; or, maybe, it was the inherent reverence she seemed to hold for everything around her that swayed the unmoving to support her insecure, flailing steps as well as they could.

“I give thanks to its gracious acceptance then.” She smiled, kneeling on the ground immediately and pressing both her hands to it in silent prayer.

This, he thought, was why she had survived. She had believed herself out of the reach of what she called “magic wilderness”, but he was almost certain that every element surrounding her had conspired to keep her safe.

“I have a sister.” Why did he tell her those things? “Oh, really? Is she beautiful?” She looked up.

“No, she’s a terrible…yes, she’s…She’s my sister. I guess she’s alright. Others find her beautiful.” He laughed and her smile broadened while the ground hummed in agreement with the joy they were spreading.

“She has those two terrible boys. I wonder…Would you teach them?” He was not usually this open, protecting his family and their secrets with fierce jealousy, but a part of him wanted her warm light of affection and respect to shine on his kin as much as on himself.

“Teach them what? What could a simple maiden like me teach princes?” She scoffed.

Maiden? Had she really told him that? She could have died of embarrassment.

Thankfully, he did not pick up on it, instead pinching the bridge of his impressive nose and groaning: “Respect…and how to swim.”

“Love shines brighter than respect, Master Thorin, but it doesn’t cancel it out. I’ve respected nan a great deal, but I loved her more. You are their uncle first and their king second, I’m afraid.” She smiled and he was struck by the truth in her words. It had been a silly remark, only half-serious, but her earnest tone chased away all teasing in his voice as he agreed with her.

“Keep that gorgeous head over the waterline and you’ll be fine.” She then picked up on the second part of his sentence seamlessly with a cheeky wink. “That much, I had figured out.”

They neared the looming rock now, pocked with caves and alcoves, and her steps slowed.

“Trust me, we are quite welcome.” He reassured her when he saw her hesitate; her hand slid very willingly into his own as he led her up a narrow ledge, leaving the cart at the foot of the small rise.

“I’ve told you so much about my sorry, lonesome life. Tell me more about yours if you please.” She asked as they entered a spacious cave. “We are on our way to rejoin my kin in Ered Luin.” He started, his face growing hard and unforgiving for a second in the light of the small fire he was coaxing to life. “One day, I shall reclaim Erebor though.”

She gasped. Another childhood story seemed to bleed from her befuddled mind into the real world surrounding her. “The lonely mountain…is real?” She asked, her breath bated.

“Of course it is real. What do you mean? What do you know about it?” He looked up sharply.

She had poured over every map in the small library of her town, she had even asked for express permission to enter the one in the richer, more sophisticated neighbouring town and she had questioned every travelling merchant she had encountered, but nobody had ever seen that fabled mountain. Many had even scoffed and laughed at her, shooing her away like an unruly child with too many questions and not enough common sense.

“Oh no, you were telling me a story, Master Dwarf.” She shook her head, undecided if she should tell him about a family secret; after all, since she had met him, many things she had imagined being mere fiction and a dash of conjecture had turned out to be completely true. Maybe, he would know more about those things and old mysteries would finally be resolved.

“As I said, I shall reclaim Erebor and lead my people home…after the bane is dead.”

“Which bane?” She cradled her head in her hands, elbows resting on her drawn-up knees and listened to him talk. He had a deep and melodic voice, the voice of century-old pride and eternity-spanning strength, and she liked the way it soothed the gnawing fear inside of her guts.

The sound of his voice was a presence in itself, reassuring and as solid as the creature it spilled forth from; it conveyed confidence and inspired trust. It was the voice of a king, booming in alarm and lulling in peaceful narration.

“The dragon, Smaug.” He uttered with disdain and barely held-back anger. “A dragon? Really?” She shook her head, dazed beyond words; dragons were even less likely to exist than dwarves.

“Yes, really. What other creatures do you not believe in?” He seemed partially impatient and partially amused; when his face split into a dazzling grin though, she realised that he was mostly entertained by her apparent naïveté.

“Are there really creatures made of pure light who can talk to trees and float over the ground?”

“His name is Thranduil and he’s a pain in the ass. Excuse the language, he’s a treacherous, disloyal coward, but yes, he is fair. As in…he shines with a cold, hard light. He rides an elk and some say that his soul can travel in the form of a white cow…or deer…or something stupid like that.” Thorin grumbled, heat flushing his face upon thinking of that distasteful creature he was describing. She laughed, she threw her head back and laughed heartily, her laughter echoing deep within the lonely stones encasing them. “Amazing!” She wheezed, clapping her hands and, had he hated Thranduil just a smidgen less, he would have been tempted to take her to the dark woods that cursed king lived in just to see her marvel at him.

That leaf-muncher riding other grass-eating dumb beasts did not deserve her starry-eyed wonder, even though, Thorin didn’t doubt that for one instant, the king of dark trees would have loved that.

She would also enjoy the forest, at least the way it had once been; she would love the different berries and herbs one could find galore in the shade of the trees that did indeed whisper of their dark secrets.

“Oh, I hope you won’t be disheartened by the long walk. There’s so many people I want you to meet: my darned nephews, my fiery sister…Ori, he sure loves a good story. If you start telling him your stories, he’ll follow you around like a puppy.” Thorin rumbled and she was struck by the love in his voice. These people sounded interesting and she couldn’t wait to meet them.

He inspected the fading burns and muttered: “Óin will want the recipe for this salve. If you manage to charm the old boy, and I’m sure you will, he might trade some of his own tinctures and potions with you.”

“Oh, I’d love to share my recipes with him. I’m sure there’s a dire need for it…with furnaces and dragons and such things.” She exclaimed, completely disregarding the gravity of the subject.

“Do you think they’d want to meet me though? I am just a human and far from the best of them.” Suddenly, she was overcome by a sense of dread and insecurity. She had never left her valley and the surrounding area; she would strike them as a silly girl who knew nothing of the world they had been born and raised in.

“You’re charming and you bring skills and knowledge we’d greatly profit from…but yes, we’re a private people and there will be dwarves who will not take to you kindly. I shall do my best to protect you.” He would not lie to her and she was thankful for his candid words.

“I have been poor and outcast all my life, I am not afraid of being shunned. I am used to a life in the shadows surrounding the bright lights.” She gave him a warm smile that was meant to be reassuring; she did not want him to trouble himself on her behalf.

“There will be none of that under my rule.” He sounded definitive, clearly, the last word was spoken on the matter and she dared not contradict him.

“Will you tell me of your prophecy?” His voice was soft now, enchanting, coaxing, seductive.

“Will you tell me of your mountain?” She shot back in the same melting tone.

“Tell me what you know of it first.” He challenged her and she blew up her cheeks in an effort to remember the exact words, handed down from generation to generation in her family. From daughter to daughter, words spoken in kitchens over steaming cups of herbal brew and at bedsides when the fire burned low.

“When my nan’s mother was but a babe in arms, or was it her grandmother, I don’t recall…either way, a traveller came to them.” She rolled her eyes, adding in a narrator-tone “Travellers coming seems to be a theme in our family history”.

“So, a traveller came and told them a great treasure had been received in the Lonely Mountain.”

“The Arkenstone.” Thorin exploded, shocked and outraged, apparently, she had touched upon another one of his well-guarded and jealously kept secrets.

“No, it didn’t sound like it was a stone. It was said that – after desolation and ruin, after being lost and found, upon returning home through the fire to lead his people – he, whoever he is, will be the “spring”.”

She paused, rubbing her index along her lower lip slowly to focus her mind.

“Go on…” He encouraged her. “I do not know if “spring” is meant in the sense of the season of rebirth or of the source of something good…or even as the coil that will catapult the world into the future, but he shall be the “spring”.”

She shrugged. “It’s been, oh so many years, and no doubt, the story has been tweaked beyond recognition or sense, but there it is. We’ve only ever heard of that place once: as the crib of a miracle.”

She shivered in the flickering light of the dying embers and when he took her hand, it was icy cold. “It’s a real place…I was born there, but we had to leave when the dragon came. It has vast halls, once filled with laughter and light, and…a treasure.” He tried to hold up his end of the bargain.

“You said that twice.” She teased. “What?” He frowned.

“You said that you have lived there and then you said there was a treasure. I understood you the first time.” She grinned when a treacherous blush stole into his cheeks. He was a warrior and a leader, he was not used to shameless flattery from females and he did not know how to react.

“I meant an actual treasure. Gold and gems.” He stammered, lost for words.

“I meant an actual treasure too, silver and marble.” She smiled, waving aside his embarrassment.

“Did you believe in that prophecy?” He then asked, to change the subject.

“Oh, Master Dwarf, human lives are short, but we believe in cycles. We are born, we live, we die, but everything and everyone comes back somehow. What has been lost, will be found. What has left, might well return. Nan used to say when one is at a loss, one should go back to where it ended, because chances are, that’s exactly where it will start again.”

Giving his hand a slight squeeze, she whispered: “You will face your dragon again, you will see your home again, you will have the chance to walk the same path backwards and find new solutions to old problems. This is not the end, it is but another beginning.”

She looked like an old, wise woman herself now, despite the youth of her face and the softness of her body, for her eyes seemed timeless. How many cycles had those eyes and the knowledge within them seen?

“Where is old nan now?” He asked. “Buried under the chapel where you found me. Where I found you.” Her smile was unfathomable and deep, as if the world held no secrets for her anymore, and he was in awe of her once again.

“You are cold.” He said in a hushed voice when she shivered again. He remembered how she had plunged into the cold water for his dinner and suspected that she had never really dried.

“I am fine.” She crept a little closer to the dying fire. “I don’t want to leave you here to fetch more wood.” He murmured as if to himself and she was quick to promise that she was completely comfortable the way she was. She had known cold and darkness before and she was not afraid of it.

“Will you teach my nephews to swim then?” He prompted her again, just to see her warm smile. She thought them children, but to her, they would look like full-grown men already.

“I could not bear to see such beautiful hair turned into this.” She pointed at the matted, tangled mass of her own hair hanging in a wild nest from her head.

“Their hair is pitiful either way. You might want to brush, should I give you privacy?” He offered, turning around and handing her a comb.

She wondered where he had taken it from, but she suspected that he brushed his own luscious locks obsessively every time her head was turned away, because there was no way his hair looked like this on its own.

He could hear the comb dragging through her hair and the sweet smell of fresh water filled the air, a note of citrus and wild flowers dancing on the waves the scent conjured up, and he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from turning around.

“You know you can watch me brush my hair? I don’t make a secret out of it.” She laughed after a moment and he did not need more coaxing or inviting than that; he spun around immediately, his eyes riveted on her slow movements.

She felt slightly awkward with him staring at her as if she was about to undress in a slow, salacious way; more than ever, she was convinced that he brushed his hair in secret in a kind of semi-erotic ritual. His hair was of course also something that was quite bewitching.

She didn’t question the fact that she seemingly found everything about him enchanting, literally from the top of his head down to the sturdy boots he was pulling off now.

“Don’t do that, you’ll get cold feet.” She warned, mainly because her own felt frozen stiff by now, but he just gave a rumbling chuckle that seemed to be echoed by the walls.

“I am…not.” He laughed, rubbing his thumb over her cold, frail hand slowly to show her that he was much better than her at keeping his body temperature stable.

“So…have you always been a herb witch?” He asked, not letting go of her hand. For some reason, he just couldn’t bear when she fell into silence. He was so full of questions; old nan had never told her that dwarves were such nosy creatures.

“What? I am not. I am a potter by trade. I started making the vessels for my nan’s tinctures, but when…after the plague, there was no need for vases and plates and so I made money how I could.” I needed to eat, she thought, and my nan’s knowledge of the world around her saved my life.

“A potter?” He sounded taken aback. “Yes, Master Thorin, I make fragile things to be used just like you make durable, strong things to be used. We are what we make, it seems.”

He cocked one eyebrow: “You don’t strike me as particularly fragile.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter anyway, we learn a trade and we work in it, but ultimately, we must come back to our blood and the responsibility we have towards it, don’t we?”

He nodded slowly. One of her hands felt warm now, encased as it was in his huge paw, while the other one was still numb with cold.

For one moment, she debated if this was the moment to be prideful, but then she just extracted her hand from his, shoving it into the gap between her tunic and her skin.

He looked positively hurt by her action.

“I am sorry.” He mumbled. “Why? For what?” She asked as she extended her other hand to him; he just stared at it in confusion. “Could you warm this one up as well, please, Master Dwarf?”

It was mortifying having to ask, but he seemed puzzled. “Oh, I thought I had crossed a line by holding your hand for so long…I…you snatched it away to tuck it away in a safe place…kind of…wiping it…I don’t know.” He confessed.

She didn’t know if she should laugh or frown at that kind of stupidity. “You are very warm.” She simply said, sighing with relief when he took her other hand and rubbed it slowly.

“You are clearly not.” He replied, his strong hands closing around hers up to the wrist. She felt like crawling into him and staying there.

Had nan known about this as well? Had she known that a dwarf lord was like a furnace, radiating light and heat in to the confined space she was huddled up in? The almost dead fire before her seemed a ridiculous, puny thing compared to him.

The hand in her tunic was growing cold again and she proceeded to another sneaky switch, which made him chuckle under his breath. “Scoot in closer?” He offered.

It was inappropriate. He was a king-to-be, he was a creature she had not believed existed in the first place, he was wholly too virile and intimidating, but when he extended his arm she pressed against his ribs with fervent eagerness.

“You’re frozen…and your clothes are wet. How are they wet?” He exclaimed as his arm settled around her shoulders. She had thrown them too carelessly onto the bank and they had soaked up some water, she thought, but she would not tell him about her own stupidity for fear of making him worry more than she was worthy of.

“Enough is enough. I’ll go get some new wood and fetch some dry clothes from the cart. You get out of these rags.” He rumbled, but when he tried to get up, she slung her arm around his waist in a fit of childish petulance.

“I’ll be back soon.” He draped his own cloak around her. “No, you’ll be cold. Take it.” She cried out, extending his garment to him. “Stone and metal hold heat better than mud.” He smiled gently and exited the cavern.

His sudden absence turned the cave into a grave and she scrambled out of her wet clothes with frantic urgency, spreading them on the rocks at the back of the grotto.

“Oh stone, let me hear those heavy footfalls so I know I’m not alone.” She begged, lying down on the floor, his cloak underneath her skin and half-draped across her shivering body.

He found nothing but his own clothes and, in his haste to get back to her, he grabbed a tunic of his and hurried up to the cave again.

She was lying on the floor and for a second, he thought that she might have fainted or worse, but when she sat up, a smile of welcome blossomed on her face that made his heart wince.

His cloak had slipped and he realised that she was back in her chemise, her naked body clearly fathomable under the thin layer of fabric. “I could only find my own tunic, I am, again, so sorry.” He mumbled, walking over to her slowly. She did not flinch or move back; her whole body seemed to lean towards his approaching silhouette instead.

While he threw some twigs onto the fire, begging it to flare into life again for her sake, he couldn’t help observing the way her breasts lifted and sank as she shrugged into his tunic, sighing in an expression of pleasure that was cruelly uncalled-for in her present state of hypothermia.

“Tell me more about your kin, Master Dwarf. Tell me about the people I shall meet so I shall know them when I see them.” She begged, extending her arms to make him sit down by her side.

“Are you still cold?” He asked, alarmed, as he settled next to her. She slipped back under his arm like a child, feeling frail and shivering, but sighing contentedly.

“I shall be warm in a minute. Look at the fire, Master Dwarf, what beautiful things we could fashion if we had the tools and the time.” She murmured, fatigue making her voice grow slow and melting, like honey dripping onto his senses.

He was aware of her slowly heating up flesh and her tiny hand resting innocently on his thigh as she was snuggled against him the way his nephews had when they had been but tiny little things. Only, he had never felt the fire pass from the hearth in front of him into his bloodstream when his nephews had sought solace or protection under his wing. He had not wondered about the way he might feel or smell when they had been this close to his body.

“I think that you’ll like Balin. I really do. He’s kind and smart; he’ll love the stories about your nan. Ah, you’ll get to meet Dwalin as well, he’s…probably my best friend. He’s solid, but he’s…there’s a reason he’s my best friend. We’re…less courteous than we should be.” Thorin started to honour her wish. “You’re lovely, stop it.” She mumbled hazily.

He thought about her words and about the mussel shells he still kept in his pocket. She was right, if he had the tools and the time, he would make something beautiful for her; she deserved something frivolous and gorgeous for all the help and devoted service she had offered him.

His eyes fell on her feet that were extended away from him and he was aghast to see them take a blueish hue. She was not falling asleep; she was succumbing to the surrounding cold still.

“Close in, oh stone, protect her.” He whispered, but the rock around him seemed to mock his words. “Close in, oh son of stone, son of ore, protect her.” Voices thrummed through the unmoving walls, and so he did.

Gathering her up like a bundle of empty clothes, he pulled her into his lap, leaning back against the stone wall and held her there.

Looking down, he saw the naked expanse of her legs which made him feel like an idiot for not having thought of that before. With one hand, he bent her legs at the knee and tucked them safely into the hollow he had created by spreading his own.

She lay flush against him now, he could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own and, when he pulled his cloak over her gently, his hand brushed the smooth skin of her unclothed thigh.

Just a hand-breadth higher he would have brushed against other parts, secret parts, that were much like his dinner: firmly closed now, but if heated just right, revealing a glittering pearl.

This was a very inopportune thought to have, he berated himself, as his body heated up against his will, making her press against him with ever more fervour.

A maiden, she had used that word, and despite being clearly of age, he wondered if she had meant that in the most allusive and perversely seductive of senses.

When had that plague ravaged her village? When had old nan died? How long had she been alone?

It didn’t matter. She would not consider sacrificing that most precious of prizes to one such as him…She had not denied him anything this far, he remembered, not her time, not her care, not her boundless courage.

Not this though, he curbed his own fanciful imagination, never this. He would not ask anything of her, not before he could show himself worthy of all the things she had given up for his benefit this far.

Her hand snaked up and came to rest just above his heart. “Lovely.” She repeated in a low, mumbling voice.

And, as she was warm and clearly asleep now, he permitted himself the tiny, tortureous indulgence of pressing his lips for one brief moment against her head, resting against his shoulder as if it belonged there. Maybe…it did.

#richard armitage #thorin oakenshield #fanfiction #ao3 #a bit of crack #Thranduil is named #softcore smut #hints #thorin is an idiot #women have feet

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